Scars Pt. 01

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2 friends heal their scars in the only way they know how.
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Early morning. I rolled over to check the clock and threw my arm over my pillow.

That is not my pillow, that is a person.

Slowly the memories of last night began to come back. I was the designated driver but Tim, Tim got wasted. Beyond wasted.

He began to annoy people. A better way to put that would be to say that he pissed everybody off so much people were threatening to beat him within an inch of his life. So I dragged him out of there.

He became more and more incoherent on the way home.

'I wanna play some more Mikey.' he mumbled.

'Okay Timmy. We're going to go to my house and play World of Warcraft, how about that?'

'YEAH!' He yelled. 'I WANNA PLAY WITH YOU!' -until you pass out, I thought.

We got back to my house and I had to physically carry him into the house. He was out.

I threw him down on the bed and he groaned. 'I hope he doesn't puke on my bed.' I thought.

I peeled off his skinny jeans and hopped in the shower myself.

'I hope he doesn't puke on me' I thought again as I laid down next to him in bed.

So, the person I threw my arm around the next morning was my best friend, Tim.

Sometime during the night he'd managed to get his shirt off. All he had on was a pair of boxers.

I started to roll on my back again but he grabbed me and pulled my arm around him, squeezing my hand.

'Mikey' he murmured, half asleep still.

'What?' I asked but he just muttered again and passed out. He was holding my hand so tight and with my other arm stuck underneath me, I couldn't really move unless I woke him up.

But, I didn't want to.

Because I realized I didn't mind having my arm around Tim.

I didn't mind holding his hand or laying in bed with him.

I didn't mind the way his warm back felt against the skin of my chest. It was...nice.

It was nice holding my best friend that way. So I did. And he kept sleeping for a while.

Then he brought my hand up to his face and kissed the inside of my wrist.

I had tried to kill myself a few years back. In high school. I cut the wrong direction of course because I was a stupid kid and I don't know if I really wanted to die anyway. You're supposed to cut down your arm first they say, then across. I started across then when it came to cutting down, my hands wouldn't do it. The doctor's said I nicked a tendon and I couldn't hold the razor.

My mom called 911 when she found me. There was an ambulance, lots of stitches and a nice, long stay in a psychiatric hospital. That's where I met Tim. He'd taken a whole bottle of morphine but his body failed him - like it always seems to- and he vomited up enough pills so they could save him. He was in a coma for 4 days. He said that you actually do dream when you're in a coma and it lasts a long, long time. Like hell.

He kissed the scars on my wrist. I usually keep them covered but not with him.

Then he licked it and kissed it again, running his lips over it, back and forth.

It felt good. It felt good even though it made me feel vulnerable. His warm saliva made it feel like blood was running down my arms again, like he was kissing the inside of the wounds themselves. Maybe that's why it felt so good. Because I trusted him not to bleed me dry. Not to let me die.

I leaned into his back and sighed. Wanting him to keep going.

He ran his mouth over the palm of my hand and licked my fingertips.

'What are you doing Timmy?' I asked. I didn't want to ask. I just wanted him to do it. But this was a type of game wasn't it?

He's straight. I'm pretty sure we both are. I never really thought about it. So, maybe not. Maybe not.

So I had to ask him what he was doing and he had to say...

'Do you want me to stop?'

And I had to say 'I don't think so. I think I want you to do it more.' then he was supposed to say 'Okay' and do it more and more and more.

But he didn't say 'Okay.' instead he said 'No. I need you to look at me.'

So I rolled him over and looked at him. My blue ones and he took my hand again.

'Do you want me to stop Mikey?'

'I said No Tim, I don't want you to stop.'

'You said, you don't think so.' he replied. 'I need you to know. I'm not going to do anything and have you say that you didn't want it, that I made you do it.'

He had tears in his eyes. Drops of saltwater green in the fire of his eyes. I never noticed how beautiful his eyes were. Such heat. Would his tears turn to steam or would they fall?

They threatened to spill over at any second.

That's what did it for me. That's what pushed me over the edge. Realizing how much I cared about this boy in front of me. Tim wasn't just my friend.

I loved him. Ever since the hell we went through in that place they called a hospital, we'd taken care of each other. More than any 'friends' ever could.

It hurt me to see him put himself through the things he did. It was painful for me to watch the way he lived his life.

It hurt to see the damage he inflicted on himself. I couldn't stand by and not help him anymore.

One tear rolled down his cheek, then another.

I leaned over and licked them away. They tasted like steam.

I kissed each of his eyelids, feeling his eyes move under my tongue. I brushed my lips over his long eyelashes.

More tears fell and I kissed them away, continuing down his chin, along his jaw. I kissed his neck, now moist with sorrow.

I tasted the salt in his fear of rejection. Then I kissed his lips, brushed his bottom lip with my tongue.

He opened his mouth, pushing against me passionately, our tongues meeting briefly then increasing with urgency before he yelled out 'STOP!'

He called out through my kisses. 'You didn't answer me! ANSWER ME!'

'I do know so.' I replied. 'I know I want this. I know I want you. I love you Tim. How can you doubt that?'

He grabbed the back of my neck in one hand and pulled me down, kissing me hard. Attacking me with his mouth so that it hurt, pressing my lips against my teeth.

He wrapped his arms around me and rolled over on top of me. Kissing me the whole time.

My face, my neck, my chin. He bit at my throat and my shoulders, gasping for air.

He wet my chest with his tears.

'It's okay Timmy, it's okay, slow down!' I tried to comfort him but he was beyond control.

'I can't' he cried. "I can't slow down, not now!'

He ran his teeth over my nipples and I groaned out loud.

But he didn't linger anywhere for long. He kept moving, dipping into the hollows of my body, running his tongue over my bones, my ribs, my hips.

He pulled my underwear off in one desperate motion then swept down to my cock and started stroking it.

I was already so hard. I couldn't believe what he was doing to me. After all this time, the years we'd known each other, is this what had been building up between us?

If so, it was going to be a hell of a ride!

His hands were soft and my cock was hard. It was more than either of us could stand.

He pulled off his shorts and sprawled between my legs.

Then he put my whole cock in his mouth. Hot and wet, it was so sudden and so good I almost screamed for him to stop.

But he kept working his hands and his mouth, running his tongue up and down my shaft.

'Oh God, TIM! You need to slow down, It's too much!' I managed to call out as he swalled my cock again and again, sucking hard. He didn't let up. This wasn't just wanting, this was desperation of the worse kind and I felt it just as much as he did.

I wrapped my fingers in his hair, pulling and tangling it.

I tried not to push his head down or buck my hips too hard. He knew what to do. He was doing it.

He was doing it and then he grabbed hold of my hips and burrowed his face down into my pubic hair like an animal and...ohmygod...'TIM I'M GONNA CUM." I screamed it out.

He went down on it as far as he could.

My cock in the silken tunnel of his throat. His throat contracted around me, squeezing and releasing as he swallowed.

'OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD' I yelled it out as I came. He kept swallowing, pulling every bit out of me.

I called out his name over and over. Finally slowing down, my orgasm subsiding to a mere trickle he kept moving and working over my cock for another minute.

Tim looked up at me and I noticed how gorgeous he was wiping a few last drops of cum off his lips with the back of his hand.

He was beautiful and I told him so.

'I love you Mikey.' He said. 'I really do. I've been wanting this.'

I could only smile at him.

'My turn.' I replied grabbing him under the arms and pulling him up to meet me.

TO BE CONTINUED...

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4 Comments
BenByTheWayBenByTheWayabout 8 years ago
A love story is a love story.

This wasn't what I expected, I'm not even gay, but there's something genuine in the vulnerability, the tenderness, the respect, the hurt, and the passion of the characters that come together to make a beautiful story. Forgive the run-on-iness of that sentence. Keep writing.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 8 years ago
Beautiful

I really enjoy your writing, this beautiful story deserves more than 5 starts

AnonymousAnonymousabout 8 years ago

This is a great story! I love the combination of vulnerability, tenderness, and really hot sex. It's a shame some folks are willing to let their homophobia get in the way of a good story.

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