The Bully Pt. 02

"Oh... yeah... ahhh!"

By now I'd done this often enough to be able to tell from Leander's moans how close he was to shooting his load. He gripped the back of my head — that meant he was very close, and that he wanted me to swallow. I wasn't going to refuse him, but I struggled a bit anyway, tried to pull back. You know, just for show.

It worked like a charm; Leander let out a choked moan half a second before I felt his warm come shoot down my throat. His hand clamped around my neck, pushing down so my face got buried deep in his lap. For about half a minute Leander went through the motions of his orgasm while I waited patiently, careful to swallow every drop.

Leander shoved my shoulder, none too gently. My cue to get up. My spine screamed in protest — I loved these little dates of ours, but have you ever tried sucking someone off from the passenger seat of a car? It takes a toll on the body, I tell you.

"Damn." Leander zipped up his pants. He sounded out of breath. "Maybe I should take you along to football practice. The guys can pass you around in the locker room afterwards."

"Promises, promises."

He gave me a look, same as he always did when I said something like that. I couldn't figure it out. It seemed to me like a mixture of curiosity and excitement, but also disdain. I was used to that last one, anyway. That's how he always looked at me at school, and sometimes when I was sucking his dick. Which I found kinda hot.

Leander cleared his throat, glaring at me.

"Oh! Right." I fumbled with the car door handle and got out. I'd barely stepped outside and closed the door before Leander sped off, and I had to suppress the ridiculous urge to yell "See you at school!"

Well. Better start walking. At least it was spring now. When our little car-dates had started, in winter, walking a couple of blocks to school had been even less pleasant. I'd been surprised when Leander's car had pulled up at my bus stop, about a week after my "experience" with him in the locker room. He didn't say anything, just opened the passenger side door and gave me a look. I got in. Of course I got in. He drove us somewhere secluded and, still without saying anything, unzipped and sat back, his cock pointing at the car's ceiling. How could I resist?

I did enjoy the weekly blowjobs. I enjoyed how Leander gradually got less shy and more dominant with me; grabbing, pushing and calling me his little bitch. And yet... even though I knew it was idiotic of me, I had hoped for more. I'd wished it would at least have made us friends, or something. Shoulda known that was unlikely — but then, if you'd have told me Leander would pick me up on the sly every week to shove his dick down my throat, I'd have said that was pretty unlikely too.

At least the bullying had abated. A bit. Somewhat. Not all that much, really, now that I thought about it.

Actually, it might have gotten worse.

Dammit.

Well. At least I was getting the D. I had that going for me, and it almost made up for the bullying.

Almost.

***

I got to school just in time for first-period Biology. As usual, my eyes scanned the room for Leander and Robin. I couldn't help it. Even though they both treated me like trash, my thirsty ass couldn't stop ogling them. There was a practical reason, too; at least I'd know which direction to expect attacks from.

Leander wasn't here. Weird. He should have arrived at school well before me. Robin was here, though, and he was giving me a supremely nasty look. In a sense, that was even weirder. Usually Robin only noticed my existence when Leander was busy hurling verbal abuse at me.

I ignored Robin and took my seat. Just as I sat down there was a knock, and one of the school staff members poked his head in. It was Mr Blandwin, whom we affectionately called the Headmaster's Henchman — besides monitoring study hall and a bunch of other petty supervisory tasks, Blandwin's job seemed to mainly consist of running errands for the Headmaster. Blandwin cleared his throat. "Jonas needs to come with me for a moment."

Shit. That didn't sound very good.

Everyone stared as I got up and went with Blandwin, the same as they had done when Latrou, the school counsellor, had come to get me. I sincerely hoped the staff members wouldn't make a habit of pulling me out of class. I might not survive high school if they did.

We walked the hallways in silence; a student simply did not question the Henchman, and Blandwin didn't volunteer any information. When we neared the teacher's lounge, I grew worried. When we went past it, I nearly shit myself; the only room past the teacher's lounge was the Headmaster's office.

Look, you need to understand something: the Headmaster at my high school was a terrifying man. Tall, dour and skeletal, an actual ordained catholic priest who gave mass in our school's chapel around Christmas and Easter. I'd heard some stories. When he was younger, when our school used to be a boarding school, the Headmaster used to roam the sleeping hall after lights-out to check for guys playing with themselves under the sheets. He'd perform these inspections with a ruler at the ready, in order to punish the offending hand. Or the offending cock, as some of the guys telling the story insisted.

The heavy door to the Headmaster's office swung open, and to my dismay, Leander marched out. He didn't so much as glance at me as he shoved past. Didn't even have a murmured insult to spare, for once. My insides felt like they were turning liquid. In my panicked imagination, I could see Leander confess everything to the Headmaster: the blowjobs in the locker room, the blowjobs in his car, the blowjob behind the school bike shed that one time. I already imagined the Headmaster digging up his trusty ruler and ordering me to bend over his desk — until I remembered I could probably sue for that, in this day and age. And then I didn't have any time left for panic; Blandwin ushered me through the door and closed it behind me, leaving me alone with the Headmaster.

"Jonas. Please be seated." His voice was deceptively soft.

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir." I mumbled, afraid to meet the Headmaster's eyes. I stared down at the massive oaken desk instead, as I lowered myself in one of the hard wooden chairs set up for visitors and those students unlucky enough to get summoned here. Everything about the room looked positively medieval. I wondered where he kept the torture instruments.

"Jonas," he said again. He steepled his fingers under his chin and fixed his pale grey eyes on me, peering over his horn-rimmed glasses. "I suspect you know why you're here?"

"No, sir."

The Headmaster frowned. His eyes pierced. "No?"

I furiously shook my head and stared down at my hands. If he thought I would admit to my fellatious acts that easily, he had another thing coming.

He sighed. "You must think we're all very stupid, the teachers and I." His voice sounded pained.

The silence grew around us. I still wouldn't look at him, for fear he'd be able to read my sins on my face. All catholic priests could do that, I was pretty sure.

After some time, he went on. "I think you must be very disappointed in us. We really should have noticed something sooner..."

Wait, what?

"I understand it's difficult, truly I do. But you should have told someone. That way, I — we could have done something sooner." The Headmaster was oblivious to my confusion, too wrapped up in his own discomfort. "Bullying will not be tolerated at this institution."

The tension went out of me, just like that. I slumped in the chair — and then quickly corrected my position, since the chair was deeply uncomfortable and not at all designed for slumping. Bullying! "Oh," I managed to say. "That's... good."

The Headmaster pursed his lips, clearly underwhelmed by my response. "Quite. Now. I've talked to Leander and he seems very... contrite. Said it was all in good fun, never realised you were all that bothered about it, feels awful, just awful about it now..." He smiled thinly. "Of course, they all say those things, every time."

"As you say, sir." I didn't really get what the Headmaster was driving at.

He went on as if I hadn't said anything. "Now, the school year is almost over. Most of you will graduate in two months. And furthermore, he's an athlete." He nearly spat out the word, and for a second I saw this skeletal, grey-haired man as he might have been in the past: an always-too-serious skinny kid without any friends. "I can't just suspend Leander, not this close to graduation, not for this. But I think I can do something else."

There was more silence then, and after a while I glimpsed up from my hands. The Headmaster was looking at me expectantly. I realised he wanted me to prompt him. "Oh?"

"Next week, when you and the rest of your class are going on your senior year trip to Rome," he said, his voice dropping to what was almost a conspiratorial whisper, "I can keep Leander here, in detention."

Suddenly, my heart was pounding hard again. I'd been looking forward to Rome all year, like all the guys in my class. I imagined myself traipsing among ancient ruins all day, giving the teachers and other students the slip in the evening and diving into the city's nightlife to find a gay bar and drink and flirt all night. Which, incidentally, would be a first for me. I'd never so much as sipped a beer, and the one gay bar nearest to my home town was still a good thirty kilometers away — and anyway, my parents kept track of my comings and goings like a pair of hawks.

The one thing that did worry me about the trip to Rome was that I'd basically be living with my classmates for a week. Not my idea of a good time. Take Leander out of the picture, though... Sure, Robin would still be there to make my life miserable, but I could see him losing interest in me quickly without Leander there to egg him on. None of my classmates particularly liked me, but they wouldn't go out of their way to torment me either, not unless someone else took the initiative. To be ignored the entire trip seemed like a win to me.

This could work out. I was about to open my mouth and say as much, when the thought struck me.

See, for all my fantasies of chatting up gorgeous Italian boys, I'd always assumed Leander would be there too. I guess you could say he was kind of my backup plan. A week and a half in Rome, with minimal teacher supervision and everyone else too excited about their own freedom to pay much attention to Leander or me... I'd even gone as far as to imagine Leander and I might share a hotel room, where I'd service his dick every evening and then again every morning, where every night he'd gruffly shake me awake and force his cock down my throat. I know this was wishful thinking on my part, but after months of furtively sucking him off in his car and wherever else we could get fifteen minutes of privacy, I was hoping for something more.

Of course, I had no idea how Leander felt about any of this. For all I knew he might either bully me relentlessly or completely ignore me the entire trip. Or he might fuck my face at every opportunity. There was no way to tell.

The Headmaster cleared his throat, and I realised we'd been sitting in silence in his office for a good five minutes now.

I didn't know what Leander would do — and if he didn't come on this trip, I'd never know. But I had a pretty good idea of what he'd do if he couldn't go on the trip because of me.

"Uh," I said. "That's... a very nice thought."

He seemed to expect more.

"Thank you for... offering? But... I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline. Sir." I decided to shut up before my nerves made me get even more formal.

"Decline?" He narrowed his eyes at me and leaned back in his massive leather chair. It creaked. "You seem to be under the impression that I was asking for your permission."

"Oh." My thoughts raced. What was it the Headmaster had said earlier about Leander? "It's really not so bad, sir. Leander was right, it's all in good fun. Just guys horsing around, you know? Boys will be boys, and all that. Sir." The words came out all in a rush, and I felt slightly disgusted with myself even as I was saying them. This was my chance to get back at Leander. Why was I blowing it?

The Headmaster remained unimpressed. "I've made my decision. You can go back to class n—"

"Wait!" A sudden inspiration had struck me. "What about Jesus?"

"What?" He glared at me, not used to being interrupted.

"Jesus! Yeah, uh, doesn't Jesus tell us to, like, turn the other cheek?"

"I'm not sure that's entirely appropriate in this case."

"Well. Maybe. Sir. But, you know, you can't, like, just pick and choose, right?" My voice was taking on a shrill edge, but there was no way but forward with this. "If Jesus said it... that means you gotta do it."

"I don't understand." The Headmaster sounded genuinely baffled. "I thought you'd be pleased. Why do you want Leander to go unpunished?"

"I don't!" I said quickly. It was true enough. At least, I thought so. "But, uh, I also want to be a good christian. It's important to me. And my parents! Otherwise, why would they send me to this school?" I knew why: because catholicism still held power in our town, and they needed it to fit in and uphold their social standing, even if they didn't actually believe in any of it. I felt bad for lying, but not too bad. I was sure Jesus would understand.

Jesus was a pretty chill dude, by all accounts.

I smiled an innocent smile at the Headmaster, who was visibly torn between wanting to administer some Righteous Old Testament Justice on the one hand and Jesus' humanitarian philosophy on the other.

"Fine," he said finally, through gritted teeth. "But I warn you: any complaints about bullying coming from you in the future will fall on deaf ears. Now get back to class."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

I fled his office, already wondering if I'd made a mistake.

***

Leander accosted me almost as soon as I left the headmaster's office. He pinned me to the wall, his face close enough to kiss — something I'd never dare to do but had been thinking about a lot the past couple of weeks — while Robin and half a dozen of our classmates formed a semi-circle around us, chanting "Beat! His! Ass! Beat! His! Ass!"

"You got some explaining to do, faggot," Leander growled.

"He just wanted to talk," I spluttered. Why did there have to be an audience? If it had been only me and Leander, I could've explained everything. And then sucked his dick.

"Bullshit! You snitched."

My stomach plummeted. The adage 'snitches get stitches' is as true in high school as it is in prison. "I didn't!" I never realised my voice could reach such a high pitch. You learn something new every day.

To this moment, I still have no idea how I managed to talk myself out of that without getting the aforementioned ass-beating (or stitches), but when Leander found out he wasn't in trouble, he lost interest and let me go. This disappointed some of the guys surrounding us, no doubt. They wanted to see blood.

Leander was about to walk away, his whole body radiating smugness, when someone muttered, "Damn, faggy-boy keeps staring at you, Leander."

Robin snorted. "I bet he's in love with you."

For a split second, Leander froze. "Is that right, faggot?" He turned back to me, cocky grin splitting his face, and grabbed at his crotch. "You wanna give me a little kiss?"

I wanted to scream. What would Leander's buddies say if they knew he'd been dropping his pants for me for the past couple of months? Would they even care? It would only prove that I was a faggot, anyway. They'd probably admire Leander for getting his dick sucked, that's how far they had their heads up his ass.

And, if I talked back, I'd get the shit kicked out of me for sure.

And... Leander might not let me suck his dick anymore. I hated myself as soon as I thought it. Didn't I have any self-respect? (Spoiler: no, I did not.)

So, I did what I usually do in situations of extreme emotional discomfort — my fight-or-flight response kicked in, and I bolted. One of the guys in Leander's posse made a grab for me, but a lifetime of being bullied had prepared me for this. I dodged him without too much effort, never even slowing down.

"That's right, bitch!" Robin shouted after me, his voice carrying over the group's laughter. "You better run!"

***

I spent the rest of that week in a living hell. No good deed goes unpunished, isn't that what they say? I wasn't as far gone as to expect Leander to thank me, but all the same, some acknowledgement of what I'd done for him would've been nice. Instead, I had to avoid him and Robin as much as I could; I felt next time I wouldn't get off as easily.

I shouldn't have worried about Leander not letting me suck him off anymore. As far as I could tell, that was over. I waited every morning at our usual spot, hoping to see his car, but he never showed. At school, Robin and the rest of Leander's crew never left his side.

The bus would leave on Monday (at an ungodly hour). By now Leander should know he could come along on the school trip. He should know I stood up for him. Still, no car, no blowjobs — not even dirty looks or hurled insults.

Which kinda worried me more than anything else.

I spent most of the weekend locked in my room, nervous and not at all looking forward to Monday morning. The prospect of the trip, supposed to be the highlight of our year, nay, our entire high school career, now filled me with dread instead. Sure, me completely dissociating worried my parents (I think), but with my disastrous attempt at coming out still fresh in all our minds, neither of them knew how to talk to me. I didn't really mind.

Finally, the day came — well, finally, the ass-crack of morning came. My mom drove me to school, where a rented bus was waiting, belching out smoke in the predawn gloom like some metallic grey dragon. An oddly muted atmosphere hung over the street, filled as it was with otherwise raucous teenagers. The aforementioned ungodly hour partly accounted for that; everyone just kinda shuffled around like a bunch of sleep-deprived zombies. Another reason: parents. They had come out in droves to see off their spawn, and I suspected most of them were none too happy about it.

I'd told my mom she didn't have to drive me; I'd been getting to school on my own just fine for years now. In retrospect, she probably worried about me — locked in my room all weekend, going to another country for a week and a half... Nothing she could do if something happened to me, or if I did something to myself. But, being a typically self-centred teenager, I worried more about her embarrassing me in front of my classmates. Or my classmates embarrassing me in front of her. Either could happen.

On the upside, I hadn't had to drag my luggage all the way to school on foot.

"You'll call when you get there, right?" Mom was saying. "Or text, at the very least. Oh, my little boy." She got a little misty-eyed and tried to kiss me. "I don't think I'll be able to think of anything else all day until I hear from you."

"Mom," I hissed, glancing around to see if any of my classmates noticed her embarrassing display. Fortunately, most of them had their own overbearing parents to contend with. "I'll be fine. Be cool."

"I'm your mother. It's not my job to be 'cool'."

"Yeah, whatever," I said, but I couldn't fully commit to the bit of being a defiant teenager. Too busy scanning the crowd. I tried to spot Leander, partly because I worried he'd try to start some shit with everyone and their parents watching, but also — and I'm ashamed to admit this — because I wanted to see him. Despite everything, I wanted to see that cocky grin (not to mention that fucking amazing body). A glimpse of Leander never failed to stir something deep in my gut and turn my cock rock-hard.