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The sweat on his skin felt hot, like scorching water running down the sculpture of his body. Didn’t help how his cock kept leaking in his briefs, making him ever so paranoid that the world was watching with crude intent. He wanted it bad, enough for his mind to cloud in arousal. Today was special; it was his birthday, twenty-second. And he wanted it.
JJ frequently passed Barry’s trailer to pick up his deadbeat father. Today was no exception; Luke was high out of his mind—worse off than Rafe, arguing about a set of poker cards. Upon entering, he caught Rafe’s stare, a sneer curving its way across his mouth.
Rafe didn’t twitch, but inside, his stomach pierced up to his heart. The world was dizzy, but still, and his legs felt both glued to the ground, and floating above. JJ’s hair lit up under the lamp from the trailer, every strand glowing around his head like a halo. He wasn’t wearing a tank today, instead covered in a loose band tee, holes ripped around the collar. Rafe couldn’t stop his gaze from flickering down to his lean legs, before wandering back up to his face. However, JJ’s focus wasn’t on Rafe; it was on Luke, slumped on the couch with a deck and a filthy mouth muttering about a missing ace of spades.
“Dad,” said JJ, voice drowned out by the music and smoke curling into the air. Rafe fell deeper into the cushions watching him shrink. “I got the truck running. C’mon.”
Luke waved a lazy hand, dismissing him without a single glance. “Five more minutes, Jay. Barry here owes me a rematch." It reminded of something, perhaps days at the office, for Rafe. —Where Ward would touch his papers instead of answering little Rafe’s pleas to go home. But his mind was swimming, and it was hard to latch on. Luke’s grin was different, though; plenty yellow teeth and a lack of performance that made him all the more disgraceful.
Still..
Barry snorted from his chair, shaking his head like it was funny. He was counting crumpled bills, the greedy bastard. “Nah. You lost fair and square, Maybank. Take your junior—”
“Ain’t no point in playing one!” Luke burst, and the two young boys were already lost in the noise. JJ exhaled, visibly distraught, maybe trying to cancel the urge to drag his old man out by the collar. Rafe watched the frustration ripple across his face, and in equal measure, clenched his own fist. Another bead of pre-come soaked the liners of his briefs, hot and present. Fuck. He shifted on the ratty armchair, trying to cover his erection. But the creak brought JJ’s attention sideways, his alert blue eyes tracking Rafe’s hand down to his crotch.
The boy scoffed, shaking his head and biting the inside of his cheek.
Rafe suppressed a small moan, swallowing it whole. He couldn’t stop his brain from wandering, creating figments of JJ straddling him, connected, the flesh on his ass smacking against Rafe’s pelvis at every violent thrust. JJ probably liked it rough; Rafe had seen the bruises and he could only imagine where they’d come from. His face—sweat-soaked and perfect, would twist into one of pleasure, lips parted, teeth barely visible but tongue dripping with arousal. It was all imaginary, but the way the drugs twisted his nerves told another story.
JJ stepped closer to the couch, hand tapping the edge. “Dad, let’s go.”
Rafe brought a hand up to his mouth, just casually, before dropping it. He stood before he could think better of it, and by then it was too late, he’d made his decision. He planted himself between the two, raising a brow.
“Actually,” he drawled, already slurring his words. “think he’s good.. Why don’t you and I talk for a minute?”
“Nothing to talk about, Cameron.” JJ’s eyes narrowed, hesitating between the two. But Luke didn’t care, and wouldn’t notice his son’s uncertainty.
Rafe tilted his head, humor slowly creeping into a laugh. “It’s my birthday.”
JJ sighed, shoulders rising and dropping like the choices were weighing him down. The ultimatum presented itself, for he was stuck either way.
Rafe's mind jumped, not wasting a second. He jerked his chin towards the bedroom, hand hovering around the boy’s bicep, twitching, but not touching. “Barry’s room. C’mon.”
JJ barked a humorless laugh, still not meeting his gaze. “Hard pass. Dad—”
“JJ.” Rafe’s smile dropped, before returning. He needed this.
JJ’s whole body deflated, like “what am I supposed to do?” before he finally, finally, turned to face him.
Rafe led them down the hall. The door was leaning off its hinges, ajar with a slip of light breaking through and landing on the walls. He opened it fully, letting JJ stride after him to inspect everything from the dirty laundry to the open drawers. Barry liked to keep his home clean, but ever since Rafe had started coming over again he’d just.. stopped. It was a mess, nothing JJ hadn’t seen before.
“Close the door,” Rafe said, eyes already rolling subconsciously. The place was swaying, but not enough for him to make a fool of himself falling.
JJ shifted, didn’t listen, and crossed his arms in defense. “What now?”
What now? Rafe wanted to grab those arms, pin them to the door and start mauling stripes up his neck. His cock had a heartbeat, bulge evident but left unaddressed. He pushed off the dresser, two steps until he was crowding JJ against the door, hand brushing his waist as he reached for the handle.
Click.
JJ’s eyes flashed a stormy hue, so fucking angry and beautiful at once. “Open it.”
“In a minute,” Rafe promised. JJ’s mouth closed, saliva smacking together wetly. Fuck it again, Rafe was about ready to crawl. “There’s something I want for my birthday.”
JJ inhaled till his chest lifted, muscles tense and ready to fight. “A punch in the face? ‘Cause I’m about this close to decking you.” He showed, fingers almost pinched together.
Rafe smiled, taking another step until they were at a knuckle’s distance. “You.”
JJ’s bravado fell, confusion replacing frustration. He glared upon him like a puzzle-piece, not quite knowing where he would go now that the picture had changed.
“Been thinking about it all day,” Rafe muttered. “You walking around in those shorts.” His long fingers traced the air around his ass and hips, imagining the weight in the palm of his hand, the way he could spread him, lift him, finger him. “I’m hard as fuck, JJ. Been leaking like a goddamn teenager since I saw you pull up.”
The reaction was one to be preserved. JJ’s eyes flickered awkwardly, but he caught sight of what he’d been avoiding since the second he stepped through the door: Rafe’s erection straining painfully.
“You know I won’t tell your little friends,” Rafe whispered like a secret was being passed between them. “I won’t tell Sarah.”
JJ straightened up, a little shaken perhaps. “No. Nah. Not happening, open the door.”
Nobody moved, but Rafe’s hands flexed, itching to grab. JJ’s eyes were fierce, and it was clear he’d no intention of backing down.
“I said no.” he repeated, quieter. “Not gonna happen when you’re coked up and horny. Open the door, or I swear to God”.
The rejection didn’t really hit him yet. Normally he would’ve shut down, maybe grabbed the boy by his throat and held him against the wall until someone intervened. Now it just made him harder.
“I’m not asking for much, man,” he tried, voice cracking. “Just—fuck. Let me touch you.” He felt himself unraveling under JJ’s expression of steel. He messed up when he was panicking. Not that he really was, but the possibility that JJ might actually leave and tell on him just stuck. “Please. JJ..” The word felt foreign, a little too demanding for a plea. Still, something changed.
JJ’s jaw worked, head bowing down to frown at his boots, stained with mud and worn with age. “You’re that desperate?
Rafe pursed his lips, screaming at himself to end this before he humiliated himself further. But another part of him—the part that said “you’re already too far gone”, nodded.
“And you want to..” His voice cracked completely. “—touch me?”
Rafe’s hands twitched, grabbing the boy’s waistband to tug. But JJ’s hand shot out, fingers twisting into his shirt and holding him in place.
“Nah, not like that,” he said, hinting down at the floor.
Rafe’s lips parted, eyes wide, as he registered the command. “You’re not—”
“I am.” JJ replied, giving the look, like “you gonna back down?”
Rafe swallowed hard, staring straight at the kid whose bravery was as fleeting as a wasp, and who somehow had the nerve to beg him on his knees.
“Fine.”
He sank slowly, not meeting JJ’s eyes at all. Past his crotch and down to the creaking panels, his knees scraped with blisters already.
“What now?” He wanted to ask. But before he could, JJ grabbed hold of his hair, tugging his face up to watch. He didn’t say anything—none of them did. It was a moment of silence, despite the awful noise on the other side of that door. JJ bit the side of his cheek, chewing on something again while Rafe’s mind went hazy with lust and anticipation. Then—
JJ spat in his face.
It landed on his cheek, saliva running down thicker than water. His face, which was still held in place by mere fingers. They were calloused from years of hard labor and rough with pent-up anger. Like his old man’s.
Rafe wanted to wipe it so desperately, but the boy held him firmly, watching like this was a test. So he only gave a huff through his nose instead, his crotch tight against the stretched fabric.
“Okay.” he spoke slowly, itching closer, only by an inch or two. His eyes had their own will, setting on JJ’s torso hiding behind the fabric of his shirt. He imagined slipping his hand under the hem, trailing the curves of his bones and his flesh, making sure the territory was left marked, conquered.
“You wanna suck me off?” JJ asked him with a steady quake in his voice, a firm expression that wouldn’t budge.
Rafe swallowed, throat too chemical to speak. He nodded instead.
But the teen didn’t let go of his hair. Instead, he put his shoe out, tip nudging against Rafe’s knee. It was dirty, not even brushed off before entering Barry’s home.
“You’re not touching me.” he said, his boot still outstretched and waiting like a pitiful birthday present. “But if you’re really that desperate, you can hump my boot.”
Rafe’s hand reached out first—
“Don’t wipe it off,” JJ said. “Part of the deal.”
Rafe looked up, inhaling audibly and still a little shaken. “What?” His shorts would be muddy, no going back from it. No hiding in guilt and shame afterwards. “I can’t..”
JJ retreated, shaking his head like he knew Rafe couldn’t go through with it.
The thought angered Rafe, who had never been denied something he truly wanted. “I’ll do it.” he said, forcing himself not to gag at the thought of clinging to the younger boy’s leg like an unneutered puppy. The boot was large, maybe a size bigger than his own, surprisingly.
He half-crawled before JJ could kick it back into his space. The laces dug against him painfully when he mounted it.
JJ’s foot shifted under his weight, making Rafe groan in the back of his throat—a small involuntary sound only he could hear. But a bead of sweat curled its way around the shape of his cheek, falling in tandem with his pride. It was done. He was straddling JJ Maybank’s shoe.
“I don’t got at all day, bro.”
Rafe latched onto the hem of JJ’s shorts despite himself, his other hand lightly brushing against JJ’s shin. He pressed forward, choking on his gasp as he did so. The pleasure rolled through his body, and he couldn’t help but grind harder, hoping for enough. It wasn’t. The feeling bordered on pleasure, so close it was wrecking him.
JJ shifted, almost like a limp except it was only Rafe holding him back. When Rafe finally glanced up, JJ’s top lip was lifted ever so slightly. He was disgusted. A filthy Kook—it was unheard of, but here they were, dirty with mud like a pair of dogs in heat.
The engine of a car idled outside, but Rafe was getting lost in this, suppressing a small cry at every passing second. He couldn’t even hear Barry and Luke anymore. When he finally bowed his head back down, he was delirious with pleasure. The feeling consumed him and made his neck sweat, dipping towards JJ’s smooth leg. He could feel himself losing control, his body sweating, working on autopilot trying to fuck the younger’s shoe off.
“Fuck, you’re serious.” JJ nudged his foot up into Rafe’s crotch just enough to hurt and send shockwaves up his spine.
“Ngh—fuck,” Rafe slipped, his teeth clenching immediately.
The world kind of halted momentarily as JJ stopped to scoff, then laugh awkwardly. Rafe looked up, but couldn’t stop the roll of his hips while JJ’s dimples faded.
One more shove towards pleasure and Rafe was falling. His orgasm was unexpected, washing over him before he could think about pulling away. It was humiliating—and the fact only made it harder to shut the fuck up.
“Dude. Are you coming right now?”
Rafe shook his head as his eyes rolled back, choking on a moan. He hid his face downwards, but JJ shook him off with a kick. Rafe finally groaned, feeling the sticky warmth coat the inside of his briefs subside.
JJ must’ve seen it, or smelled it, or something. Because he pulled back quickly, as if realizing this was real and not some elaborate way to mess with him.
Rafe was ashamed. His high hadn’t faded—but drugs weren’t enough to erase what he had done.
“Great. That’s uhm—no, that’s great. I’m gonna..” JJ took a step back. The door was locked when he first tried it, and
Rafe latched onto the bed’s post to lift himself up. “See you around, Maybank,” he called with a gravel-like voice.
“Yeah,” JJ muttered, slipping back into the hallway. The sound that followed had been there for long: Luke’s rough cheers and the Maybanks’ car idle in the plain lot, wood creaking as he shifted and heat blaring till his breath was hot and loud.
When Rafe followed suit moments later Luke was gone, and so was JJ. Barry was shoving cards back into the box with a sour expression, eyes fixed on the door.
“Damn bitch stole near half my money,” he said.
Rafe huffed, itching for another hit to keep him going. He was oversensitive and in that state where self-consciousness was at a minimum.
He moved towards the sofa-chair again, slumping with an awkward sound of discomfort. It was at that moment Barry realized, with a small but prolonged whistle, just how disheveled Rafe looked.
“What the hell happened to your shorts, Country Club?”
Fuck.