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The Long Weekend	By : TimedWatcher Category: +S through Z > Weekenders, The Views: 11878 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Weekenders, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Fag this... trans that... it was like his opinion about Lor didn't matter.

Did she ever regret it? Not just because of what most of her brothers did, but because of maybe something she missed. Or maybe it was just an easy way to reinvent yourself. He could understand why the mentally ill would want to escape themselves - even relate in so much with all the moving he did allowed him to start with a blank slate, but he always missed his friends - relegated now to nostalgia about the good times.

Who did Lor miss? There was a strange part of him that thought about meeting her... in the before time. Was a friend you know becoming trans like someone dying? Or was it still there? He imagined it like a reflection, but instead seeing two different figures of the same person on either side. Was it still a struggle for her?

He didn't consider Lor like those crazies who just wanted to chop up their stuff, and she definitely wasn't as bad as the queers either. She was different. So why was she treated like that? Or maybe she was the same... I mean... who was Lor? Really? For all he knew, her whole life up till they met was her little white lie to cover up her abuse, and it needed all the strength she could muster to remain sane about it and outpoured what was left into the physical arts.

Her cup runneth over then...

Running up Tino's steps, Gordon coughed hard before knocking at his front door. He waited for a response. Then as he was about to tap it again, harder this time, there was chatter at his back

"They stopped chasing us awhile ago." Carver said while looking over his shoulder.

"So why didn't you stop running?" Tino said in between breaths, confused.

"You serious?"

Gordon twisted around, bat resting at his side. "What's goin' on?"

"We saw Lor's brothers at the basketball court. They threatened to beat us up."

Gordon ran down, getting on level with them. "Where? Which basketball court?"

"The one near the park by the school... wait, why?" Tino had just realised his mistake in saying that. "You're not, thinkin'... oh." Tino saw a look in Gordon's eyes that he had never seen on anybody - a kind of steely glare that he'd only ever seen in comics before. "Well there are a lot of parks nearby schools with basketball courts, I'm not sure if thats the one-" Gordon ignored him, walking past both of them.

Taking his metal bat, he held it up, the light of the moon, embezzling it with a sheen. The back of his jacket facing both Carver and Tino, a word hidden underneath a zig zag of paint, only 'LOVER' remained beneath it. "Hey whoa there big guy... just because you have a bat doesn't mean you can take on, fifteen... sixteen of them?"

Turning back, he sighed. "I know, and I'm not asking you guys for your help..." He rested his chin at the top of it. "I just can't let this go." He finished with a shake of his head, before staring to his friend, wanting a real answer. "What would Dreadnaught do, Tino?"

"He wouldn't go in under armed!" Tino said with exasperation.

It was Carver's turn to try to reason with him. "I love my clothes, but a jacket's not worth dying over. No article of clothing is... except for my Chuck Shultz sneakers." Kicking up a foot, he stared down with great admiration.

"It's not about the jacket." He replied stiffly, before finally taking off.

Tino shouted "Then what's this about!?"

Gordon whipped around to scold him, "Talk to Tish!" before whirling back in place.

================================

Night time Bahia Bay.

He had already stretched his legs down this path before.

Gordon walked with a confidence and grace he didn't even know he had. Like he had been living here his whole life. His first night out, he was the one trying to avoid people. Tonight felt like everyone was avoiding him. He felt like they had good reason. Intentionally avoiding street lights, Gordon stalked the night. He liked the idea that his rage was uncontrollable, and that an innocent bystander could catch the brunt of it.

It dulled the reality.

Like alchohol.

Opposite the street of himself, someone was about to cross. He panicked, before skittering behind a wooden fence. Soldiering up next to it, he watched from the darkness, the cold of the bat grazing his neck, as a bronzed girl walked on by. He locked on to her, staring from those red baseball shoes up to those daisy dukes. Her strides long and wide, as her legs were nearly as tall as him. He wanted so much as to reach for that golden fleece that had been tailed through the back of her cap.

She was beautiful... and didn't have a care in the world.

The night reminded him of orange soda ice cream floats in a clear glass... soda -- that still felt so strange to him. He thought about Lor. He thought about a lot of things. He even pictured Lor swimming at the bottom of that orange float, just waiting to be chugged down by him.

What he didn't think about was whether or not this was worth it however, as he already breached past the point of no return when he saw them. All he did know was however this went down... by tomorrow -- he'd never see Lor again.

Their hooting and hollering made them obvious, with a street light illuminating them like perfect angels who had never committed a sin. Gordon observed them through chain link like the animals they were. All spitting images of Lor's father, in all various sizes, with that same curly orange hair. Their smug looks as they joked boiled his blood. Not one of them looked like they grasped the reality of what they were doing to Lor.

They didn't care. Nobody cared. Not even her supposed friends.

Somebody had to.

The bat swung wild, but struck home. The broken face of the tallest moved in tandem as Gordon's momentum carried him along. He tried for another, but the bat was caught in the grip of one. He pushed and pulled, but couldn't fully regain it back. So instead, he let go, causing it to fly out, hitting the face of a twin.

That was it. Without that bat, he was now back as a sheep among wolves.

Gordon didn't even get the chance to think about running.

It wasn't at all like how he imagined a fight would go down. He was dragged down and slammed to the ground without question. He wished it felt more like a death by a thousand papercuts rather than a death by a thousand fists. Or kicks to the gut. His only reprieve came in the fact that not all of them could join in, but that was like the few cubs not nipping you while you were being torn apart by papa bear.

He wasn't even sure how he was still thinking, let alone still breathing.

"Get his bat, get his bat!" One of them ordered, as he was strung between two to his knees, Gordon himself unable to do anything, stared through bloodied and blurred vision, he could see a huge gathering of shoes that had formed around him, before they took a swing at the ground -- it let out a resounding ping of a noise. His eyelash twitched, flicking tiny spats of blood across from him. He knew what was about to come.

His freedom came not in the swing, but the release of his arms. The sound of the bat dropping hard with a bounce and then a rolling off was replaced by the now encroaching sound of police sirens. Gordon collapsed on the blacktop, coughing up something he was sure had to be blood as he felt the rhythm of escaping feet on the side of his face that could still feel.

The sirens stopped. Dead stopped. Like they weren't even there. Another violent eruption from his chest came. "Hey hey hey! Don't get blood on the shoes."

He knew that voice.

Gordon siphoned up some dormant energy, lifting his head with a wheeze as he saw Tino standing by Carver who had a PDA in his hands.

He smiled a little, before he fell back down, his cheek squishing like raw hamburger patty.

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Lor was buzzing, hitting the four corners of Tino's patio over and over, as Tish sat overwatching her friend, eyes like pinballs bouncing inside her head along with her. "Gordon better be okay! Or I'll... I'll..." Her fingers pulled down her face, almost peeling the skin off her cheek bones. "Tish... tell me Gordon's okay. Tell me those two knew what they were doing." Lor turned to her always stalwart friend, hoping for the right words.

Tish didn't have any. In a sputtered attempt, she tried her best with a rest assuring hand on her shoulder. "I think he's fine."

The door from Tino's room burst, and as if they were returning husbands from the war, Lor watched carefully for hers. Carver stepped out a little shaken. Then Tino, who she spied a little bit of blood that had stained his blue shirt. Her hands clasped together, almost praying.

Before Lor could run inside and see him, Gordon stepped onto the deck following after them. Nothing but silence from both Tish and Lor as they saw him. His lip was split wide in a gash, blood had dried after flooding down past his chin and down the front of his throat. Attempts to clean it were obvious with the soaked blood on the right arm of the jacket.

With his right eye turning into a big purple ruptured sack on the walk over, the several scrapes and scratches everywhere were rather innocuous in comparison.

Lor's lower lip quivered, her hand reaching over to cover her mouth, as with every blink, a tear rolled down. As a whispered 'god' escaped under her breath.

Lor did what came natural to her: She charged into him, embracing him fully.

"You idiot... you freakin' idiot. I should beat you up worse than they did!" She held him, dipping her face into his shoulder. He was initially not receptive to it, but once Gordon felt how damp her face was through his shirt, he melted into her, collapsing.

They both did.

She planted sloppy - but warm - and breathy kisses along one side of his cut and bruised cheek, uncaring about the grime of his sweat and blood that had accumulated. Gordon finally turned, staring at her for a second. He leaned in, but turned when he realised she'd taste his blood. Before he could even point to his lip, she forced him against hers. The sensitive wound burned Gordon in a good way, as her saliva covered lips slurped up against it.

Gordon pressed against her cheek, the two of them nuzzling, before he began whispering something. He said, "Nothing seems the same." and, "I can't feel a thing. My bodies like a wave, caving in on me"

Lor's tears seemed to stop, as she looked to him. "I hate to ask 'cause it was nice and everything... but what does that mean?"

He snorted a little before shrugging it off. "Nothing. It sounded better in my head."

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Lor, let me turn on the lights. Not like last time. I want to see all of you.

No way... I can't...

Why?

I'm not what you'd want...

================================

The light flashed.

Standing in his uncles wood paneled basement, he stared across the orange and yellow shag carpeting beneath his toes to Lor.

He had truly never seen her like this. He wasn't sure what to expect. Maybe he expected the worst. Or to fear her body... yet he was only more curious, wanting to touch her all over. As he approached - his quiet steps like out of a dream - her hands folded in front in a vain attempt of shielding herself. He was an arms length away, and he couldn't help himself from looking into the body mirror to their side.

As Lor's chest swelled in a way his didn't, her body curved in a way his didn't... she might have been a little tall for a girl her age... but she was beautiful.

She would grow up to be that girl in his dream.

He reached out - Lor hesitated, before responding in kind - their fingers crossed together, pulling into one another as his kisses fell upon her neck, feeling all around with playful passes of his nose, a hint of her nervous sweat streaking along, but once his free hand reached to caress her emboldened nipple - the indent reminding him of a starfish - then his hand felt the smoothness between her armpit as she nearly keeled, propping her up as he finally stopped. "Hey hey, whoa. Everything alright?"

"Yeah..." She slurred a bit. "They're just really sensitive." He nodded, keeping a mental note as she found her balance.

"Come." Now inviting her over to the pool table, he took a folded over blanket and unfurled it across the green felt with a 'wumpf', as he made sure it hit all four corners, flattening any creases he could find. Palming the sides, he sucked in as he pulled himself up - just hoping she wasn't looking as he did it. Swiveling back, he gave Lor the hand she needed to join him.

Lor scooched a little, getting herself into a comfortable position on her back before him, lining up with his kneecaps. Lor laid huddled with her legs criss crossed against her chest and her bottom pushed out in those striped blue panties of hers. Gordon just sat, envisioning her and him together on their home away from home.

Untwining her legs, her hands attached themselves to the cotton trim of her underwear, as her motion slow at first had his heart skip a beat, and then like gliding on air, they flew past her thighs and calves. He could see the bruises - writing them off entirely as sports related. She dropped them to her side, before finally splaying herself to him.

It was like the first night - only better, only more naked Lor. Her untanned, but tanned little spindly bare naked form just inches from him. Even lesser inches now as his hardness throbbed through his underwear in anticipation, as he watched Lor bend back and her penis flop across her v shaped highlight. The only thing keeping him sane was both his hands on the red hot beating stick. "W-wow, y-you're just rarin' to go, aintchya?" That was Lor's way of trying to control the mood, but her voice just wasn't up to it.

"I want you Lor" He said with another fondle of her chest that sent a shudder through her system, before she eventually nodded with a reddened face. Starting with a circle of his finger around her tight tummy's belly button, trailing down to where he daren't fear to tread, and just before he got there, he adjusted, hooking the undersides of her knees -- her dainty feet curled up near both sides of his head. He stared intently into those peachy little balls of hers, resting only slightly above where he was about to make entry.

God, she was so hairless.

With a single snap and pull, he made sure he was between the lines, his cockhead pressed. She clenched a moment before he was able to sink into her. He could feel himself disappear with every inch into her warm cove, hitting a sweet spot. With a pump, he rocked into her, keeping a steady motion that caused reactions between bliss and grimaces for Lor to cycle through. Her ankles like a metronome, reminding him of when to drive into her ass.

Unfolding out his legs, he hit the edges of the tables cushions, moving his hands from her, he tried to get a good grip at the sides of her head. Checking up on Lor, there was a wide eyed look on her face as he rested on the hilt of his entry, her crooked lip nudging a little. For Lor's sake, he could have sat like that forever. "Want me to continue?" She just gave a listless nod - but it was an uncomfortable position to be in to say the least and maybe he was a little weak from earlier, but his own body reacted by giving way, collapsing onto her. Making skin to skin contact, sweat to sweat. He wasn't sure what to say beyond his heavy breathing. "You look nice." Gordon reached up and commented, his hand parting through her hair between long and hard strokes. That's when Gordon noticed the triangled outline on her heaving chest again - where the top part of a two piece would have laid, and couldn't help himself.

She mewled totally unlike the Lor he had gotten to know, bringing her face down into his shoulder. "Ssssst aah! Please don't lick me there!"

So he lowered his head again, and gave the hard point another little lick. The pink nub had no particular taste, but his working tongue found it necessary to try and find one -- the expression on Lor's face demanding it despite what she said -- which soon caused her to rush her hand across her mouth with repeated moans, as her legs wrapped around him like roots on a vine.

Gordon's final thrusts were boorish and uncaring, his body connecting hard with hers. He had wanted to go slow, take his time. He wanted this to last and make Lor happy, make it special, but he just couldn't hold it... with one final collision and a groan, he felt his release hit deep.

Clarity hit him. He shut his eyes not wanting to see her disappointment as he slithered and slimed his way out of her. Yet it felt like he had something along for the ride, he looked down to see what she had... done... the feeling was mutual apparently - her appreciation for him like some kind of art smear across his stomach. She had a lot in reserve in that little tinkler of hers.

Lor sat up quick as ever to see what had him perplexed. She seemed a little startled. "Oops. Let me uh, clean you up." Lor twirled back her hair between her fingers, as her tongue found its way around the sticky mess. He wanted to say something, like maybe that he'd get a rag, but instead he just sat sort of watching her act like a thirsty cat, his length pulsating but finally shrinking back, but it seemed like Lor had different plans.

Using both hands to lift it up like a hot dog, it was like she was about to devour it as she wrapped her mouth around it. "Oh but Lor that was just in your-" He shut up real fast once her tongue hit his sensitive tip. "AH! Oh..." But even he couldn't stop himself from any number of weird noises that came out.

"shp. shlp." Was all he could hear from her as she began milking him, her thumbs rubbing underneath the shaft, before he eventually shot off. When he thought he could pull away, Lor insisted. The sensitivity was starting to get painful, and it felt like Lor wasn't going to remove her mouth, and he was genuinely worried she wasn't gonna stop.

With a sudden humming pop, she let him go. Despite the soreness, his brain felt elevated, and in a weary voice, he simply asked. "What was that about?"

Delivering a final smooch to his privates, she faced him again. "Just my way of apologizing for that elbow." She muttered with a sheepish quality, not a single trace of his or hers to be found anywhere on her face. She was good at that.

"Wasn't the worst thing that happened to me this week..." They shared a moment - but just a moment - of pure bliss - then cold realisation hit... that the world was more than just two teenagers in the basement together. Like a moment of bereavement between family members at a funeral, he fell into her. He breathed, wanting to smell her, but instead it was stench of their sex. In that moment he hated that smell - even if it was theirs. "I fucking love you, Lor." His voice on needles and pins.

================================

On her midsection with his right arm, he had pulled her close and tight by her hips, nearly inescapable. Their lower halfs almost joining like they had before. She had tried to move away from him, maybe to get more relaxed under the sheets, but he wasn't ready to part.

On his left, Lor rested her head. "Gordon, I'm not going anywhere." Her voice vibrating through his muscles.

"I don't want to let go of you... I don't know when I'll ever get to do this again, Lor." He leant down, planting a kiss on the side of her head. Gordon promised himself that with Lor by his side, he was gonna count the minutes like hours. He was gonna treasure this moment and he was never gonna fall asleep.

Not with Lor by his side.

He was gonna count the strands of her hair.

Not without Lor

================================

Monday

He swallowed his pride, as he knocked on the front door of Lor's home.

With a surly swagger, and a coffee in his hand, Lor's father opened it. "I thought I told you-"

"My family decided that we're moving from here. They think it's too dangerous. Didn't help when I refused to name the assailant... assailants, that did this." He motioned to his injuries.

"That's good, but if you're expecting to see Lor agai-"

"It's not about that." Gordon hated the oxygen wasted by the man.

"So why are you here?" He said with a sip.

Gordon had a few starts and stops, before just blurting it out. "I just want to know why you treat Lor like you do."

"I don't have to explain anything to a pissant like you... Especially one that will never have to experience something like having 16 perfect boys and your 17th turns out to be a freak... and the woman you married... is not only okay with it, but encourages it!-" A vein looked like it was about to pop. "I just can't let that stand."

"Why does that bother you?"

"Cause if it's genetic and skips a generation? My boys need to set an example for the others by using her as their personal toy."

Gordon was taciturn, looking down and away from him. He felt like a whipped dog.

"Besides. If she didn't love it, why hasn't she done anything about it?" He got closer to Gordon. Almost testing him. Maybe the old man saw the fury in his eyes. "Now get off my property kid, you're bothering me." He turned, slamming the door in Gordon's face.

The old man had just poured the gasoline all along the path he walked. He turned to face the window and shrubs beneath. Gordon's eyes closed. In the cusp of his right jacket sleeve, Gordon clutched his match - his dad's L shaped tire iron. Gordon could smell the scent of his sweat and the metal bonding in his tight grip, both shaking like crazy.

Then he looked down.

"You get all that?" Tino rose from the shrubs, camera mounted. He gave Gordon the thumbs up.
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The Long Weekend