Frustration -SERIES- [Part 1] [boyxboy]

Chapter One

Okay, so yeah. I left a bit out when I was talking about Conor Archibald before. A kind of significant bit. I guess quite a lot of the reason I don't like him is because we've been meeting up in secret for two months now to have these steamy make-out sessions – and believe me, that boy knows what to do with his lips – but he's still 100% in the closet and doesn't, by the looks of things, want to come out and see the rest of the house any time soon.

Don't get me wrong. He really is arrogant and obnoxious and extraordinarily full of himself, and these aren't exactly qualities that I admire, but while I'm not falling for him, it does rub a bit that he won't even acknowledge me in the hallways of our private boarding school, but waxes lyrical about how sexy and hot I am when we're alone. And the fact that the sound of him moaning my name when I've got his dick in my hand is the sexiest thing I've ever heard doesn't even begin to make up for it.

Conor collapsed against me as he came in my hand, gasping. 'Oh god, Tyler,' he said hoarsely, his body still rocking from the aftershock of his orgasm, 'that was amazing.'

'Yeah,' I grunted, resisting the urge to wipe my hand off his back and grabbing a Kleenex out of my pocket instead; kept there for exactly this situation.

Conor reached up and dragged my mouth down to his again: even though we're usually the same height he was leaning against the wall where I'd manoeuvred him before I started jerking him off, well accustomed to his reactions at this point and prepared for his inevitable weakness after the act. It made him about four inches shorter than usual as he was leaning at an angle, giving me a rare height advantage.

As it was, I kissed him hungrily, allowing him to take control as he bit my lip and slipped his tongue into my mouth. His school slacks were still open, his boxers pulled down just enough to accommodate me, and I could feel his erection growing again as I pressed against him. His slowly and expertly probing tongue was doing nothing to alleviate my own, but I knew I'd have to take care of that myself later. On top of being arrogant and obnoxious, Conor is a coward – he won't even look at me below the waist, much less touch me. I think it makes him feel less gay to pretend I don't have one, even though he seems to enjoy how it feels when my bulge presses up against his thigh.

Conor pulled back from the kiss and our foreheads touched, his hand still on the back of my neck. 'I should go,' he whispered, breathing heavily, then stepped away from me and started fixing his clothes. Aside from his slacks, his shirt was twisted and wrinkled, and his tie was loosened.

I leaned back against the wall nonchalantly, watching him. 'I'm coming down tomorrow,' I said lazily, waiting for his reaction.

He looked up, distracted. 'Huh?'

'The gig. I'll be there.'

Conor scowled. 'What are you going for?' He paused and I waited. 'Queer,' he muttered, which I ignored.

'Everyone's going,' I said, by way of response.

'Yeah,' he muttered, picking up his school bag and slinging it over one shoulder. 'Well don't talk to me. Don't even fucking look at me.' And he turned and walked out from behind the prefab, leaving me with an erection at half mast and a sticky tissue to dispose of.

I sighed, wrapped my jumper around my waist to hide the bulge with the knot, picked up my schoolbag and walked out ten minutes after Conor had left, as per our "arrangement". I dumped the tissue in the first bin I passed, then made my way through the school buildings and back to the dorms, letting myself into the room I shared with Josh and collapsing on my bed.

'Have fun?' Josh asked, wearing his trademark smirk. He was sitting at his desk in front of his computer, looking at what was probably rubbish on YouTube.