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10.02.00
"Why the fuck would you tell her that no one'll be the same after this school year 'cause of us? Like seriously... what is wrong with you, Cal?" Andre questioned, attempting to keep his voice down as much as he could to avoid alerting their peers in the cafeteria across the hall.
Calvin turned away from Andre and idly observed the other empty stalls. "It was supposed to be a joke! Like, I was trying to tell her that we were gonna do a senior prank too! Which we aren't, but still. She was talking about how she thinks everyone's doing a senior prank before graduation, so I was try'na be funny and make it seem like we were joining in! I wasn't thinking about Zero Day when I was saying it! I swear!" He protested quietly, gaze shifting back to Andre.
"Yeah, no shit we're not doing some dumbass senior prank. You need to understand that you gotta choose your fucking words around her. You need to choose your words around everyone when it comes to this stuff... like, do you ever think before you speak? 'Cause you never do! It's fucking annoying! And now Rachel's all concerned because she's a nervous little bitch who thinks everything you say is a bad omen and having to do with me!" The brunet responded, deep voice raising in pitch out of fury at the blond's indifference.
Cal smacked his lips, rolling his eyes at Andre's retort. "She's not a bitch, dude... literally everybody doesn't like you! It's not just her! Everyone hates you 'cause you're a fucking psycho so naturally they'll like me more than you! That's not my fucking fault! I'm the only one at school who cares about you the way I do! You're looking too much into it; she's probably over it by now." He muttered, wanting to downplay Andre's worry and intentionally trying to make him feel small.
He was succeeding.
"Yeah? Well you're a psycho just like me, asshole. And you said she asked you if I've ever brought up trying to kill someone at our school. I'm just— God, you know what? Fuck you, man. I don't even know if I can trust you about keeping your mouth shut about our missions anymore."
"Fuck you too. You've slipped up a few times too, hypocrite, so hop off your high horse."
"No, I haven't! You're the only one who has!"
"Name one time I did."
This all started after Calvin hung out at Rachel's house the warm Sunday evening prior. This morning, on their way to Iroquois, Cal had told Andre how he'd accidentally given Rachel the impression that, albeit half-fooling around, half-serious, he and Andre were planning something not necessarily good toward the end of the school year— their senior year. Which was true, as they had been planning Zero Day for months at this point, but they couldn't let anyone find out about their plans.
Lunchtime begun minutes ago, and Andre had pulled him into the bathroom to talk about it with him— or, well, scold him for it.
And to Andre, at least right now, it didn't feel like Cal was as "in tune" with Zero Day compared to himself. While Andre did see that Calvin was secretive about their missions and their desires for violence, Cal had essentially— in some respect— given a vague warning to Rachel. And knowing how she already felt about Andre, it heightened his anxiety toward the possibility of their peers finding out about their planned attack.
Cal, however, wasn't as bothered. He knew that Rachel saw how close they were, and while they kept their buddy-buddy "comradeship" a secret from their parents and peers, they portrayed themselves as respectful young men. Andre was a bit more aloof, so it was only natural that Rachel was suspicious of him. But Cal was always quick to reassure her that he was a good person.
"Last week," Andre began slowly, his face shifting ominously stone-like as he stalked closer to Cal. "At that poetry-reading-whatever-bullshit you made me take you to, your poem was like... you mentioned guns 'nd crap like that in it. Do you want people to find out or something? 'Cause that's the vibe I'm getting."
Calvin looked the brunet right in the eye as he got all up in his face. He saw Andre, even now, as weaker than him. He wanted to prove that much. "You're so fucking dramatic. No, I don't want anyone to find out. Stop putting words in my mouth that I don't mean!" He piped up, voice echoing across the empty boys' bathroom brick walls. Andre paused, his eyebrows furrowing and his shoulders tensing, before he abruptly shoved the teen in front of him, sending him spiraling backward.
"Shut the fuck up! Everyone's gonna fucking hear if you keep yelling like that!" He thundered, even though he, too, was practically shouting. Calvin quickly recovered from the shove, his fists balling up as he stormed back up to Andre. He stepped forward and lightly bumped his chest against the other teen's— an attempt to intimidate him.
"No one's gonna hear, you fucking moron!" Calvin hissed. "They're all too busy talking their asses off to hear our business!"
Andre bumped his chest back against Cal's and scowled as he was referred to as a moron.
Noticing the increase in Andre's agitation, Cal glared at him challengingly and sneered, as if telling him to come on, come on, hit me. Yet no punch came. At least, not yet. So he felt smug for the time being. Andre didn't have the balls to hit him, the blond teen assumed. He didn't have the balls to hit his comrade. It was pathetic.
After all, if you've got a good relationship with somebody, you should feel comfortable enough to hit them when you're upset and then allow them to make your displayed act of violence equal.
But most of the time, although unfair, Calvin didn't play by neutrality. Between him and Andre's comradeship, he liked to see— even if it was himself— who was on the ground first, clutching their injured face, or even still standing yet visibly weak. Betraying their defeat through an absurdly anguished, sometimes bloodied visage and appearing as if they belonged in a melodramatic Renaissance painting.
Cal wanted to see where how far they'd get alone in the school bathroom, with no one to break them apart. So with cruel, careless undertones in his insulting words, he blurted out, "Bastard. You look like you wanna bash someone's skull open right now," he giggled. "But you're so fucking weak you'd probably throw up if you actually did. Actually, I don't even think you could kill anyone. You're a little coward. 'Cause once you turn into a coward, you're always a coward, and—"
He was cut off by his own strangled yelp as Andre's fist connected with his jaw, with the force similar to a hammer striking a nail. And for a brief moment, Calvin wondered if Andre really wanted to bash his jaw in. But as he waddled backward a few feet, cupping the now-aching portion of his jaw, he realized that if they both truly wanted to mess each other up, blood would be on the walls within seconds. All of their fights were scuffles, just a way to take their anger out on one another after setting each other off.
But that didn't keep Calvin from removing his hand from his jaw, rage boiling under his skin. And he didn't give Andre time to think before he was swiftly stepping up close to him and lunging. His fist collided with Andre's nose first, causing an immediate bleed, causing Andre to cry out. He stumbled back and held his nose, turning away from Cal quickly. His eyes were now beginning to water, his tear ducts blocked by the fluid rushing to his irritated nose's aid, while carmine fluid rushed down his nose in waterfalls.
"Motherfucker..." he grunted, attempting to catch the bit of blood rolling down his lip with his hand. Andre knew very well that he was going to have to skip class after lunch was over. After all, he didn't know what he would've told his teachers if he did go back to class with a bloody nose.
As his teary eyes darted back over to Cal, he caught the wide, appeased grin that had formed on the other boy's face. It both enraged and puzzled him inside to see that Cal was enjoying his physical wounding, but then again, he wasn't surprised. Having known Cal for so long, he caught onto his peculiar interests— but granted, Andre couldn't judge him. Hell, they were planning a school shooting together.
Andre straightened himself up, tightly clenched his fists, and then pounced at Calvin. His left strike landed harshly on his cheek, and even as Cal backed up, he swung again. His attempt-at-a-right-hook smashing into his temple. The force of the hit prompted Calvin to see stars for a quick moment, and he cried out again, stumbling to the side.
The brunet, sensing Cal's brief weakness and assuming he won, stepped back and cupped his still-oozing nose. "Yeah... who's the coward now? Huh, Cal??" He barked, clenching his jaw, his previous explosive anger starting its gradual disintegration.
As Cal took a short beat to fully recover from the multiple punches both boys had thrown, a slow, entertained grin stretched across his fair complexion, like an apex predator baring its teeth at its competitor. He was quick, almost too quick, as his mind jumped back into asserting control over Andre. But he didn't want to respond to him, since actions speak louder than words.
His arm flung out, crashing into Andre's face so suddenly he wasn't even sure which area he was aiming to hit. But when he heard the pitifully whiny, strained yowl rip from the back of the brunet's throat, he froze.
That didn't sound good. And he was right, because when Andre turned back to Calvin, the blond, now standing upright, could see how much blood was running right down his lips.
Cal's breath hitched, his eyes widening out of shock. The sight practically made him dizzy. Not out of queasiness or panic, though; instead, he felt an intense wave of hunger hit him like ten fists at once. He had to stumble up to Andre and lean in to get a good look at the messy damage, wondering if he'd either struck him too hard, or if he hadn't done enough to Andre... for his own sake.
"Fahwk, you mayde meeh biyhte myhh tongue," Andre croaked, words somewhat hard to decipher. He didn't want to talk normally, because he knew that if he tried, the roof of his mouth would place pressure on the searing throb in his clearly wounded tongue. "You f-fuhckin' fuhcko..."
The bite area, which was practically leaking blood like a damaged faucet, was evident; Cal had hit him too hard. But fuck, Calvin wanted more. And not only that, but his lower lip had also cleanly split open in the middle, additional fluids joining with the blood from his mouth.
The sheer pain alone was enough to get Andre crumpling to his knees, trying to get the blood on the floor rather than his clothes. Calvin towered over him menacingly, though his facial expression conveyed both his curiosity and the not-unusual influx of excitement that suddenly hit him, even after injuring his comrade. Cal liked seeing Andre knocked down like prey.
He did grow genuinely panicked, though, at the prospect of Andre possibly being angry at him... really angry.
The blond attempted to ignore a familiar heat dangerously stirring between his legs as he crouched down in front of the bleeding brunet. "Shit, shit," he panted out, the open cuts on his own cheek and jaw filling with blood— though Calvin didn't notice that fact. "Shit, Andre, you okay, man? Fuck. C'mon, you're fine. Get up. I didn't mean to hit you that hard, you know that." He spoke; his words were rather dismissive in nature to ease his own nerves revolving around Andre's amorous views toward him.
He simply couldn't live without him. Granted, he would shoot himself if he lost his other half in their Army of Two, the only comrade he felt so intimately for and held so dear.
Andre refused to get up, choosing to sulk on the floor with his sore mouth. As he sat there, he swore he could pinpoint every line on the wrinkly leather material of Calvin's combat boots, as they appeared to be somewhat close to his face when the other teen crouched in front of him. But he couldn't really focus on his words right now; the taste of copper was rather unpleasant on his temporarily ruined tongue. He wanted to gag. God, he hoped this new, bitchy wound healed quick, since he knew eating later was going to be a pain in the ass.
But instead of getting up or even attempting to respond, he opened his mouth as saliva and blood, having mixed in his mouth, leaked down the ridge in his lower lip. It was disgusting— well, at least, to Andre it was. Calvin was dealing with a different story, his jeans growing painfully tight as he observed his downturned head, his eyes zeroing in on the slow droplets of blood as they fell down onto the dirty bathroom tile. It reminded him of what he did to Andre moments ago.
But Andre wasn't necessarily angry at Cal anymore. Not even for punching him. Rather, he was just... astonished. And even if he did "hate" Cal, that hatred would only last a day before he'd come crawling right back to the pretty-faced blond. It's easy to say you hate someone even when your feelings say otherwise.
"Fawwhk." Andre grunted out as a reply. Cal gently placed both of his hands on the brunet's face, tilting his head up so he could get a good look at his face. Calvin remained kneeled over Andre, staring down into his face, with Andre reluctantly meeting his gaze, breathing deep and ragged.
Calvin delicately wiped away the blood underneath the brunet's nose with his thumb, smearing the carmine substance across his cheek. He continued his tender ministrations, smiling as if he wasn't the one who'd done this to him. He tsked, "Awh, look at 'chou. I'm sowwy I hit you that bad." He spoke in an evidently mocking baby voice, pouting.
Andre slowly closed his mouth to allow himself to speak normally as the throbbing pain dulled, and he weakly attempted to lean back as Cal smeared the running blood flow along his visage. But Cal only gripped his face tighter, forcibly pulling his head back toward him. Andre allowed himself to get maneuvered, however he scowled at the blond teen's pathetic apology. He knew he wasn't fucking sorry. He never was, never for anything. So he grumbled out a huffy, "Fucking shut up, dude..."
Cal's smile widened with satisfaction, his "stiffy" uncomfortably pressing against the inseam of his jeans at Andre's "bite". Andre had always had a bite to him. It was strangely charming. "You don't mean that." He purred, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of Andre's sweaty brown locks.
Andre's eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of Calvin's lips burying in his hair, the surprisingly gentle kiss practically leaving an invisible "mark" on the top of his skull.
He pulled back, grazing the pads of his thumbs against the still-wet areas under Andre's eyes, and he watched Andre's eyes reopen. The brunet's dark irises following his every move. Cal wondered if Andre would still relieve him even after having grotesquely bitten his tongue. He knew it was extremely inconvenient to get aroused at the sight of his comrade's bloody mouth, but he couldn't help it. It made him feel so tingly.
Sometimes the blond wondered why he got turned the fuck on during moments like this. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush, or maybe it was the knowledge that he was the one who left him messed up and looking like, well, that. Cal knew better than to look into it further, though. Some questions were better left unanswered.
Andre weakly slumped back on his knees. He could still taste the strong metallic tang of blood, and every time he moved his tongue around, the bite stung. Calvin stood up, let go of Andre's face briefly, and looked down at the crumpled teen on his knees, cocking his head. But within seconds he was kneeling back down again, his hand shooting out, latching onto Andre's chin. The brunet winced briefly, but as Cal tipped his head back to get a good look at his injuries, he relaxed. "Be gentle. God, you're a brute."
Cal let out an exasperated sigh as he tilted Andre's head to the side, inspecting him for any other cuts. "Calm your tits, Andre. You're acting like I'm pulling on your face or some shit. I'm just try'na get a good look at what I did..." he trailed off.
"You're acting like your cheek isn't literally bleeding right now, dude."
"It doesn't hurt."
"Mmhmm..." Andre rolled his eyes and ripped himself away from Cal's grasp, sitting back on his knees with agitation.
Cal took the opportunity to reach down and gently take Andre's hand, guiding it to his crotch. Calvin's untouched hard-on was still absolutely needy and aching for attention, and he really needed to see Andre like this, in this exact moment, except all teary-eyed and choking on him. God, it was so hard to be patient when Andre was fucked up just right... he had it real bad for his comrade.
"Fuck, Andre," Cal panted, subtly rolling his hips against Andre's warm, sweaty palm. "You got me, like, so fucking hard, dude. I need you so bad," he groaned. "Do... d'you wanna, like, uh— can you, uhm..." he trailed off, slowly stilling his motions to a halt. He intensely eyed Andre, hoping that he caught his drift.
Andre's body went rigid at his words and at the feeling of Cal's bulge grinding against his hand. For a long moment, he just sat there, unresponsive. Staring right back up at Cal with an unreadable expression. He was surprised, sure, but at the same time, he couldn't say he was very shocked, either. He knew Cal better than anyone else... of fucking course he'd get turned on by this.
"You're such a crazy bastard," Andre breathed out lowly. "I don't know how they haven't put you in some insane asylum yet. But sure. Alright, whatever... but I'm going home after. My 4th period teacher's gonna ask why I'm covered in blood 'nd shit, so might as well get outta here..."
"I'll come with you if you suck my dick."
Andre's eyes widened. With the bite he had? Well... the more he thought about it, he guessed it couldn't be all... that painful. Besides, Andre couldn't leave Cal hanging with a boner.
"We might get caught though."
"We won't as long as we're quiet. And as long as everyone else uses the cafeteria bathrooms." Cal muttered, grinning cheekily.
"... 'Kay. You know what? Fine. Let's just, uh, do it in a stall so no one'll see us if they walk in."
With that, Andre stood up, Cal following suit. The blond headed into a stall, and the brunet squeezed himself inside, shutting and locking the stall door behind them.
Calvin remained standing upright, but he slightly leaned back against the toilet behind himself, fumbling with the buttons on his jeans. Andre got down on his knees and waited for Cal to hurry up.
The brunet could feel the blood under his nose and lip drying up, which he was relieved by. He remembered hearing about how much blood humans could lose, and just how much faces could bleed, in one of his old science classes. And from what he could see many times before, including a couple minutes ago, blood was fucking messy.
When Cal managed to undo the buttons and the zipper on his jeans, Andre swallowed thickly. But all he tasted, once again, was what felt like gallons of blood stuck to his tongue. It hadn't stopped bleeding. God, he wished he could eat or drink something to get it all out of his mouth, but he knew doing so would hurt like a bitch, so he attempted to ignore it.
He watched Cal glance around and slide his jeans down to his mid-thighs, exposing the prominent tent in his plaid boxers. Damn, Cal really was rock hard. How much of a fucking pervert was he? Yet at the same time, here Andre was, clearly not complaining.
After all, every time things grew heated between them, he got to see the heavenly view of Cal's body— from the way his eyebrows knitted together in pleasure, to the view of sweat trickling down his red-flushed visage. He loved how the visible v-line of his hips were so prominent whenever he rocked forward, too, and how different lights either cast a spotlight on the scars on Calvin's thighs or cast shadows on his slightly slimmer limbs. And he especially loved the light blond, unshaven loins that littered his lower half, thinly trailing up to his naval.
But to Cal, Andre was a very pretty sight, too. The prettiest thing in the universe. He loved watching his face, usually stuck appearing so stoic and stern around other people, contort in bliss every time he struck a particularly sensitive spot inside him, and how his short, dark hair stuck to his head from his sweaty skin. In addition, the small, scattered moles and the occasional freckle that adorned his body signified angel kisses to Cal. Andre was mostly shaven, but he did leave that little path of hair that led down his lower belly. Needless to say, it drove Cal wild whenever he pulled up his shirt, like Andre was inviting Cal to touch him.
Calvin tugged his boxers down below his waist, his throbbing erection standing up as soon as he was exposed to his comrade. He huffed with relief, reaching down and tangling his fingers in Andre's hair, with his other hand rising and gently patting his cheek. "C'mon, open up."
Andre obliged, parting his blood-stained lips for Cal. Even with the fluorescent school bathroom lights, Calvin could still see the bloodied, slightly torn area on the brunet's tongue. The sight made his cock visibly twitch with need. He needed to lather his dick in Andre's blood so fucking badly.
So without warning, Cal sheathed his cock inside Andre's mouth, his tip disappearing a few inches inside before he stilled his movements. Andre let out a higher-pitched, pained groan as Calvin's shaft rubbed right over his bite, but Cal didn't stop. He knew the other teen wanted this just as much as himself.
Calvin panted and groaned softly as he pulled back slightly, then rolled his hips forward, Andre taking him deeper by another inch. He allowed his member to continuously scrape along Andre's tongue, his fluids smearing all over his aching erection. It felt so good, and hearing Andre's pitiful whines every time he pushed back inside his mouth only added to the ecstasy.
Knowing that he was the only one who could draw those noises out of Andre evoked a sense of jealousy within him— well, it wasn't quite jealousy. He couldn't find the right word to describe it, but he didn't want anyone else seeing Andre as vulnerable as he got the privilege to. In fact, Calvin wasn't very confident that Andre would befriend another person at their school, considering how people were so... indirectly offended by the way he spoke, the way he behaved. Calvin was lucky.
As Andre began to suckle, Cal couldn't resist bucking his hips up against Andre's mouth, eliciting a gag from the boy on his knees. Rolling down his chin came drool mixed with some excess blood, and as Calvin peered back down again, face flushed and mouth slightly hung open, he had to keep himself from outright choking Andre. God he was glorious. If this was heaven, if Andre was heaven, then he was looking forward to dying on Zero Day truly more than he already was.
Calvin, still gripping Andre's hair, began to guide his head back and forth, letting out a low, raspy whine as Andre sucked him like he was sucking on a tasty popsicle on a hot summer day. He guided his head at a leisurely slow pace, moaning as the brunet took him deeper with each gentle thrust. "Mmmfgh, Andre, fuck, just like that—" he gasped, abruptly slamming his hips forward so far that the head of his shaft grazed Andre's tonsils.
Andre's eyes widened at the sudden movement, and he gagged violently, so Cal pulled back a little to prevent him from throwing up. Andre let out a displeased, deep whimper around Calvin's cock, as if to show disapproval for his rough actions, eyes watering from the previously uncomfortable sensation in the back of his throat. Calvin let out a giggle at his reaction, loosening his grip on his hair to give his head a gentle pat.
"Sorry, fuck... it's just— you're too good, Dre. Uhhhg, oh my god, your mouth feels so fucking good," he mewled, tilting his head back. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing, and he kept his hand atop Andre's head as he started moving his head back and forth quicker than his motions previously. "Fuck, yeah, m-mhhg, Andre—" he grunted, his fingers curling and tightening around Andre's short locks of hair once more. He roughly pulled his face back onto his cock, eliciting another gag from the brunet.
He loved the feeling of Andre practically unable to breathe around him at times. It was gratifying.
But he was starting to feel all hot and sweaty, and he felt so dazed with pleasure that he could barely focus on what he was saying. Andre's whimpers— which practically vibrated across his cock, and the way his swollen, busted lips wrapped around him perfectly, combined with the feeling of the blood from Andre's bitten tongue smearing all over his cock with each grind into his mouth... Cal wasn't going to last much longer.
Calvin looked back down at Andre, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure as he dragged his shaft along his mildly injured tongue. He began to test the waters once more, inching his cock back and forth toward the deeper area of his throat again. His groin tightening up with excitement as he neared his edge. Andre's mouth always felt so good clinging to his member.
"Andre, I'm gonna cum." Cal warned, to which Andre whined around his leaking cock in return. He could already taste the salty precum... he was going to need to cum real fucking soon, so he continuously pumped his cock in and out of his comrade's mouth.
With one final thrust, Calvin snapped his hips forward, letting out a strangled groan as Andre's throat instinctively constricted around his shaft, as if to protect the brunet teenager from the aggressive intrusion. "Andre, fuck," he whined, throwing his head back as he saw stars for a split second. "Fuuuuck—"
Warm, white ropes of cum painted the inside of Andre's warm, wet mouth, and as he spilled his release, he groaned out a rough, commanding demand, "You— ah— better swallow all of me..."
And Andre did swallow the last spurts of cum that leaked from Cal's softening cock.
He slowly pulled his mouth off of Calvin's dick, the lewd squelching noise echoing in the empty bathroom as they parted bodies. Andre took a moment to pant heavily, to catch his breath. That was the deepest he'd taken Cal, and he wasn't sure whether he should be proud or ashamed.
But it was Cal. He should feel prideful.
Andre rose to his feet, while Calvin tucked himself back in his boxers and pulled his pants back up, redoing the annoying-to-grasp zipper and buttons on his jeans. The brunet felt strangely tired— worn out, even. Getting fucked in the mouth wasn't exactly the most energizing activity in the world, even though it was worth it afterward.
Andre did enjoy seeing the pure delight and glee on Cal's face after engaging in intimacy with him. And he, too, certainly favored the pleasant drowsiness that usually always followed.
When Cal's gaze shifted back to his comrade, they both made eye contact. A few-second period of silence lingered between them, aside from the occasional heavy pant from Cal or short breath from Andre.
And after that moment, Andre leaned in and softly pressed his lips to the blond's, hoping he could sense their combined tastes. Cal was eager to contribute, tasting the dry blood on Andre's lower lip as his hands rose, snaking up Andre's shirt and latching onto his sides.
Since Andre has made him feel good, Cal wanted to return the favor. His palms slid down to the waistband of Andre's boxers, his fingers hooking under the elastic waistband. With Cal trying to signify how he wanted his comrade's pants gone, Andre choked out a rough gasp at the realization at the evidently suggestive connotation behind Cal's grab. The brunet pulled back from their joined lips to breathe out a shaky, "Not here…"
After all, they were still in a cramped bathroom stall.
Calvin frowned at Andre, running his palms along the faint v-line that connected his hipbones. "Awh, but c'mon, I wanna touch you," he paused, staring at Andre intently. "I won't stick it in, I'll just use my fingers... make it quick an' all. Please?" He pleaded.
Goosebumps prickled on Andre's skin as he felt Cal graze his hips with a feather-light touch, and a soft, spent huff left the brunet's lips. "Alright, fine," he agreed. "But we're never doing this in school again. I hope you know we got fuckin' lucky that no one caught us."
Cal's face briefly brightened when Andre accepted, and a wolfish smile broke across his features, enhancing the off-putting atmosphere that frequently surrounded him. Andre always knew there was something up about the teenager, but he never could place a finger on what it was about him that made him so... Calvin Gabriel.
But still, Andre liked him the way he was. After all, their personalities evenly matched up.
Cal grabbed Andre's shoulders and gently pushed him back toward the toilet, so the other teen was now in Cal's previous position, leaning back against the toilet. Andre sat down on top of the toilet lid and parted his legs for Cal, while the blond stood over him, caging him in, his eyes darting from the brunet's face and back down at his crotch as the brunet undid his jeans.
As soon as he got the buttons and zipper undone, Andre pushed down his jeans, exposing his boxer briefs. They were a light, neutral gray in color, and they clung to his lower body. Riding somewhat low on his hips, Calvin was able to get a long, admiring look at the dark happy trail that disappeared into the boxer briefs. After a few seconds of blatantly staring at the swelling bulge between his comrade's legs, as well as the few little moles sprinkled along his inner thighs, he reached down, grabbed the waistband of his briefs, and pulled them down as much as he could with a few rough tugs, until they were hidden beneath Andre's jeans, which were bunched up around his shoes.
Andre's cheeks reddened with embarrassment, and he glanced away from Cal's wandering gaze. He didn't want to display how admittedly arousing it was for Cal to be looking at him with such fascination in his eyes; it made his cock stand up against his lower tummy.
Andre wasn't a work of art. Rather, he was something much greater. Because while Calvin wasn't much of an illustration fanatic, he did write a decent amount of poetry. Calvin saw Andre as if he were a humanized poem related to singularity and comradeship, with the words written in freshly brand-new red ink.
He didn't write poetry in the old-fashioned "fancy" way though; Cal couldn't bring himself to put that much effort into essentially writing paper-based "allegories" related to how he felt, related to aspects about him and Andre, or Zero Day, despite the naturally consistent flow of his syntax. But to him, Andre would be an old, sophisticated poem. One that would be dug up centuries later, to be displayed at future museums and praised for its supreme nature.
Cal leaned down, tracing the tips of his fingers near where Andre's now-leaking cock stood, before dipping down into the curve of his ass. He traced the rim of his entrance delicately, feeling it clench instinctively. Calvin gazed at Andre's face, his demeanor having softened quite a bit. "You're so pretty, Andre."
Andre's heart jumped in his chest, his face and the tips of his ears burning with warmth. He'd never been called pretty before. He'd been called handsome by Cal, and even by his parents and grandparents... but never pretty. He felt that it was a feminine term. But right now, it felt... rather good, hearing it from Cal. It was a nice change. "Um— thanks, Schatz..."
Calvin grinned, carefully prodding at Andre's tight asshole with his digits. "'M gonna go in dry," he warned. "So you don't get the toilet seat all messy." He flashed a sly grin at Andre, to which the brunet teen playfully rolled his eyes and glanced down at Cal's hand between his legs.
"Okay..." Andre responded quietly, relaxing his muscles so that he wasn't as tense when Cal's fingers penetrated him.
And once they finally did, Andre gripped onto the edges of the toilet lid and gritted his teeth. The sensation wasn't unfamiliar, though. Usually, initially, he felt some discomfort when Cal was inside him, whether it be with his cock or fingers.
He was careful not to bite his lip, though. He didn't want to irritate the swelling of the raw, open strip that'd ripped open down the middle of his lip, so he left it alone and just groaned softly as Calvin's fingers breached his tight opening further.
Noting the brunet's discomfort, Cal reached up and cupped the side of Andre's face with his free hand to try and comfort him the best way he could, while his busy hand started to move, his index and middle finger slowly pumping in and out of Andre's anus. Searching for the spot that always made Andre see stars.
"'Ts alright, man," Cal breathed out. "It'll feel good in a sec. Just lemme..."
Andre fucking mewled as soon as Calvin's fingers finally rubbed up against those recognizable feel-good nerves, his prostate. His back arched, member twitching with interest as his sweet spot was oh-so-deliciously stimulated. Shit, it felt so good that he had to physically grind his teeth to prevent himself from crying out Cal's name. But he kept his mouth shut for the most part, fearful that if he did moan too loud, a teacher walking by the bathrooms might hear.
So he kept his whines a minimum, instead just allowing himself to whimper as Cal sped up his intense motions. "Cal—" Andre grunted softly. "Ah, fuck, right there. Right—right there, ah, yeah, fuck, Schatz, please."
He squeezed his eyes shut and quite nearly almost whined out again as the blond added a third finger, curling them and pressing against that little fucking spot inside him. Andre arched his back and bucked his ass against Calvin's hands, attempting to drive his fingers impossibly deeper as a soft, hiccup-like mewl left his lips.
"There?" Cal grinned, thrusting his fingers in and out of his asshole. "You're so needy. God, even the littlest things get you goin'. So pathetic." He hummed out, his eyes locked on the range of intense emotions flashing across Andre's face.
"M-mmh—" Andre rasped in response, voice hoarse as his fingers clamped around the edge of the toilet lid. He was definitely going to need to wash his hands after touching the fucking toilet, but he wasn't thinking about that right now. All he was able to envision and feel were Cal's fingers inside him. Cal. Cal. Cal. Cal. Cal.
Andre wanted to tell him to shut up, to fuck off, but he simply couldn't. His words were being replaced by shaky moans. It felt too good... he couldn't possibly reply to the blond with something sharp or passive-aggressive when he always made him feel like this.
His gut tightened, his release nearing at a rapid pace. At this point, he honestly couldn't even tell when he was going to cum. He felt like he was going to burst any second.
And as his white-slash-clear seed started leaking out of the tip of his dick, his pucker began to tighten and pulsate around Cal's fingers. "Oh— fuck, Cal!" Andre moaned at such a high pitch that for a split second, he almost sounded like one of those girls from the old porn stash Cal used to have. Oh how rapturous it was.
Calvin nudged his fingers against his prostate, keeping them there while Andre's thighs trembled, while he rode out his orgasm. Calvin watched as the last spurts of cum came trickling down Andre's softening cock, and as Andre sat back against the wall, pants hot and heavy, cheeks flushed and clearly in a daze, Cal finally pulled his fingers out of his rear.
Andre took a moment to catch his breath, drowsy and ready to sneakily exit Iroquois High School. Calvin scooped up a bit of Andre's cum, which had landed on his stomach, and brough his fingers up to his lips, sucking his semi-salty release off of his fingers. Afterward he helped pull up Andre's boxers and jeans, even redoing the buttons for him.
"You're such a sweet boy," he cooed. The blond grinned eerily as he loomed over him, his pearly whites glinting in the school bathroom light. "You ready to head back to your place? I'll clean up your face when we get there."
"Hh—... yeah, my parents're at work. Jus'... just gimme a moment, man..."