It's Sad But True/Nobody's Saving Me Now
I find it ironic that I am posting these two together. You'll see.
It’s Sad But True
One of the favorite pastimes of the girls in their grade, besides Going To The Bathroom In Groups and Pokémon, was the guessing game “Which Jones Twin Is Gay?”
Because one of them definitely was. Matthew and Alfred, the twins without twin names, were both cute, blond-haired and blue-eyed, with glasses and their individual trademark sport - Matthew lacrosse, Alfred football. They’d been the secret heartthrobs of their class since the girls could remember, although not many of them could remember either of them dating anyone or even being caught with a girl from a different school or something at the movies or McDonald’s.
Around junior year, though, that changed forever when someone driving late at night saw one of the twins’ golden hair kissing someone who definitely did not have boobs and a skirt.
No one knew who saw them or where the rumor began, but now all of the girls in their small Louisiana high school knew that one of the twins was batting for the other team, and bets went both ways as to which one it was. The Alfred supporters said all that football had to mean something, and he’d been spending a lot of time with that weird British kid with the awesome accent outside of school doing date-ish things. However, Matthew looked the part more, since his hair was more wavy and delicate, curling around his chin, and his glasses gave a certain vulnerable air that made anyone with parental instincts want to protect him from the world. Besides, it was always the quiet ones.
Elizaveta ran a betting pool, mainly because she was bored and fascinated with the scandal, but also secretly because she’d been at the party where it all began, and so knew the truth, along with a small handful of people (mostly guys, none of whom had any idea that the girls were staking on some of their sexualities; the girls were few and easy to bribe into silence, if they even remembered they were there that night).
Not that she’d tell any of her business that, of course. It’d ruin the fun.
Nobody’s Saving Me Now
They’d decided that one in the morning was their hour.
It was the only time of day they felt really comfortable being with each other in public, walking around their suburban neighborhood with hands brushing, talking quietly or hiding in the gardens or trees from the odd passing car.
They were in someone’s front yard now, Alfred leaning over Arthur, who was backed against a support of an old well, now a decoration covered with ivy and pink roses. He had his back to the road and head ducked down, arms braced on the sides of the well by Arthur’s legs, so all any wandering eyes would see through the leaves of the hydrangeas was the brown of his leather jacket.
They both held their breath as the car went by, looking at the road from the corner of their eyes. When it passed and they sighed, they looked at each other half a foot away, stopped breathing again. Started giggling.
“We’re such fools,” Arthur said. Al grinned and took a step forward, holding the roof of the well in one hand and leaning in. Arthur smiled and pushed forward to kiss him, hands tucking into his waistband and holding him close.
Arthur had taught him a lot about kissing in the few months they’d been dating. He slid the hand on the wall up Arthur’s thigh and under his shirt, drawing circles into his side with touches too hard to tickle. Arthur’s thumbnails traced the lines of his hipbones slowly as he opened his mouth to Al’s, tilting his head to the side and leaning back completely against the well support. Al took another small step forward so he could feel the lines of Arthur all over, the roof shingles digging into his palm as he gripped everything harder, riding a wave of want flowing through him. Arthur just kept kissing him languidly, only touching his hipbones.
Al whined into his mouth, and he pulled away slowly, drawing Al’s lower lip through his teeth and smiling coyly up at him.
“Arthur, can you-” He broke off, jerking his hips forward into Arthur’s, who gasped a little, fingernails digging into Alfred’s skin. “Please,” and he felt months of buildup in that one word, and Al flushed, looking at the creeping rose to his right, biting his lip.
Arthur rested his head on Al’s shoulder, kissing his neck, not looking as his hands slid to the front and unbuttoned both of their jeans, trailed his fingers into Al’s boxers. He’d done this before - hell, at this point, they’d done worse - but something felt raw about that night, and he was too aroused to put words to it. Instead, he wrapped his hand around Alfred’s half-hard cock, shoving down the boxers with the other to pull him out fully. Al panted heavily into his scalp, bucking into it.
They were well acquainted with each other by this point, so it was with little hesitation that Arthur started to jerk him off in long, heavy strokes, his kissing turning to almost chewing until Al groaned and jerked his head back by the hair so he could kiss him for real, the hand under his shirt going down, kneading the flesh down his ass and Arthur hissed into his mouth.
The embarrassment of usual faded in the heat and Arthur rushed to push down his own pants and underwear just enough, grabbed both of them in both hands. Al’s breath hitched on a syllable, choked. Arthur let go so he could sit back on the lip of the well, ignoring the cold rock digging into awkward areas in favor of pulling Al forward to stand between his legs.
“Don’t let me fall,” he whispered into his mouth. Alfred grinned at the unsaid ‘Anymore than I have already’ and wrapped his arms around Arthur, holding him tight and kissing the sweat from his face. Arthur went back to his previous occupation, the position a little easier now that he was a few inches higher. He locked his ankles around Alfred’s knees, bucking into his own hands with little gasps into Al’s ear. They closed their eyes against the heat and the orgasm, coming together and early. They’re only seventeen.
When they’re collected, Arthur jumped down, pressed against Al’s front and gave him another slow, lingering kiss before pushing him away enough to bend down and wipe his hands on the grass. Alfred couldn’t resist and pinched his exposed ass with a grin, causing Arthur to yelp and shoot up, then start hitting his arm and scolding him. Al just laughed and ignored him, pulling Arthur’s pants up and buttoning them again, kissing his cheek lightly. Arthur grumbled and returned the first favor, skin flushed.
“C’mon, let’s head out before someone comes to check on the suspicious activity in their front yard,” Al said, taking his hand and pulling him towards their street. Arthur clutched his hand and smiled.
It’s Sad But True
One of the favorite pastimes of the girls in their grade, besides Going To The Bathroom In Groups and Pokémon, was the guessing game “Which Jones Twin Is Gay?”
Because one of them definitely was. Matthew and Alfred, the twins without twin names, were both cute, blond-haired and blue-eyed, with glasses and their individual trademark sport - Matthew lacrosse, Alfred football. They’d been the secret heartthrobs of their class since the girls could remember, although not many of them could remember either of them dating anyone or even being caught with a girl from a different school or something at the movies or McDonald’s.
Around junior year, though, that changed forever when someone driving late at night saw one of the twins’ golden hair kissing someone who definitely did not have boobs and a skirt.
No one knew who saw them or where the rumor began, but now all of the girls in their small Louisiana high school knew that one of the twins was batting for the other team, and bets went both ways as to which one it was. The Alfred supporters said all that football had to mean something, and he’d been spending a lot of time with that weird British kid with the awesome accent outside of school doing date-ish things. However, Matthew looked the part more, since his hair was more wavy and delicate, curling around his chin, and his glasses gave a certain vulnerable air that made anyone with parental instincts want to protect him from the world. Besides, it was always the quiet ones.
Elizaveta ran a betting pool, mainly because she was bored and fascinated with the scandal, but also secretly because she’d been at the party where it all began, and so knew the truth, along with a small handful of people (mostly guys, none of whom had any idea that the girls were staking on some of their sexualities; the girls were few and easy to bribe into silence, if they even remembered they were there that night).
Not that she’d tell any of her business that, of course. It’d ruin the fun.
Nobody’s Saving Me Now
They’d decided that one in the morning was their hour.
It was the only time of day they felt really comfortable being with each other in public, walking around their suburban neighborhood with hands brushing, talking quietly or hiding in the gardens or trees from the odd passing car.
They were in someone’s front yard now, Alfred leaning over Arthur, who was backed against a support of an old well, now a decoration covered with ivy and pink roses. He had his back to the road and head ducked down, arms braced on the sides of the well by Arthur’s legs, so all any wandering eyes would see through the leaves of the hydrangeas was the brown of his leather jacket.
They both held their breath as the car went by, looking at the road from the corner of their eyes. When it passed and they sighed, they looked at each other half a foot away, stopped breathing again. Started giggling.
“We’re such fools,” Arthur said. Al grinned and took a step forward, holding the roof of the well in one hand and leaning in. Arthur smiled and pushed forward to kiss him, hands tucking into his waistband and holding him close.
Arthur had taught him a lot about kissing in the few months they’d been dating. He slid the hand on the wall up Arthur’s thigh and under his shirt, drawing circles into his side with touches too hard to tickle. Arthur’s thumbnails traced the lines of his hipbones slowly as he opened his mouth to Al’s, tilting his head to the side and leaning back completely against the well support. Al took another small step forward so he could feel the lines of Arthur all over, the roof shingles digging into his palm as he gripped everything harder, riding a wave of want flowing through him. Arthur just kept kissing him languidly, only touching his hipbones.
Al whined into his mouth, and he pulled away slowly, drawing Al’s lower lip through his teeth and smiling coyly up at him.
“Arthur, can you-” He broke off, jerking his hips forward into Arthur’s, who gasped a little, fingernails digging into Alfred’s skin. “Please,” and he felt months of buildup in that one word, and Al flushed, looking at the creeping rose to his right, biting his lip.
Arthur rested his head on Al’s shoulder, kissing his neck, not looking as his hands slid to the front and unbuttoned both of their jeans, trailed his fingers into Al’s boxers. He’d done this before - hell, at this point, they’d done worse - but something felt raw about that night, and he was too aroused to put words to it. Instead, he wrapped his hand around Alfred’s half-hard cock, shoving down the boxers with the other to pull him out fully. Al panted heavily into his scalp, bucking into it.
They were well acquainted with each other by this point, so it was with little hesitation that Arthur started to jerk him off in long, heavy strokes, his kissing turning to almost chewing until Al groaned and jerked his head back by the hair so he could kiss him for real, the hand under his shirt going down, kneading the flesh down his ass and Arthur hissed into his mouth.
The embarrassment of usual faded in the heat and Arthur rushed to push down his own pants and underwear just enough, grabbed both of them in both hands. Al’s breath hitched on a syllable, choked. Arthur let go so he could sit back on the lip of the well, ignoring the cold rock digging into awkward areas in favor of pulling Al forward to stand between his legs.
“Don’t let me fall,” he whispered into his mouth. Alfred grinned at the unsaid ‘Anymore than I have already’ and wrapped his arms around Arthur, holding him tight and kissing the sweat from his face. Arthur went back to his previous occupation, the position a little easier now that he was a few inches higher. He locked his ankles around Alfred’s knees, bucking into his own hands with little gasps into Al’s ear. They closed their eyes against the heat and the orgasm, coming together and early. They’re only seventeen.
When they’re collected, Arthur jumped down, pressed against Al’s front and gave him another slow, lingering kiss before pushing him away enough to bend down and wipe his hands on the grass. Alfred couldn’t resist and pinched his exposed ass with a grin, causing Arthur to yelp and shoot up, then start hitting his arm and scolding him. Al just laughed and ignored him, pulling Arthur’s pants up and buttoning them again, kissing his cheek lightly. Arthur grumbled and returned the first favor, skin flushed.
“C’mon, let’s head out before someone comes to check on the suspicious activity in their front yard,” Al said, taking his hand and pulling him towards their street. Arthur clutched his hand and smiled.