Detention 8

I had a dream that Chris caught Jason Coleman fucking me on my living room floor. Chris had pretty much gone psychotic and beat up Jason to the point where he wasn’t moving. I opened my eyes and realized--and was glad--that none of that had happened for real. Looking out the window, I saw a dark gray sky, the kind of sky that was ready to explode with hard rain. It was probably really cold outside. But I was inside, naked and warm, laying next to Chris. His arm was still loosely around my waist, his large hand placed lightly on my stomach. I felt his dick pressing up against the crack of my ass, not hard, but not soft either. His body felt really warm next to mine, and I enjoyed the way he felt. I didn’t want to move. I listened to Chris’ slow, rhythmic breaths, the soft beating of his heart, and I felt calm and content. 

A lot of things ran through my mind, one of them being Jason. I recalled vividly, how only about nine hours ago, he was leaned up against his car, telling me how much he liked me, and how much I had disappointed him by leading him on and not telling him that I was involved with Chris. When I asked to be his friend, Jason told me that I wasn’t the kind of person he wanted to know anymore. Thinking about that again sent chills running up and down my body. Chris shifted slightly; his hand moved away from my stomach and rested on the side of my ass, and his forehead rested gently against the back of my neck. I thought about Chris too, how he had called me his ‘boyfriend’ in front of Jason. I was sure he had only said that to make Jason jealous, but a part of me wanted to be hopeful, a part of me wanted to believe that Chris had actually meant what he said.

Rain started to fall lightly against the window and it sounded like a child throwing grains of rice against the glass. I moved Chris’ hand aside and stepped out of bed. He groaned, but didn’t open his eyes. I walked over to the window, still fully naked, and peered outside. It looked like it was gonna be a really cold, empty day. I hoped that it wouldn’t be, I hoped something really good was gonna happen today. I needed something really good to happen today.

Chris rolled over on his stomach on the bare mattress, revealing his muscular back and his incredibly round, tight bubble butt. He reached out in the spot where I had been laying, and when he noticed that I wasn’t there, Chris opened his eyes and saw me watching him. “What are you doin’ over there?” he asked. His voice didn’t sound groggy at all. And as usual, he looked perfect, despite waking up only seconds ago. 

“Just lookin’ at you,” I said. 

“Come over here,” Chris told me. 

I ambled over to the bed and instead of laying in the empty spot next to Chris, I climbed on top of him, flattening my body against Chris’ back. My dick started to harden as it was wedged slightly in the tight crack of his ass. “I didn’t fuckin say get on top of me,” Chris said, chuckling, but I knew that he didn’t want me to get off of him. I kissed the back of his neck and licked around his shoulder blades. His body felt so warm and smooth beneath mine. I could’ve rested on top of him all day if possible. I continued, with my tongue, down the length of his spine, to the arch of his back, over the sharp curve of his ass. Chris moaned and groaned, his body heating up even more. I spread his ass apart and dove in with my tongue. His humid musky smell intoxicated me, and as I licked down his crack, circling around his asshole, I was grateful that Chris was with me, and for that moment, I felt like his body belonged to me, that Chris belonged to me. I moved upward again, placing my dick inside of his buttcrack. Chris grabbed hold of the bed posts in front of him loosely. When my cock entered him and I invaded his inner warmth, Chris cried out, not too loudly, but his gentle scream echoed in my ears. I shoved all of my dick inside of him; Chris’ whole body tensed up at first, but then quickly relaxed as I continued to make my way in and out of his beautiful butt. It still surprised me, even after the near three weeks that we had been together, that I was fucking Chris Green. He had been someone I never could--or really wanted--to imagine myself with, but I liked him. I liked fucking Chris, I liked being around him. He was intriguing to me. Chris grabbed the bed posts more tightly as I drove my dick deeper and deeper into his ass. He didn’t howl or anything; enjoyed my dick in silence. As I was closer to shooting, I started to move faster, and shoving myself into Chris even deeper and harder. 

“Fuck...” That was the only thing Chris said the whole time, but it was enough for me. I started to breathe a whole lot heavier and so did Chris. The rain continued to blast upon the window, and the heat in my room continued to rise. We were both sweating now, our sweltering slippery bodies sliding against each other. I grabbed Chris by the shoulders, jammed my dick all the way inside of him, and released a ton of cum up his ass. Chris groaned and his body went still. Slowly, I rolled off of him, back onto the empty spot next to him. My dick was still halfway hard and sticky. I stared up at the ceiling, at the shadows that moved across the white walls. The rain finally stopped outside, and there was nothing but silence, until Chris asked me, “What are you thinkin `bout?”

“Nothin.”

“Yeah you are,” Chris said, “you just don’t wanna tell me.”

“You don’t care what I think anyway,” I answered back.

Chris rolled on top of me, his body weight pressing me deeper onto the mattress, his hard dick grinding against my stomach, his hot breath on my neck. He stared me deep in the eyes without blinking; I stared back and we didn’t say anything to each other because there was really nothing that needed to be said. Chris leaned down, brought his face close to mine and kissed me. His tongue drove into my mouth, making my heart beat faster and my dick get hard again. I loved the way Chris kissed me with so much passion and intensity. I didn’t want him to stop, but he did. 
“Were you thinkin bout him?” Chris asked.

“Thinkin about who?”

“You know who I’m talkin bout, B.”

He was talking about Jason. “Why are you askin me that?”

“`Cause I can tell,” Chris said.

“Tell what?”

“That you was thinkin about him,” Chris replied. He rolled off of me and I could breathe more freely again--I don’t know if that was a good or bad thing. “Had a dream,” Chris said after a few moments of deep silence. “That he was fuckin you. He was fuckin you and you liked it, right on this bed. And then I came in and saw you two, and then I fuckin went berserk and started beatin the shit outta him. You kept tellin me to stop...but I didn’t. Fuckin weird ass dream.”

It was more than weird, it was, for the most part, the same exact dream that I had. Must be a bad sign. “Yeah, that’s weird,” I answered finally.

“What did you dream about?” Chris asked.

I wanted to know why he was asking me all these questions. “I don’t remember.” 

I didn’t respond. There was a loud sound, like an explosion. When I looked out the window, I saw a bright flash crackle through the sky. Thunder. All of a sudden, I asked Chris, “Did you mean what you said last night?”

“Did I mean what?” Chris asked looking at the ceiling. 

“When you called me your boyfriend.”

For a few seconds, Chris didn’t say anything, as though he were trying to come up with the perfect words to say. “Why does shit like that matter so much to you?’ he questioned.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin about.”

“Why is it so fuckin important that I be your ‘boyfriend’? Why can’t we just chill and do the things we do without puttin all that heavy bullshit on it?”

“Because it makes it more real, Chris.”

“Makes what more real, B?”

“It makes ‘us’ more real.”

Chris scoffed. “Do you know how fuckin stupid you sound, Brandon? What do you mean, real? It’s not like we’re fuckin fake or somethin.”

“You know what I’m talkin about, Chris. Don’t act dumb.”

“You’re the one that’s fuckin actin dumb, B. Not me.” Chris placed both of his arms behind his head, so that I could see his hairy armpits and the bulge of his triceps. I still couldn’t get over how good-looking his body was, especially the way the shadows danced along his tight, muscled skin. “Don’t try to break me, Brandon. You can’t do it.”

“What do you mean, break you?”

“Try to make me fall in love with you. I know that’s what you want from me.”

“Who said anything about love? I never said that I wanted to love you, Chris. Don’t go addin words in my mouth...besides I don’t even believe in love.”

Chris looked at me from the corner of his eye. He lips curved into a smile. “Of course you do, B.” he said. “You might never been in love before, but you believe in it.” My silence affirmed his statement. 

“What about you?” I asked. “Have you ever been in love with anyone before?”

Staring deeply at the ceiling, Chris answered, “No.” 

“Why not?” I questioned.

“`Cause I don’t know what it means to be in love. I don’t think most people really know what it means to be in love. Not the real kind. Not the kind that lasts for more than two weeks or even two months. People get tired of people quick. They like each other for maybe a couple of weeks, and then it’s off to somebody new. Nobody really want to know about each other--they just like what they see on the outside, the looks, the image, and all that other bullshit that really doesn’t matter when you get down to what’s really important,” Chris said. “And then there’s those people that wanna be in love so bad because they want somebody to think they’re special, `cause they don’t think they’re special already. I don’t wanna be like that.” I didn’t know whether to be disturbed because Chris was being profound, or because he was making sense. 

“What’s really important? To you?”

Chris turned his head and looked at me. He just stared deeply into my eyes without blinking. It was the kind of staring that could make my heart stop beating. I was hypnotized by his eyes. “ I don’t know what’s important, B. Guess I’m trying to find out.”