Original Fiction: Knowing Dave (NC-17)
This is original fic written for the Writers' Workout Challenge. I did challenge A: Write something (anything - fannish, original fiction, poetry, any length - it can even be an unfinished snippet) using a point of view that you've never written in before, so this story is written in 2nd Person POV.
Title: Knowing Dave
Rating: NC-17
Category: First-time
Pairing: Dave/Greg (original characters)
Summary: You thought you knew Dave better than you knew yourself. Turns out you didn't even come close to knowing all there was to know about Dave.
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Knowing Dave
You've known Dave for as long as you can remember. Best buds and neighbors since kindergarten, you've done everything together -- scouts, camping trips, little league -- and sometimes you think you know Dave better than you know yourself.
Even though you're the same age, Dave acts like he's older than you somehow; seems more like a big brother than a best friend. He's your protector, your counselor, and your cheering section all rolled into one and you think maybe you know why.
See, Dave grew up to be a big guy with hard, cut muscles and an all-round athlete's grace. He's lettered in football, baseball, basketball, and track, but football is his main thing; all-district running back two years in a row. Around these parts, that means he's pretty much worshipped as a god.
You, on the other hand? You were a skinny little shrimp who got taller, but never filled out. You're long and lanky, a clumsy conglomeration of gangly limbs. And academics are your thing -- straight-A student, science club president, editor of the school newspaper. You've heard the word 'geek' directed your way once or twice.
Of course, that's not the way Dave tells it. He tells you that you're the smartest guy he's ever known, and the way he looks at you when he says it makes you feel like maybe, being a geek isn't necessarily a bad thing. He also tells you that you're a good-looking guy and says he doesn't know why you don't have more self-confidence with girls.
Anyway, you think maybe that's why Dave is always so protective of you. You wonder if he feels bad about growing up to be bigger than you, stronger, more popular, and he doesn't want you to feel like he's leaving you behind. Dave is, and always has been, loyal. He would defend you with everything he's got.
Over the years, you and Dave have shared everything, every part of growing up. When you were younger, about twelve years old, you and Dave started really thinking about sex a lot -- a lot. You remember the night Dave came for a sleepover, and the two of you were laying on your little twin bed, and decided to compare 'equipment'. As soon as Dave had pushed his briefs down his thighs, you had seen immediately that he was much bigger than you, and that he already had a little bit of dark hair beginning to sprout.
You had blushed and jumped up and tried to change the subject, but Dave said, "Not fair! I showed you mine, now you have to show me yours." Laughing, he had grabbed the waistband of your underwear and tugged, while you kicked and struggled. When he had finally worked your briefs past your ass and down your legs, he had taken a good long look at your hairless groin with its tiny little dick that seemed to shrink even more in humiliation.
He let go of you then, and you had jerked away, sitting on the edge of your bed, beet red and trying not to cry. You had sniffled a little, and Dave had gotten this look on his face like he had just accidentally murdered the family dog or something. He had put his arm around your shoulders and said quietly, "Hey, it's an okay dick. Besides, it'll grow, Greggie...really." Thank god he had been right about that.
Neither one of you have ever dated much. Now that's not really surprising for you. Girls don't usually fall all over themselves to try and get the school brainiac to go out with them. They do seem to like you, though. Lord knows you've got a whole gaggle of them that tell you how cute and funny you are, but the few times you worked up the nerve to ask one of them out, they always said 'no' and told you how much your friendship meant to them. You're always relieved when they turn you down, but you really don't want to think about that too much.
But Dave? Good-looking, star athlete, and a genuinely nice guy to boot, he should be out every Friday and Saturday night. He should be going steady with the head cheerleader, or something. Instead, he spends most weekend nights with you -- movies, hanging at the mall, or just Playstation at your house, or his.
Like tonight -- Friday night -- he's at the movies with you. All of his other friends are on dates. You've already seen half the football team here at the movie theater with their girlfriends, but Dave is with you. And when the movie's over, he's coming back to your house and you're going to probably stay up most of the night playing the new video game he got for his birthday; pretty typical Friday night.
So you're standing in the concession line, talking your usual shit, when you notice that Dave isn't really paying attention to you. He's staring at the guys in front of you in line, and when you follow his gaze, you see why. These guys are holding hands. Right here in the Parkland Cinema 8, in front of god and everybody, these guys are holding hands.
And Dave is riveted.
He doesn't look disgusted or annoyed or...anything. He's just staring, and you're starting to get embarrassed because you're afraid these guys are going to turn around and catch Dave staring. They're older, probably in their thirties, and now you're staring, too, watching them as they talk, and smile, and laugh. If they weren't holding hands, you would just think they were best friends. Like you and Dave.
They pay for their popcorn and Cokes and walk away. You and Dave finish getting your own stuff -- greasy popcorn with extra butter, nachos with chili, Junior Mints, and drinks -- and as you make your way into the theater, you find yourself behind the guys again. It almost seems like Dave is following them on purpose as he leads you to a couple of empty seats right behind them.
You and Dave are talking about what you always seem to talk about these days; what classes you're both going to be taking at college in the fall, and how you hope dorm life won't be too miserable. You're going to be rooming with Dave, though, so how bad could it be?
As you talk, Dave still seems a little distracted, and he keeps glancing at the men, the couple. Just as the lights start going down, one of the guys wraps his hand around the back of his friend's neck, leans over, and kisses him, right on the mouth.
It's not much really, just lips pressing together. They aren't frenching or anything, and no tongue is visible, but still, some asshole sitting behind you says loudly, "There oughta be a law or something against fairies kissing in public. I think I'm gonna puke up my hotdog."
Next thing you know, Dave is turning around and saying, "Shut up," in a low, threatening voice. It shocks you, because in all the years you've been friends with Dave, you've never known a more gentle guy, and you've never heard him sound so menacing.
You're staring at Dave, and the gay couple has turned around in their seats and they're staring at him, too. You look behind you to see that the jerk who was mouthing off is looking sullenly at Dave, but he's keeping his trap shut. He's a wormy looking kid, and even in the dark theater, it's probably hard for him to miss the width of Dave's shoulders and the bulk of his biceps. Satisfied that the punk is going to keep quiet, Dave finally turns back around in his seat, so you turn around, too.
One of the gay guys gives Dave a nod and a little smile that looks like a 'thanks'. Then he looks at you, then back to Dave, and he smiles a little more, and that smile seems to say something else, like he knows something about you and Dave. It makes you a little uncomfortable, and you know your face gets a little red, but it doesn't really bother you.
You look at Dave because you realize that if any part of this did disturb you, it would just be the worry that Dave might be bothered by it, by the fact that someone thought you were together. But when your eyes meet, Dave smiles. His face is red, too, and he's breathing a little fast, but he just...smiles.
Just as things are getting really awkward, the movie starts, and thankfully, everyone faces forward in their seat and starts watching. You try to concentrate on the movie, but all you can think about is what just happened, and why Dave -- gentle, mild-mannered Dave -- would react the way he had. You sneak a glance at him out of the corner of your eye a few times, and every time, he catches you because he's sneaking a peek at you, too.
Half way through the movie, it hits you like a ton of bricks, and you think you understand why Dave had such an aggressive reaction to the idiot behind you. Oh god. Dave thinks you're gay. Or, if you're being really honest with yourself, Dave knows you're gay. Dave, your protector, your fiercely loyal and dependable best friend, knows you're gay and he was defending you as much as the guys who were kissing.
You're not sure whether to feel good about this or not. Sure, it's a great feeling to know that you have a friend who cares about you so much that he'll accept and defend you, just the way you are. But it makes you wonder if Dave, well, feels sorry for you or something, like when you were twelve and your dick was miniscule. Dave's a great guy, but you don't want his pity.
You start planning what you're going to say to Dave when the movie's over. You're going to tell him that he's right, that you're pretty sure you are gay. But that you're not ashamed of it, just a little confused, and that he doesn't need to feel sorry for you.
You think you've got it all figured out, but when you reach into the bucket of popcorn and Dave reaches in at the same time, your hands brush together. You think Dave will pull his hand away, but then, you feel something lightly touching the back of your hand, and unless there's a roach in the popcorn or something, it's got to be Dave. You look down into the bucket. Nope, no roach. Just two guys' hands and some greasy popcorn.
And then Dave's hand is gone, and you're left to wonder about what just happened. Was the touching an accident, and Dave didn't jerk his hand away because he didn't want to hurt your feelings? Was Dave even aware that he touched your hand, or was he so into the movie that he didn't even realize? Or did you just imagine the whole thing?
You glance up at Dave's face, and Dave catches you looking...again. He smiles, and he looks, well, shy, and that's not a look you think you've ever seen on Dave's face. It makes your stomach do really strange things, and next thing you know, that strange feeling has traveled to your dick. Yep, your guy is really awake now, and you make a valiant effort to ignore the throbbing and concentrate on the movie, because you decided a long time ago not to kid yourself with fantasies of Dave. What would be the point, right?
When the movie's over, and you and Dave are once again back out in the bright, harsh lights of the lobby, everything goes back to the way it always has been. On the way to Dave's car, you discuss the movie, you talk about classes again, you talk about the baseball tournament Dave's playing in next weekend. Nothing is said about the hand touching, or the guys kissing, or the idiot homophobe kid.
Until you're half way home.
Then suddenly Dave says, "That was something, wasn't it?"
"Yeah. Pretty good movie," you answer.
But Dave says, "No. I meant the guys that sat in front of us. The kissing and all."
You feel your face getting hot, and you remember all the things you had decided you were going to say to Dave, but the only thing that comes out is, "Yeah. That was really something."
Dave is quiet for a minute, then he says, "Greggie? Have you ever...never mind."
Dave is staring straight ahead and he's gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles are white. That weird feeling is back in your stomach, and you think you should probably just keep quiet, but you say, "What? You can ask me, Dave."
So he does. He looks over at you and says, "Greggie, have you ever thought about doing something like that? With me?" and then he ducks his head down, and even in the weird yellow glow of the passing streetlights, you can see that his face is a deep, dark red.
You swallow hard, and you don't answer right away, because you honestly don't know how much you should say here. You were prepared to tell Dave that you're gay, but you don't think he would be comfortable knowing that you have thought about kissing him. You've tried really hard not to, but...
And then, before you can think of anything to say, Dave gives you the shock of your life. You've never been as surprised as you are when he says, in a voice so low it's practically a whisper, "Because I have. I've thought about it."
Your heart is beating so fast you really think you might have an attack or something. You feel dizzy and light-headed, and...nauseous. God, you're so nervous that you think you're going to hurl in Dave's car, but then you realize that you've been holding your breath, and when you start breathing again, you feel much better.
You try to say some of the stuff you had planned during the movie, but once again, your brain and your mouth don't seem to want to work together and all that comes out is, "Yeah. I've thought about it, too."
Dave looks at you and his eyes seem a little wild, scared. The car is approaching a traffic light, and just as you get close, it turns yellow. Normally, Dave would hit the gas and go through, but this time he starts slowing down and stops, long before the light turns red.
What happens next is like a weird, hazy dream. But as Dave leans across the seat, his eyes half closed and his lips parted, and you feel yourself leaning forward, too, it's like the very best kind of dream.
And then, it happens.
Your lips touch, and it's like the guys in the movie theater; just your mouths pressing together, light and easy. But then, you feel something hot and wet on your bottom lip and you realize that it's Dave's tongue -- Dave's tongue -- and you get so hard, so fast, that it hurts. When he pushes his tongue inside your mouth, you have a moment where you're honestly afraid you're going to lose it...right there...come in your pants before anything really gets started.
You let your own tongue wander, sliding against Dave's, and you leave your eyes half open because you want to see Dave's face as you kiss. When you see the green glow on his skin, you pull back and say, "Green light." He smiles at you, big and bright, and steps on the gas.
His confidence is back, and there's nothing shy about him at all when he says, "That was something, Greggie."
You laugh and say, "Yeah. It was." You're still hard and aching, and you're pretty sure it's your dick talking when you ask, "You're staying over tonight, right?"
Dave looks at you, still grinning, and says, "Yeah. If that's okay with you?"
The trip from the Parkland Cinema 8 to your house has never seemed so long before. Finally, you get home, the house is dark and quiet, and you're relieved beyond belief that your parents have already gone to bed. You feel certain that if they so much as looked at you right now, they would see, written clearly right across your forehead in big, bold letters: I JUST KISSED MY BEST FRIEND AND I THINK WE'RE GOING TO HAVE SEX NOW.
Once you're inside your bedroom, and the door is locked, Dave starts touching you, just rubbing his hands up and down your arms. You're both standing there, a little stiff and awkward and hesitant and nervous and...
Oh god. Dave is kissing your neck. He's licking behind your ear and you're having a hell of a time remembering how to breathe. When he takes a step back and says, his face so serious, "Is that okay, Greggie?" you can only nod and lean in to kiss him. This time, the kiss isn't anything like the guys in the theater. This time, it's wet, and deep, and sloppy, and Dave is kissing you back like he's starving for you.
You're barely aware that you're both moving together...closer, closer, closer...until there's nothing between you. Your bodies are mashed together, and through your jeans, you can feel your cock pressing into Dave's hip, and his hard dick digging into your hip. And when your brain registers that...god, this is making Dave hard...you shiver.
Dave moves away from you then, reaches down to grab the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it up and over his head in one smooth, graceful motion. You've seen Dave shirtless more times than you can count, but this is the first time you've ever seen him and known that soon, you'll be touching him, and that changes everything. You stare at him, and when your throat starts feeling dry, you realize your mouth is open.
Dave has that shy look on his face again, but that doesn't stop him from unbuttoning his fly and wriggling out of his jeans. He looks up at you from under his lashes, smiles, and says, teasingly, "I'll show you mine, Greggie, if you'll show me yours."
That little throwback to your childhood history makes you both laugh, and you grin and say, "Okay. You first." Dave hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his boxer-briefs and slowly slides them down his hips and legs until they slip and fall to the floor.
So gorgeous. He's absolutely, fucking gorgeous. His cock is huge and hard, jutting up from out of a mess of shiny, dark curls, and even from where you're standing, you can see a glistening bead of pre-cum at the tip. You look up, your eyes lock with Dave's, and you're both breathing fast and hard. He says softly, "Now you," and you nod.
You slip your t-shirt off, then go to work on your jeans. You're afraid you're going to lose your nerve, so when your fly is open, you just shove everything, jeans and underwear, down at once. Now it's Dave's turn to stare with his mouth open, and he moves in front of you until he's so close that his forehead is almost touching yours. Your dick is hard and standing straight up, and after a moment more of open-mouthed staring, Dave looks up, gives you a crooked grin, and says, "I told you it would get bigger, didn't I?"
That makes you laugh, and you shove him away, playfully. He reaches out and grabs your arm, pulling you close, and he's laughing too when he says, "Damn, Greggie. What's your Mom been feeding you anyway? Oats? You're hung like a horse, dude." You know he's exaggerating. You know that your dick is actually about the same size as his, a little longer maybe, but his is a little thicker. But it still makes you feel good, and more relaxed.
You're still laughing a little, but then he wraps his hand around your cock, and you sober up real quick, and when he gives you a firm, twisting stroke, your eyes roll back in your head and your knees nearly give out. Dave is there, though, holding you up. He won't let you fall.
He walks backwards, pulling you along with him, until he hits the edge of your bed, and then you do fall, right on top of Dave on the bed. He lets go of your cock for a minute, and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close and kissing you with that hungry kiss again. It's like he can't get close enough or something, because he slides his hand into your hair and pulls you tight against his mouth, thrusting his tongue into you the whole time.
You're pretty much out of control by this point, humping against Dave's hip like a dog, but he's humping you, too, so you guess it's okay. Suddenly Dave pulls his head back, and says, "Hold on, Greggie, okay?" His eyes are huge and dark, his lips swollen and red, his cheeks are flushed, and he looks...scared.
You're afraid he's getting cold feet, changing his mind about this, but then he laughs a little and says, "Almost lost it there. Okay, okay, better now," and starts kissing you again. He starts rubbing his leaking cock against you, but easier this time, less frantic.
You kiss Dave's mouth, his face, his neck, until the taste and scent of Dave is swirling around in your head, and you know that this is going to become one of those sense memories that stays with you the rest of your life. One day, when you're like, eighty-two or something, you're going to be sitting in a rocking chair on a nursing home porch, and some young kid is going to walk by. You're going to catch his scent on the breeze -- clean male sweat, light hint of cologne, earthy essence of strength and youth and beauty -- and you're going to remember this moment.
You drink in Dave's flavor as your tongue travels below his neck and laps at his collarbone, then over his little dark freckles and down between his pecs. You move on to cover a small, brown nipple with your lips, sucking it into your mouth and bathing it with your tongue, marveling at how hard and pebbly it becomes, instantly. You hear Dave moan and it makes you feel powerful, and you want more, so you move over to his other nipple and give it the same treatment. Dave moans louder.
You're addicted now. You need more: more taste, more heat, more of Dave's musk-salty flavor, more power, and you know just how to get what you need. You know exactly what you're doing and where you're going as your tongue slips down; down over Dave's ribs, down his hard-cut abs, over for a moment to swirl over the bulge of his obliques, then back over to dip into his shallow navel. As you trace a licking trail down from his navel, Dave's breath starts coming in harsh huffs, and he's hoarse when he says, "Oh god, Greg."
Greg. You're 'Greg' now, not 'Greggie', and for the first time, like, ever you feel like you're on equal ground with Dave; equal partners in this thing you're doing. Right now, you're his protector and champion as much as he is yours.
You grab his cock, pulling it up to meet your mouth, and you run your tongue all around the head, licking away the slippery pre-cum, and there's the flavor and heat you were looking for. Dave is jerking and wiggling beneath you as you lick your lips, getting them really wet, and you get this zinging feeling in your brain when you open your mouth wide and just slide down, right over the knob of his cock.
"Awww man," Dave moans, and slides his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp with firm fingertips. You pull off to play with his shaft, licking and kissing, nibbling and mouthing, getting it sloppy, drippy wet so that when you open up and slide back down, his cock just glides effortlessly into your mouth.
God, it feels so good. His cock is heavy -- a solid, hefty weight laying hot on your tongue and stretching your lips, and you suck him down, falling into a steady in-out-in rhythm.
Dave is really getting frantic now, flexing the fingers that are still woven into your hair, tugging in time with your strokes. You reach up to fondle his balls, gently rolling them in your palm before slipping a single finger down to rub underneath. You let your fingertip travel until it hits Dave's hole, and when you rub at it, massage it, Dave comes unglued.
His hips jerk up off the bed, and he grips your hair tightly, pulling you closer. Mouth still full, you look up and your eyes meet his, and he looks shocked, dazed, as he groans through clenched teeth, "Awww fuck, Greg."
All control gone, he starts really fucking you; fucks your face with hard, deep strokes that make you choke and pull away, coughing. His hand gentles then, and he pets your hair and manages to say between gasps, "Sorry...really sorry."
You smile up at him, rub his thighs, and say, "It's okay, man," and before he can say anything else, you're swallowing him back down, and he's grunting.
He's right on the edge and after a few more sucking strokes, he gives you fair warning by pushing weakly against your shoulder and saying, "Oh man...oh god...I'm gonna...," but you don't pull off. Then his entire body gets tense and hard and he shoots into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag, but you don't care. You're choking and drooling and swallowing, fighting your gag reflex, but you don't care, you don't care. It's Dave, and you drink every bitter, salty drop of him.
You suck until he's done, suck until he flinches a little, and then you reluctantly let his softening cock slip from your mouth. You can't help licking at it a little more, cleaning him up, then giving it one last warm, sticky kiss before sliding back up his body.
He pulls you up until you're laying beside him, and he looks at you with drowsy eyes that are filled with affection. He kisses you again, soft and sweet and slow, then nuzzles your neck and whispers, "That was really something, Greggie."
You grin like an idiot and say, "Yeah, it was. For me, too."
He pulls back suddenly and his eyes run down the length of your body, stopping hot and heavy-lidded when they reach your swollen, straining cock. He hesitates, then whispers, "But you haven't..."
"That's okay," you say, because you aren't bold enough to ask for what you want, but you really hope he won't leave you like this. Then he wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you in close, snug against his body and practically in his lap, and you know that he's going to take care of things.
His hand leaves your shoulder and weaves into your hair, his thick fingers curving to cup your scalp and pull you closer until your faces are touching, cheek to cheek. Lips, soft and wet, are nipping at the lobe of your ear while the hot, flat palm of Dave's hand rubs up and down your thin chest. That hand explores, covering every part of your body that it can touch and when it lands on your dick, your head falls back and your mouth opens in an ecstatic gasp.
Dave gives a little grunt and begins shifting his body around until he's over you, on you, pressing you into the mattress. His skin is so hot and damp with sweat, and he's heavy. You've always been aware of the differences between your bodies but not like this, and it excites you - that feeling of his solid weight pressed skin to skin with your bony frame. He begins rubbing, thrusting against you and your cock is mashed against the hard ripples of his abdomen. Another gasp, and you put your arms around him, clutching him tightly to you.
"Do you want me to, you know...suck you?" His mouth is still next to your ear, his words whispered in hot little puffs that make your skin prickle and rise in gooseflesh.
For a second there, that sounds like the best idea ever, but then you realize that you don't want to let go. You want to hold him there as long as you can, your bodies stuck together with sweat and friction. You know that you can't find the words to try to explain that to Dave, to explain how good, how right it feels to be this close. So you just grip him tighter, shake your head, and say, "Next time, okay?"
And then he's kissing you again and it's so good. As his body thrusts rythmically against your dick, his tongue matches the pace, slipping into your open mouth in a hot wet slide that makes you moan. You know you're almost done for, and when Dave grips your ass cheek in one large hand and pulls you even more tightly against him, pressing his mouth against your ear now to whisper, "Fuck, Greg," you lose it. You push your mouth into his shoulder to stifle your groan and your whole body shakes as your dick jerks and shoots against Dave's body.
He keeps rubbing against you until you're done and then collapses heavily on top of you. Your breath is pushed from your body in a forceful rush and you struggle to draw in enough air to emit a soft laugh. He starts laughing too, quiet and happy, and then you just look at each other for a minute, smiling goofy smiles.
Dave tilts his head down and presses a soft kiss against your mouth, and you're struck with a powerful feeling of unreality. You're not sure any of this is really happening because just a few short hours ago, you could never have imagined...this.
You've known Dave forever. You thought you knew everything about him. You thought you knew Dave better than you knew yourself. Turns out you didn't even come close to knowing all there was to know about Dave. There's so much more to learn, but that's okay.
It's all good.
Title: Knowing Dave
Rating: NC-17
Category: First-time
Pairing: Dave/Greg (original characters)
Summary: You thought you knew Dave better than you knew yourself. Turns out you didn't even come close to knowing all there was to know about Dave.
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Knowing Dave
You've known Dave for as long as you can remember. Best buds and neighbors since kindergarten, you've done everything together -- scouts, camping trips, little league -- and sometimes you think you know Dave better than you know yourself.
Even though you're the same age, Dave acts like he's older than you somehow; seems more like a big brother than a best friend. He's your protector, your counselor, and your cheering section all rolled into one and you think maybe you know why.
See, Dave grew up to be a big guy with hard, cut muscles and an all-round athlete's grace. He's lettered in football, baseball, basketball, and track, but football is his main thing; all-district running back two years in a row. Around these parts, that means he's pretty much worshipped as a god.
You, on the other hand? You were a skinny little shrimp who got taller, but never filled out. You're long and lanky, a clumsy conglomeration of gangly limbs. And academics are your thing -- straight-A student, science club president, editor of the school newspaper. You've heard the word 'geek' directed your way once or twice.
Of course, that's not the way Dave tells it. He tells you that you're the smartest guy he's ever known, and the way he looks at you when he says it makes you feel like maybe, being a geek isn't necessarily a bad thing. He also tells you that you're a good-looking guy and says he doesn't know why you don't have more self-confidence with girls.
Anyway, you think maybe that's why Dave is always so protective of you. You wonder if he feels bad about growing up to be bigger than you, stronger, more popular, and he doesn't want you to feel like he's leaving you behind. Dave is, and always has been, loyal. He would defend you with everything he's got.
Over the years, you and Dave have shared everything, every part of growing up. When you were younger, about twelve years old, you and Dave started really thinking about sex a lot -- a lot. You remember the night Dave came for a sleepover, and the two of you were laying on your little twin bed, and decided to compare 'equipment'. As soon as Dave had pushed his briefs down his thighs, you had seen immediately that he was much bigger than you, and that he already had a little bit of dark hair beginning to sprout.
You had blushed and jumped up and tried to change the subject, but Dave said, "Not fair! I showed you mine, now you have to show me yours." Laughing, he had grabbed the waistband of your underwear and tugged, while you kicked and struggled. When he had finally worked your briefs past your ass and down your legs, he had taken a good long look at your hairless groin with its tiny little dick that seemed to shrink even more in humiliation.
He let go of you then, and you had jerked away, sitting on the edge of your bed, beet red and trying not to cry. You had sniffled a little, and Dave had gotten this look on his face like he had just accidentally murdered the family dog or something. He had put his arm around your shoulders and said quietly, "Hey, it's an okay dick. Besides, it'll grow, Greggie...really." Thank god he had been right about that.
Neither one of you have ever dated much. Now that's not really surprising for you. Girls don't usually fall all over themselves to try and get the school brainiac to go out with them. They do seem to like you, though. Lord knows you've got a whole gaggle of them that tell you how cute and funny you are, but the few times you worked up the nerve to ask one of them out, they always said 'no' and told you how much your friendship meant to them. You're always relieved when they turn you down, but you really don't want to think about that too much.
But Dave? Good-looking, star athlete, and a genuinely nice guy to boot, he should be out every Friday and Saturday night. He should be going steady with the head cheerleader, or something. Instead, he spends most weekend nights with you -- movies, hanging at the mall, or just Playstation at your house, or his.
Like tonight -- Friday night -- he's at the movies with you. All of his other friends are on dates. You've already seen half the football team here at the movie theater with their girlfriends, but Dave is with you. And when the movie's over, he's coming back to your house and you're going to probably stay up most of the night playing the new video game he got for his birthday; pretty typical Friday night.
So you're standing in the concession line, talking your usual shit, when you notice that Dave isn't really paying attention to you. He's staring at the guys in front of you in line, and when you follow his gaze, you see why. These guys are holding hands. Right here in the Parkland Cinema 8, in front of god and everybody, these guys are holding hands.
And Dave is riveted.
He doesn't look disgusted or annoyed or...anything. He's just staring, and you're starting to get embarrassed because you're afraid these guys are going to turn around and catch Dave staring. They're older, probably in their thirties, and now you're staring, too, watching them as they talk, and smile, and laugh. If they weren't holding hands, you would just think they were best friends. Like you and Dave.
They pay for their popcorn and Cokes and walk away. You and Dave finish getting your own stuff -- greasy popcorn with extra butter, nachos with chili, Junior Mints, and drinks -- and as you make your way into the theater, you find yourself behind the guys again. It almost seems like Dave is following them on purpose as he leads you to a couple of empty seats right behind them.
You and Dave are talking about what you always seem to talk about these days; what classes you're both going to be taking at college in the fall, and how you hope dorm life won't be too miserable. You're going to be rooming with Dave, though, so how bad could it be?
As you talk, Dave still seems a little distracted, and he keeps glancing at the men, the couple. Just as the lights start going down, one of the guys wraps his hand around the back of his friend's neck, leans over, and kisses him, right on the mouth.
It's not much really, just lips pressing together. They aren't frenching or anything, and no tongue is visible, but still, some asshole sitting behind you says loudly, "There oughta be a law or something against fairies kissing in public. I think I'm gonna puke up my hotdog."
Next thing you know, Dave is turning around and saying, "Shut up," in a low, threatening voice. It shocks you, because in all the years you've been friends with Dave, you've never known a more gentle guy, and you've never heard him sound so menacing.
You're staring at Dave, and the gay couple has turned around in their seats and they're staring at him, too. You look behind you to see that the jerk who was mouthing off is looking sullenly at Dave, but he's keeping his trap shut. He's a wormy looking kid, and even in the dark theater, it's probably hard for him to miss the width of Dave's shoulders and the bulk of his biceps. Satisfied that the punk is going to keep quiet, Dave finally turns back around in his seat, so you turn around, too.
One of the gay guys gives Dave a nod and a little smile that looks like a 'thanks'. Then he looks at you, then back to Dave, and he smiles a little more, and that smile seems to say something else, like he knows something about you and Dave. It makes you a little uncomfortable, and you know your face gets a little red, but it doesn't really bother you.
You look at Dave because you realize that if any part of this did disturb you, it would just be the worry that Dave might be bothered by it, by the fact that someone thought you were together. But when your eyes meet, Dave smiles. His face is red, too, and he's breathing a little fast, but he just...smiles.
Just as things are getting really awkward, the movie starts, and thankfully, everyone faces forward in their seat and starts watching. You try to concentrate on the movie, but all you can think about is what just happened, and why Dave -- gentle, mild-mannered Dave -- would react the way he had. You sneak a glance at him out of the corner of your eye a few times, and every time, he catches you because he's sneaking a peek at you, too.
Half way through the movie, it hits you like a ton of bricks, and you think you understand why Dave had such an aggressive reaction to the idiot behind you. Oh god. Dave thinks you're gay. Or, if you're being really honest with yourself, Dave knows you're gay. Dave, your protector, your fiercely loyal and dependable best friend, knows you're gay and he was defending you as much as the guys who were kissing.
You're not sure whether to feel good about this or not. Sure, it's a great feeling to know that you have a friend who cares about you so much that he'll accept and defend you, just the way you are. But it makes you wonder if Dave, well, feels sorry for you or something, like when you were twelve and your dick was miniscule. Dave's a great guy, but you don't want his pity.
You start planning what you're going to say to Dave when the movie's over. You're going to tell him that he's right, that you're pretty sure you are gay. But that you're not ashamed of it, just a little confused, and that he doesn't need to feel sorry for you.
You think you've got it all figured out, but when you reach into the bucket of popcorn and Dave reaches in at the same time, your hands brush together. You think Dave will pull his hand away, but then, you feel something lightly touching the back of your hand, and unless there's a roach in the popcorn or something, it's got to be Dave. You look down into the bucket. Nope, no roach. Just two guys' hands and some greasy popcorn.
And then Dave's hand is gone, and you're left to wonder about what just happened. Was the touching an accident, and Dave didn't jerk his hand away because he didn't want to hurt your feelings? Was Dave even aware that he touched your hand, or was he so into the movie that he didn't even realize? Or did you just imagine the whole thing?
You glance up at Dave's face, and Dave catches you looking...again. He smiles, and he looks, well, shy, and that's not a look you think you've ever seen on Dave's face. It makes your stomach do really strange things, and next thing you know, that strange feeling has traveled to your dick. Yep, your guy is really awake now, and you make a valiant effort to ignore the throbbing and concentrate on the movie, because you decided a long time ago not to kid yourself with fantasies of Dave. What would be the point, right?
When the movie's over, and you and Dave are once again back out in the bright, harsh lights of the lobby, everything goes back to the way it always has been. On the way to Dave's car, you discuss the movie, you talk about classes again, you talk about the baseball tournament Dave's playing in next weekend. Nothing is said about the hand touching, or the guys kissing, or the idiot homophobe kid.
Until you're half way home.
Then suddenly Dave says, "That was something, wasn't it?"
"Yeah. Pretty good movie," you answer.
But Dave says, "No. I meant the guys that sat in front of us. The kissing and all."
You feel your face getting hot, and you remember all the things you had decided you were going to say to Dave, but the only thing that comes out is, "Yeah. That was really something."
Dave is quiet for a minute, then he says, "Greggie? Have you ever...never mind."
Dave is staring straight ahead and he's gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles are white. That weird feeling is back in your stomach, and you think you should probably just keep quiet, but you say, "What? You can ask me, Dave."
So he does. He looks over at you and says, "Greggie, have you ever thought about doing something like that? With me?" and then he ducks his head down, and even in the weird yellow glow of the passing streetlights, you can see that his face is a deep, dark red.
You swallow hard, and you don't answer right away, because you honestly don't know how much you should say here. You were prepared to tell Dave that you're gay, but you don't think he would be comfortable knowing that you have thought about kissing him. You've tried really hard not to, but...
And then, before you can think of anything to say, Dave gives you the shock of your life. You've never been as surprised as you are when he says, in a voice so low it's practically a whisper, "Because I have. I've thought about it."
Your heart is beating so fast you really think you might have an attack or something. You feel dizzy and light-headed, and...nauseous. God, you're so nervous that you think you're going to hurl in Dave's car, but then you realize that you've been holding your breath, and when you start breathing again, you feel much better.
You try to say some of the stuff you had planned during the movie, but once again, your brain and your mouth don't seem to want to work together and all that comes out is, "Yeah. I've thought about it, too."
Dave looks at you and his eyes seem a little wild, scared. The car is approaching a traffic light, and just as you get close, it turns yellow. Normally, Dave would hit the gas and go through, but this time he starts slowing down and stops, long before the light turns red.
What happens next is like a weird, hazy dream. But as Dave leans across the seat, his eyes half closed and his lips parted, and you feel yourself leaning forward, too, it's like the very best kind of dream.
And then, it happens.
Your lips touch, and it's like the guys in the movie theater; just your mouths pressing together, light and easy. But then, you feel something hot and wet on your bottom lip and you realize that it's Dave's tongue -- Dave's tongue -- and you get so hard, so fast, that it hurts. When he pushes his tongue inside your mouth, you have a moment where you're honestly afraid you're going to lose it...right there...come in your pants before anything really gets started.
You let your own tongue wander, sliding against Dave's, and you leave your eyes half open because you want to see Dave's face as you kiss. When you see the green glow on his skin, you pull back and say, "Green light." He smiles at you, big and bright, and steps on the gas.
His confidence is back, and there's nothing shy about him at all when he says, "That was something, Greggie."
You laugh and say, "Yeah. It was." You're still hard and aching, and you're pretty sure it's your dick talking when you ask, "You're staying over tonight, right?"
Dave looks at you, still grinning, and says, "Yeah. If that's okay with you?"
The trip from the Parkland Cinema 8 to your house has never seemed so long before. Finally, you get home, the house is dark and quiet, and you're relieved beyond belief that your parents have already gone to bed. You feel certain that if they so much as looked at you right now, they would see, written clearly right across your forehead in big, bold letters: I JUST KISSED MY BEST FRIEND AND I THINK WE'RE GOING TO HAVE SEX NOW.
Once you're inside your bedroom, and the door is locked, Dave starts touching you, just rubbing his hands up and down your arms. You're both standing there, a little stiff and awkward and hesitant and nervous and...
Oh god. Dave is kissing your neck. He's licking behind your ear and you're having a hell of a time remembering how to breathe. When he takes a step back and says, his face so serious, "Is that okay, Greggie?" you can only nod and lean in to kiss him. This time, the kiss isn't anything like the guys in the theater. This time, it's wet, and deep, and sloppy, and Dave is kissing you back like he's starving for you.
You're barely aware that you're both moving together...closer, closer, closer...until there's nothing between you. Your bodies are mashed together, and through your jeans, you can feel your cock pressing into Dave's hip, and his hard dick digging into your hip. And when your brain registers that...god, this is making Dave hard...you shiver.
Dave moves away from you then, reaches down to grab the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it up and over his head in one smooth, graceful motion. You've seen Dave shirtless more times than you can count, but this is the first time you've ever seen him and known that soon, you'll be touching him, and that changes everything. You stare at him, and when your throat starts feeling dry, you realize your mouth is open.
Dave has that shy look on his face again, but that doesn't stop him from unbuttoning his fly and wriggling out of his jeans. He looks up at you from under his lashes, smiles, and says, teasingly, "I'll show you mine, Greggie, if you'll show me yours."
That little throwback to your childhood history makes you both laugh, and you grin and say, "Okay. You first." Dave hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his boxer-briefs and slowly slides them down his hips and legs until they slip and fall to the floor.
So gorgeous. He's absolutely, fucking gorgeous. His cock is huge and hard, jutting up from out of a mess of shiny, dark curls, and even from where you're standing, you can see a glistening bead of pre-cum at the tip. You look up, your eyes lock with Dave's, and you're both breathing fast and hard. He says softly, "Now you," and you nod.
You slip your t-shirt off, then go to work on your jeans. You're afraid you're going to lose your nerve, so when your fly is open, you just shove everything, jeans and underwear, down at once. Now it's Dave's turn to stare with his mouth open, and he moves in front of you until he's so close that his forehead is almost touching yours. Your dick is hard and standing straight up, and after a moment more of open-mouthed staring, Dave looks up, gives you a crooked grin, and says, "I told you it would get bigger, didn't I?"
That makes you laugh, and you shove him away, playfully. He reaches out and grabs your arm, pulling you close, and he's laughing too when he says, "Damn, Greggie. What's your Mom been feeding you anyway? Oats? You're hung like a horse, dude." You know he's exaggerating. You know that your dick is actually about the same size as his, a little longer maybe, but his is a little thicker. But it still makes you feel good, and more relaxed.
You're still laughing a little, but then he wraps his hand around your cock, and you sober up real quick, and when he gives you a firm, twisting stroke, your eyes roll back in your head and your knees nearly give out. Dave is there, though, holding you up. He won't let you fall.
He walks backwards, pulling you along with him, until he hits the edge of your bed, and then you do fall, right on top of Dave on the bed. He lets go of your cock for a minute, and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close and kissing you with that hungry kiss again. It's like he can't get close enough or something, because he slides his hand into your hair and pulls you tight against his mouth, thrusting his tongue into you the whole time.
You're pretty much out of control by this point, humping against Dave's hip like a dog, but he's humping you, too, so you guess it's okay. Suddenly Dave pulls his head back, and says, "Hold on, Greggie, okay?" His eyes are huge and dark, his lips swollen and red, his cheeks are flushed, and he looks...scared.
You're afraid he's getting cold feet, changing his mind about this, but then he laughs a little and says, "Almost lost it there. Okay, okay, better now," and starts kissing you again. He starts rubbing his leaking cock against you, but easier this time, less frantic.
You kiss Dave's mouth, his face, his neck, until the taste and scent of Dave is swirling around in your head, and you know that this is going to become one of those sense memories that stays with you the rest of your life. One day, when you're like, eighty-two or something, you're going to be sitting in a rocking chair on a nursing home porch, and some young kid is going to walk by. You're going to catch his scent on the breeze -- clean male sweat, light hint of cologne, earthy essence of strength and youth and beauty -- and you're going to remember this moment.
You drink in Dave's flavor as your tongue travels below his neck and laps at his collarbone, then over his little dark freckles and down between his pecs. You move on to cover a small, brown nipple with your lips, sucking it into your mouth and bathing it with your tongue, marveling at how hard and pebbly it becomes, instantly. You hear Dave moan and it makes you feel powerful, and you want more, so you move over to his other nipple and give it the same treatment. Dave moans louder.
You're addicted now. You need more: more taste, more heat, more of Dave's musk-salty flavor, more power, and you know just how to get what you need. You know exactly what you're doing and where you're going as your tongue slips down; down over Dave's ribs, down his hard-cut abs, over for a moment to swirl over the bulge of his obliques, then back over to dip into his shallow navel. As you trace a licking trail down from his navel, Dave's breath starts coming in harsh huffs, and he's hoarse when he says, "Oh god, Greg."
Greg. You're 'Greg' now, not 'Greggie', and for the first time, like, ever you feel like you're on equal ground with Dave; equal partners in this thing you're doing. Right now, you're his protector and champion as much as he is yours.
You grab his cock, pulling it up to meet your mouth, and you run your tongue all around the head, licking away the slippery pre-cum, and there's the flavor and heat you were looking for. Dave is jerking and wiggling beneath you as you lick your lips, getting them really wet, and you get this zinging feeling in your brain when you open your mouth wide and just slide down, right over the knob of his cock.
"Awww man," Dave moans, and slides his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp with firm fingertips. You pull off to play with his shaft, licking and kissing, nibbling and mouthing, getting it sloppy, drippy wet so that when you open up and slide back down, his cock just glides effortlessly into your mouth.
God, it feels so good. His cock is heavy -- a solid, hefty weight laying hot on your tongue and stretching your lips, and you suck him down, falling into a steady in-out-in rhythm.
Dave is really getting frantic now, flexing the fingers that are still woven into your hair, tugging in time with your strokes. You reach up to fondle his balls, gently rolling them in your palm before slipping a single finger down to rub underneath. You let your fingertip travel until it hits Dave's hole, and when you rub at it, massage it, Dave comes unglued.
His hips jerk up off the bed, and he grips your hair tightly, pulling you closer. Mouth still full, you look up and your eyes meet his, and he looks shocked, dazed, as he groans through clenched teeth, "Awww fuck, Greg."
All control gone, he starts really fucking you; fucks your face with hard, deep strokes that make you choke and pull away, coughing. His hand gentles then, and he pets your hair and manages to say between gasps, "Sorry...really sorry."
You smile up at him, rub his thighs, and say, "It's okay, man," and before he can say anything else, you're swallowing him back down, and he's grunting.
He's right on the edge and after a few more sucking strokes, he gives you fair warning by pushing weakly against your shoulder and saying, "Oh man...oh god...I'm gonna...," but you don't pull off. Then his entire body gets tense and hard and he shoots into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag, but you don't care. You're choking and drooling and swallowing, fighting your gag reflex, but you don't care, you don't care. It's Dave, and you drink every bitter, salty drop of him.
You suck until he's done, suck until he flinches a little, and then you reluctantly let his softening cock slip from your mouth. You can't help licking at it a little more, cleaning him up, then giving it one last warm, sticky kiss before sliding back up his body.
He pulls you up until you're laying beside him, and he looks at you with drowsy eyes that are filled with affection. He kisses you again, soft and sweet and slow, then nuzzles your neck and whispers, "That was really something, Greggie."
You grin like an idiot and say, "Yeah, it was. For me, too."
He pulls back suddenly and his eyes run down the length of your body, stopping hot and heavy-lidded when they reach your swollen, straining cock. He hesitates, then whispers, "But you haven't..."
"That's okay," you say, because you aren't bold enough to ask for what you want, but you really hope he won't leave you like this. Then he wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you in close, snug against his body and practically in his lap, and you know that he's going to take care of things.
His hand leaves your shoulder and weaves into your hair, his thick fingers curving to cup your scalp and pull you closer until your faces are touching, cheek to cheek. Lips, soft and wet, are nipping at the lobe of your ear while the hot, flat palm of Dave's hand rubs up and down your thin chest. That hand explores, covering every part of your body that it can touch and when it lands on your dick, your head falls back and your mouth opens in an ecstatic gasp.
Dave gives a little grunt and begins shifting his body around until he's over you, on you, pressing you into the mattress. His skin is so hot and damp with sweat, and he's heavy. You've always been aware of the differences between your bodies but not like this, and it excites you - that feeling of his solid weight pressed skin to skin with your bony frame. He begins rubbing, thrusting against you and your cock is mashed against the hard ripples of his abdomen. Another gasp, and you put your arms around him, clutching him tightly to you.
"Do you want me to, you know...suck you?" His mouth is still next to your ear, his words whispered in hot little puffs that make your skin prickle and rise in gooseflesh.
For a second there, that sounds like the best idea ever, but then you realize that you don't want to let go. You want to hold him there as long as you can, your bodies stuck together with sweat and friction. You know that you can't find the words to try to explain that to Dave, to explain how good, how right it feels to be this close. So you just grip him tighter, shake your head, and say, "Next time, okay?"
And then he's kissing you again and it's so good. As his body thrusts rythmically against your dick, his tongue matches the pace, slipping into your open mouth in a hot wet slide that makes you moan. You know you're almost done for, and when Dave grips your ass cheek in one large hand and pulls you even more tightly against him, pressing his mouth against your ear now to whisper, "Fuck, Greg," you lose it. You push your mouth into his shoulder to stifle your groan and your whole body shakes as your dick jerks and shoots against Dave's body.
He keeps rubbing against you until you're done and then collapses heavily on top of you. Your breath is pushed from your body in a forceful rush and you struggle to draw in enough air to emit a soft laugh. He starts laughing too, quiet and happy, and then you just look at each other for a minute, smiling goofy smiles.
Dave tilts his head down and presses a soft kiss against your mouth, and you're struck with a powerful feeling of unreality. You're not sure any of this is really happening because just a few short hours ago, you could never have imagined...this.
You've known Dave forever. You thought you knew everything about him. You thought you knew Dave better than you knew yourself. Turns out you didn't even come close to knowing all there was to know about Dave. There's so much more to learn, but that's okay.
It's all good.