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Jared startles awake to the way-too-turned-up chorus of Hit Me Baby One More Time.
He jolts upright just to smash his forehead against the bottom of the table and gets bounced right back onto the porch.
He spends the next few minutes on his back, trying not to puke all over himself. Britney is still going hard.
High school ended a few weeks back. Mom did unspeakable things—that’s the only explanation Jared has as to why they gave him a diploma. He sure as shit didn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve a lot of things.
He’s been living at Jeff’s pretty much 24/7 ever since. Jeff hasn’t complained yet. Dad came over, once, and brought a casserole; said Mom sent him to ask if he’s still alive. Yes and no.
Jared’s stumbling into the living room, finally. Okay, yeah, he’s crawling, alright, but he’s doing it. Past three other couples, all of them drunk and half of them naked and or stuck inside of each other one way or the other, he makes it to the bathroom. It’s a challenge not to fall over and bash his head into the tiles while he’s taking a piss, but, miraculously, he succeeds.
He looks down on himself as he shakes the last drops off, and frowns.
There surely must be a reason for the glitter stickers strewn all over his stomach.
Jared waddles back outside to take another hit from the bong Fred brought with him and decides that he is lonely enough to go look for Jeff.
This is worse than summer break—time does not only not have a meaning: it doesn’t exist. He knows enough guys to hang out with during the week, and Jeff’s open for all kinds of shit on the weekends. It all blurs into one big party. Jared’s never been fond of possessing too many functioning brain cells, and it pays off now.
After making it past the orgy in the living room, it appears that Morgan must have absconded to the upstairs. The man’s getting old. Jared laughs out loud at the thought and scratches at his neck like a cat at what he assumes Jeff would do if he told him.
Jared slips on one of the bottles strewn over the steps and falls all the way down the stairs. Finally at a halt and his limbs back in control once more, he shakes his head and tries again. Slower, this time, and it works.
The Scorpions are blasting from the bathroom—the lights are out though, probably just the boombox Jeff was too lazy to move. However, there’s movement in the bedroom, so he makes his way there.
Jeff’s propped up against the headboard, smoking. At his feet, half-curled up and the wrong way around, sleeps Alan. Jared joins them.
Jeff scoffs. “Oh, wow. Hello Kitty.” Then, “What happened to your head?”
Jared frowns, which produces a sharp pain. Which confuses him. He then touches his forehead and hisses upon contact.
“Did you fall?”
“No… Ow…”
“Come here, stupid.”
Jared does, clumsily. He curls up into Jeff’s outreached arm and snuggles in, groans as Jeff directs his head by a grip on his chin. Squints up at him, unwilling. “Since when do you smoke?”
“Since when do you strive to turn into a unicorn? Jesus.” Jeff tugs at his head, and Jared winces. “You might wanna put ice on that.”
Jared replies with a dismissive throat-noise.
“Sure, whatever. Not that there’s anything important in tha—hey—no, you don’t.” Jeff snatches the cigarette back from Jared’s fingers. “And I can do whatever the fuck I want in my own goddamn house, alright, Martha Stewart?”
Jared nods to nothing in particular and gets as comfortable as his bruised head will let him. It’s much quieter up here compared to the living room—this here’s the VIP lounge, so to say. Jared’s a patron and it puzzles him anew whenever he remembers that’s a fact.
Alan smacks his lips in his sleep. Morgan hums along to the music as he smokes and peels at the sticker right above Jared’s nipple. Jared’s eyes drift close.
“Aw. ’S Daddy got himself a sleepy kitten, huh?”
Jared nods lazily.
Jeff’s hand goes from tit to neck to cupping Jared’s cheek. Jared nuzzles into the caress. Sue him. ‘Shameless’ is his middle name.
“Does Daddy get a kiss?”
Jared hefts himself up to give Jeff what Jeff wants. He feels him grinning against his mouth and can’t even pout without making his headache explode. “Stop saying that.”
“What?”
Jared grumbles, “You’re not my dad,” while Jeff finishes his smoke with a scoff.
“And thank God for that.” He scoots lower so he can truly cradle Jared against his chest. Jared keeps from wincing under the gentle kiss to the top of his head. “But I’m lookin’ out for ya, aren’t I? Am I takin’ care’a you or what?”
“Yeah.”
“See? That’s what a daddy does. Does Daddy’s poor lil’ kitten’s big dumb walnut hurt, huh, does it?”
“Stop it.”
“Did my kitten fall? Some more ouchies you need Daddy to take a look at? Aw, so many, many ouchies.”
Jared’s eyes follow Jeff’s hand’s journey down his body, past scratches and bruises and stickers. Jeff’s never running out of things that still manage to make him cringe. That fucking twist in his stomach, the funky feeling in his chest. It’s both curse and blessing.
Jared’s got his hands curled up over his chest and lets Jeff do his weird-ass shit. The light touches feel so fucking nice. Fred always brings the best pot.
Jeff presses down on a sore just above Jared’s hipbone and Jared gasps, didn’t expect the sensation of pain. It doesn’t hurt bad, just…
“Hurts?”
Jared nods.
Morgan hums and digs two of his fingers into the same spot.
Jared’s stupid heart flutters weakly.
“Shh-shh-shh.” He gets another kiss into his stringy hair. Jeff moves his hand to the next bruise. “What about here?”
Jared sinks deeper into the mattress—into Jeff’s one-arm hug, the safe pit in the crook of the guy’s neck. He sighs. Jeff’s scent is so familiar it’s becoming some weird kind of comfort or something. Jared’s dick doesn’t mind.
Jeff picks and prods at whatever he can find. It’s his own little game. Jared’s just lucky he’s sick enough to enjoy this shit.
“Does Daddy make his kitten feel good?”
Jared gives a contended nod.
“Yeah, Daddy can see that.” A chuckle.
Jared begins to shift his legs open some more, but Jeff pets his thigh to stop him. Jared complies with a huff. The pot makes surrender so, so much easier.
Jared warily blinks down to his dick, all fat and lazy and pointing up his belly. Jeff ignores it in favor of the insides of his thighs.
Morgan informs him, “You look like some kid’s toy with all of those stuck to you,” all calm and low and peeling at one sticker Jared’s apparently got on his balls. Naturally, as it comes off it pulls at his pubes, but Jeff re-fastens it back in place before Jared’s toes can even begin to curl. Wow, his body is…slow.
Jeff boops his nose. “You love gettin’ decorated, don’t you?” Jared has no clever or hot or comprehensible reply to that. He just puffs his chest out in a half-assed stretch, sighs. Jeff squeezes his shoulder. “Aw. Daddy’s little toy is so tired.”
Jared shakes his head. “Nah.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Mh, but you look all sleepy.”
Jeff gets his hand in Jared’s face, strokes his jaw. Jared readily parts his lips for the fingers that slip into his mouth to hook behind his teeth and pull him wide open to Jeff’s inspection. Jeff hm’s again and proceeds to slide three fingers over his tongue. Jared would nurse on them right if his muscles cooperated.
“Did kitten play with Freddy’s toys again?”
“Mh-mh.”
“No? Oh, Daddy’s pretty sure kitten did. What did Daddy tell you about that?”
Jared attempts to say, “Not to,” but it comes out garbled around the three fingers stroking down his throat. He gags, once, and that’s all resistance Jeff’s gonna find in him.
“Daddy said you’re too fucking young for that shit. Yeah, he did. But you can’t stop playing with my boys’ toys. You’d put everything in that fucking dirty mouth of yours if Daddy wasn’t keepin’ you in line. Whose is it though,” Jeff muses, casually feeding his pinkie in next to the others, “huh? Whose fucking hole is this? You gon’ tell Daddy?”
Jared coughs and wills his jaw impossible millimeters wider.
Jeff withdraws his hand and slaps him, leaving a huge smear on Jared’s cheek before he plunges his hand right back into his mouth without giving him much time to lick the slobber from his chops.
Jared grunts with his eyes closed.
“Say ‘it’s your hole, Daddy’. Say it.”
“’S yours,” is all Jared can come up with before those fingers fuck back in yet again. Jeff pulls him closer by his shoulder. Jared does his best to let his head loll, soften his throat, his face. God, he’s so fucking hard.
“Say ‘I’m your hole, Daddy’.”
“I’m your hole, Daddy,” and it comes out garbled and pretty choked off but Jeff kisses him on the mouth for it, wild and heavy and Jared’s being rolled upon, flattens out further to accommodate his legs around Jeff’s massive ass.
Jared wouldn’t dream of it unless being told to, “Hold onto Daddy’s neck now, come on,” and gasps not only because Jeff’s weight is pressing all the fucking air out of his lungs.
“That’s right,” Jeff praises, making room for himself with his thighs and knees and folds Jared up just a little more, until Jared’s ass is lifting from the bed and Jared can whimper for the pressure. “Daddy’s little fuck toy. And Daddy can play with his toy whenever he wants. Isn’t that right?” Jared nods ferociously, gulping for breath and with his head spinning—he groans through the first push like he always does, like Jeff makes all of them do.
“Daddy can put whatever he wants into you. All—he—wants.” (Jared grunts like a dog.) “That’s what toys are good for, aren’t they? Getting used. And goddamn, that’s what the fuck you were made for.”
Jared’s clawing into Morgan’s shoulders and can’t keep up. Just slurs, “Yeah, yeah,” when his windpipe allows the noise to come out, but Jeff’s talking him over, doesn’t hear him, probably, and that doesn’t matter anyway. They both know Jeff’s right.
“This is mine,” he pants, “and that’s mine, all of it. Shut your fucking mouth.” Jared does that without hesitation, and when Jeff wrings both of his hands around Jared’s throat, he doesn’t have to tell him to fucking drop his arms to the bed and let it happen.
Jared hears his own gurgling, the snapping of skin on skin and the squelch of lube. Hears the bed complaining and Alan’s body thudding from bed to floor, and Jeff’s animal breath—the pound pound pound of blood collecting in his head, turning him ear-ringing to deaf to underwater and he feels himself coughing, drool running down his chin and his arms extending over his head, restless, without a goal, the strain in his abs to keep his insides steady somehow.
Jeff lets loose moments after yanking his cock out of Jared’s ass. Jared hears, “Open,” unable to do much but fish-gasp for oxygen anyway—he’s smarter than to move an inch from how and where Jeff drops his limbs in some careless disarray. Jeff climbs over him with one hand massaging up-down his throat and the other alternating between slapping him awake and yanking his jaws apart.
Jared represses every instinct that would mean pushing Jeff off, that would mean not letting him shove his cock down his throat until those balls kiss his chin. Jeff groans, his thighs shaking from the position—he’s gotten careful since Jared didn’t tell him he’d kneeled on his hand the other day—and, Jared thinks, maybe, maybe from how good he feels. How well he—Jared—is doing.
Jared gags a few good times, all of it painfully involuntary but he keeps everything down when Jeff pulls back, because he’s not a fucking pussy like that.
“Good fucking boy.” Jeff’s raking Jared’s hair back over the sore on his forehead, bends his neck back just a little more with it. The other hand fastens its support on Jared’s throat, and Jared only has to cough once more before Jeff can get back in there. “Such a good fucking boy for Daddy.”
Jared’s passed out to far less pleasing bullshit before.