See You After School

by Tsukizubon Saruko (月図凡然る子)


“See you after school.”

It wasn’t loud enough for anyone else to hear, just a hiss across the aisle between the rows of desks. For a second Kiran stopped, in the middle of getting up, frozen with his backpack halfway hefted up; then he swallowed, and made himself finish and pick up his test sheet to deposit at the front on the teacher’s desk. He made a business of keeping his body between it and Jeff, though, blocking any possible view of the paper from across the aisle, and ignoring the sullen glare up from the circle of Jeff’s arm on his desk. If he was in for a penny, he was in for a pound, he guessed.

There was always something to set him off, anyway. A wrong look in the locker room after gym, a wrong word in the hallway between classes. Sometimes even less than that. It was just how guys like Jeff worked; they’d find any excuse in the end. This time it had been the history test, but it might have been anything. When Jeff had turned his head toward Kiran, under the screening cover of Tammy Fitzpatrick’s frizzy hair in the seat ahead of him, and whispered, “Hey loser, let me copy off you,” Kiran had just set his jaw, and shaken his head No. The consequences, whatever they might be, were beyond his control.

See you after school.

His pulse was beating hard high up in his neck, his throat dry again, his palms damp. He scrubbed one against his pant leg, dropped his test first on Ms. Feijoo’s empty desk, and got the hell out.

Jeff was only in about half of Kiran’s classes, but that was enough to have attracted his attention. He was a huge kid for their age, really only about Kiran’s height but probably twice as big around, all massive stocky bulk and heavy bones. He had long, thick, gorillaish arms, legs like young trees, and a bulldog sort of a face under his bristly blond crewcut, with a jutting brow and jaw that lent him a perpetual glower. When he walked around school you could practically feel the earth shake under his feet. He took remedial classes and woodshop, was always in danger of getting kicked off the football team for his grades, hung around and laughed and made crude jokes and swilled beer with the other jocks but was never really one of them, maybe a little too much of something different from them. He was the kind of kid that kids like Kiran, all knobby knees and jutting Adam’s apple and straight As, knew by instinct to swing wide around. The kind of kid the chess club whispers about, a petty god celebrated in myths of putting this mortal down a toilet, that one in the hospital.

See you after school.

It rang in Kiran’s mind for the rest of the day, clanging along like a song stuck in his head. He picked at his lunch, too distracted to eat, and ended up throwing the rest of it away and spending the rest of the period shut up in the upstairs bathroom. He spent all of AP Bio afterwards staring out the window, gnawing on his lip, taking down nonsense instead of notes. English — normally his favorite class — was likewise a mess; Jeff was in that one with him, and kept staring holes in the side of his face, the entire time, until he could feel himself sweating and his fingertips twitching. He couldn’t seem to stop his eyes from sneaking over, seeing the sliver of Jeff’s face and steadily gazing eyes turning his way from a few desks ahead of him. Every glimpse he got of those huge meaty hands of Jeff’s, lying lax and loose on his desk, made his mouth go cottony. Mr. Taylor kept calling on him in that pointed way teachers did when they thought you weren’t paying attention, and every single time he couldn’t seem to remember a goddamn thing about the chapters of The Color Purple they’d been supposed to read. It was a relief to finally escape to French, even if he kept confusing all his prepositions.

See you after school.

What would it be this time? Getting yanked into a boys’ bathroom as he walked by? Tripped into the bushes around behind the side of the gym? Or maybe followed halfway back to his house, and jumped in some shadowy corner, right in the middle of everything and broad daylight?

Well, it didn’t matter. The date was set now.

Finally, at long last, the last bell rang; and with heart hammering and legs rubbery, Kiran went down the halls to his locker, and set out for the front door.

He got as far as the athletic fields, which he took a shortcut through to get to the back road that led to his house. He was actually just starting to think that maybe it wasn’t going to happen after all, maybe Jeff had changed his mind, when he passed by the side of the bleachers on the far side…

And then by the time he saw the shadow shifting out of the corner of his eye, in the darkness underneath them, there was already a big meaty hand snaking out to grab his shoulder.

He was pulled in and under, clapped hard up against what felt like a wall of solid muscle; he yelped, his backpack falling askew on his shoulder and then all the way to the ground with a thump. The grip on his shoulder tightened, then hauled him around to push his back up against one of the bleachers’ supports. Jeff loomed out of the dim at him, smirking, right up in his face so they were nearly nose-to-nose.

“Hey, there, loser,” he said, voice so low it was almost a purr. Kiran’s eyelids fluttered a little, his throat convulsing. “You weren’t trying to run off on me, were you?”

“Thought maybe you’d run off on me,” he said anyway, gamely, over the dusty hardpan of his throat. Jeff snorted, and somehow leaned in even closer still, his hand planted on the support above Kiran’s head so that gorilla-arm just caged him in.

“Shut up.” His breath close, and warm, on the side of Kiran’s face. “You wanna talk all day, or you wanna go?”

“Up to you,” Kiran said. Barely above a whisper, and almost through his teeth. It widened Jeff’s smirk to a grin, anyway, showing all his teeth. He grabbed a fistful of Kiran’s t-shirt, hauling him forward and up almost on his toes —

And kissed him, hard, hard enough to clash their teeth.

Kiran let out a low groan in the back of his throat, and grabbed his hands up Jeff right back, seizing the best handfuls he could of Jeff’s little prickles of hair. Their lips smacked apart, tongues rolling together in a sloppy, clumsy mess. Jeff shoved a knee forward between his legs, up against the support, making him shudder; after thinking about this all day he was already hard, but he only ground up against the big slab of Jeff’s thigh for a few seconds before pushing him away, and then pushing him around and backward, deeper into the shadows under the bleachers.

Jeff stumbled and Kiran pushed the advantage, driving him all the way back to the next support over, pinning Jeff face-first into its steel. Jeff grunted and then squirmed, and tried to turn around, but Kiran pushed him back in place again and swarmed him, pressing him close with his own weight — little though that was. He molded himself around Jeff’s back, ground up against his ass, lapping wet trails up the nape and side of his neck and biting his ear hard. Jeff made another groaning grunt that was more of a shout, ground his hips first forward into the support and then backward into the hard-on trapped in Kiran’s jeans.

“Fuck,” Jeff said through his teeth, “fuck, fuck,” and then it was trailing off in a groan as he fumbled at the front of his own pants. Kiran helped him, diving in under Jeff’s scrabbling hands first to take a big squeezing handful of the bulge at the front — making Jeff make a deeply satisfying strangling noise in his throat — and then yanking down the zipper while Jeff tore the button open. Then he grabbed either side and yanked them down to Jeff’s thighs, and Jeff’s slightly spread stance let them slide the rest of the way to his ankles. For a second Jeff was leaned against the support with dark blue boxer-briefs showing under the tails of his shirt, molded to tree-trunk thighs, and then Jeff had shucked those down too. They wound up in a haphazard tangle at his knees, letting Kiran finally reach for a big thick handful of Jeff’s weird, cut cock and stroke it. Jeff dug down his face into his own upper arm, making a heavy spit-full gasping sound.

Jeff had a nice ass for a white guy, all else aside: a big round bubble of it, all spring-steel firm and well-turned and a little dimpled at either side. Kiran groped his other hand over it while he was jerking Jeff’s dick, smirking at the way Jeff squirmed. He just kept panting into his arm for a minute, burying whining desperate sounds in his shirt, and then finally turned his head enough to gasp his mouth free.

“Put it in,” Jeff said first, tight and strained, and then ground back again; Kiran let him, but also let him keep talking. “C’mon, fuck, do it, put it in, stick it in, I’m gonna fucking — ” Whatever he was going to fucking got buried against his arm again, though, and inside another strangling moan. Kiran wet his lips, his own breath coming hot and harsh, eyelids fluttering again… but he was pleased with himself, as always, when he managed to keep his own voice a little cool in Jeff’s ear.

“You’re gonna what?” Licking between words, making Jeff twitch and hiss. “Gonna come? You gonna come before I even get in you, just thinking about my dick?”

Please — ” It came out in a whine, a little thin whimper nobody on the chess club or anywhere else would even believe. Heat thrilled up Kiran’s arms, settling in his chest a minute and then squeezing down around his dick.

“Yeah, beg. Beg me. Or I’ll just jerk you off and go home.”

“Please! Fuck!” Jeff squirmed around, squeezing the support over his head like it was a tow-rope out of the ocean. “Please, please, fuck me, Christ, you little bitch, fuck me, fuck me, please — ”

Good enough, Kiran figured — or, well, it better be, because now he was making the whining sounds in his throat on every breath and he was leaking all over the inside of his jeans. He let go of Jeff’s cock, which this time got a strangly cry of equal parts frustration and shaky relief, and went for his own pants. He dug out the condom he’d put in a back pocket with trembling fingers, before yanking the fly open and pushing his jeans down with his underwear to his thighs. He tore open the condom and rolled it on, the lubed surface nearly making him drop it once, then spat in one palm (something he’d gotten pretty good at with practice, he could probably beat out any of the veteran hawkers on Jeff’s football team if he cared to try) and slicked his covered cock. Then he slid a wet finger between Jeff’s cheeks for a second, to rim around him and just tease. Jeff jumped a little, then growled back in his throat, although it was much too broken with arousal to sound very threatening anymore.

“Fuck you, just get your cock in me,” Jeff breathed into the back of the hand he’d braced his forehead on, against the support, and Kiran ended up having to stop and take a hard swallow to get his balance back. And then he was grabbing his cock, grabbing Jeff’s hip, Jeff splaying his legs as far as he could so Kiran could press the tip to his asshole and then in.

He took it slow on the way in: just driving with one long gradual thrust of his hips, hot tight flesh giving around him with the occasional flutter of muscle, until he was all the way seated inside, balls up against Jeff’s ass. Jeff helping him all the way in, pushing back, pushing it faster as much as he could but Kiran still keeping control with the hand on his hip. Jeff’s voice breaking again, in the middle of his throaty, unsteady keen. He shuddered when Kiran slid all the way in, and it made Kiran have to stop and gather his breath, just for a second. When he really went deep, that was what made Jeff shake.

“Fuck me,” Jeff almost whispered again, not demanding anymore but just pleading, and the corner of Kiran’s mouth twisted up in a distracted half-grin.

And he did.

The spit and condom-lube didn’t help all that much, there was still some stick and burn if he went too fast or got too much range of motion going, but he didn’t need to. Just a little out, and then as hard in as he possibly could. All he had to do was grab both Jeff’s hips and pound in that last inch or so, over and over again, enough to get it where Jeff wanted it. Jeff went crazy for it like always, fucking screamed before he could crane his head and bite his forearm, huffed hard high-pitched breath noises around his closed teeth, shook on his feet and couldn’t keep his hand off himself for more than a couple seconds. Kiran thought about telling him to stop, he’d done it before, but in the end through the hot haze in his head he decided not to: Jeff’d just come with no help at all if he did, and Kiran wanted him like this right now, shuddering and jerking off because he just couldn’t help it with Kiran’s dick in him, jerking it like he probably did at home every afternoon they couldn’t do this, thinking about this and wanting.

It didn’t last long past there. It never did. Maybe half a minute more of Jeff’s sweaty hand frantic and squeezing on his cock, Kiran’s balls bumping off his ass as he just nailed deep again and again, and then Jeff stiffened and then seemed to completely explode. The muscles of his neck and back and arms seemed to contract and then flex and extend, his whole body to shake with some kind of top-speed velocity, his mouth on his arm clamped down but even then couldn’t keep back the roaring screaming shout that tore out of it. Come spurted over his hand, over the support, onto the tails of his shirt at the front. And the muscles inside him were out of control, too, tensing and squeezing and fluttering with every shake, and Kiran didn’t see or notice anything else: just shouted with his eyes screwed shut into Jeff’s shoulder, and then came inside the latex inside him, his fingers digging furrows in Jeff’s bare hips.

They just stood like that for a few seconds, heaving breath, Kiran leaning on Jeff and Jeff leaning on the support. Distantly, now that they were quiet, he could hear the hollow metallic clanging and rumpling of canvas from the flagpoles up above the bleachers, as the school flags flapped in the wind outside.

Finally, with a small groan, Kiran pushed off from Jeff’s shoulders, and pulled his soft dick back out again; Jeff let out a grunt against the support, but otherwise didn’t move as Kiran stripped off the condom and pitched it into the dust a few feet away, and pulled his pants up and closed again. With that done, Kiran went to his fallen backpack, first to dig out his inhaler and take a blast until his chest opened up again, and then to take out a pack of tissues and bring them back to Jeff. Only then did Jeff finally rouse, to accept them with a grunt Kiran thought was of thanks this time, and then scrub wincing with a couple at the crack of his ass.

“You still suck for not letting me cheat on that history test, asshole,” Jeff said finally, as he was yanking his pants back on; his voice was a little cracked and a little thick still, but mostly normal again. Kiran glanced over his shoulder, where he’d bent to pick up his backpack, and rolled his eyes.

“If you’d actually come over and study sometime, you wouldn’t need to cheat.”

Jeff just waved that off with a little snort, although Kiran thought a less scoffing one than usual. Maybe he was finally getting somewhere with that.

He pulled his backpack on, while Jeff hovered, hands shoved in his pockets, still kind of red in the face but back to looking as bulldoggy and sullen as ever. Just when Kiran was about to go, Jeff said, a little hesitating: “Hey, uh… you’re still not gonna tell anybody about this, right?”

Kiran paused, looking at him for a long moment… and then smirked.

“Depends,” he said, and leaned in to plant a quick kiss on Jeff’s mouth, pulling back to grin at him while he was still surprised. “Start giving me your lunch money, and we’ll talk.”

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