Rory and Sebastian Ch. 08

-- This is a slightly shorter story in the 'Rory and Sebastian' series. All characters are over 18 at the time. Chapter 9, set in the week around Christmas, is a much longer one and after the heaviness of chapter 7, I thought something a bit lighter might work for chapter 8 --

I closed my eyes and groaned as Rory's head bobbed up and down on my lap. My car lay parked in an empty car park at two o'clock in the morning, after a Friday night visit to our friend Robbie's house to play pool and watch a movie. I opened my eyes and glanced down at Rory's dark brown hair. I could hear the slurping and feel his tongue twirling around on my shaft. I ran my hands through his hair appreciatively. I saw a text arrive on my phone on the dashboard. From mom: 'WHERE ARE YOU?' Probably best not to answer that one, just yet.

I held him in place, as I shot into his mouth. Apart from the one time when we'd been slightly drunk and he'd asked me to give him a facial, I usually finished inside Rory. I felt him drink down my cum and his lips separated from my cock with a 'pop' sound. His face looked flushed, wet and smugly pleased with himself.

'Get enough protein there, baby?' I asked, tucking my dick back into my boxers and buttoning up my jeans.

'I could probably go for some more,' he said. 'I love doing that.'

I winked at him. 'I know you do.'

He reached for his seatbelt. 'What are you doing?' I asked. Rory looked at me, questioningly. As if I'd spoken Portuguese to him, for some inexplicable reason.

'What?' he asked. 'Do you not need to get home?'

I eased the seatbelt strap out of his hand and reached down with mine to start unbuckling his belt. I held his eye contact and there was a twinkle of amusement in his now. 'Oh,' he whispered. 'Got it.'

'You didn't really think I'd leave you hanging, did you?' I asked, softly. I leant in and kissed him on the lips, at the same time as my hands undid the top button of his jeans. I could taste myself in his mouth. I liked that. I kept unbuttoning and he spread his legs slightly, to make it easier for me. I reached in and started tracing my fingers up and down his shaft, still encased in his underwear. I mewed slightly in my mouth and I smiled. I broke this kiss and tugged his dick out of his boxer flap. 'Besides, I've been wanting to get my hands on this since Robbie's.'

'Please tell me you're going to put more on it than just your hands,' Rory groaned. I kissed his neck and trailed my tongue. I could feel him swallow with his lust and his hand reached into my hair, tugging on it.

'Not so proper now, are we?' I taunted. 'Tell me what you want me to do. Tell me.'

'I want you to suck my dick,' he breathed. 'Please, Sebastian. Please.'

'And?'

'I want you to swallow when I cum.'

'Do you want me to make noise as I do it?'

'I just want you to get your face down there, right now,' he growled, lowly. I smirked; I loved getting him like this.

Rory didn't last long in the blowjob. Five minutes; max. I went to town on him. Bobbing up and down at rapid-fire speed, slurping, moaning, tickling his balls, jerking him off, spitting on him, deep-throating him. Once again, he gave me no verbal warning when he was about to ejaculate. But I felt it before it happened. I kept just the tip in my mouth as he spewed. I swallowed and then went up to snowball him. He accepted it without demur. I was hard now and could have gone again, but I did need to get him home and we still hadn't progressed to fucking each other, yet.

'I love you,' I said, nose pressed to his.

'I love you, too,' he sighed. Still slightly tired out from his orgasm. Good. 'So much, Sebastian. You have no idea.'

'I do,' I said, gently putting his penis back inside his boxers and buttoning his jeans up. I kissed him on the cheek. 'I really do, Rory. Put your seatbelt on. I'm a fucking dead man when I get home. Momma Carson's going to go shitso.'

*

Rory fell sick in the first week of December. It started with a nosebleed in his History class, which he told me about at lunch on Monday. They happened to him, on and off, from time to time, but I could see he looked quite peaky. I got a text from him that afternoon, saying his Mom had come to collect him because his head hurt. That night, there was no answer on his phone and he told me later he'd had a migraine all evening, which only ended when he started vomiting at about three a.m. Obviously, the poor baby missed school the next day and when I called round to see him that afternoon, he looked ashen. Like a reanimated corpse or a nineteenth-century consumptive. Maybe slightly more like the freakishly good-looking type of consumptives that you only see in 'Moulin Rouge.' He was still cute; just drained of all colour and exhausted looking. He was a 'True Blood' kind of reanimated corpse, I guess. Or maybe I was too biased to think that he could ever look like shit.

'What is it?' I asked, sitting on the edge of his bed. 'Do you need to go the hospital?'

He shook his head, dismissively. 'No, it happens. I fell when I was child, remember? It comes and goes. But I think I might maybe have a bug, so you should be careful.' I took his hand. He looked so tired.

'I really missed you in school today,' I said.

'We hardly see each other that much in school,' he reasoned. He was smiling, though. He was pleased I'd said it.

'I know. I just like knowing you're around. I like seeing your face.'

'You're very sentimental today,' he teased, gently. 'What brought this on?'

I was still in my uniform, but I lay down on the bed and put my head on his chest. His hands ran absent-mindedly through my hair and across my cheek. 'Sebastian, what is it?'

'Nothing,' I whispered. 'Just tired and I miss you when you're away. Plus, it sucks to see you sick.'

'It's nothing ser-...'

'I know, I know. Can I just lie here for a minute?'

'Of course.'

I lay there for about twenty. I told him about school and how about nothing much had really happened. He then managed to tell me that from what he'd heard, from his sickbed, a mountain of metaphorical shit was going down, all of which I'd apparently been oblivious to. One of Claudia's best friends, Georgiana Throckmorton, had a crush on a boy from the local Catholic school, but it turned out that he was sixteen years-old, not eighteen, like he'd said on Facebook. So, Georgiana had spent the best part of the day crying hysterically with shame in the girls' bathrooms. ('Did they even kiss?' I asked for clarification. 'Oh, no,' Rory declared. 'Then what's all the fuss about?' 'Well, the shame of it all,' Rory answered, as if I had asked why someone wouldn't enjoy setting themselves on fire.) Vincent Fenshurst, a snooty kid on the polo team who Rory liked but I detested, had apparently broken-up with his girlfriend, Paula, after six months and she wasn't taking it too well. Rumor on the street (i.e. Claudia or Caroline) was that a kid on the rugby team, Olly Nestor, had slept with his best friend's girlfriend. Both the girlfriend and the best friend went to another school, which decreased the scandal somewhat. Rory wanted to know why, or how, I hadn't heard anything about? I told Rory that whilst rugby guys might tell each other all their sexual conquests, there is nothing that violates the guy code like doing what Olly had allegedly done, so that was why he wouldn't have told any of us. A gossip queen in the year below, Zara-Felicity Nicholson, had been grounded by her parents after her phone bill had come in. Everybody hated Polly Howton's boyfriend, because Claudia had heard that he'd cheated on his last girlfriend. Melanie Armstrong was facing academic suspension if her grades didn't improve and Olivia French had stomach flu. Even from his sickbed, Rory's finger had been kept on the pulse by Claudia, Virginia, Judith and Caroline. I found it cute; a little funny. Even though it was, after a while, something I frankly couldn't have given much of a shit about. Still, it was good to see a bit of color come back into his cheeks. He'd also heard from Virginia a rumour that a very good-looking indie kid in our year, Michael Suzette, was gay and having the mother of all freak-outs about coming out. Rory fitted that in between the news about Melanie's grades and Zara-Felicity's parental troubles and I didn't ask too many questions. I'd slept with Michael twice, at the same time as I'd started sleeping with Joshua Peterly. He was very, very good-looking and a great fuck. But I had no intention of telling Rory any of that. I'm a big believer that what's in the past should stay there, especially when you have a boyfriend like Rory.

Our history was not something either of us brought up. Since realizing how much it bothered me that he'd implied I was promiscuous the first time we'd argued, Rory tended to give the subject a wide berth. I think, in the back of his head, he did still think that of me. Which was annoying. Alright, I had quite a bit more experience than him, but by the standards of at least half my team-mates, I was by no means a man-whore. Weirdly, though, I did not want to know about his past, either. I never thought I'd be the kind of guy who'd be weird about his ex's past hook-ups, but whilst I knew they'd happened, I still wasn't at the stage where I felt comfortable knowing who they'd been with. I knew there'd been a guy called Stefan, some time before me, but as of right now, I didn't want to know anything else. I was happy just having him to myself, even in my head, for the time being.

After filling me in on the school's gossip, Rory became very tired again and he was struggling to keep his eyes open. 'Go to sleep,' I ordered. I was sitting up and running my hand down his cheek. 'Go to sleep, baby.' He tried his best to be defiant and to keep his eyes open, but he lasted only a few more minutes before fading away. I leant down and kissed his lips. He smiled in his sleep and I left.

*

Rory had been right when he observed that I was being more sentimental with him than usual. Part of why I'd denied it, or dismissed it, was that I myself was initially only vaguely aware of it and completely ignorant of what was causing it. After all, there was nothing that should have kicked me over the edge in terms of lovey-dovey behavior with Rory. After all, I mean, we'd cleared the major hurdles of saying 'I love you' for the first time and having our first proper fight without me getting like this. And the next major hurdle, of sleeping together for the first time, didn't seem to be on the horizon. (Once again, I'd forgotten Rory's ability to surprise me. Anyway.) I guess part of it had been caused by the fight over, and then with, Joshua. The extent of my reaction had shocked even me, let alone Rory. The depth of pain I'd felt when I thought about what Josh had done to him; the anger, no, the rage, when I thought about Rory being hurt; my own hurt when I realized Rory had kept things from me. None of them were mild reactions, by any extent of the imagination. The sheer extent of how much I'd felt, how deeply and how quickly, was shocking. And it wasn't that I was afraid of it or resented it. It felt weirdly, bizarrely invigorating to feel so much for one person. But, for whatever reason, I felt myself becoming slightly clingier with Rory; less teasing and more dependent. I'd meant what I said when I told him I'd missed him in school that day and why. Knowing he was there, even if we weren't talking, was nice and having him gone made me unhappy. Brooding, even. Robbie and Daniel had both teased me about it today in P.E. I wasn't just in love with Rory Masterton, but for a few weeks, I was, honestly, slightly obsessed with him, too. If he knew it, or if he felt the same way, he kept it hidden. I knew he loved me, too, and that was all that mattered. Especially to him. I remember, a few years later, telling him about this obsessive stage in our relationship and how I'd always thought he was much more in control of things like that. 'Oh, no,' he said with polite yet factual surprise, as if I'd expressed an opinion about a book, history or a new story that was factually incorrect. 'Oh, no, not at all. I worshipped the ground you walked on. Still do, actually. Could you pass me the milk, please?'

*

A week or so after Rory was feeling better, and a week or so before Christmas, he went to dinner at Caroline's house. It was a small get-together for Caroline's twenty "closest friends", of course, and Rory was one of the only boys going. I offered to pick him up after and give him a lift home. Caroline lived about twenty minutes from the Mastertons, along what was mainly country roads. It was a freezing night when I honked the horn, just after midnight. You could see the ice on the ground, glittering in the moonlight like diamonds. I was wearing a thick woollen jumper that my mom had bought me and which I secretly loved. Rory slipped out of Caroline's front door, wearing a sweater, shirt and jeans. He stumbled into my front seat and I could see, instantly, that he was quite drunk.

'Hey, baby,' I said in amusement. He reached over and kissed me, passionately. I was taken aback by it. 'Well, well, we'll have to get you liquored up more often.' I turned the keys and we started driving. 'How was the party?'

'I missed you,' he said, with a slight slur. I smiled; that made me happy. The sentiment; not the slur. 'I kept hoping you'd come early.'

'You like it when I cum early?' I teased.

'I like it when you cum,' he shot back. 'I love you so much, Sebastian.'

'I love you too,' I smiled, putting my spare hand on his leg for a minute, before putting it back on the steering wheel. (Hey – safety first, guys.)

His hand snaked over and started rubbing my crotch through my sweats. 'Rory, what the fuck are you doing?'

'Do you want road head?'

'Do I... No! Kind of, but, no. It's dangerous and I need to concentrate.' He kept rubbing. 'Rory – stop that,' I commanded. He did. Even drunk, he could tell when I meant business. 'We can stop somewhere if we want to mess around. But I'd feel bad taking advantage of you.'

He looked at me incredulously. 'Seriously? Have you seen what I'm like sober? Plus, if you were drunk, I'd ... I just want your dick, Sebastian, to be totally honest. All the damn time.'

I glanced over at him in shock at how filthy he was being and laughed. I liked it. I was getting hard. 'Aren't you saucy tonight?'

'I do,' he said, ruefully. 'I can't wait for us to fuck.'

I saw turning up ahead. A place with picnic tables, abandoned at this time of night. I pulled in and switched the car off. 'Pardon me?'

'Can we make out, properly?' he asked. 'Please.'

I got out, walked over to the passenger side, opened it and helped him out. We started making out, with him leaning against the car bonnet. He was rock hard in his jeans and I was getting that way in my sweats. He wanted it, badly. 'I meant what I said,' he repeated, between kissing. 'I really want it. I want you to fuck me, Sebastian. I masturbate about it all the time. I want it so badly.'

'I want it too,' I said, slipping my freezing hands down into his jeans and onto his ass. 'I do, Rory.'

'Can't we just do it now?' he begged, his lips moving against my throat and his hands stroking my dick through the fabric. 'Just bend me over here and do it. Hurt me, fuck me, do whatever you want to me.'

'Rory-'

'Sebastian, please. I want it so very badly,' he was pleading beautifully. Drunkenly, but passionately. I could feel his penis twitching slightly with lust as he spoke. It was taking all my control not to spunk myself at this stage, seeing him like this and hearing what was coming out of his mouth. 'I want you to stick it in me. I want you to fuck me, bareback, with your big cock. I want to feel your cum dripping out of me. I want to be covered in hickeys and bruises. I want to hurt from how much you've used me, Sebastian. I want it. You don't even know how much. I want to be your property. I want to be yours.'

I separated from him and took a deep breath. 'Okay, I'm about to cum in my pants at hearing you talk like this. And I promise that once we start fucking, and we can start soon, I will ride you to the point where you won't walk right for a week. Okay? If that's what you want. I will fuck you senseless, Rory. But if you think I am going to bend you over and take your virginity on the bonnet of a car when you're wasted, you have another thing coming. I'm go down now and rim your asshole, finger it and suck you off. Then I'm going to take you home and tomorrow, when you're sober, we're going to talk about this properly.'

'I don't need to talk.'

'Shut the fuck up.'

I open his jeans and spun him round, baring his ass to the cold. I gave him one of the best rim jobs of my life, out there, in the night winter air. He was practically sobbing with lust and jacking himself off. I stood up and slipped a finger into his tight hole and he whimpered. 'You wish that was my dick, Rory?' I whispered into his ear. He nodded. 'It will be soon, I promise. You'll be my little cum-slut. Would you like that baby?'

'Yes.'

I eased my finger out and got back on my knees. I turned him round and started giving him head. He was close to cumming already and bits of it hit my face, hair and sweater. 'We'll definitely have to let you go to Caroline's more in the future,' I joked, as I put his seatbelt back on him in the car. I pulled a tissue out of the driver's glove compartment and tidied myself up.

He was slightly more sedate now that he'd cum, but he said clearly and firmly, 'I meant what I said, Sebastian.'

'I know you did and so did I. Talk tomorrow?'

He nodded and took my pinky finger to accept the promise. 'Zara-Felicity's not grounded anymore,' he revealed.

'I don't care. I need to get you home, so I can home and masturbate myself into a coma.'

He giggled. 'Claudia's devastated. She hates Zara-Felicity so much, I think she'd wanted her to stay grounded forever.'

He began prattling again and I thought about what to say to him tomorrow. And how much I wanted to fuck him. When I left him home, he kissed me. It wasn't as passionate or as grabby as his earlier ones had been; it was strong, confident and very, very loving. 'Thanks for the lift,' he said, before stepping out of the car and walking to his front door.