love me harder
soudont
There wasn't really anything wrong with it. He just enjoyed it. He liked it. It was fun. He was being safe. It was fine.
Harrison liked to remind himself this every time Nurf or Preston knocked on his cabin door. His offerings were appreciated, and he knew this especially when Max or Nerris would come in. He knew he was in for a good time when Nikki came bouncing in that one time. He's spent time- It wasn't a big deal. It was fun. It was safe.
So what if he had fucked almost every camper at Camp Campbell? It wasn't like he had sex with everybody. He wouldn't even dream of touching Dolph or Space Kid- Too young and innocent. Ered was too cool for him (and wasn't even at the camp anymore- Too old). And God knows Neil wouldn't stand to be in the same room as him for five minutes. It was safe. It was fine.
So what if he had the reputation as a slut? It wasn't like he was ashamed. He wouldn't ever fuck a Woodscout or a Flowerscout anyway. He only offered to his friends, only the people at Camp Campbell. It wasn't like he carried anything either. He went in as soon as he could drive and then also checked right before the summer started anyway; He was clean. It wasn't like everyone wanted to fuck him anyway because people like Neil didn't want to be near him anyway. He knew so. Neil couldn't stand to be close to him, couldn't stand to talk to him.
So, if Max wanted to get rid of his stress, or if Nerris was starting to get lonely, or if Nikki just wanted to release some energy, or if Preston was too engrossed in his fantasies again, or if Nurf wanted to relieve his anger in a non-violent way, who was he to say no? He was the one who offered to Nurf in the first place. It wasn't his fault Preston walked in. There wasn't really anything wrong with it. He just enjoyed it. It was safe. It was fine. That's what he reminded himself of. There was nothing wrong with being a "slut". He would repeat his mantra on the bed, in his head when his thoughts got the better of him.
And currently, in the mirror of the men's shower room at Camp Campbell.
He traced his finger along his jawline, staring at his reflection. His skin was soft. His eyes were hazel- The only pair of hazel eyes at the camp. It was special. He had an accent when no one else did. His eyelashes were long. He looked strangely effeminate, but he didn't mind. His hair was healthy and shiny, short enough to manage but long enough for anyone to tug on. He knew his body was good. He knew his face was good. He only had a few imperfections, nothing was wrong.
He knew that he was pretty. He was sex on legs; Nobody could tell him otherwise.
He ruffled his hair up a bit, taking a step back from the sink. He shoved his moisturizer and oil wipes back into the small pink bag that Preston had gotten him for his birthday two years prior. He clipped the strawberry lock shut and-
"Do you ever stop staring at yourself?"
Harrison jumped a bit, catching himself on the sink and causing the blowdryer to shake and fall into the tub of the sink. His eyes flew back to the mirror, looking at the background then and not at his own face. Neil stood there, hair soaked and sticking to his forehead. He wasn't wearing anything besides a pair of skinny jeans, still unbuttoned. When did he come in? How had he not heard the shower running? Harrison frowned, spinning on his heel to face the younger teenager.
Neil was seventeen now (He himself was eighteen). Harrison knew that his mother told him he would grow into his looks, and he did, but apparently, so did Neil. He was still tall as all hell, but at least he kind of grew into his body. He lost his noodle looks, to be blunt. Harrison had to wonder if his stomach was flat because of metabolism or actually working out. (Knowing Neil, it was definitely the former.) But he looked mature and Harrison had to admit it. (Especially his jawline, but you didn't hear it from him.)
