Lockers and Boxers (boyxboy)

Chapter VIII - The Question Game

Smut warning :) 

"Would you consider yourself a romantic?" Gabe asks. He's wearing a tight red t-shirt, and his hair is gleaming with sweat. I wish we could be together in person, but I guess FaceTime is the next best thing.

"I don't know. I haven't been with someone before, so it's hard to know what I like. What about you?"

"Yeah," he chuckles. "I like that ooey-gooey stuff that they do in movies. My ex-girlfriend didn't," he pauses. "Does it bother you that I've dated someone before?" I take a second to consider it.

"No, it doesn't bother me. It's nice that you have some experience, or else we would be such a chaotic..." I search for the right word because 'couple' just doesn't feel right. "Chaotic thing," I finish.

"Yeah, I agree. Your turn to ask a question."

I already know what I want to ask, but I don't want to come off as intrusive or creepy. "Can it be kind of personal?"

"Ask away, man."

"Were you and that guy Ryan, like, also a thing? Or more than a thing?"

"Oh yeah, I forgot about all those pictures on my private Insta." He pauses, formulating a response. I try not to look too invested in whatever his answer may be. "We were a thing. I thought we would be more than a thing, but, uh, his parents found out about him being bi. Ryan was open about it at school, but he kept it a secret from his parents, and when they found out, they made him move schools."

Gabe looks sad as he tells the story. I try to imagine what that must have felt like, to lose someone you care about just because someone else thinks that there's something wrong with your relationship.

"Now Ryan goes to some Christian academy, and his family moved so that they could be closer to it. His parents made him cut off everyone from our school, but we keep in contact through Instagram since his parents never realized he could still use it through his laptop."

"I'm sorry that happened, Gabe. That really sucks. I understand why you were hesitant to be nice to me in front of Marcus."

"Thanks, Jake. It's nice to talk to someone about it." He smiles at me, and I smile back.

"Can I ask another question that might be too personal?"

"I mean, it's technically my turn, but you're cute, so I guess I'll make an exception." I roll my eyes at Gabe, pretending I'm not flattered.

"So, uh, why did you break up with your girlfriend?" I try to gauge how he's feeling about my question. He seems unfazed.

"Well, we didn't get along well. She always wanted me to be different. No matter what I did, I wasn't good enough for her. So, I broke up with her as soon as I realized she would never be happy with me. But around you, I feel like I can be myself. And sorry if that's super cliché, but I'm a sucker for clichés."

"I feel like I can be myself around you too." I grin. We keep playing our little game, diffusing any serious questions with ones like, "Would you rather have a dog with a human face or a cat with human hands?" until we both fall asleep.

...

I wake up to a sharp whisper calling my name. "Jake! Jake!" I open my eyes, trying to find the source of the voice. "Finally, I've been saying your name for like 5 minutes." I look at my phone and see Gabe, slightly illuminated by his own screen.

"Wha-what?" I manage.

"Open your window!"

"What?" I repeat.

"Open your window, Jake! It's cold out here." I try to wrap my mind around why Gabe would be outside at - I check my phone - 3 AM, but I come up blank. Reluctantly, I get out of my bed, lift my blinds, and,

"Fuck!" I jump at the silhouette at my window. "Why are you outside of my house, Gabe?"

"Please don't make it sound creepy. I swear it is very romantic. Also, please let me in because I didn't bring a coat!" I hang up our call, unlock the window, and lift it up. I step back, and Gabe climbs over the windowsill and hops into my room. "Ta-da! Oh wait," He looks at his phone, opens Spotify, and a song starts playing: "The Louvre" by Lorde. I am so confused yet flattered.

"I figured that I could do a grand romantic gesture so that we could see if you were a romantic," Gabe explains. "So I wanted to do that thing in movies where someone throws pebbles at your windows and plays you a love song on a boombox, but I don't have a boombox, and I was worried about damaging your windows." I burst out laughing at the absurdity of the whole thing.

' "Thank you, Gabe. I can't believe you did this whole thing for me. This is really the sweetest thing anyone has done for me ever." Gabe smiles, looking proud of himself. I get on my tiptoes and kiss him, and he kisses me back harder. Gabe sits on my bed, and I let him pull me into his arms. I can feel his hard cock straining against his pajama pants.

"Is this alright with you?" He whispers.

"More than alright." I moan as he rubs against me.

"Wait, what if we wake up your mom?"

"Don't worry." I figure mentioning that she is knocked out on sleeping pills would be a mood killer. Gabe leans back as I press my weight on him and hits his head with a loud thunk!

"Damn it, Jake. You don't have a good making-out bed."

"Ah, that's too bad. I guess we'll have to stop," I tease.

"Oh, shut up." Gabe turns so that we are lengthwise with the bed. He twists his body around mine so that he is on top now. He lifts off his shirt, and I am enthralled by his toned chest and stomach, illuminated by the moonlight spilling through the window. "What's with the bug eyes?"

"This is a dream come true." Gabe smiles and brings his body down to kiss me. I caress his back and tease the waistband of his pants. He seems to get my message and slides out of them. I reach down and feel his dick, the only thing separating my hand from it being a thin layer of fabric.

"Are you ok with this?" I ask him.

"Mmm, yeah." I rub Gabe's cock through his boxers and begin stroking it once it gets hard. He moans, and I feel myself get hard. He locks his legs around mine and rubs against me, sending a tingling satisfaction to my crotch.

"You're so fucking hot, Jake." Gabe kisses my neck, and I lay back, overpowered by a euphoric sensation. We make out until we are sweaty and breathless. Gabe slides into the space between me and the wall. I cling to him, feeling a sense of safety. He turns and whispers in my ear, "One day, I'm gonna make you come."

"Yeah?" I ask, aroused just by his words.

"Yeah," he replies. "Just not in this bed." He kisses me on the cheek, and I make myself comfortable by resting my head on his chest. We fall asleep like that. I never want to get out of bed. 

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