Nano Day 5-7: Filler 1
Filler chapter set in-bewteen Michael and Amadeo's meeting with Chris and their second conversation with Jeremy after Jeremy went looking for Aki.
Note that I've dropped the idea of using an alternate name for Armand and decided to just stick to Amadeo Vicerra. Less confusing this way.
Oh, yeah. This chapter contains boysmut. Not of age, do not like, do not read.
It's that simple.
--
One moment they were walking down the third floor's silent corridor, the next he was suddenly pulled into an empty classroom and pushed onto a chair. Michael pinned him down with a very firm stare that promised him there wouldn't be any escape at all.
"Well?" Michael gripped his shoulder tight. "You've been acting strange around Zide since Easter holiday. I never asked why, but damn it, I want to know now."
"I-"
"And don't say it was nothing!" Michael hissed.
Amadeo couldn't stop himself from flinching under the cold stare. He had not really planned on telling his friend about it for one damn good reason, and that was one reason he wasn't certain would win him the support he sorely needed.
Besides, he was more afraid of what Michael might do once he knew.
"We don't have all day, Deo," Michael growled. "You know I can pull it out of you faster than I can pull your hair."
"Don't you dare!" he hissed without thinking. When Michael remained relentless, he knew he really had no choice but to tell.
Didn't mean though that he had to go down without a fight.
"It was not anything serious, honest," Amadeo started with a plain shrug that Jeremy would always use when being nonchalant. Unfortunately though, for someone who had known him for since childhood, it became the exact opposite. Before he knew it, Michael had grabbed the lapels of his coat and pulled him forward, almost mashing their heads together, gray eyes strikingly furious.
Amadeo pretended there was no sudden bursting of warmth in his loins.
"Don't. Tempt. Me." Michael growled each word, and each word shoot a stab of heat to his groin. He didn't know if he should be scared of Michael or mortified by his own body's reaction to Michael's behaviour. Powerful men had always been his greatest weakness.
When ten seconds passed and Amadeo couldn't keep breathing anymore without losing control of his actions, he quickly whispered, "You might get angrier if I tell you why." It was, he thought then, the safest answer he could use.
Oh, how wrong he was, because instead of being deterred, Michael only growled one last time like a pissed off bull and threw him back into the chair and caging him there by putting his hands on the back of the chair, both legs on either side. Amadeo had to sit on his hands to refrain from doing anything traumatising. It was all he could do. While Michael might be okay with the general idea, he wasn't sure if that extended to him being-
Well...
Dare he say it?
"You are stalling." Michael reminded. He could feel the hands behind his ears tightening their grip, and he hated how he found that action so arousing. It was so wrong on so many levels yet it felt so right. They had known each other for years- been each other's best friend since they were ten, but never once had Amadeo let himself succumb to these feelings. He had always looked away when Michael was changing, always shied away from showering together, always pretended he was not comfortable sharing that one last part of him even if ten years ago they were already playing with toy boats together in his brother's bathtub.
Stupid hormones. It was always the hormones' fault, changing mindsets and making him more aware. More frustrated too, and not just sexually because God knows just how clueless Michael could get when it came to matters of the heart.
So much for being a bloody genius.
Amadeo wet his lips. Michael's eyebrow, the left one, twitched in response. "Just how bad was it?"
"Really bad," he answered, suddenly short of breath. "Might hate me for it."
His breathing stopped when Michael placed one hand above his chest, right over his heart, and pushed, the heel of his palm digging into the flesh and bone. The fingers spread, and one by one, they tapped a gentle, descending rhythm that definitely did not help the rather dire condition in his pants.
"Mi-"
"Did or did not something happened during Easter holiday?"
Amadeo blanched. It seemed to be the only answer Michael needed before passing judgment. Before he could defend himself, Michael pulled him up again- and damn his traitorous body for enjoying the manhandling too much- and threw him on his back onto the teacher's chair, inserting himself between the vee of his legs. Every alarm rang in its bell in his head as he realised the position he- they!- were in.
Michael leaned forward, nose barely an inch from his, glasses fogging up from their heated breaths. "Did you or did you not sleep with Zide that night we stayed over at his place?"
Amadeo squirmed and gasped when strong hips ground onto his.
That was certainly not Michael's mobile digging into his stomach.
'Dearest brother Andrea in heaven,' he prayed silently as Michael leaned even closer, rubbing their cheeks together. 'I have sinned and I may sin worse than you did.'
"I'm waiting," Michael whispered.
It was all he could take. He gasped, liquid heat pooling in his pants. His eyes screwed shut, embarrassment and mortification clashing inside of him. Jesus fucking Christ.
"Oh, god."
Above him, Michael sniggered, his head resting atop his still heaving chest. Amadeo tried ignoring the wet, sticky, and utterly disgusting feeling in his pants, his trousers most likely stained as well.
"That," Michael said in-between sniggers, "was not what I expected."
Huffing, Amadeo forced his eyelids open and found himself staring into amused gray eyes, their usual glass shield no longer present.
"Your eyes are really green," Michael segued with a fond smile. Amadeo glared back, the embarrassment in him still going strong despite the flush in his cheeks.
"Flattery won't make things better."
"Ah, but I'm not the one who needs to."
"You just shamed me!"
"Yes, by making you spunk your pants, of course. You're welcomed."
"Michael!"
But the playfulness in those gray eyes disappeared. "You still haven't answered me yet." Amadeo didn't think he could stall things any further, altough he had the feeling he never really could, not when Michael seemed so intent on knowing.
Deep inside of him, somewhere where his heart was still young and hopeful like any normal teenager's, Amadeo wished all this stemmed from a lover's jealousy.
"I..."
When Michael didn't goad him, Amadeo made peace with his consciece- and his stupid and drunk freshly sixteen years old self.
"I had sex with him." His tone was flat and he kept his eyes locked with Michael's, staring each other down. He didn't want Michael to think he was even an inch guilty, because he wasn't and no sex that bloody good could make him guilty at all.
But alas, Michael was a bag of surprises. He couldn't be blamed, not really, when the first thing Michael asked him thereafter was, "Is he really well-hung?"
Amadeo could only gape at him, for a minute, perhaps, before laughing hysterically. Christ, only Michael can elicit this sort of reaction from him.
Laughter dying down, Amadeo banged his head a little against the table with small smile and said, "Hung like a horse."
"Was he a good lay?"
"Best I ever had." He wasn't lying either, and to lie about it, even to Michael, would be a sacrilege to all things phallic and sexual. Although to be technical, it was the best because Zide was the only one he ever had sex with. It had felt like no other sex could be better than it and no cock could satisfy him as good as Zide's had. The experience itself must have ruined his expectations from future partners, and this Michael must have also thought of judging from the sudden darkening of expression.
Without warning, Michael meshed their lips together, tongue forcing his lips open. Amadeo opened his mouth without any resistance, legs spreading wider to better accommodate Michael's weight. He groaned when Michael rolled his hips down, rubbing their erections together, the stickiness in his pants only arousing even more.
Their mouths pulled apart only for the fraction of a second to breathe, and then they were snogging madly again, tongues twisting and curling over each other, spittles drooling from the corners of bruising lips. It felt so hot and so maddening, and the rolling of hips grew into humping and wild frotting.
It must have been Michael who squirmed a hand between the lengths of their bodies to pull belt buckles and flies open and pants down and pull out their cocks, and they both groaned into each other's mouths as their cocks rubbed together.
His hand wrapped over Michael's as well, thumb swiping over both cockheads, spreading precome and drawing moaning cries.
"Fuck, Deo!"
"Yes, yes, oh, god, need you so bad." he all but wrapped his legs around Michael's waist, the other boy thrusting wildly into their hands. "Need to come, pleaseplease, oh god-"
He could feel his sacs pulling up, his guts coiling, his grip around their cocks tightening until he was milking them both dry.
Michael slammed onto him one last time before crying out his completion, and slapping away Amadeo's hand on his cock, Michael swallowed his cock and sucked once, hard, and then he was screaming his orgasm.
Michael did not stop suckling his spurting cock, must have been drinking every last drop until everything was too sensitive and the tiniest touch became painful.
Panting, they lay on top of each other, shirts wrinkled and stained with drying come, hearts underneath battering hard against ribcages. They didn't speak nor move, just resting and catching their breaths again.
Even when Michael shifted to latch his mouth onto his neck and suck and bite and nip, definitely marking him with a lovebite, Amadeo didn't dare to move an inch. He just lay there pliantly and wished the world could go on without them.
Minutes must have passed before either of them could move a lazy muscle. As usual, Michael moved first, and bravely so when he bore his heavy gaze on Amadeo.
"I'll let you go for now, but this isn't over yet."
Amadeo bit back a groan. Somewhere south of his body, something perked up again, and Michael must have felt it too. But he just chuckled, brushing his lips against his own kiss-bruised ones, breath faintly smelling of spunk.
His spunk.
Oh, God, Michael had swallowed. Swallowed!
"You better calm down prick of yours down because I have no intention of sharing you with Reiner," Michael whispered. Amadeo shuddered at the underlying suggestion behind the statement.
Not sharing with Jeremy, but clearly sharing with Zide. Jesus Christ, his best friend was a cock queen.
Wait.
"Wait!" he exclaimed as the thought only hit him then. His hand grabbed purchase of Michael's shirt.
"What?" Michael asked.
"Does this mean you're gay?"
He must have sounded pathetically stupid for Michael to stare back at him with great wonderment (probably at his stupidity, he thought in retrospect), before collapsing into a very loud, uncontrollable that only frustrated Amadeo more than it appeased him.
"Michael!"
"God, you should have seen the look on your face!"
"Come on, I'm serious!"
"You can't be seriously asking me that after I sucked you off."
Amadeo blushed to the roots of his hair. It didn't feel so obscene or dirty until Michael said it with such a straight, matter-of-fact way. And to hear him say it, acknowledging that it did really happen; it did wonders to the butterflies in his belly.
He must be being such a girl about this, going on and on, worrying over emotions and shite like that instead of scheduling their next tryst. And there was definitely going to be more of this, fuck Jeremy and Zide and their shite. No one was getting between him and getting laid.
"Does this change anything between us?"
"Can I stay at your place tonight?"
They paused. Amadeo stared at Michael as Michael gaped back.
Amadeo pushed himself up, tossing Michael off him, and fixed him with a stern look.
"What did you just say?"
"I..."
"Did you just ask me if this changes anything?"
Michael closed his mouth, jaw tensing. A minute passed and he still couldn't say a word. He looked away, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose until Amadeo couldn't see those tumultuous gray eyes.
"God, Michael!" Amadeo yelled, hitting him on the chest. "How could you?"
"I-"
"Best friends since ten and this is what you expect me of me? Push you away after this prepubescent, pathetic and sad excuse for sex?"
"Deo-"
"No, shut up!" He hit Michael again, not caring anymore where he was hitting the boy. "You are going to invite me to your place tonight and we are going to have proper sex and there is nothing you can do to stop me, you hear?"
Michael gaped at him, eyes wide and filled with disbelief. Amadeo couldn't help but pout.
"You're a jerk, Michael Anderson. You're a bigger jerk than your brother-"
"Hey!"
"-and that's saying something," Amadeo finished with a huff.
Michael said nothing and shook his head instead. "Fine," he finally relented. "We'll go home and have numerous bouts of wondrous teenaged sex."
Amadeo couldn't be any happier.
Note that I've dropped the idea of using an alternate name for Armand and decided to just stick to Amadeo Vicerra. Less confusing this way.
Oh, yeah. This chapter contains boysmut. Not of age, do not like, do not read.
It's that simple.
--
One moment they were walking down the third floor's silent corridor, the next he was suddenly pulled into an empty classroom and pushed onto a chair. Michael pinned him down with a very firm stare that promised him there wouldn't be any escape at all.
"Well?" Michael gripped his shoulder tight. "You've been acting strange around Zide since Easter holiday. I never asked why, but damn it, I want to know now."
"I-"
"And don't say it was nothing!" Michael hissed.
Amadeo couldn't stop himself from flinching under the cold stare. He had not really planned on telling his friend about it for one damn good reason, and that was one reason he wasn't certain would win him the support he sorely needed.
Besides, he was more afraid of what Michael might do once he knew.
"We don't have all day, Deo," Michael growled. "You know I can pull it out of you faster than I can pull your hair."
"Don't you dare!" he hissed without thinking. When Michael remained relentless, he knew he really had no choice but to tell.
Didn't mean though that he had to go down without a fight.
"It was not anything serious, honest," Amadeo started with a plain shrug that Jeremy would always use when being nonchalant. Unfortunately though, for someone who had known him for since childhood, it became the exact opposite. Before he knew it, Michael had grabbed the lapels of his coat and pulled him forward, almost mashing their heads together, gray eyes strikingly furious.
Amadeo pretended there was no sudden bursting of warmth in his loins.
"Don't. Tempt. Me." Michael growled each word, and each word shoot a stab of heat to his groin. He didn't know if he should be scared of Michael or mortified by his own body's reaction to Michael's behaviour. Powerful men had always been his greatest weakness.
When ten seconds passed and Amadeo couldn't keep breathing anymore without losing control of his actions, he quickly whispered, "You might get angrier if I tell you why." It was, he thought then, the safest answer he could use.
Oh, how wrong he was, because instead of being deterred, Michael only growled one last time like a pissed off bull and threw him back into the chair and caging him there by putting his hands on the back of the chair, both legs on either side. Amadeo had to sit on his hands to refrain from doing anything traumatising. It was all he could do. While Michael might be okay with the general idea, he wasn't sure if that extended to him being-
Well...
Dare he say it?
"You are stalling." Michael reminded. He could feel the hands behind his ears tightening their grip, and he hated how he found that action so arousing. It was so wrong on so many levels yet it felt so right. They had known each other for years- been each other's best friend since they were ten, but never once had Amadeo let himself succumb to these feelings. He had always looked away when Michael was changing, always shied away from showering together, always pretended he was not comfortable sharing that one last part of him even if ten years ago they were already playing with toy boats together in his brother's bathtub.
Stupid hormones. It was always the hormones' fault, changing mindsets and making him more aware. More frustrated too, and not just sexually because God knows just how clueless Michael could get when it came to matters of the heart.
So much for being a bloody genius.
Amadeo wet his lips. Michael's eyebrow, the left one, twitched in response. "Just how bad was it?"
"Really bad," he answered, suddenly short of breath. "Might hate me for it."
His breathing stopped when Michael placed one hand above his chest, right over his heart, and pushed, the heel of his palm digging into the flesh and bone. The fingers spread, and one by one, they tapped a gentle, descending rhythm that definitely did not help the rather dire condition in his pants.
"Mi-"
"Did or did not something happened during Easter holiday?"
Amadeo blanched. It seemed to be the only answer Michael needed before passing judgment. Before he could defend himself, Michael pulled him up again- and damn his traitorous body for enjoying the manhandling too much- and threw him on his back onto the teacher's chair, inserting himself between the vee of his legs. Every alarm rang in its bell in his head as he realised the position he- they!- were in.
Michael leaned forward, nose barely an inch from his, glasses fogging up from their heated breaths. "Did you or did you not sleep with Zide that night we stayed over at his place?"
Amadeo squirmed and gasped when strong hips ground onto his.
That was certainly not Michael's mobile digging into his stomach.
'Dearest brother Andrea in heaven,' he prayed silently as Michael leaned even closer, rubbing their cheeks together. 'I have sinned and I may sin worse than you did.'
"I'm waiting," Michael whispered.
It was all he could take. He gasped, liquid heat pooling in his pants. His eyes screwed shut, embarrassment and mortification clashing inside of him. Jesus fucking Christ.
"Oh, god."
Above him, Michael sniggered, his head resting atop his still heaving chest. Amadeo tried ignoring the wet, sticky, and utterly disgusting feeling in his pants, his trousers most likely stained as well.
"That," Michael said in-between sniggers, "was not what I expected."
Huffing, Amadeo forced his eyelids open and found himself staring into amused gray eyes, their usual glass shield no longer present.
"Your eyes are really green," Michael segued with a fond smile. Amadeo glared back, the embarrassment in him still going strong despite the flush in his cheeks.
"Flattery won't make things better."
"Ah, but I'm not the one who needs to."
"You just shamed me!"
"Yes, by making you spunk your pants, of course. You're welcomed."
"Michael!"
But the playfulness in those gray eyes disappeared. "You still haven't answered me yet." Amadeo didn't think he could stall things any further, altough he had the feeling he never really could, not when Michael seemed so intent on knowing.
Deep inside of him, somewhere where his heart was still young and hopeful like any normal teenager's, Amadeo wished all this stemmed from a lover's jealousy.
"I..."
When Michael didn't goad him, Amadeo made peace with his consciece- and his stupid and drunk freshly sixteen years old self.
"I had sex with him." His tone was flat and he kept his eyes locked with Michael's, staring each other down. He didn't want Michael to think he was even an inch guilty, because he wasn't and no sex that bloody good could make him guilty at all.
But alas, Michael was a bag of surprises. He couldn't be blamed, not really, when the first thing Michael asked him thereafter was, "Is he really well-hung?"
Amadeo could only gape at him, for a minute, perhaps, before laughing hysterically. Christ, only Michael can elicit this sort of reaction from him.
Laughter dying down, Amadeo banged his head a little against the table with small smile and said, "Hung like a horse."
"Was he a good lay?"
"Best I ever had." He wasn't lying either, and to lie about it, even to Michael, would be a sacrilege to all things phallic and sexual. Although to be technical, it was the best because Zide was the only one he ever had sex with. It had felt like no other sex could be better than it and no cock could satisfy him as good as Zide's had. The experience itself must have ruined his expectations from future partners, and this Michael must have also thought of judging from the sudden darkening of expression.
Without warning, Michael meshed their lips together, tongue forcing his lips open. Amadeo opened his mouth without any resistance, legs spreading wider to better accommodate Michael's weight. He groaned when Michael rolled his hips down, rubbing their erections together, the stickiness in his pants only arousing even more.
Their mouths pulled apart only for the fraction of a second to breathe, and then they were snogging madly again, tongues twisting and curling over each other, spittles drooling from the corners of bruising lips. It felt so hot and so maddening, and the rolling of hips grew into humping and wild frotting.
It must have been Michael who squirmed a hand between the lengths of their bodies to pull belt buckles and flies open and pants down and pull out their cocks, and they both groaned into each other's mouths as their cocks rubbed together.
His hand wrapped over Michael's as well, thumb swiping over both cockheads, spreading precome and drawing moaning cries.
"Fuck, Deo!"
"Yes, yes, oh, god, need you so bad." he all but wrapped his legs around Michael's waist, the other boy thrusting wildly into their hands. "Need to come, pleaseplease, oh god-"
He could feel his sacs pulling up, his guts coiling, his grip around their cocks tightening until he was milking them both dry.
Michael slammed onto him one last time before crying out his completion, and slapping away Amadeo's hand on his cock, Michael swallowed his cock and sucked once, hard, and then he was screaming his orgasm.
Michael did not stop suckling his spurting cock, must have been drinking every last drop until everything was too sensitive and the tiniest touch became painful.
Panting, they lay on top of each other, shirts wrinkled and stained with drying come, hearts underneath battering hard against ribcages. They didn't speak nor move, just resting and catching their breaths again.
Even when Michael shifted to latch his mouth onto his neck and suck and bite and nip, definitely marking him with a lovebite, Amadeo didn't dare to move an inch. He just lay there pliantly and wished the world could go on without them.
Minutes must have passed before either of them could move a lazy muscle. As usual, Michael moved first, and bravely so when he bore his heavy gaze on Amadeo.
"I'll let you go for now, but this isn't over yet."
Amadeo bit back a groan. Somewhere south of his body, something perked up again, and Michael must have felt it too. But he just chuckled, brushing his lips against his own kiss-bruised ones, breath faintly smelling of spunk.
His spunk.
Oh, God, Michael had swallowed. Swallowed!
"You better calm down prick of yours down because I have no intention of sharing you with Reiner," Michael whispered. Amadeo shuddered at the underlying suggestion behind the statement.
Not sharing with Jeremy, but clearly sharing with Zide. Jesus Christ, his best friend was a cock queen.
Wait.
"Wait!" he exclaimed as the thought only hit him then. His hand grabbed purchase of Michael's shirt.
"What?" Michael asked.
"Does this mean you're gay?"
He must have sounded pathetically stupid for Michael to stare back at him with great wonderment (probably at his stupidity, he thought in retrospect), before collapsing into a very loud, uncontrollable that only frustrated Amadeo more than it appeased him.
"Michael!"
"God, you should have seen the look on your face!"
"Come on, I'm serious!"
"You can't be seriously asking me that after I sucked you off."
Amadeo blushed to the roots of his hair. It didn't feel so obscene or dirty until Michael said it with such a straight, matter-of-fact way. And to hear him say it, acknowledging that it did really happen; it did wonders to the butterflies in his belly.
He must be being such a girl about this, going on and on, worrying over emotions and shite like that instead of scheduling their next tryst. And there was definitely going to be more of this, fuck Jeremy and Zide and their shite. No one was getting between him and getting laid.
"Does this change anything between us?"
"Can I stay at your place tonight?"
They paused. Amadeo stared at Michael as Michael gaped back.
Amadeo pushed himself up, tossing Michael off him, and fixed him with a stern look.
"What did you just say?"
"I..."
"Did you just ask me if this changes anything?"
Michael closed his mouth, jaw tensing. A minute passed and he still couldn't say a word. He looked away, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose until Amadeo couldn't see those tumultuous gray eyes.
"God, Michael!" Amadeo yelled, hitting him on the chest. "How could you?"
"I-"
"Best friends since ten and this is what you expect me of me? Push you away after this prepubescent, pathetic and sad excuse for sex?"
"Deo-"
"No, shut up!" He hit Michael again, not caring anymore where he was hitting the boy. "You are going to invite me to your place tonight and we are going to have proper sex and there is nothing you can do to stop me, you hear?"
Michael gaped at him, eyes wide and filled with disbelief. Amadeo couldn't help but pout.
"You're a jerk, Michael Anderson. You're a bigger jerk than your brother-"
"Hey!"
"-and that's saying something," Amadeo finished with a huff.
Michael said nothing and shook his head instead. "Fine," he finally relented. "We'll go home and have numerous bouts of wondrous teenaged sex."
Amadeo couldn't be any happier.