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F-Stop Temper, Gear's Desire	By : lemonykisses Category: +S through Z > Static Shock Views: 5001 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Static Shock, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-F-Stop Temper, Gear's Desire
- 1
Title: Hotstreak’s Temper, Gear’s Desire
By LissaChan
Rating: NC-17, very badly
Pairing(s): F-Stop/Richie, mentioned Virgil/Daisy
Warning(s): Slash, very heavy, and I’m thinking the most detailed I can give for a female- go me! A pretty long beginning that some might consider boring. Also, I knows there’s AU all over the place, but bear with me, I really tried to stick with their cannon selves without making myself go bizerko! (Combine bizarre, berserk, and add an ‘o’… now that is crazy) Very bad language. Especially the f-word. Not that word, the other one. I’m so ashamed. I should be… *looks around* bitten on the neck by Jason Marsden! *animated* Oh no! Whatever you do I cannot bare being bitten especially on the neck! *crickets chirp* Damn it!
Disclaimer: Unless I didn’t get the memo, I don’t own the TV show, Static Shock, Warner Brothers does. But if I do- nevermind! *slings Richie over her shoulder fireman-style and runs off, cackling madly* But I do own Daisy’s Cuz Deone and Virgil’s Auntie. Made them up to fit in with the story. They don’t exist.
Please read: I must warn of a blurp some of you guys won’t like. Now I consider myself a Bush-hater, but I seriously respect everyone’s opinion of him, so I expect everyone to seriously respect mine- But that does not mean if Richie was indeed a real person that he would actually think like this! That’s why this is called fanfiction, and if I piss anyone off just by the subtle dig I have at our current President, I apologize for offending you, but not for giving my opinion on him. I certainly hope that it doesn’t drive a lot of you away from my work.
A/N: Now I know the beginning and a little bit in the middle of the story is very long and can be slow at times, but please bear with me. If it annoys you, I apologize profusely and I really do hope it doesn’t make you skip over. I worked pretty hard at it, what with doing nearly 4 total rewrites of the premise without trashing it in defeat. I spend nearly three days, probably a calculated total of 23-24 hours writing just this one story so that I’m optimistically satisfied. It’s very hard not having the show as a reference ever since I can’t find the damn show for the last month (written 08/09/05). But in light I’ll try very hard to stop myself from detailing the Hell out of the rest of the stories I write. Cross my heart and truly hope to die if I break the promise. Trust me, I’ve seen Shenandoah. I love the movie to pieces, but damn! Can that movie go on and on and on!
Beta: My buddy, roommate, and left half of my brain, Amber, AKA Chikalupe on AFF.Net. I’m afraid I didn’t give her a lot of errors to correct.
Summary: M/M - Richie's fallen for one of the MetaBreed. He finds an outlet of release, blog-wise. Writing gives him an epiphany and the Metahuman of his dreams...
/blah/ - Thoughts
blah - Emphasis
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
There are two reasons Hotstreak is called Hotstreak. One is his power. Two is he’s the hottest thing since sliced bread. Or at least, in Richie’s opinion. Though he could cool that temper down a bi-okay, three reasons…
Ever since the first confrontation with F-Stop (Hotstreak’s alter ego), Richie is more turned on than when a very hot girl or woman turns him on. Naturally, he freaks out, and spends nearly an hour trying to calm himself down. It only proves that he can endure long periods of foreplay if a girl wants to play hard-to-get. Frustratingly, he does give into to his desire, and let’s just say he never came so hard…ever.
It’s later that he has an epiphany. While he’s looking at girls while they walk/talk/make-out profusely in public with their boyfriends, he takes the churning ache in the pit of his stomach as jealousy towards the boyfriend. He blames the unjust world for making him not-so-good-looking, uncoordinated, and very unable to get a girl to go to the movies with. But during his epiphany, he realizes that it’s not jealousy he feels, but arousal. So he’s bisexual, hallelujah. After he gets to that conclusion, it becomes very easy that whenever he sees a hot couple, he fantasizes himself in a threesome with them: first watching them go at it, then he takes the girl, and finally the guy takes him. They’re all very vivid; one couple enjoys tying him up, another role-playing, even one time he gets curious about the girlfriend of a certain couple about if she would screw him with a strap-on dildo while he’s deep-throating the boyfriend.
It becomes necessary real fast at this point to write down his fantasies just in order to get some sleep. But then curiously the idea of posting his fantasies on a daily blog, under a pen name, of course, gets into his head and he becomes hooked. He calls himself Max Wanton, a highly sophisticated perv who enjoys writing one-shot scenarios dealing with hetero couples when not working as a computer engineer at a computer store on the eastern part of the US.
But he never writes any of his fantasies involving F-Stop. Those are reserved for his perverted mind only, for fear of anyone who knows him will figure him out.
Writing down his fantasies prevent him from remembering them; writing them down also finely tunes his grammar, not to mention gets him understanding why the porn industry is the moneymaking industry it is today. It takes a few weeks, but he begins to notice that a certain group of names he remembers keep giving him rave reviews for every blog he sends in. Another few weeks later the group nearly quadruples. And each day brings nearly dozens of new readers who also share the same interests as Max. Before he knows it the readers begin requesting him into creating a fantasy and sending in pictures as well as stats of actors, singers, athletes, or even themselves with their significant other. Max Wanton can’t say no.
Within three months he has over a thousand fans that read his blogs everyday, delving into his perverted mind of sex, trust, and the risqué. And when he receives a flame review, the ass immediately has Max’s fans screaming for his blood. Especially one flamer who just sends in a one-sentenced review that is always carrying poorly-grammered misspellings. Finally Richie can’t take the prick any more and settles it with a four page one-shot of Max teaching that flamer a lesson in manners. His tools: a rubber dildo, a vibrating dildo, a very long piece of rope, a silk scarf, and cherry-flavored lube. Needless to say he never receives a flame from that reviewer, nor any other bigot again.
Three months after that his works interests a man who works for a magazine, a photographer for a fetish magazine, a gay bondage magazine, to be exact. He’s been reading Max’s fantasies for months, loves every one of them, and begs for Max to contact him. He then ends with a phone number at the bottom of the page. Richie at first thinks this is a hoax and dismisses the reply immediately. But the man still persists, even as so much as sending him a link to the fetish magazine’s website he works for. Finally Richie has to wise up. He writes the man a private email, telling him that Max is a fake name he uses and he’s just an underage nerd who didn’t work and didn’t even own his own car. Within five hours he receives a reply from the guy; he’s very sorry to hear Max is underage, and although can’t really condone him for writing porn at such a young age, is hoping he calls him the second he turns eighteen. Richie replies with a webcam shot of his right hand holding up his index, middle, and ring fingers up with his thumb holding his pinky down: Scout’s Honor.
It’s sooner than Richie expects that word spreads around Dakota Union High of the discovery of Max Wanton. It turns out that a friend of a friend, of a friend goes online one day and their online friend sends them a link to this crazy guy’s blog, raving about the one-shot fantasies he would like to have with random hetero couples, as well as hooking up actors, or even real-life couples who love his work so much they want to be in a fantasy with him. It’s all Richie can do not to set his clothes and hair on fire from the vivid blush encompassing his entire body. At least Virgil makes a crack about Richie’s virgin ears being desecrated to make the blush appear that way, instead of another. /Virgin. Yeah./
That is when Richie thinks back to the first time he orgasms to his first fantasy with F-Stop. Not only did he masturbate, he also fingered himself. He learns that from his mother’s gay-sex novels she thinks she hides in a very clever place in an unsuspicious box on a shelf high above Richie’s reach. Little did she know that gravity can be bitch and one day, when he needs to grab the sweater she accidentally mistaken as hers and put in there, the box simply falls on him, that’s all. But the books provide a lot of insight with how men have sex, and Richie finds out the purpose of a prostate really quickly.
He really does want to lose his virginity, and his writings give him a confidence he didn’t know was in him to actually go up to girls and talk to them, but it’s nearly impossible to talk to a guy once in a while when his friends are around. Especially Virgil. They’re best friends, yes, since preschool, but he has no clue how the teen will react to Richie’s semi-alternative lifestyle. Don’t get Richie wrong, he knows Virgil to be open-minded: he has a gay aunt who is very open with her sexual orientation after all, and Virgil loves her. But this is someone Virgil trusts for nearly over a decade. Just the idea alone makes Richie feel so much better, and yes, that’s sarcasm.
That’s about the same time Richie meets Jesse at a club. 15-years-old, 5’10 of wiry muscle that screams, "FUCK ME". Brunette and shaggy hair that he keeps in a bed-head style, including faux-hawk. The most gorgeous green eyes Richie’s ever seen on a guy, they seem to almost reduce him to babbling incoherently whenever they look right into his own. He’s obviously mixed-race, probably half-Spanish/half-White from the obviously dark skin that didn’t come from a fake tan and the hinted Hispanic features in the eyes and mouth, with a European bit in the slightly long nose. At least he has a slight English hilt to his charm. Richie also didn’t know how much accents turn him on.
Jesse is that night wearing a faded red tee, dark blue jeans, and black Converse high tops. The shirt appears to have been washed in one too many loads and shrunken down enough to encompass his twin pectorals, broad shoulders, but loose enough to tease about how many washboard ribs the teen carried. The jeans are the tightest pair Richie has ever seen; yet they still hide what’s really important to Richie at that moment. At least he has a very nice ass. The Converse shoes are high-tops, spanking new actually, large feet, too. The blond hopes that old wives’ tale is true.
The Sex on Legs teen simply sits down at a barstool next to Richie and promptly introduces himself. His full name is Jesse Turner, a foreign-exchange student from Italy, visiting America. The accent is because he was born in England and moved to Italy when he was eight. The two then get into a very deep discussion on Catholicism, which Richie isn’t raised in, but he’s still curious about it. Soon it leads to likes, dislikes, hobbies, etc. Jesse enjoys the theatre and prefers horror movies, while hating hecklers in the back row as well as prejudice bigots. He also has a disdain loathing towards President Bush, which Richie whole-heartily agrees on. Richie still to this day wonders how it went from bashing the trigger-happy Texan imbecile to the two of them ‘snogging’, as Jesse puts it, up against the brick wall outside of the club while Jesse tries to get into Richie’s pants.
It’s the most incredible experience Richie ever, well, experienced. Before Jesse can devour Richie’s throbbing erection the blond warns it’s his first time, which the brunette replies in a heart stopping grin that he’ll be gentle, too. Then he proceeds to suck the life out of Richie. He drains Richie, relaxes him enough to turn him around and take him up the ass, which Richie finds to be unpleasant at first, but soon wonderful when Jesse’s hard and very hot cock rubs against the sweet spot deep inside Richie. For someone who’s nearly two years younger Jesse surely knows what he’s doing because Richie comes very loudly for the second time that night, splashing his seed against the brick wall, rather than the back of Jesse’s throat like the last time. Then Jesse does the most incredible thing: he bit Richie, right on the left side of his neck, hard enough to break the surface of the skin but no blood. It takes nearly a week and a half for the scary hickey to go away, not to mention his mom wonders why her foundation keeps showing up in random parts of the house.
That night declares the beginning of a top-secret affair between the two boys. Every two days or so, when the two left their high schools that are nearly two cities apart, they meet at a diner in the middle, which quickly leads into spending nearly four hours of hot and incredibly orgasmic sex in a bed under false names, fake Ids, and Jesse’s father’s credit card in a pretty decent hotel that soon knows them by face by the third visit. Even well into the fifth month after Richie’s eighteenth birthday he finds Jesse a drug he simply can’t say no to. Jesse wants to do every position in every room, in every hotel room, even the elevator. And don’t get Richie to explain how he agrees to Jesse performing incredible fellatio on him while the desk woman left to go check on their room to make sure it’s ready for them. Conveniently the only elevator in the building is down and she has to walk up nearly ten flights of steps. To this day Richie can’t look her square in the eye. He also never knew Jesse could make him be so loud, it’s a wonder anyone above them complained.
Yet, Jesse is still no F-Stop. No matter how many times Jesse gets his sex toy to scream in one evening, Richie always has a fleeting thought of the temperamental hothead just before taking an exhaust-inducing hour nap and returning home from his second life…
He opens the door to his house and comes in, closing it behind him.
"Hey mom!" He fights the yawn that wants to escape him. Jesse really wears him out this time, and he almost misses his bus ride home from sleeping too hard to hear the alarm trying to wake the both of them up. But beyond that he never knew how much fun tying Jesse up could be. Who knew he has an inner dominant entity inside him? And, Jesse begs to do that again just before Richie leaves, so Richie may have found his calling.
"In here, honey!" His mother calls from behind the swinging door to the right of the room. It leads to the kitchen, where he can smell the preparations of her homemade spaghetti. His stomach growls very loudly, letting him know it’s time for dinner. He sets his bookbag on the couch and enters the kitchen to find the redheaded woman who raised him standing at the stove, stirring with a wooden spoon in a large pot.
"What kept you? Lost track of time?" She asks as he sits down at the table.
He can hear the muffled bubbling of the sauce cooking, smelling delicious as usual.
"Yeah. Study group got really interesting near the end when Daisy and Virgil fought like a married couple." Part of that is true: while he didn’t study with the couple (ever since Richie got so sick of Virgil pining over Daisy he finally made him confess his crush to Daisy, or face the ultimatum: he tells himself. Needless to say Daisy was really happy to find Virgil liked her, because she liked him too. They’ve already celebrated their second-year anniversary, already talking about the future of marriage, kids, and college intuition for the kids.), he does witness them fighting at lunch actually, but they finally compromise, and make up through another round of Public Display of Affection Time.
"Oh, are they okay?"
"Yeah. You know how Virgil is when it comes to someone telling him he’s wrong." The blond rolls his eyes when his mother looks at him over her shoulder.
She smirks with a snicker.
Richie does plan on moving out and finding a place of his own, he’s been saving up since junior high, and he loves the idea of having a place to himself so Jesse and he can have their affair out in the open there, but he just can’t find enough courage to actually tell her why he wants to leave. He loves his mom, but he also doesn’t know what she would do if, God forbid, she comes for a visit while he’s pinning Jesse to the mattress, and not from restraints.
"So how was your day?" She asks while going over to the sink to pull out the strainer full of drained noodles to toss into the sauce.
"Fine. Got an A on the math test, and an A minus from science."
"What’s the minus for?"
"I didn’t show enough detailed work on some questions, which is bullshit, because-"
"Richie, calm that tone," she warns him. She knows he’s old enough, but she still keeps a hold of him by trying to keep his cursing to a minimum while she’s around.
"Because she gave Virgil credit for the same answers."
She spins around to him with a shocked look on her face, "You let him copy off you?!"
"No! He actually knew the answers himself, but she doesn’t believe he learned them on his own, thus giving one of us credit and the other not. He got a C anyway." He shrugs, accepting defeat.
She just sighs with a shake of her head, "Well, at least he’s learning something in that class."
He scoffs low in humor, "Ditto."
***
After dinner, the phone rings and Richie answers it. It’s Virgil, and he was wondering if he would like to go on an emergency second date with him, Daisy, and Daisy’s cousin.
/Oh, God, it better not be-/
"-Deone?" Virgil finishes for him.
/Damn it! That girl is a freak!/ "No way, last time I got near her she wanted to spank me!" He can hear Virgil muffling a snicker on the other line. "Fuck you, man! I’m not into that!" ‘Deone’ is what he wants to say instead of ‘like that’.
"Jesus, Rich, just this once! I promise you Deone has calmed down the last time you saw her! Please?" Richie hates hearing Virgil pleading; he hopes he never turns into that when Jesse decides to deny him sex for not having his way.
He grits his teeth, "Fine. Prick."
"You’re the best, man! I’ll come by before nine so we can pick the girls up right on the dot!" Virgil then hangs up without saying goodbye or giving Richie any warning.
The blond grunts in annoyance and hangs up also. "God damn it. I’ve gotta learn how to say no." He then gets up from his bed and changes into some flashier duds for clubbin’ in.
***
At least the club is slammin’. There’s a kick-ass DJ who knew what the Hell he’s doing, great drink selection even if he’s limited to soda and water, and the dancers to keep the party going are hot as fuck. Both female and male. They almost get his mind off of Deone’s jittery way of dancing. He may not be Fred Astaire when it comes to club dancing, but he knew that it’s not okay to throw yourself around like you’re having an epileptic seizure. And right now she has her horrible a-cup breasts grinding against his chest as her hands are on his, pinning them to her way-too-jiggly ass.
Don’t get him wrong, she’s a looker, but she simply isn’t his type, who happens to be taller, broader, paler, redheaded, and has more junk in the front of his pants than the back.
"What’s wrong? Don’t you like dancing?" Deone asks in a whisper, which comes out more hot air than sexy as it intended, not to mention she has a tongue ring and he hears it clink against her teeth as she speak. Jesse has a tongue ring also, but he isn’t Deone either.
He can’t take anymore of this. He’s dealt with her long enough. "Not when my partner acts like she hasn’t peed since yesterday while trying to headbang."
He gets the reaction he wants, but not anticipating the hard slap across his right cheek. She then stomps off to the bar. Couples around him groan, but he ignores them and turns to head the opposite way she leaves him, not at all affected that he’s the one who hurt her feelings.
But the second he steps off the dance floor is when he sees Him. Since he last saw F-Stop, which is a good year-and-a-half ago, the redhead’s body has filled out to it’s fullness, making him a lot muscular, and Richie wouldn’t be surprised if he has grown almost half a foot to compensate to the extra weight in muscle. His hairstyle hasn’t changed, except he probably let it grow an extra inch. His sideburns altered into a thin line of beard tracing his rugged jawline and met in a thatch of the same coarse red hair just under his chin. He even replaces the small triangle goatee with a silver metal spike stud; a piercing in between his lower lip and chin. He’s wearing a black ribbed tank, which is a horrible thing to wear if he wants to hide his chest from the world. Richie highly doubts it. F-Stop is also wearing a loose pair of denim pants, loose because they’re undone at the moment, and a head full of blonde hair bobs up and down in front of the opening. While the blonde bimbo sucks him off he’s heavily making out with a black girl who has a large goldish afro. She’s very beautiful, and watching them teasing each other with their tongues turns Richie on within seconds.
Then F-Stop breaks away to moan, eyes still closed and his mouth slightly open. His tongue flicks out to lick his top lip. Richie is instantly jealous of that lip. F-Stop’s Adam’s Apple bobs, making the blond voyeur’s erection twitch in its confines.
/Holy shit. Jesse never got me so hot so fast, no matter how hard he tried./
Then those eyes slit open, and widen to show hazy, lust-filled brown when they catch Richie’s blue and aroused ones.
Richie didn’t expect F-Stop to throw the blonde off him and jump to his feet while stuffing his erection back into his pants, giving Richie such an eyeful that he doubts he’ll be able to sleep tonight, and comes at him within seconds. But after a lot of intensive training Richie can effectively decipher what his opponent’s next move is going to be and dodges the blow that’s intended for him and instead hits another guy in the face. The man falls back into two couples and they fall on others, creating a broad domino effect until the dancers in middle of the dance floor are ready for the shockwave and stop it. The man F-Stop hit is knocked out cold.
"Stand still!" F-Stop screams out in fury over the music and flies at him again with another punch, this time enhanced with flames across his knuckles.
Richie barely misses it as his head goes back just enough to feel the heat of the flames licking at the skin of his left cheek. He then catches the wrist in between both his hands, holding it with a grip he knew F-Stop will have a time getting away from.
F-Stop did have almost half a foot added to him, but even his added muscle mass can’t free him from Richie’s iron grip. He’s holding it in the right places.
"Let go, fucker!"
By then the bouncers are coming to take the hothead out, and Richie knows for a fact that if he doesn’t do something so incredibly embarrassing for F-Stop to come looking for him with, Richie will regret it for the rest of his life. And without thought he quickly leans up to the redhead and kisses him. Fully. On the mouth. It’s heaven for Richie. /His lips are so warm, and smooth./
At first F-Stop is frozen in shock, but then reality sets in within milliseconds, and he gives Richie the most angry shove he can give with one free hand, dislodging his other from Richie’s grip.
"Sick!" F-Stop spits out just as the bouncers tackle him and send him out.
Richie didn’t want to feel his heart to ache, but something in him breaks, like glass breaking. /Wha’d you expect? You’re his enemy./ It still doesn’t help as he tries to convince himself a chance with F-Stop will never happen in a million years.
"Richie!" Daisy calls out to him and he turns to see the maturing teen-turning-into-woman coming at him, arms wide open. She wraps them tightly around him.
"Are you okay?! I was afraid he was going to hurt you!"
/Good ol’ Daisy./ "Nah, I’m good."
She lets him go to look at him with a curious smirk. "Obviously from the Kung Fu hold you had on his wrist. He was really struggling, and I saw his face grow red the madder he got!"
Richie then looks up at Virgil, who is among the crowd of spectators. He, too, also has gotten older, too much older, from the responsibility he has to endure for the rest of his life. Many times he tells Richie to let him fight crime on his own, but Richie still to this day is too stubborn to get into that argument. They’ve been best friends since before they knew how to coherently speak to each other and the look he is giving Richie right now is a look a preschooler can decipher. It’s the "I-Saw-You-Kiss-Our-Enemy" look. Meanwhile Daisy appears clueless to the mute conversation between the two best friends as she goes on about Richie’s well being.
***
"So you’re gay?" Virgil asks with grit in his voice as they’re walking towards the car. Deone decides she wants to go home within ten minutes after the confrontation and she’ll most likely sit in the front with Virgil as Daisy will sit with Richie in the back. The blond’s more than happy for the switch. The two girls are walking together, an earshot away from the two boys talking.
"No."
"But you kissed F-"
"I know! I was there too!"
"So it was by accident?"
"No." Richie is getting very frustrated with his best friend, though he knows Virgil has every right to be grilling him.
"You never said anything."
"Because I was afraid of how you would react."
"I told you I was a Metahuman!"
"Yeah, but your power is way different than being gay!" Richie tries so hard to bring that out in a harsh whisper, instead of screaming it out in anger.
"I thought you said you weren’t gay!"
"I’m not!!" Richie finally yells out, having the girls look back at them curiously, then go back to their conversation.
"Then what are you?!"
Richie sighs deeply, "I’m bisexual, okay? There, I said it."
"Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?"
Richie didn’t expect that uplifting tone and question from Virgil. He stops walking and looks at him in complete shock.
"You’re not mad?"
"No! Why should I be?!"
Yeah, why should he be? /Damn it, Richie, you idiot./ He sighs in frustration, "Because maybe you would think you did it."
"Did I?"
"I hate to burst your bubble."
Virgil laughs, "I knew something was up with you for a while now, and I thought hopefully you would eventually tell me. I just never knew it would be from a kiss with F-Stop."
The blond blushes, "Well, now he has reason to come after me right?"
"Hey, slow pokes, com’on!" Daisy calls to them.
"Hang on!" Virgil calls back and turns to Richie, "We’ll talk more about this later, aight?"
Richie smiles small, "Aight." They do a small hand jive and join the girls to Virgil’s SUV.
***
After dropping the girls off Virgil drives them to their secret club they go to when changing into Static Shock and Gear. Over the years the mechanics Richie works with have upgraded to finely tune their training against the ever-stopping trend of crime. Virgil is sitting in the computer chair while Richie is sitting in a fold up chair a few feet from him. They absently toss a small Nerf football back and forth.
"So how long have you been bi?"
Richie snorts low, "You act like I’m going to abandon it like a fad."
"Please, you know what I meant."
The blond sighs while grasping the ball between his slightly-larger-than-normal hands. "I guess since forever, but it took a long time to make me realize. That was about two years ago." He throws the ball at Virgil, who catches it with one hand easily.
"So does mom know?" Richie’s mom loves Virgil and she finds it amusing that he calls her ‘mom’ also, since he lost his a long time ago.
"No. I’m kinda afraid of what she’ll do if I tell her."
"Dude, you’re half-gay, so what? Most likely you’ll marry a girl and you’ll still give her grandkids. The worst is she’ll be upset for a few days, and she’ll get over it with the promise of said grandkids."
It takes Richie a second not to giggle aloud at Virgil saying ‘half-gay’. ?Your aunt would kill for saying that./ "You seem to forget we’re Christians. Being ‘half-gay’ is still a sin." He didn’t stop the giggle this time.
"And so is being a single mother raising a kid around gay people. You weren’t influenced by them were you?"
Richie gives him a dirty look.
"I didn’t mean it that way, man!"
The look fades away and the blond quickly moves on, "What I’m really worried about is what if Jesse figures out I’m Gear."
"So that’s who you’ve been seeing!"
Richie’s eyes widen, "You know about him!"
"You better be glad I inherited my mother’s mouth or else mom would’ve figured out where you’ve really been than at the library with me an’ Daisy."
"What? I told her about study group a long time ago."
"Yeah, but she still checks in on you. Mothers, what can you do with them?"
"Aw man!" Richie runs his fingers in his hair, a nervous habit. "I owe you big!"
"Good, tell her not to call the school anymore. I’m running out of ideas as to why you can’t come to the phone!" Virgil smiles in humor.
Richie copies the smile and laughs. "I will, bro."
"So who’s Jesse?"
"Just some kid I met at a club. We’ve been going to this hotel between us, since we’re two cities away from each other."
"’Some kid’? So I’m guessin’ it’s not that serious."
It’s weird to Richie that he’s having this conversation so casually with his best friend, but it feels good to finally be able to actually be himself with his best friend. He shrugs, "Don’t get mad, but I really have eyes for someone else. I think Jesse knows that, too, so at least the break-up won’t be so bad, ya know?"
"Look, I can’t tell you to stop thinking about F-Stop, but you do realize the guy can never forgive us, both our alter egos, that we put him in juvie countless times."
Richie sighs in deep thought and nods. "I guess it’s the bad-boy thing that peaks my interest." He smiles crooked.
Virgil snorts low, tossing the ball to him. "You’re sick, dude, in a jail-groupie kind of way."
"Yeah, I am. I know it’ll never happen in a million years, but I can wait a million and one."
Virgil laughs, "By then he’ll have to take up on your offer!"
"So you’re not mad?"
"I am in that you actually like one of the baddies, even if he’s the biggest asshole there is, but if that’s what rocks you boat, I can’t stop you from trying. Who knows? Maybe the ass’ll calm down a bit if he’s getting’ some rather than stealin’ it from those dumb girls."
Richie raises an eyebrow, "Damn, what makes you think I can take him if we’re fighting for tops?"
Virgil laughs, "Please, don’t put that image in my head! But to answer that hold you gave him earlier should subdue him."
Richie laughs with him, "Speaking of which," His smile fades. "I have something to confess. You remember about Max Wanton?"
"Yeah, that freak who write those stories online? Man, I read some of them and this guy doesn’t hold back!"
"Thanks. I try not to." The blond then tosses the football.
Virgil’s eyes widen and the football bounces right off his forehead.
Richie doubts he even felt it.
***
Three days will pass before F-Stop gets out of jail for posting bail from his deadbeat dad, as Richie hears from Frieda and Daisy.
"Word is he’s lookin’ for you. Why did you have to be an idiot and fight him, Rich?!" Daisy exclaims.
"I didn’t fight him, he came after me!"
"Yeah, well, if I were you, I’d kiss my butt goodbye," Frieda says while popping her gum.
Virgil raises and eyebrow, "Well, apparently you missed this dude’s hold on his wrist."
"Yeah, it was a bitch lifting weights," F-Stop’s voice suddenly appears behind Richie and the blond didn’t have time to turn around as his collar’s grabbed from the front and he’s lifted out of his seat while in the Food Court of the mall.
He’s raised high enough to meet F-Stop square in the eye and Richie bets his toes are dangling inches off the ground.
"It took balls to pull that faggot kiss on me when I wasn’t lookin’."
"Let him go!" Virgil yells out.
"Can it, dumbass! I ain’t gonna hurt your boyfriend! Unless faggot here wants me t-AGH!" One swift kick to the shin from Daisy has him let go of Richie and the blond falls unceremoniously onto his ass on the floor. "God Damn bitch!" The redhead advances on her but Virgil quickly gives him a swift punch to the chest, having the hothead hit the floor next to Richie. Before the blond can get up the redhead has him in a chokehold, pulling them both up on their feet. He spares a moment to thank himself for getting corrective laser surgery months ago, because he knows they would be on the ground by now, broken.
"Nobody try anything or I’ll snap his neck like a twig!" F-Stop barks out loud enough for the entire court turn to them and watch the dangerous scene.
Richie can feel his windpipe crushing, limiting his supply of air to his lungs, which are burning as the hothead speaks. In his shallow gasps he can smell the cologne on F-Stop. It’s pleasant, an expensive brand he is sure F-Stop stole.
/God I’m so sick to be smelling him when he has my life in his hands, literally./
Through slit eyes he can see Virgil trying to think out a strategy to get him free from the large teen.
But then he’s moving backward from F-Stop pulling him out towards the exits.
"No!" Richie gags out and fights against the overly muscled arms.
"Stop squirming! You’re cutting your own air supply," F-Stop hisses at him, hot breath against his ear. Richie can’t fight the blood flowing downward to his groin in reaction. /This better be from an unknown kink in erotic asphyxiation./
They’re soon out of the mall and F-Stop turns into Hotstreak mode, flying them high up in the air from a disc of fire he must’ve trained to create.
"Static will get you!" Richie rasps out.
"Yeah, I’d lik’em to find where I’m taking you."
A blind person could see how aroused that last part gets Richie. His cheeks flush as his erection bulges under his pants, and he’s glad he’s wearing very baggy jeans today.
Hotstreak then lets go of the blond and holds him fast by the collar, making sure he isn’t going to be jumping off anytime soon.
Richie coughs and sputters for sweet air. "Where are you taking me?"
"Hn." Hotstreak smirks viciously, "Nice try, smartass."
Several minutes pass before he can get anything to clue in on where Hotstreak is taking him, and Richie finds himself recognizing where they’re going: the poorer side of Dakota, a place he frequently visits as Gear during the night life. They then land right in the middle of an asphalt-cracked street that looks like it was repaved in the Middle Ages. The fire disk disappears and F-Stop shoves Richie towards a pretty run down apartment building. He leads him to the right side, to the emergency ladder.
"Go up, no funny business."
"Where are you taking me?"
"Stop asking that question and I won’t knock you out and carry you up myself."
That pretty much shut Richie up as they go up five levels.
"Stop at the next window and climb in. Don’t even think of locking the window on me. My dad’s asleep in the next room and he doesn’t like to be disturbed."
From the tone of his voice, Richie thinks twice about doing such a thing and does as he’s told. He moves the dark blanket that blocks the sunlight and enters into a surprisingly nicely kept room. There are shelves neatly stacked and fully stocked in comics (an impressive collection to Richie’s standards, and every one of them are still in their clear plastic envelopes), action figures, and a very small library of books. On the walls are posters for angry rock bands, pin up girls, or deadly characters full of blood and guts. There’s even a desk with a high tech compute; Richie’s also sure that isn’t paid for. A pretty large bed in a corner, nicely made, and a dresser in another with a decent sized television on top of it. Beside the bed is an advanced stereo system against the wall. Neat columns of CD cases line the wall also. There is even a worn workout bench near a door with a full-length mirror on it. A series of handheld weights and flat-disc weights for lifting with both arms are stacked neatly also. Every surface of space is clean and even the carpet is vacuum fresh.
Richie lifts an eyebrow as F-Stop enters through the open window. "This is your room?"
"Yeah. Shut your mouth while I go check on father dearest." The redhead locks the window, and the only means of escape is through the door F-Stop just left. Richie curses at himself for not having his Shock Box with him to call Virgil with. He didn’t even have a cell phone. Ironically, Richie expected to see a handful of them F-Stop would’ve most likely pick-pocketed off victims, but there are none to be seen in the room.
/Virgil’ll find me, I know it. There’s no way this creepo’s gonna kill-/ His thought process cuts short when F-Stop comes back in without his black and very tight tee shirt on. His muscles bulge under silky smooth and hairless skin, with the exception of the reddish auburn happy tail leading down the slightly-protruding-from-muscle area under the navel to the gift Richie’s dreamt about since they first encountered one another. His muscles ripple with every move under the eyes of Richie. /Good Lord, he has a huge six-pack!/
Richie is thankful to be wearing a shirt that covers his throbbing erection in his jeans. "Why are you living with him if you’re eighteen?" He’s heard of the stories that his daddy-by-blood liked to use his only son as an ashtray when he was younger. The darkened and blunt shapes looking abstract or circular scars sparsely over his arms and chest that appear to have healed over time only clue in as proof. But they only enhance the unique beauty that is F-Stop in Richie’s eyes. /I’m sick. That’s it. Lock me up in a rubber room and hide the key./
"Like anyone would take my application for rental requests. I have a record, thanks to you fuckers." Then he lunges at Richie and the blond can only lift his arm to block his face before a heavy body shoves him onto the bed behind him, which didn’t creak as Richie thought it would, judging from the battered and chipped metal-bar headboard, but muffles a grunt in protest from the sudden weight on it.
The air is knocked out of Richie, and a second later the weight lifts off his, letting him breathe. /He must keep it well-oiled so his father doesn’t hear him sleep, or sleeping around./ His vision comes back and he sees F-Stop coming at him again, only this time warm lips press against his. Richie nearly gasps in the air out of F-Stop’s mouth as the redhead quickly snakes his tongue into the blond’s mouth. /Holy shit he’s kissing me!/ Hands snake up his shirt and fingers trace over the heated skin on his sides, lightly tickling him. He can also feel the spike digging into his own chin. Those lips are professional breath-takers, and Richie is gasping for it that he foolishly gets rid of in mewling moans. Even his stomach muscles clench as heat lava flows thickly all through every vein and capillary inside him. It feels like the world has imploded around the blond teen, leaving them in complete isolation, as all he focuses on is the teen on top of him. Then he moans out loudly while his fingers run through F-Stop’s hair, which is surprisingly soft and not stiff from product. It turns out his hair naturally grows like that.
"Oh yeah, do that again," F-Stop whispers after he leaves the lips to kiss down to Richie’s neck.
That’s when the blond feels an equally hard cock clad in denim dig into his thigh as a beautiful moan escapes F-Stop’s throat.
"What-what are you doing?" Richie pants out. He receives a painful bite on his neck as an answer, making him want cry out loud, but he muffles it between tightly closed lips. F-Stop will never forgive if his father wakes up.
"He’s not here. You can scream all you want." Then F-Stop bit him much harder; enough to make the skin break and a very thin trickle of blood seeps out.
Richie yells out in pain this time, clenching the hair in his fingers.
"Oh, fuck yeah!" F-Stop begins grinding into Richie’s thigh, eliciting mewls of pleasure as he did so.
"Why are you doing this?!" Richie moans out, neck still throbbing, but not as much as the member in his pants, which F-Stop rubs against at the same time.
"You made me like this, asshole!" F-Stop grunts in anger and stops humping. Then hazy brown eyes look into Richie’s blue in the same amount of anger. "I was fine fucking every girl who threw themselves at me, but you had to come along and kiss me! A God damn faggot!"
"I’m not a- a f-mmpf!"
F-Stop didn’t let him finish that sentence. Stealing Richie’s breath away again he then breaks away to sit up and nearly rip Richie’s shirt off, almost taking his head with him.
"I’m not a faggot!" Richie pants out, looking up at the redhead as F-Stop gazed down at his sweaty and thankfully not very hairy chest, just a light patch of blond hair between his pectorals with a fine trail leading down his ripped abs to the tenting jeans.
F-Stop spends a moment reaching down into his pants to adjust himself, before rubbing his palm up and down his length.
"Ho, man." Richie can’t stop himself from saying that aloud.
"You are one if you like watching."
"You’re the one who has me pinned and getting off me watching you." He then lifts up the top half of his body and attacks the redhead’s neck, unable to control himself.
F-Stop moans loud enough that it causes a huge vibration in his throat as Richie’s lips kiss his Adam’s Apple.
A hand threads through Richie’s hair on the back of his head, fingers clenching and unclenching. Richie’s hand clench onto F-Stop’s hard sides, very short nails digging into soft skin.
"That feels so good." Richie knows he means the necking. "I’d like it more if you bite me."
/With pleasure./ And Richie bites down on the salty skin, enjoying the hard body tensing up and a slight jerk from the neck in reaction. He hears and feels an explosive shout come out of F-Stop, pleased with himself to shock the redhead of his dreams.
"Fuck, man!"
Richie lets go quickly and dives in for another tasty kiss, which F-Stop is happy to give into it. A large hand holds onto his lower back, pulling Richie close so their chests are flat against each other.
F-Stop then writhes against him in a slow rhythm, enjoying the hard pecs and rippling abs rubbing against his. He even likes the tickling hair against his smoothly shaved skin on his own pecs.
Richie may be smaller than F-Stop may, but he’s determined to show he’s no weakling. He breaks away from the kiss and he goes for the right nipple, pink and pebbled on F-Stop’s chest. His nails claw down F-Stop’s lower back meanwhile, having the redhead arch forward against him, shuddering.
"Augh-nnnnn…Fu-uck…I’m gonna fuck you into the mattress, cocktease!"
Richie grins around the left nipple he’s attacking. /Sorry, Virg. Guess I’m bottoms./ His chin’s then grabbed and he’s enticed into another breath-taking kiss. His nails make more red and angry lines down F-Stop’s lower back, having the redhead writhing some more in his arms. /Someone has a fetish./ He sings in his head.
"No girl…has ever done…Mmmm…this to me…Mm-agh! Fuck man!" F-Stop pants between each kiss, tilting his head this way and that.
/He tastes so fucking good. Like apple juice and cinnamon. He probably had graham crackers with the juice before he decided to come after me./ Richie starts to grin in their make-out session. /He’s a kid in a bully’s body. But damn he’s a great kisser!/ Richie quickly pulls away, cheeks flush from both lack of oxygen reaching his lungs and incredible arousal.
"Fuck me raw," he moans against F-Stop’s right cheek.
"You won’t be walking straight for a long time." The redhead then reaches down and undoes his jeans, lowering them and the waistband of his boxers enough so his erection is free and he undulates his hips against Richie, rubbing himself on the rippling abs.
Richie moans.
"Like that? How would you like it in that sweet ass of yours?"
"Now who’s the faggot?"
"I’m teaching you a lesson in kissing me."
Richie can feel his skin getting damp from the precum, "Your lesson’s backfiring. I guarantee that after this first taste, you’ll want more. And guess what? " He lifts his face up so their lips are a breath’s width away. "I exercise those muscles down there you’re so determined to loosen. I can make myself virgin-tight every time." He sits back, awaiting F-Stop’s reaction. /The Internet is a great tool, even if I found that on accident./
F-Stop grins, the left side of his mouth crooked upward. He stops grinding, sitting back a bit. "Is that an invitation?"
Richie’s confident smile dissipates. Did he make it that way? "Maybe." /Smoooooooooth./
"You willin’ to bet?"
"On what?"
"On if I become addicted to you. If you win, you have to promise I can have you every night. I’m still in my prime, you see. Meaning I need sex very often."
"What about those girls who throw themselves at you?"
"If you’re as good as you say you are, and I’ve fucked girls who like it up the ass also, then I’m willin’ to ditch them, if you want me to."
"Why do I have any say in it?"
He shrugs lightly. "I don’t like making anyone I’m fucking jealous, kinda sets the mood after that, ya know?"
Richie looks at him for a bit, silently thinking. /Wow. Never would’ve guessed him compassionate like that, if that really is compassion./ "So what happens if you win?"
"This’ll be great blackmail to get you to do anything I want."
/Yup. There’s goes the compassion right out of the window./ "So it’s a win-win situation for you? What about me? And what stops me from telling anyone?"
"What you get out of it is I let you live afterwards," F-Stop’s gets low and growly, and Richie’s eyes widen, his cock twitching once more. He can feel his precum dampening his boxers. "And you can tell all you want. You can even tell Static Shock and that bitch Gear for all I fuckin’ care. They won’t believe you, neither will anyone else, because I bash fuckers like you around for fun."
"You mean faggots?"
"Yeah. I always knew you were one."
"But you’re one, too."
"I like pussy, not dick."
The blond nods while stating the obvious. "Right, right, you’re teaching me a lesson." He raises his pitch in question. "Why haven’t you raped me yet?"
"Because you’re fun to talk to."
That blows Richie’s mind. /Talk? He was never one to talk! Unless he was bull-shitting to bash on me or Virgil verbally at school!/ "You talk to friends, not enemies."
"Yeah, well, if you win the bet you’ll be my fuck buddy. ‘Nough said." He shoves Richie onto the mattress and undoes the fastenings to his jeans. He then reaches into the tented boxers and gently grasps the shaft of Richie’s erection. "Impressive. Almost as big as mine."
Richie lets out an audible gasp as F-Stop pumps him with expertise only a guy would know. His fingers clench the covers under him, hips moving lightly to the moderate rhythm. It’s nice having another guy masturbating him.
"I like this vein right here." F-Stop traces a finger lightly over it as it spans the length of Richie
"I thought…you didn’t like-ah!…dicks," Richie moans out between pants. Then the hand leaves him, making him moan in disappointment.
"This is for you. Not me."
Blurry blue eyes open as the weight lifts off his lap. F-Stop stands near the bed and lowers his boxers and jeans to his ankles, setting them to the corner of the room. /Even his legs are pumped! He’s so pale. Not a ghastly pale, but he isn’t near peaches n’ cream either./ Meanwhile his purple erection juts out in front of Richie, saluting and waving a bit at him, teasing him. He also has a thick bush of reddish/brown coarse pubic hair around the base of his cock. Richie can almost taste the musky masculine scent of lust coming from the redhead looking down at him with desire in his eyes. F-Stop then climbs back on the bed. He then reaches for the waistband of Richie’s jeans, hiking them down with Richie lifting his hips so he can get them off easier. When he gets them off he tosses them in the corner with his jeans.
Richie has tanned lightly over the months from enjoying himself at the beach. He even has freckles to prove it. And his legs are lightly hairy with light brown-almost-blonde coarse hair.
"Let’s see if you’re a real blond." F-Stop pulls down the boxers, having Richie’s own purple erection bobbing in the free air with want.
"I hope that answers your question." Richie is pointing out the dirty-blond thatch of coarse pubic hair encircling the base of his penis.
"You groom yourself, too."
Although F-Stop has more pubic hair, it’s because Richie was born with thin hair all over his body, thankfully not on the top of his head. But he suspects it’ll be receding by 30.
At least F-Stop knows how to keep his lush hair from going out of control.
/The girls like that obviously./ Richie thinks with a crooked smile. "So do you."
"’Cause I got sick of chicks complaining. It’s a bitch when they don’t wanna give me head. I don’t fuck girls who get on my nerves."

"Well I can say I’m happy not to be in that category," Richie said with humor. That humor quickly leaves him when F-Stop advances onto him, lifting his legs up so his thighs are against his chest. His calves lay on the redhead’s shoulders, feet dangling in the air.
"No doggy-style?"
"You want it that way? We can do that." F-Stop begins to let his legs down.
"No, this is nice. I just thought you were going to teach me a lesson."
"It doesn’t help when you’re not facing me. Plus I want to see you crying." F-Stop says that so casually that it takes Richie a minute to process the last line fully. Meanwhile the redhead is reaching over to his nightstand on the left side of the bed and pulling open a drawer.
"What makes you think I’ll cry for you?!"
A devilish smile creeps onto that beautiful face. "Not in pain." He fumbles around and pulls out something black and reflecting light to make the blond think it’s plastic. He then quickly slips it over the head of Richie’s erection, having him gasp very loudly.
"Holy shit what is that?!" The wind escapes him from the object sliding very tightly down his shaft. It goes all the way down to the base, securing him. "A cock ring?!"
"You’re not coming until I say so… Bitch." F-Stop grins menacingly at the new nickname he gives Richie.
If Richie didn’t have that ring on him he would’ve came so fucking hard right about now. But all he can do is toss his head back on the pillows, arching his chest up into the air, and crying out in pain from the restraint of his release. "God damn bastard!"
"I knew you were a freak, too!" F-Stop is simply gleeful, lightly bouncing on his mattress.
"I can’t believe you! You own a cock ring?!"
"Yeah, it helped me build up almost and hour’s worth of stamina."
Richie quickly lifts his head, "An hour! Holy shit!" He tosses his head back on the pillows again, hearing the redhead chuckle.
"Don’t worry, if I can make girls last as long as me, you’re no problem."
Then unbeknownst to Richie his left wrist is lifted up and secured against a bar of F-Stop’s headboard. Eyes snap open and widen when he finds F-Stop lifting his other wrist and securing it in a soft cuff, velcroing it snug around his skin and linking it to another metal bar. Hot coals dance in his stomach as the butterflies are set on fire. His skin prickles all over his body as another pang of pain lets him know he can’t come once more.
"Just so you know, I get off on nails scraping my skin. I don’t need distractions if I’m going to win this bet."
"That’s cheating," Richie says low.
"No, it’s collateral, and if I lose you can claw into me all you want." F-Stop’s eyes seem to darken at the thought of his kink playing in his mind. "Almost makes me wanna."
Richie inhales deeply at the throaty rumbling coming into his voice. His erection pangs again. /This is getting very old. I could’ve come three times by now!/
"But I have a repetition to hold up." F-Stop then reaches into the drawer and pulls out a repeatedly squeezed tube of KY. Needless to say this bed has been taken very, very good care of if that tube is just barely humped to show there’s product in it, and who knows how many he’s gone through before it. Five? Eight? Richie doubts it’ll have enough in it for F-Stop to use if he’s going to make Richie one with the mattress.
"Don’t worry, I have more." The redhead unscrews the cap and squeezes out the last of the clear liquid. "Like cherry?"
Richie nods, watching him smear the fruity-scented lubricant over his right index, middle, and ring finger with his thumb.
He then grabs the full tube hidden in the drawer and squeezes out a bit more, using his other hand to smear the lube all over the three fingers. "So Virgin Richie isn’t a virgin. When did you lose it?"
"Two years ago."
He lifts Richie’s hips and grabs a pillow by Richie’s head, placing it under his lower back.
/Wow, that was thoughtful./
"Who was the lucky guy?"
"This guy I’m still seeing, you don’t know him-agh! Ah, God!" He feels a blunt object inserting into his anus and liquid fire swirls down his chest to his groin, sending repetitive pangs from his erection. "Fuck!"
"Oooh, you are tight." F-Stop’s voice gets throaty again, making Richie swoon. He swirls his index finger against the resistance with his ring finger lightly tickling the puckered skin surrounding his index. It loosens up on it’s own. "There we go." He’s able to slowly insert all the way up to the third knuckle, enjoying Richie moaning before he pulls out and gently inserts his middle finger also.
"Agh! You’ve done this before!" Richie can barely catch his breath as F-Stop scissors his way into him.
"I told you, I’ve had girls who like their asses fucked more than their pussies. You don’t think they were guys once, do you?"
"You’re-agh! Fuck yeah! Asking the wro-ONG! Guy! Shit!" Without realizing it he’s loose enough so that F-Stop’s able to enter all three fingers into him. He is brought back by the redhead suddenly hitting the sweet spot, making him tense up and cry out in orgasmic pleasure.
F-Stop almost pulls out in reaction. "Woah! Wha’d I do?!"
"That is why I’m Bi," Richie pants out, then cries out again from his jumping cock shrieking at him from not being able to get off with the cock ring snug in place.
F-Stop relaxes with a light smile on his face. "Keep doing that?"
"Unless you want me to buck like a wild bull." Richie gives a sly smile with his heavy pants.
F-Stop smiles crooked again. "I’ll take my chances." He then presses hard on the spot, having Richie nearly leaping out of the bed.
"FUCK!!!" He shrieks out and falls flat on the bed. "FUCK man!"
"I like this." Then F-Stop begins rhythmically rubbing; creating a quick and sperratic pace where his fingers are only rubbing the spot, nothing else.
Rich feels his hips rising straight into the air, undulating with his cock flapping back and forth freely. He moans and gasps with the rhythm, cursing loudly to F-Stop.
"Oh God! Oh Yeah! Oh Fuck! Don’t Stop! Fuck! Don’t Stop! Agh! I Want to Come! Let Me Come, F-Stop! Ugh! Ugh! Please! Fuck! Oh God! Agh!" Richie knows the asshole’s torturing him on purpose, enjoying him plea for release. Meanwhile his erection just might as well give up on being satisfied. "You fucking bastard!"
"Calling me names just helps fuel my kinky lust."
Then Richie feels a hard bite on his pectoral, near his left shoulder. He cries out loud, beyond frustration, beyond annoyance that he can actually feel tears rising up in his eyes. /No! I won’t give him the satisfaction!/ He then opens his eyes and F-Stop’s looking right into them.
"Mmmmm, someone’s going to cry, my worst kink."
Finally, after nearly an agonizing hour, which is really a few minutes, F-Stop slows down his rhythm and all together pulls all three fingers out of him. Richie’s cock is standing straight up, tight with so much tension.
"If you don’t fuck me now, F-Stop, so help me I will fucking kill you!" Richie roars out breathlessly as a tear falls from his right eye.
"Leave the fucking to me, bitch." He then grabs his straining cock, and guides the leaking head into the loose hole of Richie.
The blond throws his head back and a loud and very long moan escapes him as F-Stop inserts all of himself into him. He stops only when F-Stop is fully seated into him.
Richie’s gasping, chest rising and falling with enough force so that F-Stop is being slightly pushed back with his chest against the backs of the blond’s thighs.
"Ohhhhh, yeaaaahhhh…"
Richie has obviously brought F-Stop to heaven, judging by the look of bliss on his face. He bites his bottom lip as he watches F-Stop slowly open his eyes with a look of hunger in them.
"I’m a little surprised you actually found someone who’s into nerdy faggots like you."
"You’re fucking cock is up my ass and you call me the faggot! You’d’ve had me sucking you off with force if you hate me so much."
F-Stop chuckles low in a bitter tone. "You would’ve bit it off if you had the chance."
"Yeah, I suppose I would’ve if I didn’t have a huge crush on you!" It’s a second later that he realizes what he just said. /Oh shit! God damn hormones!/
F-Stop’s eyes widen, but quickly lax within a heartbeat’s length. "I should’ve known. You were too lenient to let me kidnap you when I dragged you from your loser friends."
"Go to Hell!"
"I will and see you there."
/Of course he doesn’t see me that way. He would never, not a faggot. Like me./
"You’re gonna cry now?"
/Fuck./ He sniffs loudly, "I’m not, it’s allergies."
"You lie worse than my dad. At least he has the audacity to look me in the eye."
Blue eyes look into brown; "I’m not lying."
"You’re not getting sentimental on me?"
"No! Just fuck me already, twisted psycho!"
Brown eyes stare quietly into annoyed blue.
Then they look away and the blond can feel the redhead obeying. Eyes close and Richie lets out a loud and long exhale through his nose.
F-Stop sets a slow and light pace, letting Richie get use to him. By the calm look on the blond’s face, he may be underestimated.
"Does it hurt?"
"No. You don’t have to be gentle, either."
So F-Stop goes faster, piston in and out halfway, hearing the slick sounds of his cock repeatedly intruding Richie’s ass.
Richie’s grunting now and then, enjoying the shaft hitting his sweet spot now and then also. "You’re bigger than Jesse."
"Your guy?"
"Yeah. But he’s better with the rhythm." He opens his eyes to make a point.
"Oh yeah? Well you better hold on to the bed." F-Stop spreads his thighs out more and hunches a bit, getting himself ready.
A loud cry escapes Richie, bringing tears to his eyes and they spill down his cheeks within seconds as F-Stop pumps at an incredible speed, grunting and growling in between. The bed is rocking. Richie can feel it even as the headboard tattoos a very loud and very rapid beat against the wall. He bets his secret identity that the rubber rectangle on the wall is at level with the headboard, and not just for decoration. He then can make out the metal beating against the rubber and he wants to smile for guessing right, but he can only scream and moan out in desire. He never knew a man could go this fast!
"You like?" Once again, if Richie didn’t have a cock ring on he would’ve come so fucking hard at the growly voice coming out of the redhead this time.
"FUCK!" Is all he can come out with.
"You’re making me come faster, bitch. I can feel it, and you will be mine."
/So I’m winning? GAH!/ "Naugh!" Richie is by this point babbling incoherently, yet F-Stop’s growling coherent sweet-nothings, even having the time to bite and nibble on Richie’s right earlobe. "Fu-hunnnnnnnnn…GAH!"
"It’s coming, Richie. I’m coming just for you, baby."
"Puh-agh! Guh-mmmmmmph!"
Almost as if F-Stop’s reading Richie’s thoughts the cock ring is finally removed from his never-going-to-forgive-him-for-subjecting-it-into-F-Stop’s-torture erection and before the redhead can get the ring fully off Richie’s coming in long ribbons, decorating his hand and the blond’s own chest and neck. A few streams even manage to catch on the blond’s chin, dribbling down the sides of his face and neck. Meanwhile he’s gone, lost in his own mind as his mind-numbing orgasm rockets him into a very bright and colorful Nirvana. He isn’t even aware of using the redhead’s name as a screaming mantra.
The sight sets F-Stop off. He nearly roars out in his yell as his own ribbons of bittersweet semen cover Richie’s innards, marking him as his. He has never come so hard before; no girl’s ever made him cry either. A salty tear slips into his open mouth to prove it. It’s so beautiful what just happened between them. So fucking beautiful…
Moments past, several, and when his vision clears and his hips stop moving to their own accord he looks down to find Richie is dead to the world. "Richie?" He sees his mouth is slightly open and his chest is moving. He must’ve come so hard that he goes out like a light the second after he’s satisfied. Slowly, F-Stop slips out of him and the blond grunts lightly, shifting a bit.
Gently he sets Richie’s legs down, laying them out across his bed. With a last thought he uncuffs his wrists to the headboard, freeing Richie. Then he gets up and goes to the bathroom to fetch a rag, wetting it in warm water. He returns to the room to find the blond on his left side, arms curled up under his chin. F-Stop can just catch small snatches of breath inhaling and exhaling. Quietly he cleans himself and Richie up with the rag, no resistance from the blond and no grunt or shifting in his sleep at all, even since he’s on his side. It is a pretty hard feat, seeing as the redhead never had any girl conk out on him, but a swell of pride blossoms in his chest that he’s able to bring a person to complete exhaustion, even if it is a blond-haired boy. After satisfied in cleaning both of them he gets up to put the rag in the hamper in the bathroom and comes back to then slip on his pair of silk black boxers that he threw in the corner.
He goes to the door beside the workout bench and opens it to grab a neatly folded throw blanket on a shelf high above his hanging clothes. Before he covers Richie he takes a moment to take in the blond’s sleeping form.
He has this calm look on his face, making him years younger than he really is. The Real World ages him; only the Dream World allows him to be free. His legs are drawn close to his body, almost like he’s in a loose fetal position. Richly tanned skin, silky smooth and now sheen with sweat. His damp hair is actually a dark blond/almost brown with locks clumping and sticking to his forehead and the sides of his face. A dark flush is on his cheeks and neck, creeping down the upper part of his back.
F-Stop traces the muscles all over the blond’s back with his eyes. He unconsciously licks his top lip.
"You won, Richie. Fair and square."
THE END
EEEEEEEEEEE!!! *bounces up and down very, very fast* I dunno ‘bout you all but I’m grinning so hard my cheeks and the back of my head hurts so bad!
Hopefully I won’t get any flames for this. I mean, I don’t wanna be the only who think this is hot. Please send in feedback, because I have a songfic collection dealing with the two I want to post if I get a lot of gracious reviews…
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F-Stop Temper, Gear's Desire