Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Proof ❯ Chapter Seven ( Chapter 7 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Warning: Name-calling, cursing, some alcohol consumption, use of the word `retarded' and its variations.

A/N: I censored this chapter a bit.

Update: Will uncensor stuff soon.

Chapter Seven

He wanted to spill out his problems to his father, but Jake had no idea on how going about it. His thoughts and feelings were churning into a confused jumble of things that he had a hard time sorting out. He was upset over the kids picking on Gone, jealous over Bart being able to score chicks without even trying, offended over Tweedy's supposed homosexuality, and his hormones were driving him up the wall with its repeated want and urges to just drive his problems away sexually.

Sitting up in his room, scowling at the wall, he fingered the bite mark on his arm, wincing at the repeated pangs of pain that shot up his limb with each contact. He figured at that moment that being jealous over the fact that Bart had Holly Gellum's attention was nothing more than a petty thing. It wasn't that Jake thought the girl was cute in any way, definitely not his type, but her breasts really caused his hormones to spike. And with Bart indifferent to such things was just a definite waste of his `emo'. But he pouted about it, knowing that if he had Bart's looks and attitude, he'd take definite advantage of it. He'd have the popularity and attention that he secretly wanted.

As for Tweedy, he knew better than to believe Chase's overexcited babble. But Jake couldn't help but wonder if he were. Because if he were, he was definitely a little more successful in obvious points than Jake was. Tweedy had the popularity, he had the attention, he was successful in various talents and nobody yelled at him for being overactive. With a set of pursed lips, Jake tried to remember anything that would tell him that Tweedy was indeed gay, but all he saw was another jock that blended in with his crowd.

He rolled off his bed, reaching underneath for the scrapbook. Looking through it always helped him think. He wondered what his mother would do in a situation like this—if she'd ever felt threatened by someone that wanted her special someone. He then shook his head, looking at the familiar pictures, already knowing that she had. And she let the public know, much to the delight of the media, but that was only when she'd had a relationship with a Normal boyfriend. Frowning, he tried to go about a solution with making a public spectacle of himself, but it just wouldn't fly.

He paused on his newly added section of Ian Peters. Remembering his conversation with Bart the other day, he stared down at the man in uniform. He had to wonder what Bart was trying to tell him; frankly, it scared him to know. Jake wasn't sure why it bothered him that his mother and this man might have had a relationship of some kind. He flipped through the book and found her as Felicia Passage, posing with her Normal boyfriend. They looked happy with each other, dressed almost identical, as couples tend to do, strolling down one of New Park's classy districts with Starbucks in their hand. He flipped again and look at Ian Peters, then folded that page in half. He searched for one with her only, and fitted the pages so that one of hers and one of his fit side-by-side. He just couldn't see it.

“What were you trying to tell me?” he mumbled. “And should I ask?”

He then looked up from his scrapbook when he heard his bedroom door open. Upon seeing that it was Gone, the teen giving him a searching expression as to what his mood was, he set the book down on top of the clutter he had atop of his desk. He was actually glad to see him, despite the uncomfortable situation he had been thinking about all day. “Hey. `Sup?”

“Go's being retarded. Mr. James said I could spend the night.”

“Cool. Hey, did you eat already? Dad's not cooking anything, that lazy s.o.b. Wanna walk in to get a burger? I'm starving.”

“Okay.”

“Let's just let Bart sleep in, or whatever. I drove him up the wall, today. I just told dad I'd call him on his cell, but I don't want to. Nothing should happen, anyway.”

Nearly twenty minutes later, the restaurant was quiet—theirs was the only order they'd had to fill before they started to close for the night. With the icy conditions that Highlands was currently awashed in, the small community shut down early. The walk over was quiet—it looked as if Jake were still lost in thought, saying nothing. Gone was filled with his own turmoil, unsure of where to start first in sorting them out.

After they sat down, he watched Jake arrange his food items in the order he liked to eat them in. On reflex, Gone reached out and pulled away all easily spilled items from his reach, to make sure Jake wouldn't knock things over. Then he sat still, not feeling hungry now that enough time had passed where Go's words continued to affect him.

It bewildered him that people were saying such things about Tweedy. Frankly, Gone hadn't really noticed the senior before Tweedy started talking to him. And he never felt as if the teen were trying to `hit on him', or such. He was deeply confused over what people were saying.

“Are you okay?” he asked, noticing that a furrow in between arched eyebrows had been present all along. As if Jake were still thinking about things.

“Yeah. I should be asking you that,” Jake returned in the same tone, fingers already messy with condiments. He took a long drink of his soda before continuing. “Those assholes still knocking you around, huh?”

Gone looked down at his own order of fries, pride stinging at the note of annoyance in Jake's tone. He exhaled through his nose, not really knowing what to say to that, but unable to bring his head up to see the expression on the other's face. He started to feel all his emotions bubbling to the surface. It had been a trying day, one that had held too many things for him to deal with.

“I know they still talk shit,” Jake muttered, glancing at him. “And you still don't say shit to anybody. It's not that hard to ask for help, G.”

“I don't need any of you butting into my problems,” Gone mumbled, fiddling with a fistful of napkins he'd grabbed earlier, a little startled that he was still holding onto them.

“Yeah, you say that, but how long's this gonna continue?” Jake snapped, growing irritated at Gone's tone. “You're just going to let them do this to you, day after day?”

“Fighting back will only make it worse—”

“So you're just going to let them hand your ass over each and every time? What, am I just supposed to ignore it? Just pretend it's not happening? Fuck that! I can't!”

Gone had nothing to say to that, so he sat silently, staring at his food with his emotions starting to churn again. He knew that if words continued to be exchanged over this scarred table, they were going to do something embarrassing. Jake ate his food angrily, nearly gnawing onto his fingers in the process.

The workers behind the counter were cleaning up. Their table was located far enough away to allow both teens to speak normally, but Gone still cringed at the thought that someone would overhear them. A couple of the workers were teens they saw everyday at school.

“C'mon, eat up. I don't wanna be eating by myself,” Jake then grumbled, jamming a handful of fries into his mouth.

“Are you still mad at me over this morning?” Gone asked quietly. “I told you I didn't mean to bite you. I just didn't know what came over me.”

“That shit's too freaky for me right now,” Jake declared, examining his wound. Gone winced at the sight of it, feeling extremely guilty for it. “I don't fucking care how insecure you feel about things, that don't mean I can't do shit without your approval.”

“I just—hate it when you're always playing with those guys—!”

“I don't wanna hear it! I mean it! I can talk to whomever I want, whenever I want!” Jake snapped at him, reaching over to snatch his fries since Gone wasn't eating them. “It's fucking ridiculous how you're trying to tie me down like that! You can't do that to someone—”

“I just don't want to lose you—!”

“Quit talking like that! Stop talking like that!” Jake erupted suddenly, knocking over his soda with a wild wave of his arm. “You sound so fucking crazy when you talk like that! Where in the fuck do you get the idea that I don't want to be with you?”

Gone was too caught up in his emotions to remember the fistful of napkins he was clutching, his eyes burning with building tears that he struggled to keep in. His face reddened with the recognizance of it, and he held himself stiff in order to keep himself from crying.

Jake angrily threw what napkins he remembered to grab over the spilled liquid, sweeping it all into one wet mess onto their tray. He dumped the rest of their fry sauce over his fries, and ate them with force.

When he looked up, he was startled to see the change of expression in the other's face.

“Jesus Christ, you're not going to cry, are you?” he asked in surprise, not having seen that particular expression in a long while, horrified that he was the cause of it.

At that, Gone exploded, overcompensating for his fragile state by growing extremely angry. Without thinking he shouted, “NO!” He flipped the food tray over, spilling the rest of his order and his untouched drink on the floor. He then escaped before he could lose control of himself by doing more damage.

Embarrassed and stunned at the mess and the commotion they'd caused, the workers looking over in alarm, Jake hastily stuffed what food was salvageable into his jacket pockets. He hurried after Gone without bothering to pick up, despite the outraged cries.

He caught up to the other with a quick dash, grabbing a hold of his arm and yanking him back. Gone pushed him, but Jake held on tight, growling at the confusion and the upset between them both.

“Stop it! Stop pushing me away!” he roared, holding onto both of his arms and dragging him behind the building, where they couldn't be seen by those still lingering on the streets. He glanced around for anybody with cameras, and was satisfied that there weren't any. Ever since the world found out who he belonged to, there always seemed to be someone trying to take his picture and sell it to the tabloids.

“No! Let me go! Let me go!” Gone hollered back, struggling to get away, his eyes stinging dangerously with tears, and feeling so frustrated and angry at everything that had happened today. He knew he was just moments from breaking down. He didn't want to, not in front of anybody, not wanting to appear more pathetic than he already felt.

But Jake held on tight, refusing to let go as he pulled him after him, trying to sort out his own agitated feelings. Taking the alley toward another walkway that would continue to hide them from the street, Jake pulled Gone by his arm, saying nothing as he tried to sort himself out. Used to Gone's outbursts, but finding that he had to deal with it in an entirely different way now that they were together, he dealt with Gone's sudden silence with nothing more than a heavy sigh. At least Gone wasn't struggling with him now, allowing himself to be led.

The night was cold, random flakes falling here and there, but the walkway was slippery with ice. With a cautious glance around, Jake shifted his hold on Gone's arm by clutching tightly onto his hand, feeling slightly reassured when Gone's fingers held his.

He could hear Gone sniffling quietly, and felt that helpless ball of emotion in his chest. That jumbled haze in being insecure in being able to do anything for his friend's emotional state. Unsure of how to fix or soothe what it was that made this mess in the first place.

“Gone, it's all right, okay?” he said, his voice obnoxiously loud in Highlands' quiet stillness. “Everything's all right, now. You don't need to be thinking any of that stuff. I mean it. I'm just…I'm just all, like, I don't think of leaving you for nobody, or nothing like that. I don't know why you go and get that way.”

With an embarrassed huff that he was saying such things, he held tighter onto his hand. “So stop thinking like that,” he ordered. “And I got every damn right to be pissed, like, totally unimaginatively pissed if I see people picking on you. You can't keep getting pissed at me for handling it the way I do. What the fuck am I supposed to do? You, uh, you matter too much to me and I'm not going to do that. No way.”

“I just don't want you to get in trouble for me,” Gone said, voice breaking. The moment he heard that crack, he grew frustrated enough to reach up and pull at the front of his hair and cover his face at the same time, to keep Jake from seeing his expression.

“I make that decision! That's my decision to make!” Jake snapped, stopping to look at him, but finding that Gone had his face covered. “And it's nothing! Getting in trouble by doing something like that is—is absolutely no trouble on my part! You need to stop thinking so much on me that you try and hide things from me! What good is it doing to you?”

“Stop talking about it!”

“No. No, G, Goddamn you, I mean it! To hide things from me and to think you have to handle it all isn't doing anybody any good! How can I be here, at your side, when all you do is push me away?” Jake asked, pulling at his hand, seeing how Gone was so close to crying that it made him uncomfortable. But he wanted Gone to see his face, to look into his own to drive home his point. At this moment, seeing this made him think of all the time's past when he had to force Gone to tell him who'd picked on him at the playground, or if Chase had made him cry over some childish thing. He'd always had this role, he realized.

But it wasn't one sided—Gone had always taken care of him, too, in ways that he couldn't find elsewhere.

He sighed, reaching out to embrace the other tightly, looking around them to make sure no one was seeing them. There were people visible at the supermarket across the way, and some were milling around a nearby bar. If no one looked their way, up the walkway that'd take them through the parking lot of a strip mall, they'd continue to be invisible.

He pulled away, leading Gone along behind him as he made their way forward. Once they reached the parking lot, he dropped his hold on Gone's hand and walked beside him as Gone hiccupped and wiped at his eyes with the fistful of napkins he'd still held.

“Stop it, now. Everything's all right,” Jake said sternly, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. “Christ, it's cold out here. If I had powers, man, it'd be summer all the damn time, without the humidity. ”

“I'm sorry,” Gone apologized. “I'm just so sorry for freaking out.”

“It's okay, I said. Stop that crying, now. Damn, people are going to see you, and then what the fuck?”

Gone wiped at his face once more, working hard on stifling the rest of his emotional state. “I just get so scared, sometimes.”

“Why?” Jake then asked him in annoyance, stopping short.

Gone didn't answer him, staring down at the street with nothing more than a shake of his head. With an impatient sigh, Jake reached over to slap his shoulder.

“Let's go. I'm cold and tired of this shit. If this stuff comes up again, I swear to God, I'm just going to kick ass. I mean it, G.” Jake then continued on, shaking his head at their words. Then, because he had so much energy running through him from the confrontation, he looked around himself. Walking up to the closest car, he kicked at it, the vehicle rocking on its tires. Turning to another one, he kicked that one, the alarm blaring with a loud shriek. He turned and raced off, allowing adrenaline take over. With his action, Gone was forced to follow after him in horrified silence, hoping that no one would see them.

0o0o0o0

After his father was in bed and settling for sleep, Jake left his room. He headed downstairs, where the couch in the living room was pulled out and made up for Gone to sleep in. The younger teen was looking over his homework, dressed for sleep and looking puffy-eyed and exhausted. He looked up when Jake crawled onto the bed, reaching for the remote to turn on the holoset.

“I wanna watch stuff,” he said gruffly, settling down, childishly kicking aside Gone's notebook and paper texts.

“I needed to finish that.”

“You never pay attention to me,” Jake then mock-complained.

Gone had to chuckle, feeling better now that things were light between them. He shifted his weary emotions aside to enjoy what was happening now, carefully putting away his notebook pen and highlighters. After he'd shoved all his school things into his backpack, he adjusted a few couch cushions to prop them up in order to watch the holoset better.

“You ever wonder where the `hot spots' are in town?” Jake then asked, having thought about it all this time. “Chase never gives up the info.”

“You are asking the wrong person,” Gone muttered, pulling up a blanket. He then reached out to pull him close, to cuddle up against his shoulder. “No, wait, I lie. I have a party book in my backpack. Let me get it.”

Jake reached over to punch him, causing him to grunt. “Shut up. I call no sarcasm in this house! Not after ten p.m. Man, dad's so old, he's in bed already. My poor old man, he works so hard to keep me happy.”

“I think mine's still up,” Gone mumbled, glancing out the open window toward his house, and seeing every light in the house still on. “Watching something on the `set. His publicist was going out for more alcohol later. Hopefully Chase doesn't drink anything.”

“Drake will watch him. Hey,” Jake then said, lowering his voice as he rolled onto his stomach and gave him a look. “Dad has some beer in the fridge. Wanna try one?”

“No!” Gone said, outraged that he was even asked. But Jake was off the couch-bed and racing off. When he returned, he had a bottle of beer in one hand. He shut all the blinds, settling onto the bed once more. “Your dad will kill you if he catches you drinking that! Don't do that!”

“I just want to try it. I'm not going to, like, turn into this raging alcoholic,” Jake then hissed, signaling for him to lower his voice. He twisted the cap off, smelling the fumes that escaped once he did. “Yuck.”

“Why are you doing this?” Gone asked, watching him as he tilted the bottle up and sipped.

He coughed, holding the bottle out and away from him. Gone grabbed it automatically, sure that he'd drop it. “Ugh! That's nasty! How can people drink this shit? No, G, try it. Just try it.”

“NO!”

“G, I swear to God, you won't like it? But try it anyway. I mean, what's it going to kill? I just took a sip. Ugh, how does dad drink that nasty stuff?” Jake then complained, still keeping his voice quiet.

Gone rolled his eyes, moving to set it aside when Jake grabbed his arm, making him still.

“TRY IT! No one will know! Besides, I don't want to get in trouble by myself. If dad catches us, he'll let us go light cuz you did it.”

“No,” Gone said in exasperation. “I don't want to. If it's so gross to you, why would I want to?”

“You are such a baby, G. How you gonna learn things, expand your horizons a little, if you keep yourself from trying things?” Jake then complained, taking the bottle back and taking another sip. He made another face before taking another. “Oh, God, that's nasty. That's so nasty.”

“And you want me to try it, too,” Gone muttered, feeling a little stung. He could hear Tweedy telling him how small his world was. With a reluctant noise, he reached out and grabbed the bottle, tipping it cautiously to take a small sip. The taste made him cough, holding the bottle away from him, as if by doing so would take the taste away from him.

Jake laughed, slapping his back. “Thar's a good boy. Hey, take another one.”

Complying only because the taste was unusual enough to try again, Gone made another face and set the bottle on the end table nearby. He wanted to brush his teeth, comb over his tongue with a napkin. Anything to take the nastiness away.

“Huh, I wonder why people make themselves drink this to get all addicted to it?” Jake then wondered aloud, sitting back and folding his arms behind him.

“You need to get rid of it,” Gone said, using his fingers over his tongue. “Pour it out and hide the bottle.”

“It's only one bottle. Let's just finish it.”

“I don't understand the concept. It's nasty, so why?” Gone asked in annoyance.

“It's something different, G,” Jake said forcefully, sitting up to reach past him for the bottle. He forced himself to take a longer drink. Once he was done, he exhaled loudly and nearly retched.

Rolling his eyes, Gone took the bottle and took a smaller drink, feeling his stomach roil once the liquid hit. They passed it between them until they finished, and Gone waited for him to dispose of the evidence, drawing the blankets over him and wondering why his head felt so giddy. He felt thirsty but bloated, an uncomfortable feeling. Once Jake returned, having taken the bottle outside to the others that were packed away for recycling, he dove into the covers, immediately pushing his cold feet between Gone's legs.

He squealed at the cold, shoving him away while Jake laughed. “I hope we don't smell like beer,” he muttered, checking his breath by breathing on his hand.

Jake sniffed at him, then sniffed at himself. “Only a little. But if we brush our teeth an' stuff, we'd be okay. Hah, see, that wasn't so hard, was it? Does it feel good to be so bad?”

Gone snorted, rolling his head. Then frowned at the action, realizing it was his eyes he'd wanted to roll. Jake laughed at him, then choked, eyes widening as he peered at him quizzically. “G…you feel okay?”

“I feel fat.”

“You aren't,” Jake chuckled, reaching under the blankets to shove his hand underneath Gone's shirt, pinching at his side. Gone shoved his hand away. “Wanna have another one?”

Picturing the uncartoned bunch in the `fridge, he wondered if Mr. James would miss a couple of them. He figured that he wouldn't, woozily figuring that Mr. James would think he'd drank the two himself. He shrugged, acquiescing with the action, and Jake ran off to retrieve another one. The pair of them shared the bottle until it was empty, and decided on another.

By the time Jake returned from his third trip outside, Gone was feeling pretty mellow. He wondered if this was the reason why their parents drank, and figured it wasn't a bad thing. He pulled the blankets up around him and snuggled next to Jake once the other fitted himself on the bed. Flipping through the channels, Jake settled on a channel, turning the volume loud enough for them to hear the mutterings of the main character, and to listen for any sign of his dad.

But it was nearly twelve, and he figured Mr. James was sleeping. Quite used to the impromptu sleepovers, Mr. James rarely bothered to check up on them, not feeling the need to assure himself of their actions. Usually the pair was low-key and quiet, and he was confident that Gone would keep Jake under control.

It was this lack of supervision that Jake manipulated. He'd always wanted to try the beer thing, and now he could cross that off his To-Do list. It left such an awful taste in his mouth, but it was so mellowing; there was the excitement in that he did something forbidden, and he didn't feel like a total virgin noob, untried in such things. It left him with a good feeling.

He looked over at Gone and wondered if it were the same for him. He was surprised that Gone had given in so easily at the action. Usually he put up a hard protest. But Jake wasn't going to complain, because things felt so much better right now.

He leaned over, pushing him onto his back and kissing him deeply, tasting beer. Feeling confident that they wouldn't be caught, he crawled onto top of the other, enjoying in the feel of Gone's body against his. The other responded to him with almost a lazy air, as if it were too much effort to move.

Jake had to pull his head back, giving a short laugh. “You're not drunk, are you?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Gone drawled, wondering why his eyelids were a little too heavy.

Jake suddenly laughed again and rolled off. “Oh my God, you totally are!”

“I'm not! I'm just…warm. And my cheeks feel heavy.”

Laughing, Jake assessed himself and figured that small lethargic feeling that made his stomach warm and his head light was just what they called a `small buzz'. He wondered what it'd be like if he were fully drunk. He looked over at Gone, wondering what he'd be like as well.

“You're just little, anyway. It probably affected you faster,” he figured, entwining his fingers atop of his stomach and watching the `set for a few moments. He was startled at the feel of Gone's fist smacking him atop of the chest, causing him to grunt. “What was that for?!”

“Shut up with the little talk,” Gone snapped at him.

“Small man. Little boy. Hah, girlie boy,” Jake goaded, teasing him. Gone scowled at him, sitting up. He then reached out, grabbing his forearm, squeezing his fingernails over the bite mark. Jake howled and shoved him away.

“Shh! You'll wake your dad up!” Gone scolded, pushing at him once more before turning his back to him and curling up within the blankets.

“Asshole!” Jake hissed, shifting to kick him, pushing out with his leg to tip him over the edge of the bed. Gone shifted, kicking back at him, both of them kicking and twisting in an effort to push the other off the bed.

“Quit it!” he then snapped at Jake, resettling in the blankets. “All this moving around's makin' me dizzy.”

“Hah! You didn't even have that much! Faker. That was non-alcoholic beer.”

“Stop talkin' shit, you asshole. That's it.” Gone then sat up, reaching for the cordless that sat nearby. Amused, Jake rose to sit on his haunches, watching him clumsily dial a number. With a glare, Gone sat up as well, holding the phone close to his head. “Hey, bitch. Wake up.”

He then hung up and Jake gave him a strange look, snatching the phone away from him and pressing `redial'. Once he heard Bart's extremely sullen greeting, he laughed again, using a foot to push Gone off the bed. As he thumped to the floor, Jake cupped a hand over his mouth and the phone, whispering, “Dude, it's hilarious. Gone's drunk off his skunk.”

“STOP CALLING ME! I'll call your dad, I swear to fuck, an'—”

Bart hung up in the middle of his rant, and Jake frowned at the phone. Gone pulled himself up from the floor and clumsily climbed back up onto the bed. Jake laughed at him, tossing the phone aside and using a pillow to smack him.

“No fair using Bart! He's off limits!”

“Lemme alone! Why'd I drink all that piss-shit anyway? It's all over my tongue and my teeth feel fuzzy,” Gone complained, running his tongue over his teeth as he once again settled down into bed.

“I dunno. Why'd you do it in the first place?” Jake asked, recognizing the truce and laying near him to throw an arm over his chest and pull him close. While he waited for an answer, he lowered his head to kiss the pulse fluttering at Gone's throat, enjoying the smell of his skin and the feel of him. The alcohol caused a surge of hormones, causing him to harden and shift restlessly.

“Because. I'm always doing…like, safe things,” Gone said with hesitation, shifting closer to him, feeling Jake kiss over the skin of his collarbone. He liked the feel of his shaggy hair trailing over his jaw, the feel of his hand curling underneath him to pull him close. “I need to do things out of my comfort zone.”

“Who told you that?” Jake asked, pulling aside his shirt collar to lick tentatively at his skin there.

Gone shifted restlessly, his next thought overwhelmed by sexual desire and the reluctance to confess that it had been Tweedy. He reached out to slide a hand underneath Jake's shirt, to curl his fingers over warm skin and moving muscle to pull him atop of him. Without saying anything, he kissed him, fingers curling into his back to hold him close. He then pulled away upon tasting beer, making a face.

Laughing softly, Jake pulled away from him as well, but only to slide off his body. Underneath the blankets, he slid his hand beneath Gone's clothes. With a closing of his eyes, Gone pushed his hips up, grunting at the pleasurable feelings that were going through him. It hurt at the same time, making him push Jake away with a sound of frustration.

“It still hurts,” he growled.

“Still? Okay,” Jake then said, heavily disappointed.

“But I still want you.” Gone gritted his teeth then gave him an imploring expression. “Do you think…I want you to…can you…?”

“What?” Jake asked, lifting his eyebrows as he reached for him again. He shifted until they were facing each other, laying on their sides. Gone touched him, the atmosphere of a request still lingering around him, as strong as a question itself. With a shy and embarrassed air, Gone ducked his head, but didn't resist the opportunity to scoot in close to Jake's warmth.

Satisfied, Jake reached for the remote, turning the volume down slightly so that he could be extra alert to any sign of his father's wakefulness, and pulled the blankets up and over them. He then pulled one slim leg over his hip, running his palm up his hairy thigh and up to his bony hip, enjoying the sensation of his nakedness. Gone pulled him close to kiss, uttering small noises of satisfaction from his throat.

Heart thundering at the prospect of getting caught, or going even further into something that they hadn't yet explored, his hands trembled with excitement as he shoved a leg between Gone's. Gone's leg tightened around his hip, and the smaller teen shifted, pulling at his shirt. Briefly removing his mouth from Gone's, Jake hastily removed his shirt and tossed it over the couch arm for easy to reach access just in case he heard his father moving around.

He help Gone remove his as well, the sensation of skin against skin making his entire being tremble with excitement. His hands slid over every available inch, Gone's exploring his as well, both of them breathing hard and kissing in hastened, clumsy action. He felt over his ribs, his flat belly, the knobs of his spine. Brief thoughts of touching someone more muscled and thick went through his mind, but he couldn't deny the pleasure in being able to at last touch someone in such a way.

Hasty gropes and touches became a myriad act that only worked Jake's racing feelings for the moment. Scared that they'd be caught, interrupted and forced to stop at any sign of his father's presence, he was also eager to keep going, to explore, touch and taste until he was satisfied enough to not feel so needy.

Gone shifted against him with a discomforted noise, Jake grabbing a hold of him before he could pull away. He pulled his leg back over his hip, then resumed exploring that intimate area once more, growing flustered with his own movements. Gone awkwardly pushed his face up against his throat, to nibble and kiss lightly, his hands stiffly curled in front of him to hold onto his shoulders. At the feeling of his `hole at his fingertips, Jake stilled for a moment, then continued exploring, breathing slightly heavy at the excitement that raced through him. He wondered how and when he was supposed to push up into Gone's body from there. Wondered what would happen if he did.

Once he pushed a fingertip up into the `hole to figure out the answer to that thought, Gone shifted away from him with a bewildered noise.

“No way,” he said breathlessly, feeling sexually frustrated, scared and nervous all at the same time. “No way.”

“Why?” Jake asked in the same tone, chasing him immediately, hyped up by the area they were touching into with their exploring. “Why, why why why?”

“I don't know,” Gone replied quietly, feeling self-conscious and unsteady as Jake pushed himself over him. He wanted more, wanted something, but he was frightened by where Jake was going and what had to be done. He still felt so excited and wanting, though, and he was confused by the feelings. “I don't know how.”

“I don't either!”

“I don't know how to d-do that.”

“We can learn this stuff. Let's just—just let me—I just want to—”

“No…no. I—I don't know what will happen. I don't—!”

“It happens. That's what happens. That's what people say, they—someone can go up their ass, an' I just want so see what—”

“No, I'm scared. What if we don't do it right?”

“Argh,” Jake said, feeling frustrated because he wanted to go ahead with what he was doing, but at the same time wanted to do it `right'. He wanted to have Gone like what they do, wanted him to be impressed with what he could do. But he recognized the other's limits, and while frustrating, he knew that was the extent of it. He would just have to find another way. Maybe even look up the subject later. The very thought of it excited him.

“Let's do something else,” Gone then whispered, keeping his voice lowered. His face flamed at the thought of Mr. James discovering them doing what they were doing, but he wanted to continue. He enjoyed all the touching they were doing and didn't want to stop all of it. Just that one part of it. “Let me—just let me—um, suck on you.”

“You know how to give hickies? How?”

“NO!” Gone whapped him for being so dense, for making him repeat himself. Even as his face flamed with heat and color as he did so in a more coherent manner.

“Don't you have to, like, bite to give hickies?” Jake continued on, pushing his hand away to lean in close. Gone nearly shrieked at the painful nip he gave, covering his mouth with both hands to cover up the noise. He hit him away. “What? What? That's not how you do?”

“NO! NO YOU DON'T BITE!” Gone nearly shouted at him, rubbing instantly at the stinging mark on his shoulder. He hit him again.

Jake laughed again, then quickly hushed at the loudness of it. Gone angrily reached out and grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling hard to shut him up. Jake complained, following the movement to alleviate the pain.

Pursing his lips, Gone crawled over him, trying to remember how it was one of Go's girlfriends had given a hickie to the kickboxer's neck. It was frightening how many things he'd inadvertently learned from such sordid sights, and it shamed him a little on that he'd even had the knowledge. He applied the same mechanics, pulling away to see if he'd did anything. Jake tried to look, but the positioning was difficult. Seeing nothing, Gone tried again, Jake hissing a little. Pulling away, Gone gave a satisfied expression at the site of the reddish mark visible on Jake's skin. He leaned in before the other could move and applied the same action to his neck.

Jake shoved him away with another hiss, slapping his neck with a startled movement. Gone smirked at the sight of a larger, brighter mark that had appeared almost instantly.

“Oh my God, you did not! Did you? Did you do it?” Jake was asking, touching himself, feeling the slight sting. He got up, shifted himself around, and raced off for the bathroom down the hall. Gone felt suddenly self-conscious being the only naked boy there, and searched for his clothes. At the outraged sound down the hall, he snickered, sliding on his clothing as quickly as possible. Wincing at his unsatisfied dick and adjusting until he felt comfortable, he slid back underneath the blankets, feeling satisfied in marking the other. Now people would know. Everyone would know that Jake was claimed, and he wouldn't feel so insecure.

Jake stomped back, elbow dropping onto him with a growl. Gone pushed him away, snickering and still self-satisfied. “You little bitch! People can see that a mile away!”

“It'll go away in the morning.”

“No it won't! I've seen Go's! Those things last for days!”

“All mine,” Gone announced with a giggle, pushing Jake away when he started to hit him.

The rest of the night passed in such fashion, both of them alternating between messing around and making out, secure in the knowledge that they wouldn't be discovered.