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Post by Chase Markswell on Jan 25, 2011 10:41:48 GMT -5
P.E? Seriously? Chase was going to a private, all boys school and he had to have a gym credit?! Maybe it was just him, but he thought paying thousands of dollars in tuition (okay, scholarships in his poor-ass case) would at least exclude him from the mandatory gym credit. But noooooo. Apparently not.
The gym teacher, and older, scrawny-but-buff man, had given them the rap already yesterday; bring your shorts, your shirt and deodorant, don't be late and do what I say. When I say jog, jog. When I say leap, leap. Yada, yada, yada. Chase didn't give a rat's ass; gym was a self-explanatory course. He had taken it all through grade school and had loved having an extra recess to run around and play games. It got him into fights, it made him competitive. Neither of which were bad things to him.
Today was the official first day of gym class; they weren't expected to actually exercise on the first day since no one had brought a change of clothing. Day two, it was on. Gym was Chase's first period, unfortunately, so he woke up and immediately headed toward the gymnasium. There was no point in waking up early to take a shower just to get sweaty and take another shower. He was among the first in the locker rooms, so he didn't have to undress around many people, luckily. He didn't want anyone to gaze at him with questioning eyes about the scars on his chest.
The class began promptly at 7:05; also known as too damn early to stretch or move, period. For a while Chase began to miss his Algebra 2 classes he had taken this time last month or so. Pounding out geometric proofs and theorems wasn't looking too bad anymore. They started out with stretching; the usual touch-your-toes kind of crap and finished off with push-ups. The work-out itself wasn't too unbearable, but it got Chase to sweat and woke him up.
Then, to make matters worse, they had to run 4 laps around the track in under 2 minutes. Why the fuck did a bunch of preppy, stuck up rich kids have to run? This was the kind of shit they made their butlers do for them back home.... or so Chase imagined.
Everyone did their laps, besides one Blake Knox. Chase didn't know his name or who he was, but by the looks of him, he didn't plan on doing anything in this class. Which actually surprised Chase to some extent; longish brown hair and terribly lanky legs somehow gave Chase the impression that the other boy was athletic to at least some extent. Maybe he was athletic but just didn't give a damn. Or thought he was better than everyone else. From this first impression, Chase didn't like the guy, but he didn't have cause to hate him either.
He would give him this, however; the boy was cute. Chase didn't like admitting it, but a lot of boys here were cute. Lean and muscular, most of them. Brown haired, blonde haired, red haired.... so much variety! Most of them caucasian, which Chase appreciated. He found himself aimlessly staring at their behinds as he ran near them, sometimes passing a glance at their crotches. God, this school was going to kill him, wasn't it? A closeted homosexual... with so much temptation.
It came time to begin the real class; a game of dodgeball. The teacher picked out two boys to be team captains; both fit the bill, being gigantic and muscular. Chase was among the last picked for his team; he didn't really care though. But, he found that he was supposed to be on the same team as the boy who sat out from running earlier; that kid was taking his time coming over to their end of the court. So what? Chase's eyes again glanced around the room and back at his team, enjoying the sights he saw.
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Post by Blake Knox on Jan 25, 2011 15:22:41 GMT -5
don't trust a ho, never trust a ho, don't trust a ho, don't trust me.[/size]
Blake didn't like gym. If there was any sport he liked, and he certainly wasn't going to find it in the gymnasium. It wasn't to say that he wasn't unfit, the did small work outs on his own - a healthy body was a happy body, but sports in general drove him mad. He wasn't a particularly aggressive person. In fact, one would go to say he was passive, physically, the worst of Blake was always his bark. He could dish anybody up on a silver platter with words, so what point was there to get physically about it? It was just so... messy.
Not to say Blake didn't like P.E. class. There was something nice about seeing some fine bodies bouncing balls around. But then there were also the unpleasant bodies he would rather not lay his eyes on in the showers. The showers, he shivered, he hated having to bathe with tons of men around. A little claustrophobic in the first place, he didn't want to be surrounded by nude bodies, just a small percent of them would do. Besides there was no freebies in Blake's world. He wouldn't allow anybody eye candy without paying the price first. Conceded, maybe. That was why he was forced to get up extra early to take a shower before class. As for taking after? Well, he could skip that part. It wasn't like he was going to work up a sweat anyway.
That was not to say that Blake was excluded from the crowd of gym participants. Last year he was able to bribe his old teacher for a relaxing time, but as it was, the school had fired him and set up a new gym teacher. One that was fit, muscular, and in Blake's view a fine piece of meat for his age. He had a certain likeness to him that was charming, manly. He probably had a fitness trainer wife and little zombie kids that were good at sports too. Gym was a mandatory class at Eddingborough, much to Blake's discomfort, and now with a new teacher that didn't appear willing to break in a bribe, Blake had to work... Some.
At the very least this meant he had to get changed in front of a bunch of grim faces first period. Most likely, of which, did not bath that morning. He cringed around the stack of skin, muscle, and fat around him as he quickly unbuttoned his shirt, and unbuckled his slacks, which easily fell to his ankles, and slipped on the homely gym uniform. This was done with a little caution, not everyone should be allowed to view this sight. That didn't stop him, however, from sweeping gazes of what he had to work with this class. Not bad, but none particularly caught his eye. Well, except one boy, but that was for entirely separate reasons.
There was one boy eying around the gym like everything was on sale. If things weren't so obvious Blake had expected drool to come hanging from his mouth as the boys began their exercises. Blake felt awkward in just a loose, grey, gym shirt and a pair of red shorts - meanwhile cursing their school for lack of taste in designs. He was terrible lanky, but lean with soft muscle, his pale 'baby skin' standing out against the many tanned boys. Some starting to lose it, but on others it was still dominate. Then there was the few other boys. There was another that was in a group similar to Blake's the smaller, gay, kid who eyed everything like it was a buffet.
He inwardly rolled his eyes and began to push off the floor, his partner quietly counting - one, two, three... The one thing Blake prided himself on was excellent upper strength, sappy arms were not attractive. While his legs, on the other hand, were just an awkward piece of himself. He used to be good at sports, but that was when he gave a shit. When sports were his dad and son bonding dates. Those were blown off, and soon Blake's awkwardly tall height prevented him from further purist of his dream to become a professional basketball player. But didn't ever boy when they were little?
Blake sighed as the new drill sergent called for four laps, limping toward him awkwardly and making up some excuse. The man seemed to accept it, this time, and Blake inwardly swore he would not be giving into the pressures of this new gym class. Getting sweaty, ew. He watched the men circle, almost shaking his head in shame at the kid. Could he be anymore obvious? Blake felt the need to smack some sense into him, just for his own pride. Because watching this sort of behavior, the entire year, would just be unbearable - it was almost an insult. As the running ended the coach waved him over into the line of boys waiting to be picked.
He was picked as one of the last. Perhaps it was because of his obvious dislike of gym, suggested by his crossed arms and pissed expression, or the fact that he was just a known bitch. His name was muttered around, and he knew that, being known as the rich boy who was also smart boy. Grade A, back stabber, and notorious gay, or - as Blake affectionately placed it to be - a ho. He crossed the line toward his team, walking especially slow to his corner of the field, a few boys casted him looks of irritation, but he just smirked in return. Dodgeball had to be the lamest sport invented. Dodging balls. Well, Blake supposed that was the one sport he would actually put up an effort in, because getting hit in the face by flying rubber balls wasn't his ideal of fun competition. Of course, there were those homophobic jerks that subjected him to being a target, or those who were jealous of his intellect. Bullying was a common part of his path, and anybody with one of the two characteristics he held, so by now he was used to it.
He finally reached their side of the court, taking his place next to the boy who viewed everything like eye-candy. Purposely strolling up in front of him, and bending forward ever so slightly. Watching for the game to begin. And then it did. Balls flying back and forth like World War I, Blake quickly moved as some seeped by his waist, head, and bounced at his feet. Turning, for a moment to look at the boy behind him, "like what you see?" he said with a smirk, as the boy got a generally good view of his ass. Really now, how could this pervert resist. He turned back quickly as a ball zipped past him, the one muscular guy catching it, vaguely making Blake picture The Hulk. "Because it couldn't be anymore obvious that you do," he said as he moved to the boy's side now. Clearly, as in he liked almost anything he could see, or, as he hoped, touch one day. But newbie had a lot to learn, that was why, in the moment that dozen of balls were being chucked at them, he decided to be this kids mentor. And Blake was a man of his promises.
(Turned out a lot longer than I expected. Yes, for rambling on and on. I hope you enjoy. I love you!)
[/justify][/blockquote] lyrics (c) - don't trust me - 3oh!3
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Post by Chase Markswell on Jan 26, 2011 16:51:02 GMT -5
Chase leaned back against the chain-linked fence in anticipation of the coach's whistle to start the game. many of his team mates had taken similar positions, besides the one who cam over to stand in front of him. It was the same kid who got out of running earlier; looks like he couldn't sit out for the entire class afterall. The boy bent over as if to touch his toes and Chase's eyes went wide of the own accord. What a fine piece of ass.
His crimson mesh shorts were ebginning to stick irritably to the inside of his thigh; the skin plastered to the lightweight material with sweat from earlier. The only way to relieve it was to separate his legs awkwardly and let air in. Not too long in that position and Chase was embarrassed; he probably looked like he was getting ready to hump this glorious stranger; if only, if only. Chase closed his legs and tried to focus on the game-- the couch had blown the whistle and Chase's ears had gone temporarily deaf for a minute or so.
It was just common sense not to stare at someone; that got awkward quickly. But when their backs were turned... there was no harm. Just looking; he wasn't trying to grope them (God, that sounded so good.)
Chase didn't realize as the boy turned to inspect his expression, which was nothing but admiring. Even as he looked to the boy's face, his gaze didn't change. Fine ass. Beautiful face. Lips, full and rounded. That was what Chase appreciated most about the boy's face for obvious reasons. This boy would be someone Chase would want to have his first kiss with... even lose his virginity to. That was no honor, however; Chase had been trying to lose it since he was 12.
'like what you see? Because it couldn't be anymore obvious that you do.' Chase blushed deeply. To answer the question, yes, yes he did like what he saw. "Sorry? Chase stammered in response. He didn't know what to say; an apology came first to his mind, but why? He really did like what he saw... was that a bad thing? Okay, maybe everyone said being homosexual was bad... but other than that, what was wrong? Maybe it was that he so obviously liked it... a little too late to change it now.
He wasn't doing a very good job at anything. The game. Staring. Dodging. Breathing. Chase didn't know how to hide his eyes; he had never had this problem before. At home, he most certainly didn't check out men; any eye-contact with a man whatsoever was a big no. And he had never ever had an interest in women; they scared him. They were just so differen't different bodies, minds, wants, needs. Besides, they were ugly. Curves and boobs and hips and legs-- How didn't they smother the man they were with? Ew. The only knowledge Chase had at all was what he liked. Since coming to Eddingborough, he had had more opportunites to come up with exactly what he wanted. On his laptop he downloaded unmentionable erotic movies-- but that was all. He had never had a boyfriend or a girlfriend. Never been kissed. Nothing. He was a virgin in the simplest case.
At Eddingborough, he was yet to meet his roommate at all. Some Gabriel Townsend. Whoever he was, he was never home. Chase imagined the guy either had to be gay or just popular to be gone out every night. Chase had returned home a couple times to find laundry sprawled out on the floor, so the guy still came and went, at least. He didn't really care about meeting his roommate; so long as the guy didn't bring down his grade point average, the less he had to deal with him, the better.
Abort mission! He was out of words to say. He was sweating, panicking a little. He had been caught. "Umm..." Chase muttered and finally ran across the field and picked up a rubber ball to chuck at the opposing team. He managed to hit one of them and put all of his energy into dodging and throwing. Maybe that guy would forget everything... Highly unlikely.
(I apologize for... this lol.)
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Post by Blake Knox on May 21, 2012 19:08:39 GMT -5
don't trust a ho, never trust a ho, don't trust a ho, don't trust me.[/size]
It was so clear that this little virgin boy enjoyed Blake's sadistic show, a lot. The way his cheeks flushed, the way his Adam's apple was bounding on his sweaty jugular, as he stuttered in reply. The fear of discovery, fear of the tiny crack of light that penetrated (what he thought to be) his bullet-proof closet. Shame, for he was now about to discover how visible is untrained eyes truly were.
The poor boy was to be pitied. He become a target, locked down by a sadistic beast, that wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted. Until he devoured the other boy completely. And it was confirmed as he ran away. Fleeing the scene after giving such lusty, wanton eyes. Blake liked virgins. They were so honest with their needs. And so easy to tempt. He bit back a smirk, as he watched the young boy hurl the ball angrily at the other team. Which, actually managed to hit another boy.
Oh, how much he was going to truly enjoy this. Blake ducked as a ball was hurled at his head, feeling terribly at a disadvantage, being tall and all. There was much more of him to hit. Still, he edged his way back towards Chase, but not far enough to startle him. No, Blake decided that he would leave little Bambi alone for now. It would be a lot more fun to confront him later. A little surprise. Better, yet, let him believe he is off the hook. The lion grinned, though his distracting plan also earned him a ball to smack him in the side. It didn't really hurt.
Showers was usually Blake's least favorite time during class. It meant, everybody had to strip down, stand bare nude and all wash together. It sucked. Several shower heads lined the walls, and a tiny wall separated each, as if it gave them more privacy. A fantasy of privacy. Normally, Blake would go in for two minutes, for a rinse and leave immediately after. However, today, he took his merry time, ruining his fingers through his tangled hair, and letting the warm water flow over him. It was almost relaxing, had there not been so many others doing the same thing.
Slowly, as the stalls began to clear out, and Blake took this opportunity to approach little Bambi. He was quiet, but then that wasn't much credit, Bambi was just easy to sneak up on. He stood behind him, in the wet steam, pressing his nose to the other's outer ear, to whisper a loving trap. "Come to the bathroom stalls after your shower, and we'll start from where we left off."
With that, he quickly disappeared, leaving the boy to consider his options. Smirking all the while, as he wrapped a towel around his waist. Fun. Fun.
(a reply at last, I am truly lazy.)
[/justify][/blockquote] lyrics (c) - don't trust me - 3oh!3
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Post by Chase Markswell on May 21, 2012 19:29:04 GMT -5
How he had managed to escape, he truly had no idea whatsoever. The wolf had spared him, but for what reason, he didn't know why. But he was more than happy to leave with his questions unanswered, so long as he could go back to grazing the other boys and their asses in peace.
That even seemed to be the case. Chase continued the game, hurling the rubber balls at the boys on the other team until he was hit with one himself. And then he stomped over to the sidelines, pissed off, but at the same time equally just as happy to be able to sit out and admire the few stragglers, the buffer, brawnier boys, who had survived. They were a sight for hungry eyes. Chase had to look away in order to keep himself in check some of the times. There would be no walking off a boner inconspicuously.
He was excited and yet terrified for the showers. He wanted to sit there and look at the other boys, but he knew he couldn't gawk like he had before at the taller boy who had pressed his ass right into his face. He had to be much more inconspicuous and glance whenever he could. But even then, he wouldn't even be allowed that much thrill out of it.
By the time he was actually starting to wash up he was getting a bit bothered, but not enough to be noticed by the other boys. It was just the start of it. The burning feeling. The nipple sensitivity. Dilated pupils. Blood pressure increase. He was debating on skipping his next couple classes to go back to his usually abandoned dorm and to look at those videos he had saved up.
A shiver rolled up his spine and blood started to flow in the places they had already began to circulate to. He immediately knew that voice, even if he had only heard it one other time. There was only the slightest hesitation at first before Chase shut off his shower, wrapped up in a towel and headed back for the stalls.
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Post by Blake Knox on May 21, 2012 19:56:46 GMT -5
don't trust a ho, never trust a ho, don't trust a ho, don't trust me.[/size]
It didn't take long for Blake to get dressed, and just as promised, he stood by the stalls, impatiently awaiting Bambi. The boy's shiver wasn't easily hidden, so Blake had little to no doubt that he wouldn't show up. As if a little virgin was going to resist him. It would have been insulting to be rejected. Blake was hardly ever refused, and that wasn't just his ego speaking.
He grinned, sweetly, to see the boy approaching the stalls, towel still in hand, wrapped messily around his waist. Tousled hair, flushed face and neck, a neck that Blake honestly wouldn't mind sinking his teeth into, and leaving a lovely mark there on that unblemished skin. As much as the other wouldn't ever admit it, Chase was very much within Blake's taste range. Blonde, probably Blake's ultimate weakness. Cute and tan. Everything Blake wasn't- it would appear Chase was. The complete opposite, and it was perfect. Not that he would ever admit to any of this out loud, but it was still true.
"You didn't even bother drying off really," he scoffed, but shrugged his shoulders. It was almost flattering that the boy raced right to his side. Or perhaps a little alarming. Blake wondered what they boy was dreaming about. What fantasy could possibly be going through his dirty little mind. He paused for a long moment, licking his lips, and letting whatever was manifesting in the boy's mind to enlarge. And then purposely vaporize it.
"A little excited?" he cockily spoke, eyes trained on the towel upon the boy's waist. And then, he wasted no time. Closing the distance between them, stopping until he was inches away. He leans down and presses his lips to the boy's neck, hands claiming the boy's waist, and gentling stealing the towel from his sight. He bit and sucked the skin, which tasted like soap, not entirely unpleasant, though Blake would preferred the salty sweat that claimed to be their prior. His fingers lightly traces the boy's hips, one going deeper, trailing down to his thigh, and finally palming what lay present between them.
He smirked against he boy's neck, swiping his tongue over the bruise he left, before pulling away. "You're a small, virgin Bambi," he teased, allowing his hand to scope the boy mercilessly.
(a reply at last, I am truly lazy.)
[/justify][/blockquote] lyrics (c) - don't trust me - 3oh!3
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Post by Chase Markswell on May 21, 2012 20:17:31 GMT -5
Chase stared up at the taller boy, surprised that he was already dressed. Disappointing, really. He had a really nice ass, and he'd like to see more of it. Hell, to look at it would be almost as nice as to hold it.
He figured what Blake had to say was simply hypothetical; besides, he didn't expect his voice to be of much use unless it was to voice his pleasure. Which, frankly, he was getting worried about. The boy had been in the shower with him... why did he get dressed? Who wanted to go through the trouble of undressing? Oh. Unless he didn't intend on undressing again. God damn it. Chase's disappointment was clear on his face.
Blake sunk his lips down to kiss at Chase's neck. It wasn't the place he had really expected to be kissed, but, really, this wasn't much of a time for a first kiss. This wasn't the romantic sort that good little Christian boys were told to wait for. And, he was hoping it was just a phase anyway. Liking boys. How silly.
But the kiss was so sweet- not sweet in the melted chocolate type of way... sweet in the hardest, hottest way possible. He didn't notice as the towel was slipped off his waist, but soon realized this whenever a hot, feverish hand was pressed in its place. He bit his lip, determined not to be the weak virgin that he truly was; the one that hungered for any sort of contact whatsoever.
But his hopes were nearly completely shattered. "You're a small, virgin Bambi,". God damn it. Dickface. But Chase bit back every comment. It didn't matter. Blake's hand was where he wanted it most.
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