The original name for this story is "boys in boxers" and I hope you enjoy reading it. Please don't be afraid to let me know what you think, okay? ^_^ thank you! :D
----------
I sighed contentedly as I slowly felt myself come to. I was waking up. It was a slow process; feeling my mind come into control of my body again, and slowly seeping into my regular functions again. It was like my brain had gone for a long walk in my sleep, and now it was slowly coming back.
First I could hear things. My breathing, mostly, as I filled my lungs with sweet oxygen. My head felt numb, and I could tell that I hadn't exactly been breathing properly in my sleep.
Next came my ability to smell. I could smell something sweet, and sexy. Like I'd put deodorant on before I'd gone to bed without remembering it.
I gained access to my body, and slid slowly towards the smell, feeling my lips tug upwards in a smile as I felt my body come into contact with something big. And warm.
That was when the ability to feel came back into play, and I noticed things were different.
For starters, the bed I was sleeping in wasn't my own. It was soft, and large, and it lacked an abundance of pillows. There was one beneath my head, and a warm thing that made me feel like it wasn't a pillow, but I wasn't quite sure.
That was, until I felt a hand twitch against my thigh, then slide higher. I smirked a little, and bit my bottom lip as the hand gripped me tightly, another arm wrapped tightly around my back. I felt my face flush in the early morning; no one had ever hugged me like that before.
Then the more evident facts began to set in. Firstly, someone was hugging me like that. I wasn't dreaming. Secondly, this bed wasn't my own. And of course, thirdly, the realization that terrified me more than anything else in the whole damn world...
I had no recollection of what had happened the night before.
Ordinarily, I had a terrible memory anyway, but this scared me because I had no remembrance at all. Not even a hint. My mind was a white sheet of slate between now and what I'd done in lunch yesterday.
I opened my eyes, and I could see a light pink nipple, with a slight hint of hair, as my eyes pointed downwards.
A guy. Well, at least this was a guy. I had seen that coming, though, and I was thankful for small mercies.
Then I looked up a little, and notice short, sandy-blonde hair.
Good, good. He wasn't a sadistic person, judging by his hair color, and it's short length. And with how his hands were located on my body, and I could feel any bruises or soreness, I was pretty sure I was still a virgin.
A small pang of disappointment, but also a small bunch of relief flooded through me. I mean, I was still a virgin, but at least I'd be able to remember my first time for real, right?
That was a positive outlook for a moron.
I shook my groggy head slightly, and then began to think.
Why couldn't I remember? Was I drunk? Had I been drunk last night? If so, why wasn't I hung over?
Was I hung over?
I looked slowly from the left side of my vision, to the right. There was little pain, and I didn't have a headache. I could think clearly, so I was under the assumption that I didn't have a headache.
But I did, however, have severe memory loss. How, I had no idea.
I blinked as the body beneath me shifted again, pulling his body close to mine, so our chests touched, and then he threw a leg over mine, just for good measure.
"Well, this is nice," I thought, bitterly, as I realized that I needed to get out of here as soon as possible. That I had to get him off me as quickly and quietly as possible.
"I hope you wake up soon," he breathed softly into my ear, his voice gravelly, and deep, and I realized immediately whose voice it was. My mind seemed to implode with shock, and my eyes widened as my body tensed.
Then he chuckled a little and ran his hand across my rump playfully.
"Then we can fiddle around like we did last night," he purred, cutely, and I think I almost died.
"What did we do?" I asked aloud, and he almost jumped six feet in the air.
"Jesus!" he bellowed, rolling away from me in shock, throwing the blanket from the lower half of my body in the process, revealing to me the fact that he and I were both only in our boxers, and from the looks of the stains on his, we'd had some fun in them last night.
"Holy Christ on a cracker you nearly gave me a heart attack!" he whined, a hand clasped to his chest as he panted, shocked, and I took in the appearance of his large muscles and well-defined abs.
"When you said you work out, you really didn't lie," I mused silently, and I smiled awkwardly at him.
"S-sorry," I mumbled apologetically, "I thought you were talking to me when I woke up."
He sighed a little, though whether it was out of relief or not was something that I couldn't decide.
"I-it's alright. I guess I'm just not good at the whole pillow talk thing," he mumbled, awkwardly, as his hand slid from his chest and he looked at me with those vibrant, dazzling blue eyes.
"Evidently, that would make two of us," I concurred, and he grinned goofily.
"So, what did you mean when you said you didn't know what happened last night?" He asked, after a few seconds of silence, and I created my throat awkwardly.
"Did we do anything, Chris? I mean, I AM in your bed, and I AM only wearing one article of clothing, which is covered in what I hope isn't whipped cream," I asked, and he chuckled a little.
"Why wouldn't you want it to be whipped cream? Then it wouldn't be semen," he asked, curiously, and I shrugged.
"I'm gonna take a stab in the dark and say that whipped cream stains if it's not washed properly," I decided, and he nodded.
"Fair enough. Care to take a stab in the dark as to what we did last night, too? I don't think I really wanna say it aloud," he mumbled, and I raised my eyebrow.
"Was it that bad?" I asked Chris, and I felt my cheeks flush.
"Nah. It was actually kinda good. I want to see what you think it was," Chris replied, and I nodded.
"Well, we obviously made out," I stated, looking at his top lip, which had a small cut on it, and he laughed a little, then ran his tongue across his teeth.
"That we did. You're not such a sucky kisser, if it makes you feel good," he stated, and I smirked stupidly. That was probably the nicest compliment anyone had ever given me.
"And judging from the stains on the front of your pants, we messed around a little, too," I added, thoughtfully, and he nodded.
"Good observation skills," Chris cheered, and clapped twice.
I wasn't sure what to say after that.
"Thanks. I try," I replied, awkwardly, unsure of what to do now.
So, we'd done stuff together. Did he like it? He certainly didn't seem to hate it. But Chris was straight, I was sure. He said guys doing stuff like that scared him.
"So, what now?" I asked, after the silence continued, and then his expression seemed to darken a little.
"I.... I don't know," he replied, honestly, and then I stood up from his bed, and began to collect the rest of my clothes. All of which, were thankfully, very clean, and I slid them all on, individually.
"Wh-what are you doing?" He asked, confused, and sounding almost hurt.
"I'm leaving. I have to, don't I?" I asked, looking over my shoulder at him as I tied my shoelaces.
"Why? All we did was..." he trailed off, then coughed a little.
I frowned.
He even couldn't even say it. How was I supposed to believe him when he said he enjoyed it? Or if he said he wanted to do it again?
He was bullshitting me, to make me keep my mouth shut. That was all it was. I'd never been lead on before, but I could feel the rage bubbling up inside of me already at the mere thought.
"I know. But, I don't remember it, so don't worry; I won't tell anyone," I assured him, bitterly, and he looked hurt and confused. Like a kicked puppy.
"I-I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd suffer memory loss from-"
"From what?" I asked, and suddenly, his eyes slipped from mine. Eyes that I had once claimed to be too bright and beautiful to look at, because it was like staring into the sun. Now I just thought that they were connected to a manipulative bastard, who wanted to experiment in the dark.
"I put a few aspirins in your beer last night, hoping that you might be interested in me if I..." he trailed off, then looked up at me, with shame sprawled across his face, "if you were drunk out of your mind."
"So you used me," I stated. It wasn't an angry statement. It was a simple statement, but the way I'd said it seemed to cut him deep enough to make him flinch.
"I... I didn't think you'd mind. We didn't do anything really bad. I'm sorry. I was just..." he trailed off, looking away from me again.
"You were just what?" I asked, feeling more exasperated than enraged, as a sigh escaped my lips.
I could see a small hint of a tear forming at the corner of his eye. It was weird, seeing as just a moment ago he'd been cuddling with me and mumbling sweet nothing's to me quite happily.
"There were rumors around the school that you loved me, Ryan," he whispered, barely audible, "and I just wanted to see if I could like you back."
I felt a pang of guilt at my rage, but I wasn't sure of how to feel anymore. The fact that he was curious about being with me had made me delighted, but the fact that he'd had to get be drugged up on alcohol to actually do anything made him lose a lot of my respect for him.
I couldn't help myself when I asked, "Did you?"
I knew I should have been angry. I shouldn't have wanted to care about whether or not he loved me. But part of me did. Part of me longed to know.
And that part of me wasn't an easy one to crush most days.
He shrugged, an impish smile appearing on his face.
"I don't know. You were drunk," he replied, cheekily, "you could be completely different when you're sober," he pointed out, and I held back a scoff. I wasn't sure if that were an insult or not, but it certainly felt like one.
"So you liked it?" I asked, and his cheeks flushed a little.
"W-well... Yeah, I did. But-" I felt the but coming, but it still cut me deep inside when he said it, "-that was different. You aren't drunk anymore, and I bet you're probably thinking I took advantage of you-"
"That's because you did. What you did can technically be classified as statutory rape," I stated, curtly, and his eyes widened a little, surprised that I had cut him off; something I rarely did. Or maybe it was the rape charges? Who knew?
"But you liked it!" He whined, and I scoffed- properly this time- and stood up.
"Sure I did. That's why I have such a fond recollection of it," I snapped, snidely, and his eyes widened in surprise.
"R-Ryan, I... I'm sorry-" He began, and I cut him off when I stood up.
"No," I snapped, shaking my head, sliding my wallet and my necklaces in my pocket, and then I made my way to the exit.
"If you were sorry, you never would have done it," I declared, darkly, giving him the most disappointed and upset expression I could muster.
Then I opened the door to his bedroom, and shut it behind me.
I walked off, away from the room I did not know, in a house I had never seen.
And with fast feet, I managed to find the exit quickly. Then I patted my jeans and found my keys in them, and my phone, and I sighed with relief.
I opened the massive double doors to the exit of his house, and found him standing there, hair combed neatly, dressed in blue jeans and a blue plaid shirt, leaning against the entryway.
He looked up at me with a pleading expression.
"Please don't go," he breathed, and it took every fibre of my being not to say I would stay. I'd loved him for such a long time, but it had felt like I'd been used. Manipulated. And it hurt.
"Why?" I asked, crossing my arms, and feeling my entire body transform into a person that wasn't me. A strong, confident person who I'd rarely made contact with. The person who occasionally seemed to take over my life, and make everything alright. "What could you possibly do or say to convince me to stay after you used me for a good time?" I half-bellowed, and he winced a little.
"I... I don't know, "he admitted, then looked me in the eyes again, with those vibrant irises, "But, I don't want you to leave. I want to talk through this, I want you to hear my apologies... I want-"
I cut him off again. The strong person growing bolder than I ever could.
"What we want and what we get are two completely different things," I declared, and turned to leave.
He grabbed my wrist- something I had taught him to do- (it's harder for someone to leave if you grip their wrists rather than their hands,) and he looked at me pleadingly.
"-I want you to know that I think I love you," he breathed, softly, and I thought that for an instance I'd imagined it.
Part of me wished I'd imagined this whole scenario. Being drugged up. Cuddling up to him. It all felt so fake. And I hated myself for liking it.
I smiled bitterly, and snatched my hand back, then pulled out my phone, and looked at my GPS, trying to locate my position, and the position of my bike as I stumbled away from him.
"I thought I loved you too," I called over my shoulder, not daring to look at his pained expressions. Not wanting to look at the fantasy I'd had in my mind countless times, and caving in just to enjoy it.
This time I would be strong. He'd used me. If he loved me, he'd come after me. If he didn't, he could wallow in his misery and guilt.
He didn't move, and I could imagine the hurt and the guilt sprawled across his face.
I sighed a shaky breath as my phone located my position and my bike, and I was suddenly very thankful that I'd had tracking devices installed in many of my possessions. Not out of paranoia, but because of the fact that I was incredibly forgetful.
I walked towards my bike, leather fingerless gloves placed firmly on my palms, and slid my phone back in my pocket as I admired my black beast.
When I got closer to it, I noticed that the fuel gauge was empty.
My eyes widened in surprise, and I approached the bike fully, sliding atop it.
"This can't be right," I mumbled, remembering that the gauge didn't activate unless the key were in the ignition.
I slid the key into the ignition, and sure enough, my bike was running on fumes.
I turned it off, and sighed, slipping the key back into the pocket of my jeans.
"For once I'd like to not indulge in my fantasies and have it not blow up in my face," I groaned, realizing that now I'd have to head back to Chris's house, and ask for help... or something.
Suddenly I heard a massive rumbling sound, and turned to face the noise, but by the time I had, something had already whizzed past me. I turned my vision to the front of my bike, and saw a massive ute was blocking it off, positioned lengthwise to keep me from moving.
Of course, if my bike weren't out of fuel, I'd have no trouble slipping past it, but I made it seem like I had actually intended to go somewhere.
Chris slid out of the driver seat, and he looked at me pleadingly.
Huh. I guess I had actually been right after all.
Playing hard to get worked well. I'd have to do it more often.
"Please don't go!" He begged, and I held back a laugh. I was so glad he had no idea I was out of fuel.
I sighed dramatically, and slid off my bike, then looked at him with a serious expression.
"Alright. I'm not going anywhere," I declared, throwing my arms up at him, airily.
I was telling the truth, but it wasn't like he knew that.
"Y-you're not?" He asked, surprised, and I shrugged, leaning against my bike.
"You had a lot of things you wanted to do, right? I might as well stick around and watch you do them," I grumbled, with a huff, and he grinned stupidly.
"Y-you will? Just like that?" He asked, with a disbelieving laugh.
"Don't get your hopes up. I can leave any time I want," I lied, gazing at my black nails, and his eyes widened a little.
I held back a laugh as he approached me quickly, and I wondered if he thought I was bipolar. I certainly felt like I was. I mean, I jumped from friendly to asshole in naught point two seconds, but that was only because... Well... Why not, right? I was acting, mostly. Playing the goat to see what he'd do, and the results were surprising.
He wrapped his arms around me tightly, hugging my waist, as he stood on his toes to lean into my ear as I leaned against my bike.
"I'm so sorry about last night. It was just a bit of fun. I thought you wouldn't mind," he breathed, and I smiled.
In truth, if I could have remembered it, I certainly wouldn't have minded too much. It was just the idea that I'd been used and manipulated. But, Chris was just wanting to see if he loved me, and he did, right? Part of me didn't see a problem with that. He had to get me drunk to do something, meh, so what? It wasn't the first time that had happened to me, and it probably wouldn't be the last. And stuff like that happened all over the world, all the time.
"Well, I do," I replied firmly, grinning like an idiot because of how happy I was.
"And I feel so bad about it," he replied, awkwardly, "like, if I'd had known it'd upset you, I wouldn't have done it, but... I needed to know, Y'know?" He asked, and I allowed myself to let my arms curl around his body gently.
"Yeah, I get it," I mumbled, and then he pulled away from me. I made my face look stern as he looked at me, even though I was dancing joyously inside.
"You mean... You forgive me?" He asked, cautiously, and I shrugged.
"I think you might have to make it up to me a little, but.. Yeah," I replied, airily, and he nodded.
"Yeah, yeah, but... How do you want me to make it up to you?" Chris asked, and my mind buzzed with countless ways for him to prove his love.
With kisses, cuddles, walking, confessions... Painting his nails black, making him look very young in places by using a razor... Making him my boyfriend...
I smirked a little, as my hair slipped from behind my ear and in front of my face, and I slid a gloved hand up his torso to his chin. He shivered a little as his eyes didn't break contact from mine, and I loved him for it.
"I can think of a lot of ways," I assured him, grinning, and his cheeks flushed slightly.
He parted his lips slightly, then ran his tongue across them, and I could feel his length hardening in his jeans against my thigh. I smirked. Boys were so easy to turn on.
"I-I can, too," he breathed, sexily, and I smirked wider, as I leaned in, and softly connected my lips to his.
And in that instance, I was sure that my heart had imploded in my chest. He felt so good on me, and I was positive that he knew it, too. He kissed back gently, not breaking eye contact as I kissed him, as his cheeks reddened.
Then I pulled away slowly, and he smiled genuinely at me.
"Still think you could love that?" I asked, playfully, and he grinned widely.
"I dunno," he replied, then rubbed his hips against me, obviously, his length pushing up against me, "Do you think I could?"
If his hard on was any guess, I was pretty sure...
"We can work something out," I teased, then poked his nose playfully, and allowed him to slide from my body.
"I'm sure we can," he purred, slipping his hand in mine, then lacing his fingers with mine. A nice gesture I certainly didn't hate.
Warmth radiated from his hand as we walked back towards Chris's house, and I smiled as I looked at him, taking in his soft features. His defined features. Him.
He smirked sweetly as he looked at me, and squeezed my hand tightly.
"Do you think..." he began, and I raised my eyebrow.
"Do I think what?" I asked, as we neared the front of his house, and he stopped. I stopped too, and faced him. He slid his other hand in mine, and avoided my gaze for a minute, then his vibrant blue eyes, as deep as the sea and as hard to gaze into as the sun, met mine.
"Do you think we could... I could... Y-Y'know?" He mumbled, awkwardly, blushing as he looked between us.
I cracked a smile, "you want to kiss again?" I asked, and his face flushed harder.
"I was wondering if... Well, maybe... I know it might be a bit soon... But my balls are feeling really blue after laying next to you all morning and.. And.." he trailed off, and my eyes widened a little.
"Y-you want to... To.." I tried to process the idea of Chris and I doing anything remotely sexual together, and my brain nearly turned to mush and melted out my ears.
His expression became nervous and his eyes slipped to the dirt.
"W-we don't have to I-if you're not comfortable with me like that yet. I just.. I.. I'll need five minutes in the bathroom before we get breakfast if you don't-" He began, and my face set aflame as I imagined him pleasuring himself.
I grabbed him by the collar of the shirt, and his eyes widened as I pecked at his lips softly, then slid my other hand to his belt, and gripped it tightly, then hoisted him high into the air. I released his collar, and then slid an arm around his back as I kissed him deeply, and surprisingly, he kissed back as he wrapped his legs around my waist.
I could feel his length poking into my stomach as I kissed him, and I felt my cheeks flush as he pulled my body to the left with his weight, and I stumbled in the direction he pulled me. He broke the kiss for a single second and breathed words.
"Side entrance. Faster. No one will see us," he moaned, then mashed his lips against mine joyously again.
Then we both stopped, and he slid off me as I broke the kiss, panting.
No one will see us? What the fuck was that supposed to mean?
"O-oh my God," he rasped, shaking his head at himself, then he looked up at me apologetically.
"I think you're right, Chris," I mumbled, awkwardly, rubbing the back of my hand across my mouth, "I think we're moving too fast."
He nodded, "I-I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. I..." he swallowed hard, "I think you turn me on," he replied, nervously, and I laughed then pat him on the shoulder.
"Likewise," I declared, grinning stupidly, and he grinned too, "but we should probably keep it in our pants for now, while we try to sort out all the other stuff that we need to sort out," I assured him, and he nodded.
He slid his hand in mine, then coughed awkwardly.
"So..." He drawled, hiding a smirk behind his hand as he admired the bulge in my jeans. I couldn't help but admit that I'd been glancing at his, too.
"Boyfriends?" I offered, helpfully, and he nodded.
"Oh yeah," he declared, dragging me towards his bedroom, and I laughed.
"So much for taking it slow," I teased, with a laugh, and he laughed, too.
"Trust me, waiting until we get to my room is slow," he assured me with a laugh, and I laughed too.
Even though we hadn't entirely sorted ourselves out, we'd done enough to at least allow ourselves this one instance of pleasure. We could sort the rest out later, and to be honest... My nether regions were in agreement with Chris's; we'd apologized, we'd made up, and now we were going out. We could take it in after we got rid of our blue balls.
We slid into his bedroom quietly, and he stripped his shirt and pants in a second, leaving him standing there, erect in front of me. I admired his length, hidden by his boxers, and the rest of his body, and he blushed a little.
Despite Chris's confidence, I knew he was majorly self-conscious about his body, and I wanted to make him aware of the fact that with a body like his, he had nothing to fear of around me. He was fiiiine, if I did say so myself. And seeing as he had been my boyfriend for all of two minutes, I was sure that I had the right to say so.
"Like what ya see?" He asked, tensing his muscles as he strode up to me, and I swallowed hard as he slid my jacket from me, then wrestled with my belt, his eyes not leaving mine.
"Oh, I love it," I assured him, with a grin, and then he dropped my jeans to the floor, and slid my shirt from my chest.
"And once I'm done with you," he breathed sexily into my face as one of his hands trailed across my clad length, making me shiver, while another wrapped around my waist; he was getting ready to grab me and throw me onto his bed.
"You'll love me," he finished, and as I opened my mouth to speak, he grabbed me tightly,
and... Well...
After that, I can honestly say two things.
One; I am a lot better when I'm sober.
And two; he wasn't lying when he said he'd make me love him.
But the fact of the matter was, he didn't have to. I was already there long before he'd even
thought about it.
I was just glad he'd woken up and realized he loved me, too.
--------------------
THE END.
Possibly a continuation, if I can think of ideas.
Thanks for reading my crazy, wacky, weird story! ^_^ :D have an awesome day! :D I would appreciate feedback. ^_^
h