Chapter 4
Everyone at the breakfast table that pale and foggy morning were more cuddly than usual. Misha sat sideways across her shirtless boyfriend's lap, her back supported by the wall while Brandon spent more time nuzzling one of her breasts than he did contributing to the lively conversation around him. Opposite them, Angela straddled Bobby and, were it not for the fact that they were both wearing clothing, they could have been fucking with the way they moved against each other. On the window bench with his coffee held between both hands, Trey reclined against Lane's chest, one of his partner's legs wrapped around him and both of Lane's hands linking above his navel. His puckish grin had already been mistaken as sexual after glow and neither of them had seen fit to correct that impression. Given the relaxed atmosphere, Trey doubted very much that any of the others would accept the truth that, instead of anight spent in carnal passion, the two of them had just fallen asleep. Well, Lane had slept; he himself had passed out. Even so, he would not have changed anything, especially not the deep and comforting sensation of waking up in Lane's embrace; a fantasy he had dreamed about for as long as he could remember, the joy of opening his eyes to the glitters of dawn's light and finding himself in the arms of another. Not even a night spent in sloppy, drunken sex could replace that.
Trey blew across the steaming liquid in his mug, pulled a careful sip between his lips and winced as the bitter brew singed his tastebuds. Behind him, Lane popped out his chest, sinking a little deeper into the position. The youth's jeans did not completely contain the hard on snaking up the back of his zipper to lay across his stomach, rubbing against Trey's bared back. Had Trey not been seat as he was, Lane's organ would have been visible to everyone at the table. Then again, Trey decided, had he not been seated as he was, Lane would not have had a hard on in the first place; his feeling about the situation a double edged sword that both tantilized and made him feel guilty at the same time. It couldn't have been comfortable sporting that beast for so long without taking care of it.
Misha, as she had been last night, once again played the part of hostess, carrying the conversation through a winding path of topics that covered school, gossip about their fellow students, work, more gossip, and finally landed on something they could all get excited about: The Halloween Dance.
"Now that we've both got menfolk to escort us," Misha said in a mock souther twang to Trey, "I'm supposin' you won't wanna be going' with little ol' me."
Lane reached out to the table, pulling his mug of coffee to his lips with one hand while the other painted small brush strokes of sensation up Trey's abdomen with a feather light touch. He gave a little shiver, goosebumps pimpling the surface of his skin, but managed to smile back to Misha.
"Well, we could go together, but then who would take Brandon and Lane?" he replied.
Brandon popped his head away from Misha's breast, fixing a long gaze on Lane. "You are kinda cute," he said to the youth behind Trey jokingly. "We could go together. But I have to warn you, I'm a good boy, and I don't put out on the first date."
"That's a shame. I give spectacular blowjobs," Lane retorted among the low chuckle circling the table. That earned him a loud round a laughter in reply, which he used to cover the next statement, whispered directly into Trey's ear, "I do too."
Trey blushed hot desire, hid his smile behind the coffee cup in his hands and shifted his position against the youth, dragging his lower back against Lane's hard cock in a teasing fashion. He felt it respond to his movement with a powerful throb, rested his head against Lane's shoulder to catch the youth's earlobe between his teeth. As much as he wanted to tell Lane that his own techniques were extraordinary, he couldn't lie to him about something like that. Truthfully, he had no idea, but he was looking forward to finding out, though he suspected he would need to do some jaw stretching exercises before he made a go for it.
"So, what are you two going as?" Misha inquired. "We've already decided we're going as Dorothy and the Scare Crow. Maybe you could be the Tin Man and the Cowardly Lion. I've always thought there was something a little queer about those two."
The earlobe slipped from between Trey's lips, his head snapping up to look at Misha. Her eyes held not sense of comedy at the statement she had just made; were blinking full on innocense at him.
"That's a good idea," Lane said before Trey could form any sort of reply. "But I think we'd prefer costumes that are easy to get out of. If we go," he added, giving Trey a squeeze. "When is it, anyway? I'm still not up to date on all the shindigs and clambakes around town."
It was a day for old timey speak apparently, Trey thought, letting his head fall back to Lane's shoulder and closing his eyes for a moment, soaking in the innuendo laced aura blanketing the two of them. Now that the night was done, and the first opportunity to test each other out had passed, the pressure to do so seemed lest immediate. He wanted to have sex with Lane, of course, and would have sex with him too eventually. But while the other two couples were busy with their intercourse, he and Lane had shared something infinitely more intimate.
Misha gave the date of the dance, throwing in some extemporary information about who would be going with who, her penchent for gossip particularly active that morning. Trey could understand why; there were already, no doubt, any number of rumors flying through the airwaves about what the three couples had done at the sleep over. The thought of it made him frown, and he cuddled deeper into Lane's chest. Dealing with the hear- say would be a full time job, and much of it would reach his parent's ears. He wondered if either his Mother or his Father would believe him when he told them that nothing untoward had happened between he and Lane; that they had slept together in the same bed, but had done nothing more exciting than kiss each other.
But, another part of his mind reminded him, it no longer mattered whether his parents believed him or not; not as far as punishment and consequences went. He was an adult now, at least chronologically. If he wanted to have sex with Lane, he could; if he wanted to go to the grocier and buy a lime flavored cigar, he could-- not that he would. As long as he held himself to the stricter standard set for him by virtue of being the Principal's son, kept his intimacies mostly private, his parents would have nothing to complain about. The oppression of turning eighteen the day before vanished, melting beneath the warm gaze of his boyfriend's stunning smile.
"You know," Bobby announced, drawing the group's attention to him, "this coffee is good and all, but I'm getting hungry. Anyone up for a trip to the Diner?"
Getting up and going out for a breakfast trip meant putting shirt, socks and shoes back on. The part of him that ruled such things informed Trey that he did, indeed have the energy for it. However, it also meant that he would have to expose his boyfriend's cock if he moved. Thus, the dilemna between his empty belly and his desire to shield Lane's privacy was born. Fortunately, the youth sitting behind him took care of the dilemna for him.
"Sounds like a plan," Lane said, and turned to Misha. "Would you mind getting our shirts? I'm not really in a position to move, and the longer I keep Trey where he is, the better I'll be when I have do have to move again." As if he meant to draw attention to what Trey had done to him, he sent a pulse through his member that brought a glob of dick spit to the tip, the warm and clear fluid smearing against Trey's back. He felt it and did his best not to make a face or move away.
"Sure thing," Misha replied, jumping from Brandon's lap. The youth had to quickly readjust himself, lifting his ankle across his knee to further hid whatever was going on in his pants. Knowing that he couldn't see what Brandon packed while they all could see what Lane kept hidden behind him, brought about a profound sense of pride in Trey. Of all the youths at the table, his boyfriend was the most well endowed, though he couldn't exactly place where that pride was coming from. Maybe, he reasoned, he had just assimilated a lot of it from reading erotic fiction and the occasional nigh time interlude on the internet, watching movies that would incur the wrath of his parents if they found out, informing his own desires as to what he found perfect in the manle's proportions.
And Lane, as far as he could see and feel, met that standard with exacting detail. Though he had not actually seen the youth's prick in its full and naked glory, he had caught a glimpse of it that morning when Lane had left the bed to empty his bladder. It was a good thing that his boyfriend wore boxer shorts. Trey doubted any other form of underwear would have been able to contain what the jutting bulge hinted at. Even the sight of its deflated state upon Lane's return had made his mouth water and his own underwear seem far too tight for what he carried below the belt.
The meeting around the breakfast table dispersed in relative haste. Brandon, deciding that Misha needed his help, jumped to his feet and followed her before she had reached the first stair. Bobby and Angela, meanwhile, removed themselves to the living room, gathering their own belongings and packing them up. This left Trey and Lane alone together and with a little prodding from his boyfriend, Trey parted bodies with him. Lane's movement to conceal himself back into the confines of his jeans was too quick for even a cursory peek, and so Trey let his eyes linger instead on the solid, denim covered tube that spread itself out on Lane's hip instead.
Lane caught him at his game, chucking Trey under the chin with a crooked index finger and lifting his face to receive a promising kiss. Now that they found themselves in a more private situation, with one couple traipsing around up stairs and no where near the guest bedroom, and the other making a lot of noise as they cleaned up after themselves in the living room, Trey settled his coffee mug on the table to fully explore his lover's mouth, tasting deeply of him. Unencumbered by the mug of hot brew, Lane's fingers covered his wrist, brought it closer to his body, guiding it to the front of his jeans. Trey hesitated at the last instant, stopping himself from touching his boyfriend's package even as his fingers itched to do so.
"Don't be afraid," Lane whispered, his humid breath tracing a delicate line of pleasure along the shell of Trey's ear. "You have my permission to touch me whenever, and however you want."
The invitation rang like a curse of inadequacy in Trey's mind. He wanted to touch him, but he feared doing so would ruin the spell. Lane could have no idea how much of a virgin that he actually was; that the only penis he ever touched belonged to himself.
"What about the others?" he whispered back, hoping that would be enough to draw attention away from his lack of initiative.
"I don't think they'll mind. How about we make a deal? You touch mine and I'll touch yours," Lane answered, lifting his face into Trey's view, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. The hand holding him by the wrist dropped to Trey's thigh, sliding up his jeans until the back of one of Lane's knuckles made contact with the high cut crotch, brushing over the place where Trey's jeweles rested. The muscle holding his arm aloft gave out with the sudden and overwhelming pleasure of feeling another's hand touch him, even if the sensation was muffled by the layers of clothing between their skin. His thumb grazed the tip of Lane's manhood, and he was treated to it flexing beneath his touch, a hot sigh leaving Lane's parted lips. He covered the youth's mouth with his own, daring a full squeeze that made his boyfriend groan into him.
It was at that moment, the most inopertune time in the entire history of inopertune times, that Misha and Brandon reappeared on the stairs, requiring them both to quickly withdraw their hands from the other's crotch and act as though nothing at all had happened. Misha threw their shirts at them, giving Trey a knowing smile, not at all fooled by their pretense and seemingly undisturbed by what she had very nearly walked in on.
Lane ran up stairs to fetch their socks, which they donned in the living room where they had both left their shoes and a few minutes later, they were on their way to the Diner. Trey rode with Misha, Brandon and the other couple taking their own cars and Lane a solitary figure on his motorcycle behind them. He had wanted very badly to join him on the back of the machine, but with only one helmet, it wasn't going to happen. Lane did promise him, though, as they kissed in parting, to give Trey the spare he kept on hand if he was really interested in riding along with him in the future.
* * *
In the car, the intimacy of their friendship reasserted itself as Misha gave Trey a friendly pat on the knee and half turned her head to talk to him, keeping one eye on the road ahead. "So, how was it? Your first time with a guy?"
Had anything happened, it would have been his first time with anyone. He didn't point that out though, nor did he admit that nothing had happened, instead he mirrored the question back at her.
"It was fucking unbelievable!" she squeeled excitedly in reply. "He was tender and loving, and he didn't move too fast and his stamina..." she fanned herself with her hand. "You know, I've always heard about how young guys our age are quick to get off but not Brandon. And when he did, you know, get off," she continued, lowering her voice to a whisper in spite of the fact that there was no one else in the car riding with them that could have overhead her, "he just kept going. I ruined my favorite pillow to keep from being so loud, and I'm surprised I can even walk at all. I think I might marry him."
Trey let out an appreciative laugh, twisting beneath the seat belt covering his chest to face his friend. "So he's good then, I take it. What... what all did you guys do, if I can ask that."
Misha's brows knitted together, her gaze flicking to him quickly and then back at the road. "We had sex, duh."
Trey rolled his eyes. His question might not have been the best worded, but he knew she was being intentionally obtuse. "I mean... like... what kind of stuff did you guys do?"
"A lady doesn't kiss and tell," Misha answered with a self important sniff. "It's a good thing I'm not a lady, huh?" she added with a laugh an instant later. "But you first. I want every inch of detail!"
He bit his bottom lip, flushing with disappointed embarassment. "We... we didn't exactly do anything. I mean," he added at the look of horror she flashed in his direction, "I was really drunk..."
"Yes, you were, and you owe me for cleaning up the floor. You missed the toilet by about a mile so, the next time you need to piss when you're drunk, do it girl style and have a seat," she interrupted.
"And," he continued unabated, having cleaned up far worse bodily emenations from Misha when she had imbibed too much, "we slept. I... I think I would have been okay if he tried something with me but I'm glad he didn't."
Misha let out a sad sigh. "Well, that sucks. I was hoping we'd lose our virginity on the same night but, I guess you can't have everything you want. Do you... you know... want to have sex with him? You're not changing your mind about being gay, are you?"
Another eye roll, accompanied by a scoff was Trey's first response to that question. "Of course I do," he replied. "Have you seen him? He's fucking gorgeous!"
"True. But looks aren't everything." Misha lifted a hand from the steering wheel, showing him a space less than inch separating her thumb and forefinger, adding, "He could have a really itsy- bitsy, teeny- tiny..."
"He doesn't." Trey countered.
Misha's eyebrow quirked. "You saw it then?"
The memory of his partner's denim covered dick in his hand washed over him, making his own member flex a little in his jeans. "Not exactly," he admitted. "I kinda touched it. Completely above the clothes though so, I don't think that counts."
"Nope," Misha replied. "It doesn't. So you better get working on pleasing your boy before he decides to find some nookie elsewhere. I'm just kidding, of course. I'd kick his ass if he broke your heart."
A few minutes of banter later and they were pulling into the Diner's parking lot which, for a Saturday morning, was pretty empty. Trey was the first to exit the car, catching a foot on the floorboard but rescuing himself at the last minute from faceplanting on the asphalt with a wild swing of his arms. Fortunately, no one but Misha witnessed the spectacle, and she continued to laugh about it all the way into the restaurant, settling down only once they had taken seats at the booth they were shown to.
The others arrived shortly after they ordered their drinks, the game of shuffling seats following with the new arrivals. It was Misha and Brandon's turn to sit at the center of everyone's attention, Trey and Lane flanking one end while Bobby and Angela took the seat opposite them. Their waitress, quick to pick up that her table had just expanded from two teenagers to six, brought the whole coffee pot with her, pouring out portions whether they were asked for or not. Indeed, she looked like she could have used a cup of the heavy black brew herself: her eyes were sunken with dark streaks beneath the lids, and her hair was a frazzled mess atop her head.
She went round the table taking orders, coming to Lane last. Lifting her eyes from the notepad she carried with her to write out the shorthand codes for her patron's meals, she took one quick glance at Lane, returned her gaze to the notepad, and then snapped her head back up a transformed woman. Color had appeared in her cheeks and her lips seemed to have become extra pouty as she addressed Trey's boyfriend. "What'll it be for you, cutie?"
Trey prickled, grabbing Lane's hand and lifting it over his head to drape the youth's arm across his shoulder. Before Lane could answer, he brought the youth's face toward his own and gave him a long, loving kiss that was as much for fun as it was to claim him. It had been the first time he'd ever felt a twinge of jealousy rolling through him, and he didn't like it at all. For his part, Lane had the good decensy to blush at the end of the posessive kiss, looking to Trey with a new fire kindling in his eyes that would not have been out of place in some ancient predator stalking its favorite prey. He caught Trey's bottom lip between his own, giving it a playful little nip, and then turned to place his order.
"Orange juice," he began, handing over the menu, "and a bagel, please."
Given the rather large meals the rest of them ordered, Trey thought the skimpy order his boyfriend had just placed was more suitable. Before the waitress could leave, he changed his order to match Lane's, feeling less like a glutton about his choice. And, if he got hungry later, he could always eat again, wherever it was he ended up heading to. That very topic was under discussion between the two other couples.
"I've got to get home and baby-sit my kid brother this afternoon before my parents go to work," Angela said. "I'm lucky I got out of it last night. So, hey, thanks for having a birthday, Trey. It got me one night off babysitting duty."
"That means I'll be going with her," Bobby added, giving his girlfriend an affectionate nudge with his shoulder. "Once the kid is asleep, it's actually kinda nice just hanging out. As long as I'm out of the house before her parents get home, that is. You know..." he paused, tilting his head as if in deep thought, "do you think your parents would behave like Joshua and Margerie's did when they got engaged? Then I could sleep over whenever I wanted."
Angela turned to him, grinning. "Is that a proposal?"
Bobby leaned into her. "Maybe."
It wasn't the reaction she had been expecting and she pulled away, disbelief etched out on her features though Trey was certain he saw a little joy in there too. "Seriously?" she asked.
A resonanting silence feel over the table as they waited with baited breath for the youth's reply. Bobby seemed to come to his senses then, shaking the wet thoughts from his head and lauging a little. "I guess it's not the greatest way to propose to someone, is it?"
Angela deflated a little bit. "I should say not!" she replied with false bravado quivering along the edge of her tone. "I expect a ring, and I want it done in front of all of my family!"
Bobby nodded, looking into his lap with a serious expression. "You're right," he said. He shifted around a moment, pulling something from his pocket. The next instant, all hell broke loose in the restaurant as the people in the surrounding booths and tables all stood to witness what was turning out to be a real, live, honest to goodness proposal. Angela's parents peaked around the corner, having been hidden behind a pillar and wall when they all entered.
Misha reclined against Brandon, the smile on her lips telling Trey that this whole set-up had been planned, probably as far in advance as his birthday party had been. Bobby slid from the seat beside his girlfriend, lowering himself to one knee and holding out a ring box on his left palm, the other hand easing it open. Within, a dazzling saphhire and ruby engagement ring set in white gold glittered in the light cast off by the nearby windows and raining down on them from the overhead lamps. Angela squeaked.
"Angela McIntyre," Bobby intoned, eyes watery and cheeks painted red, "you have been the raft that kept me afloat in this sea of life. Will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?"
Angela screamed, launching herself at Bobby and knocking him back on his ass to kiss him over and over again on every inch of face she could reach. The crowd in the restauraunt applauded and cheered, helping the newly engaged couple to their feet so that Bobby could slip the ring onto Angela's shaking finger. Lane pulled Trey closer, bringing his hands together with an enthusiastic clap that included a kiss for him at the end.
The couple had been dating for a year and so Trey didn't find the proposal out of place. It was the next logical step in their relationship. He congratulated them both and then excused himself to use the rest room, needing to escape the noise and the crush of bodies that had descended upon their table.
Cool blissful silence fell over him as he entered the room, a small space with two stalls, a urinal and a cracked, grafittied mirror over two sinks. The high, spikey aroma of piss mingled with a fresher scent that no doubt came from the air freshener on a timer in the corner beside the door. It was to the sink farthest from the door that he went to, turning the cold water to full blast and cupping his hands beneath the stream to splash his face. Liberal application of the frigid liquid pulled the world into sharper focus around him and he lifted his gaze to stare back at his reflected self in the mirror.
His hair was a tangled mess atop his head, brushed too quickly before they left Misha's house and still sticky with the products he had put in it the previous night. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes, partly from the lack of sleep and partly from the tracing of eyeliner he'd worn to make the blue of his irises stand out even more. The shirt was wrinkled after spending a night on the floor, and altogether, he made for a very disheveled looking boy. That Lane could still find him attractive even when he looked as bad as he did was a miracle.
The sound of the door creaking open pulled his attention away from the reflection he cast back to the water control nozels. He quickly shut the flow off and stood upright, glancing in the mirror and finding Lane's grinning, handsome countenance looking back at him. He had weathered the evening relatively unscathed by the beauty sapping escapades of the night, though in the brighter light, Trey did notice a streak of white, powdery make up at his jaw line. Lane looked over his shoulder at the door, and then reached out to the lock, giving it a twist and securing them in privacy with a satisfying click.
Trey's breath caught, his gaze flashing between the young man and the locked door, an eyebrow quirking up in unspoken question. His imagination filled in any number of scenarios that could happen, most of them informed by internet pornography though a few unique ideas were all his own, and tended more toward the romantic than the sexual; sensual with only a little bit of carnality to them. How to get started in any of those directions, however, eluded him. In the porn movies, the sex always just seemed to happen, with very little conversation or action between the door closing and the putting on of the condom. If there was any conversation at all, it was all really bad; the sorts of things that no one said in anything but porno.
"That's pretty neat, about Bobby and Angela," Lane said, taking a step toward him, and then another, the last one bringing him into the bubble of personal space that separated friends from lovers. He wrapped his arms around Trey's waist, his smile shifting the way the light fell in the room, as though it could be only friendly to him and those on whom his gaze fell.
Trey acknowledged that with a nod and a smile, presenting his lips for Lane's kiss. The youth obliged, but the kiss wasn't as deep as Trey wanted it to be. In fact, it was positively chaste, as though something were on his boyfriend's mind. He hoped it wasn't Angela and Bobby's engagement; if he was already considering marriage, then he really needed to run away as fast as he could. He wouldn't, of course. But he knew he should.
"You don't do too well with crowds, do you?" Lane inquired, brushing a stray bang from Trey's forehead with a tender caress.
Chewing on his lip, he shook his head. "No. I don't know what it is, either. I just don't like being around a whole bunch of people at the same time. It's like... " he paused, struggling to find the right words to describe the sensation, finding only metaphor where the words should be. "It's like I'm drowning, without anything to grab onto. And I always feel so drained after hanging out with a whole lot of people. It's one of the reasons I'm not really popular. I don't do so well at parties, and I tend to stick to myself."
Lane gave a slow nod of understanding, inching closer with each languid bob of the head until his dry brow touched to Trey's wet forehead. The youth closed his eyes, Trey following suit a moment later, just listening to the calming sound of his boyfriend's breath, sinking into the comfort of an embrace that asked nothing of him, and yet gave so much.
"You know," Lane began anew, his voice a low, humming murmur that touched a deep chord within Trey and made his groin tighten in response, "Now that you've got me, you won't have to worry about sticking to yourself at any party from now on. I'll always be right there beside you. If you want me to be, that is."
A small laugh slipped through Trey's lips. "That's a hell of an offer," he replied. "There's not a lot that happens on the sidelines in the few parties I'm invited to. Mostly, I just sit there and try to stay out of the way. Boring, I know."
"Maybe for the rest of the party," Lane replied smoothly, rubbing Trey's nose with his own in an eskimo kiss. "Personally, I wouldn't mind having you all to myself. And on the sidelines, away from prying eyes..." he moved his lips to Trey's neck, gave a sucking kiss to the tender flesh behind his ear, "Where no one can see us..." he ventured to the other side, teeth grazing the skin and sending a shiver down Trey's spine, "We can have all the uninterupted fun we want."
He could see the imagined scene clearly in his mind's eye: the two of them sheltering against one another in a dark corner at some stupid party, one of Misha's get togethers most likely, both of their hands delving into the humid depths of one another's jeans, tugging on hard cocks and sucking on unyielding tongues.
Lane pulled him closer, his crotch grinding against him, lifting him up out of the vision and back into reality. He looked around the empty bathroom, considered for a moment the number of possibilities it held within it. They could fuck right there, and no one would know about it. He could drop to his knees and try his hand at his first blow job if he really wanted to. But a bathroom at a restauraunt was no place to lose his virginity. He wanted it to be romantic, needed it to be special and something that he was prepared for. That brought a blush to his cheeks. Preparing for anal sex for the first time wasn't something they taught in the standard sexual education courses. He knew what needed to be done, the sort of cleansing that he'd put himself through; in fact, he had all of the supplies at home for it just in case the chance to have sex, remote as it had seemed, ever arose.
He needed to be honest with Lane. Right now, at that very instant, he wanted his new boyfriend to know that his sexual history amounted to late night dates with his right hand and a bottle of lotion. "I..." he let the words that followed disappear into the distance, Lane's stubble brushing against a ticklish part of his neck that brought a giggle out of his belly. "Lane," he tried again, "there's something you need to know about me."
The youth planted one final kiss on his neck and lifted himself up, giving Trey his full attention. It felt weird knowing that the man was devoted to listening to him so closely; and it made him feel more self conscious too. But it needed to be said. He had heard stories about guys that had not let their partners know they were virgins beforehand, and the sex that followed was either disasterous or too painful to bear for more than a minute or two.
Trey lowered his eyes, his chin falling toward his chest as the embarassment climbed red onto his cheeks. "I've never... you know... I'm a v... a virgin. Like, all the way virgin too. So... yeah. I just wanted you to know." There! He had said what needed to be said and now he would deal with the consequences of it. He chewed at his lower lip, waiting for Lane to tell him that their brief romance was over; that he wouldn't date someone that had no sexual experience whatsoever; waiting for Lane to pull him into his chest as well, telling him that it didn't matter and that he couldn't care less about something as silly as that.
"I know," Lane replied instead, catching him under the chin and lifting his face to meet his gaze again. "I just hope that you'll let me know when you're ready to..." he gave a small chuckle, "Well, just when you're ready." He stepped back, dragging his hands down Trey's arms and pulling his hands together. He brought them to his lips, giving each a small, romantic kiss.
"What... what if I were ready n... now?" he asked, not completely certain he was, but not wholly certain he wasn't either.
Lane looked from left to right, nodded toward the stall at the end. "We could go in there and find out," he answered, a touch of joking in his tone. "But I'd prefer, if you didn't mind that is, that we do it somewhere more... intimate, than a bathroom in a restauraunt. I'm not opposed to it, mind you," he added quickly. "I'm not uptight about these things and, I've been called a kinky freak more than once in my life. I promise you though, that I'll only move as fast as you allow me, I'll never do anything you don't like, and I look forward to being your first if you feel so inclined to give me that honor."
The relief that washed over Trey was so profound that it made him weak in the knees, and he fell into Lane's chest, holding him as close to him as he could. The youth gave a small grunt, one foot dancing backwards to brace himself against the sudden, unexpected hug. Once he had regained both his footing and his balance, he side walked with Trey still held in his embrace toward the aged, porcelain white urinal, the change in location reminding Trey where they actually were and what the room's purpose actually was. Lane no doubt had followed him into the bathroom because he had empty his bladder. It didn't quite mesh with the locking of the door, but it was a reason he could get behind. He let his hands drop from Lane's middle, taking a step back.
"I'm not pee shy," Lane admitted, turning to the side and unzipping his pants, fishing around to expose his member to the urinal. "You can stick around if you want to. Maybe even hold it for me," he added, giving him another of his trademarked grins and wiggling, suggestive eyebrows.
Both options had their appeal, and any way he looked at the situation, Trey was going to end up with the man's cock in his hand eventually, and there was really no good reason to prolong the inevitable. Yet, as arousing as the thought of putting the man's mean in his palm was, he found he wasn't quite ready to help him piss. Not yet, anyway. Watching, on the other hand...
He gave his lips a lick, swallowing past a lump in his throat. "Okay," he replied, his voice a little shaky as he stepped closer to his side. Lane draped his left arm around the center of his back, his dominant hand twisting within his pants, behind the lowered fly, finally extracting his meat and the loosely hanging sack beneath. Long and thick even in its dormant state, the youth pulled back the foreskin from the fleshy, sensitive crown, pointed the business end of it toward the fresh, pink urinal cake, and let go a steady, healthy stream. Trey's gasp was one of appreciation and surprise, tinged just a little with regret. He wanted to feel the force of that thing in his grip, letting loose its torrent. Of course, he couldn't be sure he would stop at just holding it while Lane peed. Once done, he might want to feel it let go a different kind of flow.
Lane looked to him, Trey watching him out of the periphery of his vision, the youth smiling as though this sort of thing happened to him all the time. Of course, as far as Trey knew, it very well could happen to him all the time. At least, it used to happen to him all the time. Lane wouldn't be going about letting everyone touch his cock and watch him take a leak, he hoped; not if Trey had anything to say about it.
The hand on Trey's back slipped lower, sinking into his rear pocket. It startled a little, but sent Lane a reassuring grin to communicate to him that what he did was okay. Another problem was beginning to develop though. His bladder, sympathizing with the sound of running water striking the urinal's porcelain surface, sent an emergency signal shooting up Trey's spine where it landed on the spot in his brain that controlled his bodily functions. He sifted a little alongside Lane, squeezing his arm through the space betwen their bodies, toying with his zipper tab for a moment. Then, with a deep breath, he lowered his fly and took himself in hand, flopping his member out and pointing it toward the growing pool that Lane was making, adding his own stream to it an instant later.
Lane whistled, eyes growing wide. "Damn! That's a beautiful cock, if I do say so myself," he commented, the praise slipping into Trey's ear and making him stand just a little taller. "How did you manage to stay a virgin so long with that thing swinging between your legs?"
Trey gave a shy grin and a shrug that momentarilly upset his aim and crossed streams with his companion. "Just bad luck, I guess. I never really had a boyfriend before so, it's not like there was anyone to do anything with."
Lane made a clicking noise behind his teeth, shaking his head. "That's a shame. What you've got there," he said, motioning toward Trey's prick with a nod, "deserves to be worshiped every day."
It wasn't quite a line out of a porno movie, but it certainly wouldn't have been out of place in one either. Trey snickered. "Thanks. You... I mean, I like what you've got too." The last few words fell dead in the air, the rediculous, corny, juvenile reply making him sick with himself. He was a writer, and that had been the best that he could pull off. He gave himself a mental smack, tried again. "I mean, it's ...you know ...well, it's big and ...and that's good. I like... I like it." Shit!
Lane leaned toward him, brushing his lips across Trey's burning cheek. "You're very cute when you get flustered," he remarked. "And thank you." He squeezed out the last few drops, gave himself a stroke and a shake to knock the remainder away from the tip. "Little Lane is looking forward to meeting you." He bent his head, turning his ear slightly to the side. "Oh, and he says that he hopes he gets to meet you really soon too."
That made Trey laugh out loud, and he gave thanks that he too had finished, else he might have sprayed piss all over the place. He jiggled himself and then stuffed his flaccid member away, zipping up with laughter still on his lips. Lane, however, had not yet returned his member to its warm abode. Trey gave it a final look, and then bent forward at the waist.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Little Lane," he said, addressing the floppy organ directly. He hoisted himself a bit, kissing the hand that Lane held it in, and let go another laugh, not quite believing he had just spoken to a penis like it was a real person, and finding the playfulness of it too fun to pass up.
Lane gave him a dramatic pout, tucking himself away. "Little Lane was hoping for a handshake," he said, his lips twitching to contain his own laughter. "But he understands why it would be inappropriate for formal introductions in such a place." He gave his crotch a quick adjustment, and then zipped up, heading toward the sink. Laughing together, they washed their hands, dried them using the paper towel dispenser beside the door, and then made their way back into the restauraunt.
The gathering around the table had diminished, and their food brought out. There were also, Trey noted, some members of their party missing. Bobby and Angela were wandering among the other tables, showing off Angela's new engagement ring and generally enjoying their engagement announcement. Misha sat alone at the table, picking somberly at her eggs and bacon, swirling them together with the hashbrowns to make a big mess.
"Where's Brandon?" Trey asked, scooting back into place. Lane followed closely behind him, attacking his bagel with a knife slathered in cream cheese, spreading the creamy substance over both halves and then chomping down on it. Beneath the table, one hand sneaked across Trey's lap, landing just within the triangle of privacy that made a touch intimate.
She looked up from her plate. "He'll be back. He had to go use the bathroom at the gas station next door," she said, her eyes almost scolding the two of them. "Why did I order this?" she added, poking one of the eggs with malice. It bled yellow over her plate, and she swiftly spun it up with the rest of the mess she was making.
Brandon returned, wiping wet stains onto his tee shirt. He did look daggers at the two of them, but his anger was quickly forgotten as he turned his attention to his meal, slurping down the gooey eggs with a reckless speed. Misha looked over to the halved bagel in front of Trey, big brown eyes pleading with him like a puppy begging for attention, her bottom lip outing out and quivering. Trey laughed, handing her one half and keeping the other for himself.
"Why do you even try ordering eggs?" He asked her, taking a bite out of his meal. "You know you don't like them. What is it you call them? Little aborted chicken fetuses?"
Bradon paused in shoveling a fork full of egg, the white dangling from one tine, jiggling and catching the light in its greasy surface. He shrugged and brought the egg to his mouth.
"I don't know," Misha admitted. "I guess I wanted the salt. Oh well. I do like bacon," she added, taking a strip of the cured, pan fried meat and stuffing it whole into her mouth.
Lane's hand shifted, squeezing Trey's thigh, and he did his best not to jump, turning instead to look at his boyfriend. The youth kissed him on the tip of his nose. "I have to run away for a minute," he said. "Can you stick around here for a little while longer?"
Trey pouted, made a whimpering noise. "Where are you going?"
"I'm running by my apartment real quick, I have to grab something." He leaned toward Trey, adding in a tone that carried no farther than his ear, "Don't worry, you'll still get to shake hands with Little Lane. I'll be right back." He planted a swift kiss on Trey's burning cheek and left him there in the booth. Trey followed his progress through the door and across the parking lot, his boyfriend sending him a parting wave as he passed by on his motorcycle.
It was awefully lonely sitting on that edge by himself. Misha and Brandon, lost in their own world in the center of the booth, gave him only a cursory smile before returning to their private conversation. With a huff, Trey tucked in to his orange juice and half a bagel, pining for his boyfriend's return.
It came sooner than he expected; less than a full 10 minutes, in fact. Wherever he lived, it was close. Either that, or he'd sped through town at a break neck speed. A little windswept, he entered carrying an extra motorcycle helmet, that glittered in earthen tones mingling with golden sunshine, and a brown leather jacket with deep yellow stripes across the chest and the upper parts of the arm. He held both items out to Trey, smiling.
"I told you I'd be back," he said. "And now that you've got these, you can come riding with me anytime you want."
In his haste to get out of the booth and put both the helmet and jacke on, Trey smashed his hip against the table, knocking over a glass mean for ice water that, thankfully, had not been filled. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and tossing a twenty to Misha.
"Thanks for the birthday party!" He said to her, shrugging into the jacket and zipping it up.
She grinned. "You're welcome. Try to make it home for a change of clothes and, you know, to say hi to your Mom and Dad."
He waved the comment away, stuffing the helmet over his head and following Lane as he led the way out of the building once more. "You really should have a change of clothes," his boyfriend remarked as Trey wound his arms around his middle for the motorcycle riding hug he found that he had missed giving him. "Unless you don't want to hang out at my apartment."
Trey gave him a squeeze. "I still have to shake hands with Little Lane," he countered. "Do you think there's enough room to let me stay over the weekend? Will your parents mind?"
"Nope," Lane answered. "Don't live with my parents anymore," he added, his voice coming through a headset inside the helmet as the motorcycle growled to life beneath them and he kicked off of the pavement. "That's not a problem, is it?"
Trey shook his head. He found it odd, but a home without parents was a thing of beauty at any age. "Nope," he replied back.
* * *
A day spent in Trey's company was both a terrifying prospect and an elating one that Lane could not help but look forward to. The final changes to his body had been made in his sleep, the instinctive knowledge of how to tempt, titilate and please the youth delivered by the skin to skin contact they had shared the previous night, even if it was chaste. Every kink and fantasy, every dark desire and wanton yearing that Trey had were now Lane's as well.
Sitting at the edge of Trey's bed, reclined on his forearms and his legs spread wide to draw attention to what now lurked beneath his jeans, Lane watched the youth scramble to prepare his overnight bag. He stuffed tight underwear in that Lane knew he would not need, socks that would be pulled off for the delightful foot massage he had always dreamed of receiving, pants that would be shucked with haste and teeshirts that only served to prolong the inevitable. He even snuck in a bottle of personal lubricant and a package of condoms, stuffing these alongside the materials used in prepping and cleaning the anal orifice for sex. He considered a pair of pajama bottoms with cartoon cheeseburgers flying against a black field on dull white wings, and then thought better of it. With all the work and clothing he was putting into the brief stay, he might as well just start moving in at once. When he had finished, he zipped the bag up and then stood looking pensive, chewing at his cheek.
"I should probably take a shower and change into something more weekendy," he said, though whether he addressed Lane or the pile of fresh laundry on his dresser could be debated. Either way, Lane detected a stall tactic in the musing and laid back, stretching his arms toward the headboard and gathering up one of Trey's pillows, sliding it beneath his head. He caught his companion watching the movement, but only when he turned his full attention on Lane did he give his lap a gentle pat, inviting him over. Trey approached, straddling his hips with only a brief span of hestitation, leaving forward to accept Lane's arms around his middle.
His weight was uncertain upon Lane, as though he were trying not to let all of himself relax and give in to the intimate position. Once they had spent more time together, Lane knew, getting his companion to let go of his rigid, self conscious nature wouldn't be such a problem. He cast a quick glance toward the door, double checking that it was closed and any passerby could not see them as the moved by, making their way down the hallway beyond.
"I was just thinking," he said in low, calming tones, gently stroking Trey's back, "about how empty my arms feel without you in them." The sccharine words weren't his usual gambit, but Trey responded to them like the romantic he was, gifting Lane with his vibrant smile that shaped his delicate lips and made them a difficult target to resist. He forced himself to hold back though, for just a moment, an instant longer, fighting against every aching part of his body that responded to Trey like he was a drug. He was a drug too; one made by the mysterious universe just for Lane and he, himself was the addict needing his next potent fix.
"I've found," he continued, "that the shower I take after riding my bike are better than the rest, and I wouldn't want you to deny yourself the pleasure of your first post ride shower." He grinned then, lifting his face to brush his lips along one of Trey's ears, loving the way it made the youth melt against him. "And I was kinda hoping you might even invite me to join you in it."
Trey sank into his embrace, his resistance lowered enough to let go a whispered moan, listening to one of his fantasies being offered the chance to exist in reality pushing aside his doubts. Lane had plucked it, among all of the garden of dreams blooming in Trey's mind for the level of sensuality, that his companion associated with the act. He gave the youth a preemptive reward, certain he would agree, by slipping one earlobe between his lips and letting his hot breath go through his nose, sliding along the sensitive nerve endings of the ear that would awaken to full, brilliant life at the carress. On either side of him, Trey's fingers curled in the blanket, the grunt he so badly wanted to let out coming in short, catching sounds; the music of his body responding to Lane's careful playing.
His hands slipped beneath the button- down, fingertips gliding up the curve of Trey's spine, his touch on his companion's bare skin as light as mist's brush over still water. At the point of trey's shoulder blades, he reversed the position of his fingers, using the smooth surface and just the tip of his fingernails to drag lines of sensation down his companion's back, Trey arching upward in feline grace at the touch. Between them, Lane felt a stir coming from Trey's groin, his manhood stretching taught and needing to escape the tortourous prison of clothing it had been too long incarcerated in, his own prick already at half mast raising the flag in full. It flexed and spasmed, fiery awareness spreading out through the crown, the wrinkly sack beneath tingling with pleasant anticipation.
The part of his being that sheltered within Trey reached out along the contact of skin pressing to skin, its semi aware, instinctive consciousness brushing against lane's mind. All of the subtle changes had been made and it was ready to come home to him. Once the bonding began, those modifications would come to life, and Trey would awaken into a new, more beautiful world. Lane would be whole again, his maturation process complete.
Above him, Trey eased into a seated position, raking his nails down the tee shirt that lane wore, hunger in his gaze, but the hesitation of virginity still holding him in his grip. His fingers stopped at the button keeping Lane's jeans closed, holding the backing and the eyelet between his hands, caught between his indecision and his desire. Lane lifted onto his elbows, the change in position sending a needy shiver through his member snaking down the inseam of one pant leg. He tilted his head to one side, studying Trey's handsome face, reading in him all of the signals of someone standing at the threshold between chastity and sexuality, ready to give up one world for another, straddling the transition in the hope that he could have both.
A floorboard creaked in the passage beyond the door, and Trey turned his head, watching and listening, his hands remaining where they were, attached to Lane's jeans. It was a step in the right direction; his comfort with keeping his fingers in a dangerously comprimising position deserving of reward. Lane flexed his abdominals, lifting himself into a seated position to wrap his arms around his companion, holding him close. The silk blend shirt he wore held traces of Trey's intoxicating cologne mingling with the scent of wood smoke and the tangy odor of alcohol. Though Trey had tried to take care with his drinks, some had spilled onto him and if it had gotten onto his blouse, it had almost certainly gotten onto his pants. He gave the youth a squeeze and, leaning back a bit, lifted his face for a warm, delicious kiss.
"How about you change into something more weekendy," he suggested, "and then we can go."
Trey grinned, nodding his agreement and slipped from Lane's lap, fingers working open the shirt buttons in full view of him. There was no pretense in the way he removed the garment, tossing it toward a pile of dirty clothes beside the door, but it teased Lane just the same. Scooting to the very edge of the bed, he caught Trey's hands before they could move to his jeans, leaned forward and pressed his lips to the skin just below the belly button. He guided the youth's hands to his shoulder swiping his tongue into the navel divet, delighting in the way Trey gasped at the sensation. Trey shuddered, steadying himself with the aid of Lane's shoulders while his belly button, ignored for its whole life, was treated to its first taste of love.
Lane's hands found their way to the front of Trey's jeans. He lifted his gaze to the youth who stood there, slack jawed and with closed eyes; expectaion etched into every line and curve of his body. The joining point of Lane's jaw twitched, humming with the need to open wide and receive the youth's organ, tongue rolling against the pallet with the taste of Trey's skin still upon it. He explored the dark denim, finding what he searched for arcing along Trey's left hip, and twisted his arm to take the bulge beneath his grip to receive the massage that his companion so badly needed. It thickened beneath his touch, pulsing with each squeeze and cloth encumbered stroke he delivered to it.
He gave a gentle tug at the thin strip of material that defined the button hole with his free hand, not eough to release Trey's jeans but rather to draw his attention. "May I?" he asked up at the youth, resisting his own urge to rip the clothing away altogether. Tray gave his lips a lick, a rapid and unsure nod following. The button pulled free with a whispered groan of stretching denim, his zipper ripping open in a slow and steady pace while Lane eased the jeans into parting for him. He carried them down over the hump of his companion's rear end; down his thighs with the whisper of fabric on skin and then let gravity do the rest for him, a pool of denim forming around Trey's ankles, warm with his body heat. But when he would have lowered the youth's briefs as well, fragrant with the scent of him coming in a humid cloud to Lane's flared nostirls, Trey tensed. It wasn't an outright denial, but neither was it permission. Instead, he dipped his head forward, steadying his hands on Trey's hips to trace a path with the bridge and tip of his nose along the supporting pouch that carred, and hid, the youth's jeweles from him, the package lifting away at Lane's guidance until it met the greeting press of his lips.
Trey's breath caught on the hard edge of a moan, his hands moving from the outside of Lane's shoulders to the hazily defined space where neck joined shoulder, just beyond the raised portion of his shirt collar. Lane breathed hot, sultry breath into the cotton, lips parting to gather the fabric between then and then slowly closing again in a kiss. Outlined in the brief, a dark stain spreading out from the tip, Trey's cock pulled away from his body. Lane shifted, dragging his lips up and over the youth's bound nuts, his mouth opening wide at the base of his companion's steeley rod to cover it. Tongue flattening against the cloth covered underside, he followed its curving path, licking and chewing to the tip and there pausing to suck the diffused flavor weeping through the cotton. He nudged the organ lower, guiding it to the opening designed for legs and caught the seam on his lower teeth, lifting it up and over Trey's prick.
Even bent at an awkward angle, the thickened organ was strong looking, a powerful tool of pleasure worthy of admiration and desire. Emancipated from its prison, it drooled in thanks, a pearl of liquid hanging from the foreskin turning into a shimmering thread in only a few heartbeats, Trey's pulse visible in the miniscule vibrations undulating through it. Lane tilted his head and extended his tongue, gathering his companion's up with a long, languid motion that dragged vibrant sensation into the youth's partially exposed crown, ending with a flick that cirled the rim of foreskin and then a flutter over the slit. His lips caught fire with the temptation of it all, quivering to wrap around Trey's most precious flesh.
He resisted, fighting back with every fiber of his being to cover Trey's up again. They needed real privacy, more than a bedroom door, could provide with who knows how many people lurking beyond it. He did it for himself, knowing that once he started, his nature would not let him stop again until the bond was complete and the Umbrae overshadowing Trey returned to its rightful place. And he did it for his companion who, even as he trembled with the need to shove his cock into Lane's face and fuck his throat to feral satisfaction, remained locked in the rictus of worry, his mind split between anticipation of pleasure and the fear of getting caught.
Lane kissed the awakend organ in its home once more, planted another on Trey's bare tummy and smirked up at him. "You wanna go?"
Trey pulled his lips between his teeth, crimson hunger touching his cheeks and with his eyes wide, he gave a firm nod committing him to the journey.
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