Vixenscratch

The text message couldn’t have come at a more opportune moment. Konah is “worried” about him again, which means they’re probably going to end up butting heads. Which means Roxeen will end up saying something that he’ll have to apologize for later. Sucking dick is a good excuse to avoid that confrontation altogether.

It’s not that he has a problem standing up for himself. More that he has a problem knowing when to stop, and Konah is a nice guy. A good roommate. He just sometimes worries about things that don’t warrant concern.

After much of a year here he knows where he can find the privacy to go down on a guy without drawing unwanted attention. Not that he really minds, but usually they do. It’s fine by him; he’ll get down, get to business, keep his mouth shut. This time isn’t any different.

He’ll never love the taste of rubber, but it’s a necessary evil. Swallowing a load isn’t worth risking disease, and he’s not stupid enough to trust anyone that would text him for a quickie to be honest about being clean. Or, honestly, about testing at all. They usually think he’s being ridiculous, but it’s their choice, and just about the same to him. Cover up, he’ll earnestly enjoy sucking their cock (and probably do a better job of it than their girlfriends), refuse and they go their separate ways, no hard feelings.

Maybe some blue balls on their part, but that’s not his problem.

This time is unremarkable, no different than most of them. Some human guy he’s never really noticed around campus, with some name he’ll probably not remember, some buts as he pulls out the condom, a bit of work to get him hard enough to actually roll it on (“Just fucking close your eyes and pretend I’m a girl if that’s the problem.”). Listening to his tune change as Roxeen gets most of the way down his cock in one go.

Hands in his hair. Just a moment of discomfort as he doesn’t anticipate the guy bucking his hips and has to fight back his gag reflex. (He remembers that used to be a lot harder. Practice has evidently paid off.) That mishap aside, he genuinely enjoys this part. Both the feeling of firm flesh in his mouth, against his tongue, and the sounds the guy makes. Knowing that he’s the the reason behind the grunts, the moans, the groans.

Eventually, they fill the rubber, he wipes stray saliva off his face, and they part ways. The guy is a little bit flustered, and he probably makes it worse by smiling like he finds it cute.

Really, he’s just smiling because he had a good time.

“Griffon.”

He knows that voice, and can guess what’s coming. He’s barely turned around as he’s shoved against the wall. Maybe it’s the months of getting knocked around that saves him from knocking the back of his head into the stone. (The damn building is ancient; practically every wall is fucking stone.) The only surprise, is realizing there’s only a single upperclassman standing there, not a minor crowd.

“Hello, Rolan. Enjoy the show?” He smiles at the taller boy, as though he doesn’t know he’s in for a beating. “Is that why you didn’t bring your backup?”

The half-elf scoffs, and Roxeen grunts as a fist hits him in the ribs. “Like I need backup to beat your scrawny ass.”

It takes him a moment to catch his breath and move away from the wall. Just because he’s not going to fight back doesn’t mean he’s going to let himself get pinned where he’s more likely to actually get seriously injured. “Or maybe they wouldn’t come. Maybe they’re afraid you’ll treat them the same way you treated Leon.”

Rolan takes another swing at him, catching him in the bicep. It makes him stagger, and it’s going to bruise, but he’s had much worse. “Like you know fuck-all about Carpenter, faggot.”

Like it’s not more about knowing Rolan. “Come on, you must realize everyone knows you did it. If it wasn’t you and your lapdogs, whoever did would be half dead by now.”

The next one gets him in the jaw, and he’s glad he didn’t have his mouth open. Rolan is putting more force into it, now, too. Definitely doesn’t like what he’s hearing. Roxeen is pretty confident Rolan won’t seriously injure him on purpose; the guy’s a bigot, not stupid. He knows Roxeen has no reason to keep his mouth shut if he ends up in the hospital. After all, what does he have to be afraid of? Another beating? As though he’s not taking those on the regular.

Doing more damage than intended, that’s a different matter.

“You taking credit or something, Griffon?”

Okay, practically telling Rolan that beating someone else badly enough would throw off suspicion for (as rumor had it) damn near killing Leon Carpenter might not have been the smartest thing he ever did.

“You saying your friend couldn’t take my scrawny ass without backup?”

Rolan’s face twists into a mask of distaste. “Carpenter’s no friend of mine.”

“Whatever you say, tough guy.” He actually manages to get out of the way of Rolan’s fist this time. Not that he knows why he’s bothering. He’s going to come away with bruises no matter what he does. Rolan’s clearly had a bad day, and Roxeen seems to be how he’s chosen to let off steam. “Just saying, Leon wasn’t the one who came to watch me suck dick.”

Maybe he dropped his guard a little after that miss. Maybe he just got lucky. Maybe Rolan just gets lucky. Whatever the case, Roxeen finds himself flat on the floor so suddenly he doesn’t quite know how he got there, even if it’s pretty clear who the culprit is. He has almost enough time to rise onto his elbows before Rolan’s boot against his hip knocks him off balance. His vision goes white for a split second as his head hits the floor. (Fuck this old castle, of course the floors are stone, too.)

“Care to say that again, Griffon?” Rolan fists the front of his shirt, pulls him to a half-seated position like he weighs nothing.

“You probably followed me here. Maybe you wanted to watch.”

It’s worth the black eye, and the split lip. He isn’t winding Rolan up on purpose, he really isn’t, but he has to give his runaway tongue credit. That one clearly hit hard.

“Shut your smug, cocksucking mouth.”

Roxeen grins up at the larger youth, unphased. It smarts a bit, and probably doesn’t help the bleeding from his lip, but he doesn’t care. Rolan can’t do worse than beat him, and he’s doing that already, talk or no talk. “If you wanted to know what the fuss is about, I’m game. Can’t talk with my mouth full.”

The air is knocked out of his lungs as Rolan practically throws him back to the floor. Hitting his head hurts worse the second time around. He’d really prefer there wasn’t a third. But Rolan doesn’t immediately hit or kick him, nor does he leave. Either he’s shocked by Roxeen’s audacity (and honestly, Roxeen is a bit surprised at himself) or some part of him is seriously considering the option.

Funny, he hadn’t actually thought Rolan was in the closet.

He takes the opportunity to get back on his feet, to take a few steps away from the brunet. “Afraid you’d enjoy it?” He really ought to stop, to keep his mouth shut, but he’s never been very good at holding his tongue.

“Hah,” Rolan snorts, looking down at him like he’s a lesser being. Maybe, in Rolan’s mind, he is. He doesn’t really care. “Not a chance.”

“Prove it. Or are you all hot air?” This is unbelievably stupid, and he knows it is. Rolan has his pride and Roxeen has his. If Rolan takes him up on his challenge, one of them is going to walk away with a bruised ego. At best. Because now that he’s said he’ll do it, Roxeen isn’t backing out.

This time he sees the taller teen advancing. Sees the dangerous glint in his eyes that says Roxeen is in for a world of hurt. He backs up, keeps backing up, with Rolan following, until he feels cold stone against his back. Fuck. He’s been here enough times he should have known the corner was there. This was not part of his plan; not even with his plan mostly consisting of winging it so far.

Rolan punches and shoves more than he kicks. Roxeen doesn’t have the mass to absorb most of the hits, especially not without room to move, so he gets knocked back into the wall by the force. At least there’s only one of Rolan, so he can see every swing coming. It’s a slight improvement over the way they usually meet.

A fist to his midsection folds him over like a piece of paper, gasping for air. Rolan doesn’t push the advantage. Roxeen isn’t fighting back, after all. He never does. As he catches his breath, the blond starts to straighten back up, meets the taller boy’s eyes. “Dare you. Ten minutes. Tops.”

It’s even stupider than throwing the challenge out in the first place. He has no idea what Rolan’s usual performance is like. It’s not even like he particularly wants to go down on Rolan, specifically. The guy’s an asshole, ringleader of a dozen other assholes. But now he’s said it.

He’s pushed up against the wall, Rolan’s hands on his wrists, Rolan’s face inches from his. “You’re pushing your luck, Griffon.”

“You’re scared because you know I’m right, aren’t you?”

“The fuck you are.”

“So prove me wrong.” Roxeen knows he’s balancing on a fucking spider’s thread. He doesn’t even know why he keeps pushing, except that with a cooler head he probably wouldn’t have.

“Fine!” Rolan releases him and pulls out his phone out in practically a single motion. “Just to shut you up.”

Roxeen doesn’t know whether the feeling in his chest is satisfaction or dread, but it doesn’t matter. It’s happening and he has no intent of giving it anything short of his best. He sinks to his knees with practiced ease, one hand reaching into his pocket for a foil packet while the other works on Rolan’s belt and fly. It’s not the kind of perfect world where the cock he fishes out of the older youth’s underwear is already hard, but it’s not the first time and it won’t be the last.

As he goes to get the condom ready, a hand snatches his wrist, squeezing it hard enough that he drops the packet. He glares and yanks his hand free, shakes it to get rid of the residual pain. Fucking asshole. “Think I need the handicap? No, thanks.”

“Do it proper or not at all. Clock’s ticking, faggot.” Rolan holds up his phone, timer already counting down. Roxeen doesn’t bother pointing out how it’s hardly fair to start it early. If he wanted fair, he shouldn’t have goaded the biggest bigot on campus.

He hesitates. He could recite transmission numbers in his sleep. Given just how much height he has on Roxeen, and the shape of his ears, he’d be surprised if Rolan was anything less than quarter elf, but even if it were three quarters or more, it’d barely nudge the statistics. He has no faith that Rolan is any more careful getting into bed with girls than he apparently is about sticking his dick in what’s probably the most-used hole on campus.

Apparently Rolan isn’t just careless, but impatient. The fist that clenches around a good fistful of his near-white hair is rougher than he’s used to, pulling painfully at his scalp as it brings his face closer to that flaccid length. Fuck. He’s used to being in control, even on his knees like this, and never reflected over the possibility of Rolan forcibly seizing it back. Wouldn’t ever have thought the older youth to have the stomach for it.

“You better be clean,” he growls, accepting that his current options are sorely limited. Roxeen doesn’t kiss and tell, but so help him, if he catches anything from Rolan, the whole school is going to know what.

Rolan doesn’t answer, just jerks on his hair like he’s some kind of blow-up doll. Well, fuck him. This is what Roxeen is good at, and if he has to in order to put the asshole in his place, he’s going to outdo himself. It’s not the first time he goes down on a (probably?) straight guy, it won’t be the last, and his track record has only gotten better over time.

Instead of latex, like he’s had to get used to, he runs his tongue over skin, savors the faint taste of clean sweat. He doesn’t get the chance to enjoy this part nearly as often as he’d like to, and though it’s not exactly through his own choice he’s going to make the most of it. Rolan’s skin is warm against his palm as he wraps one hand around the base of the youth’s shaft.

He’s not in a position to see the timer, but he doesn’t care. All it is, ever was, is a reminder to dive in and not look back. As he coaxes life into the reluctant flesh, little by little, he can feel the grip on his hair relax ever so slightly. Like some part of Rolan is forgetting that he’s pissed at the blond freshman currently sucking on his half-hard dick.

His split lip starts bleeding again, but he doesn’t notice, absorbed by the challenge in front of him. Rolan is a little bigger than the guy he went down on not twenty minutes ago, but not the biggest he’s seen. Certainly not bigger than he can handle.

The first moan he draws from the older youth is like sweet music. It’s almost always the hardest, clearing the way for more. He redoubles his efforts, sucking harder, faster, feels the flesh in his mouth firm up until it’s absolutely, definitely, fully hard. Rolan shifts, leaning forward and steadying himself with his lower arm against the wall somewhere above Roxeen’s head. It throws off his rhythm for a moment as he adjusts his own position, making sure he has the angle he needs.

That cock is going down his throat.

He swallows around it, feeling it slide deeper into his mouth. This time he’s expecting it, doesn’t have to fight the urge to gag. A deep breath in through his nose, and he swallows again. Can feel it stretching his throat.

From above, a slightly choked “f-fuck—“ is proof enough that he’s doing something right. Not that he would have thought otherwise.

It gets a little trickier as Rolan’s hips start to move, shallow thrusts that he needs to meet without accidentally choking himself. He places one hand on the taller youth’s hip to steady himself, at the same time ensuring that he can pull back for air if he needs to. That’s as much assurance as he feels he needs, right now, before throwing himself fully into his task, guided by the sounds and motions of the boy whose dick he’s practically devouring.

And he’s fucking loving it.

Rolan’s dick has just the right curve to it to make it easier to swallow. It’s almost a shame that this is never going to happen again. Almost. Roxeen has access to good cock that comes with far fewer unwanted bruises, and even if he didn’t, Rolan would almost certainly not let himself be goaded like this a second time.

There’s more voice to the moans, now. The thrusts are sharper, more urgent. That’s all the warning Roxeen needs. He’s prepared when Rolan practically shoves him onto his cock, taking it to the hilt like it’s what he was meant to do and swallowing around it to milk it dry. The sound of the older youth coming is every bit as intoxicating as the physical sensation, rough and primal and void of his usual bad attitude.

Something bounces off his shoulder and clatters to the floor.

The moment ends suddenly, like Rolan’s orgasm flipped a switch. The grip on Roxeen’s hair tightens, then pulls him back. He follows, blinks owlishly up at the brunet while licking his lips. Most of the load he just swallowed has gone straight down his throat, but he can taste hints of it, and he is of no mind to pretend he doesn’t enjoy it.

Rolan just swears under his breath, still leaning against the wall.

Good enough for Roxeen. “Looks like I was right. I didn’t hear an alarm, did you?”

“Fuck you, Griffon.”

“Afraid I don’t like you that much.” Doesn’t care for Rolan at all, and they both know it. He starts to rise with the same practiced ease as he knelt down, reaching forward and getting his hand around the taller youth’s balls as he does it. With the way he is leaned over, they end up practically lips to lips; he can feel Rolan’s breath on his face. “Here’s the deal. I’m not going to say shit about this. And if you want to go on kicking my ass when you have a bad day, I don’t fucking care; I’ll still keep my mouth shut. But if you touch my friends, I will fucking end you.” He tightens his grip, just enough to make Rolan’s face change to one of concern.

“Yeah?” Figures he’s not as tough with his nuts in immediate peril.

“Yeah. I don’t kiss and tell. You don’t fuck with my friends. Long as you hold up your end, I hold up mine. That’s it. I don’t care if you say you agree or not.”

“You don’t want us to leave you alone?”

Roxeen loosens his grip, shrugs. “I doubt you could if you wanted to. If you want to try, knock yourself out. I don’t really care.” It’s more or less true; he’s been resigned to being that lot’s punching bag for a long time now. Besides, he can take it. Someone like Aesuan, less so. He’ll just have to make sure his friends don’t figure out what he’s done.

He takes his hands entirely off Rolan, ducks under his arm and starts down the corridor.

“I’m going to beat your ass.”

“Figured as much.” He keeps walking.

“How am I even supposed to know who your fucking friends are?”

“Not my problem; you figure it out.” He’s pretty sure Rolan will want to err on the side of caution for this one, which suits him fine.

He can hear steps approaching behind him and forces himself to keep his pace steady. He never expected to get away free; to Rolan the experience has to have been humiliating. Rolan, the captain of the football team, graceful in defeat only as long as faculty watches. Nobody’s watching right now.

A loud, electronic beeping echoes off the walls. The timer Rolan set, hitting zero and announcing it to the world. Roxeen hears the steps behind him come to a stop, then start the other way. He decides now is a good time to book it. He’s not so much a sucker for punishment that he’s not going to take the opportunity to escape it when it’s practically handed to him.

He arrives back to his and Konah’s suite only slightly winded, and more than slightly sore. Even before unlocking the door he can smell Konah’s cooking, and feels his stomach knot. Given how they parted ways this morning, there’s a good chance the conversation he was trying to avoid is going to happen.

Konah looks up as he opens the door, about to say something, but pauses with his mouth half open. Moments pass in silence, dragging by. Eventually Roxeen kicks the door shut behind him. Maybe the sound of it latching is what gets Konah his voice back.

“What happened to you?”

“The usual.” He shrugs. “Cocks to suck, bigots to piss off.”

“Right. I made dinner; you want any?”

“Already ate.”

He disappears into the bathroom to wash his face and rinse his mouth before Konah can point out that dick does not count as a meal.

Filed under:
Avelyon High by quoting_mungo