I'm staying at Brendon's tonight. I came over to help him out with his English paper and then we hung out. It got a bit late but I decided I didn't feel like going home.

We ate dinner like 15 minutes ago and I met Brendon's father. He was a very nice man, kinda quiet but nice. Brendon is definitely more like his mom; they share many of the same facial features and I can tell he got his charisma from her. 

The walls of their house are filled with family photos, all of his siblings, on trips and at college with some already graduated. They've been dedicated and loving enough to care for all their kids for all these years. Brendon is going to be the last to leave the nest for these two. My mom couldn't even last 5 years and my dad checked out around the same time because of it. He loved her but she left him for another man and he couldn't handle it so he turned to drinking. 

It wasn't too bad at first because he had some understanding that I needed to be cared for and he felt guilty that I'd have to live without a mother. Later, when I reached middle school and could start to take care of myself did he really start to lose it. There were more than a few times when I felt like I was in danger near him. He never hit me but he would get worked up over really small things, break stuff, shove me around, my wrist would hurt sometimes after he grabbed me too hard. I spent the entire summer before seventh grade doing small jobs to afford a guitar after spending multiple hours on the carpet of Jons living room right in front of the speakers just listening to his parent's older music, it was very similar to my dad's taste, but here Jon, Spencer and I were more than welcome to blast it as long as we had finished our homework. I mowed lawns, walked dogs, swept the floor of the local barbershop and by early September I was able to buy a used Gibson acoustic from one of the closer pawnshops to my house, the wood was dark and chipped but the guy at the desk was nice enough to give me new steel strings and it was the most beautiful thing I had. About a year later I got into a fight with my dad because I lost track of time and ended up sprinting home in the dark. I kept apologizing but he was just so mad and when he cornered me into my room, he reached out for my Gibson and I tried to stop him but he shoved me into my bookshelf and, in his drunken rampage, smashed my guitar; wood pieces flying across the floor, the lost strings scraping against the shattered head. I remember how quickly he sobered once he finished and looked at me; my head throbbed from the impact and I could feel what could only be blood trickle down from my forehead but I didn't move my eyes from the massacre. His frantic sorry's and Oh God's floated around aimlessly in my head as he held my face in his hands assessing my cut but he quickly retired his efforts to what I was still focused on and I towered over him while he sat on his knees shakily picking up the pieces. 

He never touched me after that and his explosions grew smaller and further apart. It gets rough sometimes but I still give him credit for staying and trying and no matter how much of either he's actually accomplished it's still more than my mom. Even now he understands that senior year is an important year for me, which is why he allowed me to not work two jobs this year to focus more on work and not to mention letting me go to California with Spencer... thanks, dad.

When we were finished I made sure to check my phone to see that my dad knew I was staying at a friend's house. Brendon let me borrow something to sleep in; a pair of plaid printed pajama pants and a random worn t-shirt which he seems to have a lot of. When he handed the shirt to me though it seemed oddly familiar. It's a white Pink Floyd shirt and it has the normal band logo on it like I'd seen it on about a dozen other shirts but this one has a different design with the rainbow flowing out of the prism, like a river, and spilling over an invisible ledge. It looks so worn it must've been retired to nighttime use only. I'd probably seen him wear it at some point on the trip. It smells nice though; it smells like him just like everything else does in his room.

We decided to rest our eyes from playing video games and Brendon found some cards so we're just playing Go Fish. We're still sitting in the bean bags at the foot of the bed, we were listening to some of his records but then he wanted to show me this band that he didn't have the vinyl for which is now playing off of his phone.

I start thinking about dinner a bit. "So your parents are like okay with you being gay?" I ask taking the King that Brendon pulled out of his hand for me.

He looks up momentarily from his cards, "Um, yeah they've accepted it." he shifts the way his legs are crossed slightly. "I mean, I told them when I was like eleven and they were a little shocked but at the end of the day, they understood that it was just a part of me-- Do you have any 5's?"

"Go fish." A gross feeling lingers in my lower chest thinking about that situation with me and my dad instead.

"Anyways, they also had five kids so it was bound to happen," Brendon adds, "One out of five ain't bad." He makes both of us laugh and I decide to not think about all that other junk too much.

I don't know how you can be bad at Go Fish but Brendon is and after three more losses he decides to give up. "You cheated," he plops down on his bed and stretches out over the covers, "I don't know how, but you cheated."

"It's Go Fish, how the hell would I have cheated?" I tease knowing he's just being playful.

After he has successfully sprawled himself out he lifts his head with this face that makes him look like such a little shit, but it's cute. "Magic."

I stand up from the bean bag. "Magic, huh?"

"Yup. Some sleight of hand with those wild fucking fingers of yours." He giggles but also licks his lips and I can tell he's trying to flirt.

I move over to the side where his legs are hanging off the bed and stand between them. "I use them for other things besides magic." He bites his bottom lip and grins up at me. I snake my hands along his legs and suddenly start tickling his inner thighs where I know he's most ticklish.

Brendon shoots right up, "Ah, shit!" He tries to swat my hands away but he's laughing too uncontrollably to have enough strength, "Stop stop stop, Ryan, you're gonna make me fucking pee!" I stop to hook my hands at the spots behind his knees and pull his restless body to mine. His bed is pretty high up so I don't have to bend down too far to reach his mouth.

I don't think I will ever get over how incredible his mouth feels against mine, so soft but powerful. Being with him is still crazy, being with a guy, in general, is still something that has to be brought to my attention. My closeted ass could only dream about being with another guy like this, confining myself to only girls. And I could start off safe by being with more feminine guys but Brendon isn't feminine, he's a guy; a dorky 17-year-old guy who uses finger guns way too much, but a guy nonetheless. His hands are strong and commanding on my hips and I can feel their callousness as they sneak under my shirt, his groans are deep and rough, and that smell I mentioned earlier? A subtle pine needle scent, he smells like a dude and it's fucking intoxicating.

I lean into it until my chest is flush with his. The pace is slow and almost lazy since we're both kinda tired but it's pleasant, it doesn't need to be faster. We move together so that we're both under the sheets with me hovering over him. Doing anything else besides what we're doing right now seems like a hassle and unnecessary so the clothes stay on and we just grind together. It feels so nice and so simple, us moving our hips together. The friction, the pressure, the way his head lulls over to the side from the pure pleasure. I can feel him, so warm and so hard. I attach my lips to his neck and can feel his pulse pounding and then a gravely groan.

He jerks his hips up and fuck do I wanna. I move back with the sheets still on me and the last thing I see is a confused look from Brendon. I push the bottom of his shirt up across his soft torso and land some kisses on his stomach while my hands roam his sides. His body shivers when I suck on the skin below his naval just before a light trail of hair starts.

Brendon moves his hand over his mouth to prevent himself from making too much noise when I bring his pants and boxers over his fully erect cock and plant a kiss to the leaking tip. He's big, I mean I probably have an inch on him but he's definitely a mouth full, especially since I've never done this before. I know I won't be able to take him down like he can for me no matter how easy he makes it seem. But it just seems so tempting, I want to make him feel good. I take in a good third of him and use my hand for assistance. Wow, there's a dick in my mouth. I focus less on sharp head movements and more on sucking because I can't do much else, but from the sounds he's making, I think I'm doing well.

"Ryan, fuck," he hisses when I remove my lips. Just for shits, I mouth at his inner thigh and earn a panicked jerk. "Fuck you," he pants out when I stop. I remember his momentary remark about my fingers and swiftly move back up to his face and give him my pointer and middle fingers. Brendon sucks on them greedily, swirling his tongue around the digits, his eyes big and dark.

Once he's finished I move back down and resume pumping his flushed cock. I nudge his legs further apart and spread his saliva around the tight ring of muscle and push in the first finger earning myself a whimper from Brendon. I go back to kissing his stomach feeling him quiver under my lips from all of the sensations. I add another finger and see Brendon turn his head over to bite his pillow. Knowing that I can make him like this is so goddamn gratifying.

I begin to move both of my hands faster and it's a lot like rubbing your belly and patting your head at the same time and my movements feel very uncoordinated from where I am but Brendon doesn't seem to care because seconds later his warm come is shooting out and I manage to catch some in my mouth. He tastes kind of bitter but somehow also sweet and I like it; he tastes like him.

Once I tuck him back into his boxers and pull up his pants I sit up but Brendon is almost instantly on me. He has one arm around my shoulders and the other reaching down into my pants. "You looked so good down there." Every single touch is entirely too sensitive. I busy my mouth with his so it can catch all of the moans that try to slip out. His grasp on my length is perfectly tight and he didn't have to use spit because there was plenty of pre-come from when I was getting him off. Pretty soon a rush of warmth just floods over me as I come right into his hand and into my pants.

"Well crud," I breathe out looking down at the stain in the pajamas Brendon let me borrow.

He just gives me a goofy grin and surprises me with a fairly domestic kiss on the nose, it almost reminds me of Jon and Cassie. "I have extras," Brendon says simply then runs over to his dresser pulling out a clean pair of boxers and pajamas. He hands them over to me, grabbing a tissue to clean his hands. "Look at you, trying new things," he grins at me, briefly licking the edge of his thumb where I presume a bit of my come still resided.

I roll my eyes at him, "Oh, come on, don't patronize me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he teases. I flip him off and he feigns hurt while walking towards the door, "I'm gonna go take my contacts out, I'll be right back." 

I put on the new clothes when he leaves and don't quite know where to put stained ones so just leave them on top of my stuff so they're not in the way. Brendon re-enters but this time wearing thick black-rimmed glasses. He looks really hot in glasses. "Those look good on you," I say as he crawls back into the bed, "you should wear them out more."

He blushes and turns on the T.V. because it's only 9:30 pm. We watch some stuff for another 30 minutes, Brendon curled up into my side the whole time, but we're both pretty tuckered out and decide to turn out the lights. The position Brendon puts us in feels so natural, my arm wrapped neatly around his torso holding him in as he traces little circles on the back of my hand with his fingers until he finally doses off. It's fucking terrifying.