Tommy Linarcos

Fiona and the International Scheme -Part 1
By
Tommy Linarcos

Scott fell into his seat on the couch, directly across from the human pretzel known as Sebastian-and-Fiona, knotted together on the love seat.  His beer was held out in front of him, appearing to bounce slightly in his hand, but maintaining its level like a human gyroscope, not spilling a drop.

“Impressive,” noted Pietro, sitting in the easy chair next to Scott.  “My mother would thank you for not spilling that.”

“No worries,” Scott said, then took a swig of his Busch beer.  It was probably on sale, the stuff Dusty Liquors gladly sold to high school students with bad mustaches to get it out of the store, so if it spilled, it was no great loss.  “Probably got some clean-up to do, anyway.”  He motioned to the other twenty teens strewn about Pietro’s apartment.  “Your mom’s not coming home tonight, right?”

“No,” Pietro almost laughed.  “Wouldn’t get away with this if she was…”

The post-concert gathering was reaching midnight.  Soon, the Freshmen and Sophomores would start looking to the Juniors and Seniors to see if anyone was willing to drive them home.  Scott was usually a soft-touch for that, but decided if he was too drunk, then he couldn’t be of any service.  When the current episode of Outer Banks ended, it was a likely bet that the whining would begin.

“You remember at Danny’s party?  That his mom was actually there the whole time, locked inside her bedroom?” Scott laughed.

“Oh, I remember, all right,” Pietro smiled.  “I was the one who tried picking the lock, when she opened the door and told me to fuck off before I ruined her door knob!”

“That was you?” Scott shook his head and had another drink.  “Who were you with, then?”

“Raymond, from Swim,” Pietro recalled.  “But not for long.  You were with Cindy, weren’t you?”

“Actually, we’d just broken up, so had no need for the back bedroom,” Scott winked.

“Shame,” Pietro decided, finishing his own beer.

Both boys then realized they were staring at Sebastian-and-Fiona.  Seabass and Fee.

“They arrived late, tonight,” Pietro realized.

“No they didn’t,” Scott told him.  “They were in the backseat of Danny’s SUV.”  Scott caught Pietro’s eye.  “Until I told those two Sophomores that they could catch them naked if they snuck outside and spied on them.  But the kids blew it.  Too damn noisy.”

“Sophomores…”

“What’s on your mind?” Scott asked him.  “Why do they have your attention — other than their furious making out?”

Fiona lifted her head and looked their way, quizzical, like she’d heard him talking about them.  Scott raised his beer in greeting, Fiona smiled at him, then went back to business.

“Let’s talk about politics,” Pietro offered, leaning forward.  Scott wasn’t sure what he meant until Pietro started in.  “So, Ireland and Mexico wanted some country to host their… economic negotiations.  They’d heard the queen of Italy was out of the country, so they asked the Italian president if they could come over and negotiate.”

Scott took a drink, his eyes furrowed as if the beer tasted flat; the beer was fine, but he was figuring out what the hell Pietro was talking about.  He still focused on the kissing couple eight feet away.  “Wait, Seabass is Mexican, right?”

“Yes…” Pietro said, quietly holding in his patience, “and I’m Italy, dumbass.  Pietro?  You know?  Mr. Pasta Fazool?”  Scott was a smart guy, Pietro knew, so which beer was he actually on?

Scott picked it up.  Fiona was Ireland, that was easy.  Mexico and Ireland wanted to come over to Italy’s place and…  “Did Italy wind up hosting the conference?”  He also picked up the bag of Jay’s Potato Chips no one was paying attention to and got about alleviating his munchies.

Pietro laughed with his eyes, knowing Scott was finally on the right page.  “Not at first, but he gave in and let Mexico and Ireland come over and use his… conference room.”

“Not at first, huh?” Scott observed, trying to speak with his mouth half-full.  “I thought Italy and Mexico got along okay…”

“They do,” Pietro assured him.  “But Italy was hoping that he could… pursue… economic ties with Mexico, himself.”

Scott took a long swig of his beer.  “So, what did Italy get out of the deal?  A case of cheap beer?  Or just the satisfaction of being a good friend?”

“No,” Pietro smiled.  “It seems that Mexico brought a gift from Colombia to help entice Ireland into the deal, and Italy got a little of it.”

“I take it that was how Italy was so generous at tonight’s soirée.”

“I’m a good host.  A good sharer,” Pietro said, falling off story.  “Charlie brought the cheap beer.”

Scott looked at the couple kissing.  “So, a closed-door session, and Italy had to clean up, later?”

“No and yes,” Pietro hinted.  This got Scott’s attention.  “So, it wasn’t exactly a three-way negotiation, but Italy was able to get his hands on Mexico’s peninsula.”

That made Scott chuckle.  “Italy got a taste of the Yucatán, eh?”

“Not yet,” Pietro admitted, dropping his smile.  “Just played in the sand.”

Scott took that in.  “And was Mexico successful in their negotiations?”

“Ireland gave him almost everything he asked for.”

“Damn.”  Scott finished his bottle.  “I was… England was… working quite hard to break up Ireland and Poland, and when that happened, England was hoping to reunify with Ireland.”

Pietro wasn’t sure who Poland was in their game, but figured it was Fiona’s old boyfriend.  “Why didn’t England say anything?”

“I did, I just didn’t want to be a rebound.  I thought I’d give her a little time to… recover from the winter recession.”  Scott picked the beer back up, but it was still empty.

“You like her.  Like, actually.”

“Yeah.”

Pietro put his hand on Scott’s shoulder.  “C’mon, you’re a good-looking guy.  Those brown curls, superhero chin, these shoulders… I’d love to see your abs…  Any guy or girl would say ‘yes’ to you….”

“Flattery,” Scott told his friend with the black hair and faded Mediterranean tan.  “But she’s the one I want.  The one I’m supposed to be with.”

Across from them, Fiona disentangled herself from Sebastian and walked down the short hall.  Scott watched her move, her grace, even in blue jeans.

Sebastian had Pietro’s eye for a moment, looking at him next to Scott, then frowned and found the TV.

“That’s why you sent the Sophomores outside…” Pietro put together.

Scott didn’t answer.

Pietro took a moment, found his own beer and killed that off.  “What if… it was time for Italy and England to form their own partnership.”

Scott looked over at him.  “Petey… you know I’m not…”

Pietro waved him down.  “Not partnership, then.  Um, alliance might be a better word.”  Scott’s curious look let him continue.  “What if… England attended the next economic summit, as the guest of Italy… and… Italy was able to distract Mexico while England pleaded his case for a merger.”

Scott was not convinced.  “England could do that any day at school.  England should do that someday at school,” he told the empty bottle.  “Distraction isn’t a…”

“Come here,” Pietro demanded, and led Scott into the kitchen to get fresh beers.  It was dark in there, only lit by the open fridge and one lighthouse nightlight.  “I’m talking about full engagement,” Pietro clarified.  “I’ve seen her naked.  They did it right out there,” he whispered, motioning back to the frontroom.  “I tried to join in, but you know I’m only interested in Sebbie.”

Scott got the bottle opener and popped both their beers.  “I don’t want to watch them…”  Scott did want to see Fiona naked, but that was not the goal, and he sure didn’t want to be a spectator to such an event.  It was hard enough seeing them make-out on the loveseat.

“They were able to just kind of push me aside,” Pietro continued.  “But with you there, we could all be ‘appropriately dressed’ and manage to… swap.  I help you, you help me.”

Scott was catching on, but realized it required some other form of participation.  “But you’re not talking about an orgy.  ‘Hey, let’s invite Scott and everyone fucks Fiona.’  You’re talkin’ me and you, and them two, then we mix things up.”

“And keep them that way.”

Scott didn’t drink, yet.  He was either going to tell Pietro to go to hell, or find a way to make this work.  “Pete, you’re a nice guy, you’re my friend, but I’m really not attracted to you that way.”

Pietro didn’t let the slight hurt him; there was no insult.  “I’m not talking about falling in love and becoming a couple.  Just playing around enough to make an impression.  Then we both get who we want, fall in love with them, and become couples.”

Two other people came into the tiny kitchen, and then Fiona exited the washroom.  She looked both ways down the short hall, and came into the kitchen, herself.  She looked at Scott holding his fresh beer, then asked, “Pete, do you have any water?”

Pietro went to the fridge, moving aside the two girls who just were standing in the open fridge door.  He pulled a short Aqua Pod and gave it to Fiona, then realized he shouldn’t be a part of this potential conversation, and excused himself and moved the girls along.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Fiona observed of Scott.  “Your part of the concert was a lot of fun, but you don’t seem like you’re all there, now.”

“I’m kinda stuck on Pete’s song, going through my head.  Kinda sad.”

“You or the song?”  She leaned on the counter, taking a more permanent spot.

“Both.  But not really.”  He’d brought up the point, but tried to play it down.

“You were really good in that 80s medley.  What’s that one song you did, with your sax?”

“I did two showpieces in that.  ‘Baker Street’ and ‘Careless Whisper.’  You probably mean one of those.”

“Yeah.”  Fee shifted the water bottle from hand to hand.  “You okay?”

“I was just thinking.  You wore this shirt, before.”

“Yeah, it’s an old shirt.”  A cute, white, long-sleeved henley, with blue stripes.  The three buttons at her neckline were open.  She tugged at her sleeves.

“No, I mean you wore that when we went to the Anti-Prom.”  Last spring, when all of their older friends were going to Prom, he and Fiona went off on a date of their own.

“God, you remember that?  That was a great night.”  Her smile lit up the dark kitchen.  “We took the bikes — you didn’t have your car, yet.  Pizza Palace, the forest, the river, the swings in the park…”

“You said you’d get your own bike and we could ride around the world.”

“That’s right, I borrowed your brother’s bike.  And then we dropped off the bikes and you walked me home instead of letting me ride and then pick up the bike the next day.”

“I had to figure out some way to make the night last longer.”

It got quiet, because Fiona remembered what happened next.  “You kissed me.”

“I sure did.”

Her brow furrowed.  “Why didn’t you ask me out?  Like for real?”

“I did.  You said you had to think about it,” Scott told his bottle.

“Oh.”  She bit her lip.  A couple other boys had expressed interest to her at that time, too, and she’d wound up dating none of them.  “That was kind of a crazy time.  And then I left for a month to North Carolina.”

“And when you came back, everything had changed.  We went back to just being us.”  Scott still hadn’t looked up, nor taken a drink of his beer.

“That was a long time ago.  Then you found Cindy.”

“You found Leo.  And now you’ve got Seabass.”

“Sebbie.”

“He’ll never be Sebbie to me,” Scott said.  “He’s Sebbie to Pete, though.”

Fiona just breathed.  “I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, you asked.  I’ve got a song in my head and that’s why I’ve got this.”  He picked up his beer.

Fiona just nodded her head, wiped off the bottle condensation in her hands onto her jeans, and headed back out front.

Scott let her go, then followed.  His seat on the couch was taken by some Freshman.

Pietro saw Scott enter.  “Hey, kiddies, it’s midnight.  Do you know where your parents are?” he called out to the masses.  “Better be nice to Charlie or Danny if you want a ride home.”

That started a small chaos where the underclassmen began negotiating.  A couple of them didn’t even know where they were, and probably could have walked home, but pleaded for a ride.  People asked if Pietro was kicking them out and how late he would let them stay.  Pietro assured them that he was fine with whenever, but knew some had a curfew.

Scott got his seat back and plummeted into it as he had done before.  He got about finishing the bag of potato chips, too.

Charlie asked why Scott couldn’t drive anyone.

Pietro found his old seat open, as well, and sat back down.  “Scott is wasted, if you haven’t noticed.  Only go with him if you never want to get home.”  He quite obviously took Scott’s hand and brought his first two fingers to his lips, licking off the salt.

Scott didn’t flinch, didn’t snap.  “I can drive…” he said to the ceiling.

Across the way, Fiona caught the action, stopped kissing Sebastian, and made concerned eyes at Scott.  Scott just laughed a little and shrugged to Fiona.  She laughed back, their eyes connecting.  Something to talk about, later.

Scott turned to Pietro, a new look in his eye.  “But what about…” he started, taking his fingers back.  “Mexico?  Is he…?  I mean, I always kind of thought he was, but…”

“Mexico is definitely bi-coastal, I can tell you that.  Atlantic and Pacific,” Pietro assured him.  He stood up and took the newly-opened spot on Scott’s left on the couch.  He took a swig of his beer, then set it down on the coffee table next to Scott’s.  “But one night with me, and he’ll sail the Atlantic for good.”

“So how am I supposed to be…?”

Pietro draped his arm across the sofa behind Scott, running his finger across his right shoulder.

Scott thought a moment.  God, he wanted Fiona.  He saw blonde Fiona’s ear and Seabass’s mop of black hair in some mashup that looked like a confused Muppet.  He couldn’t be angry at Seabass… Sebastian.  He just got the girl that Scott wanted, due to his own inaction, Scott knew.  And Pietro wanted Sebbie.  The plan, what there was of it, so far, could have some merits.  He was just too frustrated to think of what they could be.

“If this is going to work, start it with me, now,” Pietro whispered in Scott’s ear.

Scott, still in deliberation, threw his left leg over Pietro’s right, anyway.

“That’s it,” Pietro smiled.  His left hand found its way to Scott’s shirt collar and traced the button placket down his chest.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Scott said into his chin.

“We’re not doing anything, yet.”

“I don’t think I can kiss you, if that’s what you want.  That’s too personal.”  Scott slipped his left arm into the hole in the couch around Pietro’s waist, anyway.  “I don’t mean that to insult you…”

“I get it.” Pietro kissed Scott’s neck.  “Didn’t you ever kiss an ugly girl?”

“No.  All the girls I know are very pretty, you son-of-a-bitch,” Scott breathed a laugh as Pietro’s hand dropped further down, hovering at his belt line.

“Of course, they are.  Well, we’re just playing.  Can you pretend to have fun?  You might even have a little fun by accident, you know?”  Pietro massaged Scott’s jeans, tempting his cock to come to life.  And it did.

Scott turned to Pietro, and might have actually tried a kiss except that a round of goodbyes was pulling the party host away.  Pietro disengaged himself from Scott, got off the couch, and made sure nobody was stealing anything as they left.

Fiona and Seabass had hardly moved, but Fiona was staring at Scott, now, sitting alone on the couch.  “Scott?”

Scott picked up the scene.  If England and Ireland could…  Never mind that.  Just go with it.  “You see this?” He referred to the bulge in his jeans, the obvious erection.  “Gets me all excited then just leaves.  Bastard!”  He laughed and finally took a drink of his beer.  Look at what you’re making me do, Fiona… what lengths I’m willing to go through…  He was in it, now.

The greater mass of twenty teens shuffled out, leaving about six behind, including Fiona.  She turned to Sebastian and asked, “How are we getting home?  I’ve got until one, but…?”

“I live a block away, but you better get a ride,” Sebbie said.  “Will Scott take you?”

Scott stood up and crumpled the empty potato chip bag then took another swig of his beer.  He looked at his shirt and pretended to dust off chip crumbs, but there actually were some hiding there and they bounced off into the dim lighting.  “Not sure I’m the best guy for that, Fee,” he laughed.

Fiona uncurled herself from Sebbie, and called to Pietro at the door, “Hey, did Danny leave, yet?”

Pietro acknowledged her and called out to the street, “Hey, Danny, hold for one more.”

Scott stumbled across the room, playing Pietro’s suggestion.  “No, wait, Fee, I can drive you.  I’ll take you home, I’m not that bad.”

Fiona held Scott steady.  Not really, but Scott loved having her hands on him, even if it was for pretend.  “No, you better get some coffee in you, Scotty.”  She kept one hand on his waist as she reached for her jacket.

“Coffee won’t help,” Pietro said from the door.  “Then he’d just be a wide-awake drunk.  He can sleep it off, here.”

Fiona looked Scott in the eye with that pronouncement.  “You going to be okay?  You know what you’re doing?”

She was this close.  Thisclose.  He could just kiss her.  Kiss her right now.  Kiss her and she’d know what he felt for her.  But then he’d have to get into it with Seabass.  “I’m not sure.  I’m taking an option.”

“Scott…”

He stared at her.  He almost gave it away, he was going to tell her what he should have since she broke up with Leo.  He brought his hand to her cheek.  He was going to tell her that he was hopelessly, madly, incurably —

“Hey, if you’re going, you got to go, now!” Pietro called from the door.

Fiona fell back.  “Yeah, yeah…”  A final look at Scott.  “Be good.  Get some sleep.”  Then Sebastian walked her to Danny’s car.

Pietro didn’t lock up.  There were still a few left, staying later.  He wasn’t kicking anyone out.  Scott found his seat, again.

Two girls were running through the Netflix posters, searching for a title.  Too many rows were dropping by, too quickly.  “He’s got to have it on his list, doesn’t he?” asked the giggly one.

“Just go to ‘search,’ it’ll be faster…” said the other giggly one.

Soon, Series 1-Episode 1 of Di4ri was playing.  It was an Italian teen soap full of eye-candy.  Two girls, Pietro, and Sebastian all sat on pillows in front of the TV, pointing at the boys, one scene of which had them all shirtless.  One character’s name was ‘Pietro,’ and they were teasing the real-life Pietro that if he was as handsome as the TV Pietro, then…

Scott put up with the story, it was cute enough, but he couldn’t see the subtitles with all their heads in the way, and started debating on just getting out of there.  He wasn’t really drunk.  Well, he’d had three, maybe four, beers, but he was no lightweight.  And a hit or two of Pete’s joint, but he wasn’t feeling it, though.  A cop might feel he was DUI, though.  He was feeling alone, though.

Both Danny and Charlie had come back to the apartment after their runs, but the vibe had died considerably.  Charlie took the remainder of his beer and left. 

Danny pulled Scott aside.  “What are you doing?  What was all that before?”

Scott took a second to contemplate.  “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” Scott admitted, but it came from somewhere.  “Talk to me tomorrow.  This is about Fiona.”

Danny nodded warily, then clapped his friend on the shoulder.  “Get some sleep.”  He wound up driving the two girls home.

“Pietro, your place available anytime tomorrow?” Seabass asked, putting his jacket on, noting Scott was embedded in the couch.

Pietro, cleaning up the remaining bottles, breathed out his reply, as if it were a burden, “Yeah… I mean, sure.  You guys can come over.  Make it sometime in the PM, though.  I don’t know what time I’m going to wake up.”

Sebastian pointed his chin toward Scott.  “Is he really spending the night with you?”

Pietro smiled, both inside and out; Sebbie was taking the bait.  “Well, I was serious that he could stay and sleep off his high.  He seems to be stuck to the couch.  But who knows?”

Sebastian looked back toward Pietro’s bedroom door, and then back to the front door.  “Do you…?”

“Actually, I’m kind of tired, too.  It’s been a long day,” Pietro told the wall.  It sounded like Sebastian was giving him an opening, but he knew it would probably just be a blow job, maybe traded blow jobs, at best, if he took him up on it.  That’s not what he wanted.  Sebbie’d sent Fiona home — let him go home, too, let him get worked up for tomorrow, Pietro plotted.  “Go on home, make your mama happy, and I’ll see you two sometime tomorrow when you get here.”

Sebastian breathed out his frustration, nodded, zipped his jacket, and headed outside.  Pietro locked up and shut off the big lamp.  Only the TV was still on.

“He didn’t even say goodbye,” Scott snickered.

“Did you expect him to?  He’s not sure about you.  Can see it in his eyes.”

“About me?”

“Yeah,” Pietro noted.  “He sees you looking at Fiona, he sees you all close when she left, he sees you and me…  I said ‘no’ to a quick blow job.  He’s wondering what’s up and why he’s losing things.  And I’m hoping he’s confused about Fiona and what he’s doing with her, really.”

Pietro picked up the remote control and shut off the TV, leaving the apartment in darkness.  Slowly, their eyes adjusted to the glow from the streetlights sneaking in through the front window.  “Come on,” Pietro ordered, holding out his hand to help Scott up.

Scott waited a moment, then took Pietro’s hand and used the leverage to stand.  “Petey, what are we doing?”

“Going to bed.”  Pietro knew how that sounded and didn’t want to make Scott panic.  “I mean, you can leave, if you want to, but you really shouldn’t drive, and the bed is much more comfortable than the couch.”  He led the way back, while Scott was still attached to him.

Scott figured he could think clearly enough.  He went with Pietro down the short hall to his mother’s bedroom.  He could stop, he could balk, but he didn’t really want to.  Part of him wanted to do this.

The mother’s room had a queen-size bed, perfect for two.  Scott watched Pietro begin to remove his clothes.  There was no seduction.  Pietro was not kissing Scott’s shoulder like before, he wasn’t opening Scott’s jeans for him, he wasn’t whispering in Scott’s ear.  Scott pried off his own shoes and unbuttoned his shirt.  Pietro nodded.  When both were down to their boxers, Pietro opened up the covers and got in.  Scott did the same on his side.

“So,” Pietro started, “about the plan.”

“Yes,” Scott acknowledged that he was willing to discuss it.

“When Fiona and Sebbie get here, we want them to see us in action.  And it has to look convincing, not like it’s the first time, like we just started when the doorbell rang,” Pietro said in the dark.  There was one window in the bedroom, but the light leaking in was a very dim blue/green, and difficult to see eyes, even.  “Don’t worry, I’m not expecting to fuck you in the ass tomorrow.  I want to fuck Sebbie in the ass tomorrow.”

“So what are you expecting me to do?” Scott asked.  There was no fear in his voice, just business.

“We’ll have to be intimate.  Hands.  You said kissing was too personal, but you’re going to have to kiss me.  Or let me kiss you.  Maybe trade blow jobs.  We’ll see when it’s the right time to make the switch.  It won’t happen as soon as they walk in.”

“No, I knew that,” Scott admitted.  Like Pietro, he had been thinking about how the plan might proceed, too.  “And we need a reason for us to stay in the same room, instead of them asking to come in here or your room.  We want them to join us.”

Pietro was impressed that Scott had thought this out, too.  “So what are you willing to try?”  He moved closer to Scott under the covers and let his hand find Scott’s abs.  “Ooh, these are nice.  I still can’t see them, but they feel nice!”

“Glad you like them,” Scott almost laughed.  He slid over a little more, himself, let his hand find Pietro’s arm then slid up to his shoulder, then glided down onto his pecs.  An action… not normally done guy-to-guy, but here, with a purpose, Scott could give in to expectation.  He knew Pietro had suffered a couple small injuries on the school’s gymnastic team, but those were just strains he recovered from, but when he’d really wrenched his knee on the wrestling team this past winter, he was out for both sports. Still, he’d kept up his exercise.  His shoulders and pecs were quite… healthy.

Pietro smiled in the dark.  Scott was open to something!  “Have you done anything before?” he asked.

“Middle school stuff,” Scott admitted.  “Danny and I figuring out what our dicks were for, what they could do.  What it felt like when you let someone else do it for you.”

Pietro let his hand drop down off Scott’s abs and into his boxers, immediately meeting his hardening cock.  He wrapped his hand around it and made sure it was hard.

Scott breathed in with the sensation, brought his hands back and pushed his boxers down and kicked them off deep inside the comforter.  “When I said I don’t want to kiss you, I didn’t mean you’re ugly — like you said did I kiss an ugly girl.  You’re just not my type, you know?  I mean, I know you’re a good-looking guy, just not for me.”

“Don’t worry.  I know you didn’t mean it that way.”  Pietro’s hand found the length of Scott’s cock and began a gentle stroke.  He curled a little and began licking the nipple he’d teased earlier.   “So, what is your type?”

Scott chose the obvious answer.  “Fiona’s my type.”

Pietro wasn’t going to let him off that easy.  “I mean, if you know I’m a good-looking guy, like you said, but I’m not your type, who would you go gay for?”

“Ha!”  Scott knew he’d been cornered.  “If…”  He took the opportunity to start yanking down Pietro’s underwear; if they were going to do this, they were going to do this.  Pietro stopped the stroke and assisted him.  When the boxerbriefs were gone, the two got back to business and Scott discovered the girth of Pietro’s cock.  “If I did… I think… there was this one guy.  He did a play, and I think he was on your gymnastics team Freshman or Sophomore year.  He was blonde, and… he looked… I don’t know, there was just something about him.  I haven’t really given this a lot of thought, but when you asked, he just came to mind.”

“You’re talking about Al,” Pietro said with authority.

“Yeah, I’m talking about Al.”

“Pretending you don’t know his name… might be on my team…”  Pietro lifted the comforter and just threw the top down the bed.  He climbed over Scott, straddling his legs.  “His real name is Adalbert, but don’t tell him I told you.”

“Adalbert Schroeder,” Scott considered.  “Yeah, if I was going to go gay, I guess it would be with someone who looked like him.”  He relaxed and helped Pietro find his positioning; he knew what he was after.

“Just looked like him?  Have you ever met him?”  Pietro stroked Scott’s cock from his bush to his expanding head and, on the next downstroke, wrapped his lips around Scott’s cock and took him inside, swirling his tongue around the head in welcome.  He took Scott down halfway and then a little more before coming back up and bobbing five times in quick succession.

Scott gasped and couldn’t answer for a second, or a minute.  Pietro had a talent, he’d give that to him, for sure.  “I’ve met him once or twice, but chit-chat, ‘hey, nice job’ type of thing.”  He ran his fingers into Pietro’s hair, but stopped.  It was a normal reaction to a blow job, but still felt too personal to do it to Pietro.  Fuck it, he thought, and did it, anyway.  “I have a feeling we could be friends, like we wanted to talk more, but couldn’t with the time, or something.  I don’t know.  I’m on Soccer and Swimming, he’s on Gymnastics and — is he in all the plays or just that one?  If he were in the Jazz Band like you and me, then who knows?”

Pietro didn’t answer, just used his tongue and throat the best way he knew how.  Scott knew part of the fun of a blow job was watching the girl, and catching her eyes when she wanted to know your reaction to something she was doing, but that couldn’t happen here in the dark.  But to that aspect, everything Pete was doing was a mystery, then.  Scott relaxed and just centered his mind to the wet sensations of Pete’s skills on his cock.

Pietro had pulled off him to lick the sides, the popsicle move, then took ahold of his shaft about halfway, licked around his head, and then sucked down to his hand.  Each time he bobbed to the top and back down, his mouth pushed his hand lower, taking more of Scott into his throat, until his hand dropped to cradle his balls.  Pietro pulled off, and moved down to suck at Scott’s balls, and did a quick move to poke his tongue at his anus.  Scott immediately flinched, his knees jerking, but a smile grew on his face just as quickly.

“Fuck me…” Scott groaned.

Pietro had to answer that.  “Are you serious?  You want that?”

Scott had to bring his mind to the present.  He’d been getting nearer his explosion point when suddenly all ecstasy below the waist came to a grinding halt.  “What?”

“You want me to fuck you?”

“No, I…  What?  No.  I…  You stopped!”

Pietro went back to sucking Scott’s cock.  He could tease him further, but he wasn’t that mean.  His tongue found Scott’s pleasure point — the skin just below his crown down to his scar, and he worked that.

“Ffff… damn… Pete… Petey… I’m going to cum in your mouth,” Scott rasped.

“Don’t worry,” somehow was understandable.

“No, I mean I am going to cum in your mouth,” Scott demanded, holding Pietro’s head.

“Yes.  You are.”

Scott’s muscles tensed, he doubled about, and made faces no one could see.  “Gah…!  Oh, fff…”  He shot off into Pietro’s throat six times, each blast allowing him to relax his hold over himself until he was flat under Pietro, again.

Pietro pulled himself off of Scott’s cock, but gently held it, rocked it, letting it know everything was all right, that it could relax and unwind.  He swallowed a couple extra times, clearing the remainder from inside his cheeks.  “You okay?” he asked Scott.

“Totally okay…”

“Don’t fall asleep, now.”

“I know, I know.  I’m not gonna be a bad friend.”  Scott knew what he would have to do.

“You taste pretty good.  Only a little salt in there.  Still on your competition diet?”  Pietro climbed up Scott’s body and kissed him.

Scott let himself be kissed, but barely kissed back.  “Bastard.”  There was a little cum given back, of course.  “Yeah, though I had some beer and chips, tonight, I don’t think they had time to invade my system.  So you get the good stuff.”

“I got some good stuff for you…”

“I’ll bet you do.”  Scott shook his head and gently shoved Pietro off of him.  This was easier in the dark, he knew.  He’d have to do it again in the daylight tomorrow, but here, now, in the dark, it wasn’t necessarily real.  And he didn’t have to see Pietro’s eyes.  It was his eyes that Scott didn’t like — just something about the guy’s dark eyelids, always half-closed.  Girls probably thought it was sexy, but he didn’t.  He liked Petey, he was his friend, but even if he messed around with him like this, there was never going to be a chance he’d fall in love.

“How you want me?”

“Just lay down.  Let me get a feel for you.”  He put his hands on Pietro’s shoulders and slowly ran them down his pecs and abs. He’d been in contact with his teammates’ bodies on the soccer field and in the pool without shame, but this was different.  This was something he never thought he’d do, didn’t know he’d even wanted to do, but here in the dark, he could give in to curiosity, enjoy the tactile feeling of another guy’s body.  “Your knee going to be back in shape ever?”

“Not for Wrestling.  That’s done.  No Senior year for me.  I’m still going to try with Gymnastics.  With coach’s help, we’ll find something I can do without hurting it.”

“So, no Soccer with me?”

“I’m not going to run on it.  Or get checked, or tackled…  Whatever you call it.”

Scott would laugh, but knew it was sensible.  “Jazz Band doesn’t require any of that.  Except blowing.”

Pietro did laugh.  “And I can do a good job with that.  And on my trumpet, too.  Question is… is saxophone the only thing you can blow?”

“Well, that’s what we’re going to find out…”  Scott moved down to take ahold of Pietro’s cock.  “You’re completely shaved?”

“That’s how I like it.  And it makes my dick look bigger.”

“No, it doesn’t.  It just makes you look gayer.”

“Well, for me, that’s not a bad thing.”  Pietro pretended to cough.  “Got one of your hairs caught in my throat.  I think you’ve got me on length, even with your hair.  But I’m thicker than you.”

“Yeah, you are…” Scott admitted while getting his mind ready to take Pietro’s cock.

“You measure yourself?”

“I’m seven, seven-and-a-quarter, maybe.  Cindy measured me a while ago — she’s like ‘Eight inches!’ but I let her keep thinking that.”  Scott found that Pete’s cock head was fatter and flatter than his.  A battering ram.  “No way you’re fucking me with this thing.”

Pietro understood.  “Penetration is a hard thing to negotiate.  You have to be willing to give up control, and power.  Until you find the pleasure.”

“Easier with someone you trust, then.”  In that instant, Scott got a whole new appreciation for what a girl went through.

“Or find incredibly exciting!”  Pietro pumped his hips.  “Now, hey, no more delays, get busy.”

Scott nodded in the dark.  “Just remember the old saying — there’s no such thing as a bad blow job.”

“There better not be, or I’m gonna get to face-fuck Scott Walker.”

Scott gave himself one last instant of hesitation — he’d never done this before, but how hard could it be? — then went down on Pietro.  His mouth immediately thought Pietro’s cock head was huge.  He could barely fit the whole thing in his mouth, how did he expect to take any of Pietro’s shaft?  He tried to suck it thinner by adding pressure, and tried to see how much he could get down, or at least inside.

“Take it easy,” Pietro advised.  “Use your tongue, more.  Think about what you like to feel, then try to recreate that.  You’ll get it.”

Scott took the advice and put his tongue to work, then started a slow bob, started that in-and-out.  He had to open his mouth wider than he thought he would have to, but he was okay, now.  He didn’t try to suck so hard.  There was really no taste to worry about, it was as he expected, and Pete was clean.  He still smelled like Pete, but that was Pete…!

Scott pulled off and licked the shaft, going to the spots that he liked, trying to feel Pete’s reaction whether he liked it or not.  Keep it wet.  Swirl.  Try again how much he could take inside before the gag reflex.  He’d wanted to try and do it right, whatever that is, not just bobbing for fifteen minutes.  But as he just relaxed, he got better.  There was a satisfaction, he found, to the sucking.  It was kind of fun.  He thought he understood how girls could hate doing this, yet at the same time wanting to be great at it.

“Use your — there you go,” Pietro was going to point out not to forget to use his hands when Scott recalled that very thing, jerking while he sucked and cradling Pete’s balls with the other.  Scott almost snickered to find Pete’s balls were a little fuzzy — Not too easy to shave those, is it?

Pietro let him sail for a bit longer, but soon shifted, pulled out, and got to his knees.  “I’m going to help you out.  I’m almost ready to cum but not quite there.  Here, sit up.”  Scott did so.  “Flatten your tongue, take me in, don’t block me.”

Pietro began to quickly fuck Scott’s mouth; Scott had to take it and allow it.  Pietro pulled out and stroked himself, then pushed back inside and shot his load, holding Scott’s head captive.  Scott figured what was going on, but still wasn’t quite ready for the onslaught.  The cum pooled in his mouth, but he did his best to swallow as it came.  Anyone’s entire spooge was really only a tablespoon or two, but inside the mouth, it felt like a half pint.  He did his best, but still wound up coughing a little out.  The most notable thing about it all, Scott determined, was the heat of fresh cum, straight from the body to the tongue, not instantly cooling as it hit your abs or chest.

“Sorry, never had that much, before,” Scott confessed.

“Middle school?” Pietro asked while recovering.

“No, didn’t do it back then,” Scott said.  “Girls.  They kiss you afterward, think they’re cute giving you a taste of your own cum, like I’d never tasted it, before.”

“See the problems with girls?” Pietro kidded.

“I… only want one girl’s problems.”

“You guys are really close.  It should have happened before now.”

“That’s my fault.”

“Yeah, well, let’s fix that.”  Pietro pushed Scott back down onto the bed, and fished below to drag the comforter back up.  “I was going to ask if you wanted to try fucking me, but you should actually get the sleep you pretended to need.”

Scott agreed and they found their space.  Pietro pulled Scott closer to him.  “Cuddling isn’t gay.  It’s human.”

Scott allowed his friend to rest his head on his chest.  He put his arm around him, they locked a leg, and fell asleep.

End of part one

Copyright 2025 – Tommy Linarcos
All rights reserved