#this boy is just. straight up and down like a banana with posture to match

[invinciblerodent]

oh going for marcus was so the right call, just look at him

he's so pretty, but god, such a dweebus. shockingly unphotogenic for someone so beautiful.

and he's so noodly too, just look at him standing around!!!!!!

i'm so used to Verbena being stocky and strong, with her striking power coming straight from the glutes, that this guy? to me, this guy looks like a stiffer breeze might knock him over.

and his little ass? it's just a pair of garlic cloves in there

everyone point and laugh at mr. garlic ass

[lovelyrhink]

i’ll try everything once

a few years after graduating college, rhett and link explore an everlasting playfulness through their mid-twenties. it’s late into the evening, at house party down the street, when rhett starts giving link eyes like he’s never before.

they’re roommates in a ‘burban house with two other guys, but as they sit across from each other now, they’re surrounded by a ring of ten. music pulses low under the hum of drunken murmurings, and the space feels loose and comfortable like it does when men treat each other like brothers. link sips his ~nth beer, sets his gaze on rhett, and studies him in a manner anything but. 

he’s laughing, nudging the guys next to him. his thighs are splashed with beer and link admires how pink his face gets when he’s pissed, sloppy-happy. all but link slip into a curious and slurry dialogue, and he stays quiet as the guys start talking about drugs. someone asks if anyone’s tried coke, or acid, and some of link’s friends titter a positive, offering their stories. it goes like that, guys telling each other what and what not to take, planning dates for mushroom trips.

the party teases into the night, bypassing a drunken truth-or-dare with a biting, we’re not teenage girls! someone rolls a joint, and after two rounds of puff-n-pass, one of the twelve asks another question. link likes him. noah, he thinks, the noah that’s nice and a little bit shy. when he asks, “would you ever suck a dick for drugs? or money?” link’s belly lurches. 

that’s when rhett says it. he pipes up, “i’ll try everything once,” and over-emphasizes a wink. the two on his sides shove him, but a few of the other laughing boys nod or shrug. rhett’s laughing, too, a beautiful sound to match the pretty of his face. his cute little teeth flash an unabashed confidence, but then he fixes his eyes on link. he sits up goes a little softer in the brows.

link’s breath catches at the strange mischief in his face, but it’s his cock that twitches when rhett wraps his lips on the head of his beer, unwavering stare. he lingers as he sips, keeping his eyes on link as heat floods through the boy at the receiving end. rhett finishes his bottle and alerts the boys for another round, leaving link fizzling. link swallows the lump in his throat and blinks, stupid.

after the party, link offers the tipsy confession that rhett had charmed everyone at the kickback. you had everyone whipped, link says, and you look good. he always looks good in red, link thinks. matches the redness of his lips. rhett grins, slaps a thank you into link’s shoulder. they’re too drunk to say anything else as they stumble the streets under a warm june night, back to their house and straight into bed. link doesn’t dream, but thinks rhett’s mouth one.

fortunately, their hangover isn’t as bad as it should be, and they recover quickly and return to work. they go off independently in the morning, but when they’re both back in the house after five, rhett starts acting... weird. he sidles up to link in the kitchen and hip-checks him. he buys them beer for no reason and starts playin’ like he’s got an inside joke with himself. he’s cheeky, sneaky, and link catches his eyes go soft and dark like they do often over the following days. 

rhett says naught else, but gives link the same weird look when they meet at the fridge at midnight and he goes for a frozen butterfinger. again, link’s body flushes with confused heat, simmering into the tingles he’s felt for rhett all his life. he grabs a pint of peanut butter chunk ice cream and makes his escape as he mutters, “why are you looking at me like that?” knowing for sure rhett won’t answer. it’s another few days before rhett does it again. with a banana.

link huffs. he hates this, even if his body doesn’t. rhett’s a joker, a prankster, and link can’t let his lifelong crush drown him in lust just cuz rhett’s lips look really good when he puts them on something. link ignores him, but the time after that, rhett’s insistent. he leans in the doorway of link’s bedroom, tells him that richard and gregg are still out at the show, and gives link the look™

“okay,” link grunts. the teasing has made him tense and just a bit irked. rhett’s put something in him that he can’t jerk out, and it eats him up. 

rhett cocks his head, admires link’s devotion to his magazine. it goes quiet, and rhett comes farther into the room and shuts the door. link’s feet are up on his desk, but his eyes are down. he can’t look at rhett anymore, not when his hips are swaggering like that, eyes on link. he’ll dent his magazine if he does. 

“stay curious,” rhett states. “that’s what i say. i consider myself a pretty curious guy, you know that.” goddamn his sexy smirk. “and i’m always up for a challenge. if i could take on every unanswered question of the universe, i would, even if i had to make up the solution. i’m pretty flexible that way.” 

link says nothing, so rhett pouts and kicks him. link snarls and sets his magazine aside. rhett’s arms are folded so link mirrors him. “what are you even talking about? leave me alone.” 

rhett shrugs, twist in his hips, and link takes his feet off the desk. he goes far from rhett at the other side of the room, but rhett follows. he’s got something in mind, link’s body knows it, but link’s slow and keyed-up and again, stupid. he turns and lets rhett consume him with his handsome features and indiscernible expression. rhett looks like he needs to say something, so link prompts, “well?”

“you know how kasey dumped me a few weeks ago?”

“sure.”

“she said i was distracted. like i got bored of her and didn’t want her.”

link doesn’t respond. he hates this whole conversation. rhett waits, then commands him silently. link sighs, defeated. “did you?”

rhett shrugs again.

ugh! this man is infuriating! link’s body temp rises and he breathes through his nose in frustration. without a clue of what’s to come, link closes his eyes and grunts, “do you need somethin’ from me, or...?”

“wanna try suckin’ a dick. actually, wanna try suckin’ your dick.”

critical hit! link stumbles back and bumps into the foot of the bed. his whole body goes red-hot, and he flutters his eyes as he replays the last few seconds, rhett’s filthy little grin and the pop of tongue in his cheek. link swallows the tightness in his throat, yet it does nothing as he squeaks out a, “what?!”

“you heard me.” the teasing flirtation in his face twists into a deepening lust, and he takes a few steps towards link. 

link stays fixed, trying to un-hear what his dick is throbbing to live out. rhett comes close enough for link feel his warmth and he backs into whatever is behind him, hot and trembling, effectively wigging out. rhett puts his mouth close to link’s ear but doesn’t touch him. “can i suck you? please?”

attraction thrumming in a huge rolling wave of heat, link’s body cries out for him, “yes!” and rhett grabs him by the waist. 

rhett kisses link’s mouth once to try it, then pulls back and does the same to every inch of him. a smooch everywhere there’s never been one, from link’s neck to his pecs and ribs, over his soft t-shirt and down his belly, nuzzling into his torso. link’s dumbstruck, gripping onto the foot of the bed behind him, eyes squeezed shut as he focuses on his breathing, calm and shallow. 

when rhett yoinks link’s shirt up and does the same to his bare skin, scraping his beardy mouth along link’s clavicle, link fizzles and his knees go weak. rhett makes quick work of suckin’ on his nipples and link eeks out a helpless, whimpery noise. he moves down to gnaw sloppy kisses on link’s jutting hipbones, and link’s cock weeps. the feeling overwhelms - the scrappy beard that rhett’s been growing out, his soft and plush little mouth, his teasing tongue. wanting to be admired, rhett taps link’s hip to get his attention.

rhett’s hunched over to get his mouth near link’s belly and his eyes are darker than they’ve ever been. his cheeks are stained rose pink and his eyebrows are creased like he’s withholding something deeply aroused inside. link’s mouth is dry at the sight: rhett’s handsome face next to the tautest erection he’s ever had. wasting no time, rhett tugs at link’s basketball shorts and reveals it. 

link winces at the feeling of himself exposed, but keeps his gaze down as rhett looks at it with those same soft eyes, then grabs it with little fear and starts workin’ it and jerkin’ it however he pleases. link digs his nails into his wooden lifeline and leans all his weight. his thighs trembling into numbness, his whole body hot and weak and wanting. bold now, he watches rhett and snaps,

“come on, put it in your mouth.”

rhett chuckles, “you want it,” and obeys his roommate’s gruff demand. 

“fuck!” link shouts when rhett sinks his mouth. he sucks the pink head of link’s cock into his even pinker mouth, pillowy lips parting in a round ‘O’ around the thickness. he’s gone, but then lust sends him to hell when rhett grabs him by the hips, pins him back against the bed frame behind him, and starts suckin’.

eyes squeezed shut once again, link lets rhett learn everything he can from his cock. how to cup his balls and bite his thighs, how to tease the head with his pointy tongue, and how to hollow his gaunt cheeks, really sucking on link for all he has. delirious, link doesn’t know how long rhett’s been on him. he’s sweaty in his crumpled shirt and his thighs are prickled with gooseflesh, he’s overly warm and the hot wet suction on his cock sending shivers through every nerve. 

when rhett pulls off, his words sound thick with cream. “look at me.”

link looks, and rhett’s eyes shine like the devil’s pool of tar. his perfect brows are knit and his cheeks are flush. the beard is slick and his posture has curled in on itself, one hand disappearing between his legs. he looks horny, feels needy on link’s cock, and link ventures one trembling hand to cup his face. 

“thanks for lettin’ me do this,” he purrs. “been achin’ for awhile.” link pushes his thumb into rhett’s lip as he sinks his perfect mouth again, finishing him off. 

[willpowerbutch]

Gay Oil: Chapter 2

Autumn had crept west, painting the wooded foothills and gullies rust-red and parting the clouds to let the morning stars peer through. Eli stretched out, folding his arms behind his head, a pleasurable sensation washing over him as his eyelids cracked open. It was easy to forget, in the communist utopia of New Trotskyville, what it felt like only to lie down, the wind in his lightly curled hair, reposing far from the exertion of musclebound street cleaners chewing on his legs like popsicle sticks. Living in the silver miners’ soviet made him remember another life in a time of innocence, the brutal innocence of capitalism, when Eli had been wont to take dainty hikes through the surrounding forests alone, gaping in wonder at the sturdy oak branches with which he explored his appetite for man logs.

Rising on his elbows, Eli dabbed his lips on a discarded sex bracelet and looked around, over the mounds of heaving flesh. Strewn about him were the implements of the previous night of communion: salt water balloons; dozens of empty tubs of vanilla yogurt; and innumerable dirtied, variously-sized rubber ladles. Eli groaned, shifting his weight. That’s the last time I play 20 Questions through a drilled wall, he thought, dusting pot sugar off his leather-strap boobs as he rose to his feet. He had been roused by the clamor of someone knocking incessantly against his church’s door, and as he drew close to the source of the sound, Eli reckoned he could smell the award-show sweat and mustache wax which announced the presence of one Daniel Plainsex.

Eli swung open the door and was assaulted by Daniel’s intense impressiveness and laudability. “Daddy,” Eli whimpered, “you’ve arrived just in time for our come-down cuddle. Would you like to take the spot beside me?”

“You prison erotica plebian,” spat the gaywad. “You know well what I have come for. I will have your bath oils now, Eli: be a good lad and accept my offer.”

“You’re persistent, Daddy Daniel,” purred Eli, stroking his bedazzled crotch guard absently, “But a framed photograph of Dolly Parton and a box of cracker jacks couldn’t even afford you an hour of nipple worship from me. Why can’t you be satisfied without my bath oils?”

“Pillage, Eli,” Daniel retorted. “The straights have their families, but we homos have only our beauty products to entertain us after a long day of manual labor for the state… This is my final offer,” he declared. “I will compensate you for the oils as promised, and if they make me smell like a cotillion queen, I’ll pay you an additional radish soup voucher and my poster of Whitney Houston that Warren Beatty ruined while I was earning my first Oscar.”

Eli cackled, sliding his ass up the hard edge of the wooden door frame. “You still don’t realize how basic you are, listening to that Disney Channel reject. Whitney Houston is a personified beer nap, Daddy, and Beyoncé is a Bacardi 151.”

“Do not speak to me of Dance Oprah!” Daniel ejaculated. “Beyoncé is the spawn of an Aretha Franklin imposter and sexual nihilism, and if you will not allow me to bathe in your fluids, then I will drown you in mine!”

From the looming trees emerged a battalion of saucy painters adorned only in glittery boy pants, feather boas, and builder hats. Descending upon the church, they brandished their brushes high, dripping white paint. At the sight of that, Eli whined orgasmically. “I will not allow you to asperse the holiness of this Cock Barn any further!” He tightened his grip around his loins, but just as the first bristle touched Eli’s wood, a groaning, explosive sound reverberated through the canyon, and a conflagration rose high in the distance, hot and stark like the men who paid Eli to be a woman.

“Fuck!” exclaimed Daddy Daniel. “Homosexuals are susceptible to fire!” Sprinting back the way he’d come, Daniel vanished into the now-illuminated forest, and Eli felt impelled to follow him --  down, into the gully, then finally ascending into a flatland buffered by foothills, in the center of which was a burning oil rig.

“NO!” Daniel screamed, taking in the vision the way Eli took in common law-married rancheros. “I’ve abandoned my child! I’ve abandoned my boy!” He broke down into a fit of incredible excellence, gasping as hot tears slid down his sexually-aggressive cheek bones. Eli was almost induced to pity him, but before he could offer his body as comfort, a slim, swimsuit-clad woman cat-walked toward them out of the rubble.

“Brother!” she called out. It was the waifish elf, Danny, emerging from the wreckage with a contorted homosexual in his arms. “I have Alex. I will not elaborate on why his lips are wet.”

As Daniel scooped Alex into his arms, Eli observed the daddy reveal fondness for something other than assault for the first time in his memory. But Daddy Daniel’s relief turned to mourning when Alex stirred awake, groaning, “Pappi? Who brought the big carrots? Because my spicy dip is hot and ready to serve.”

“He’s…” Daniel started but soon corrected himself. “This bitch is… a bottom. No son of mine could…” he choked. Glistening tears of fabulous acting returned to his eyes, and he won another Oscar hysterically. At this, Eli placed a long-fingered, sensual hand on his ass.

“Think of it as a blessing, Daddy,” he whispered. “Left in the fire any longer, and it might have become a transgender.”

Daniel, with the pathetic form of his former son in his arms, turned around and began to walk toward the faith healer’s tent, with Eli on his trail. When this brigade of sissies had left to dress Alex’s wounds, Danny stood apart, watching the oil rig continue to burn against the night sky like Paul Lynde. Sensing that he was being watched, the gay turned around to find that he had been approached by the Expository Candy Man, who offered him an enormous lollipop directly. “Are you lost, boy?” asked the Candy Man. Accepting the treat gingerly, Danny nodded his head.

“Lost in thought.”

“But what could a gay youth be thinking about other than anal lube and abolishing racism?”

Danny touched his lips ponderously. “I don’t know,” he admitted at last. “I’ve never thought of anything else before. What should I do?”

“Come with me,” said the Candy Man, slinging a morally bankrupt arm about the broad shoulders of the snack. “I will distract you by introducing you to my friends on Craig’s List.”

Sighing, Danny went along with the stranger. As they drew away from the flame, Danny looked at the lollipop in his hand and noticed a small object embedded within. “Mister?” he queried. “What is this small, pill-shaped item in my lolli?”

“It’s my gonorrhea medication,” the Candy Man replied. “You’re going to need it after we’re finished.”

 *****Six Months Later*****

The overhead speakers crackled, and a gay voice pierced the atmosphere of phallic bedlam. “And now, opening for The Backstreet Goys, let’s make some love for Eli Sundae!” The club-goers gasped as the thighs of multiple builder bears shuddered in unison, and the frightful silhouette of a fey princess appeared behind the stained curtains. Stepping into the spotlight, Eli came into view, bedecked in Halloween glitter and organic soda water. He acknowledged Daddy Daniel, who was waiting for him erotically in the foyer, before addressing the rest of the Gay.

“If you were an ice cream flavor, what would you be, lovers? I’d be Big Banana with a splash of salted caramel inside. Let’s see who wants to get a lick of this Eli Sundae.” Weaving his way through the crowd, the gayographer halted before the table of the Candy Man, who was admiring Danny’s sexual vulnerability sadly from afar. Eli stood by, stroking him silently for several moments, pouting sexily. He flicked his eyes carefully over the Candy Man’s pelvis, lapping him up. “Do you want to taste me, lover?” he murmured. “I’d like you to -- if I wasn’t allergic to gin yetis.” Turning toward his companion parole officer, Eli Sundae startled, then purred, “I’d suck your straw on a street corner for a dime and a plastic watch, baby boy.”

Daddy Daniel had reached the end of his patience. In a fabulous display of noteworthy scene dominance, he opened his trousers, began throwing tequila-soaked licorice onto the dance floor, and stole Eli away in the ensuing chaos. Dragging him toward the dressing rooms, Eli struggled against the daddy to break free, but it was to no avail. Terror flooded his eyes as they drew near the door.

“No, we mustn’t go there,” Eli cautioned Daniel. “That’s where the spirit of Reddie Gayflame lives in eternal death scene makeup, devouring the unwanted bits of transgenders. Let’s sit at a table in the back instead, Daddy.”

Slamming Eli into a chair, Daniel emanated greatness from his magnetic genital posture. “Eli,” he growled, “this is the last courtesy you will get from he.” He held out both his hands. “If I do not have your bath oils in my possession in five seconds, I will kill you in a completely non-homoerotic mud wrestling match.”

Eli swallowed harder than he had with Benedict Cumberbatch, but he held his voice level. “Daddy -- Daniel,” the bottom replied calmly, “you haven’t looked hot in your cowboy stripper act since 1995.”

Eli stood to leave, but Daniel took his wrist forcefully. Ruminating on how slight and pansific Eli was in his grasp, the older man remarked, satisfied, “I’m going to ruin you like lesbians have ruined denim, Eli. I’m going to savage you like the Transgender has savaged the world.”

“You could do a lot more to me than that, delicious,” Eli swooned.

Daniel gave him a tense, magical stare, but before he could proceed, the flaccid voice of a disco whore wafted to him, and his ears pricked. Rising to gain a better vantage, he caught sight of his brother-sister, Danny, in an intimate moment of under-the-tablecloth fondling with his disgraced son, Alex. “That woodland slut,” he spat, and before Eli could try to immobilize him with lust, he was away.

In their own private romance, the young fruits remained oblivious to Daniel’s approach. “I want to marry you,” Danny declared suddenly, meeting Alex’s gaze with tears. “I want to make applesauce at a lesbian orchard with you, and I want to start a charity to brew Norwegian coffee at homeless shelters. I want to have a radical poetry retreat in Okinawa next year, living off only the money we can raise selling palm-readings and using a GoFundMe page. I want to do it all with you, not just the ball-gag stuff.” The fairy was peering up at him hopefully, but Alex shook his head.

“I’m gay.”

“Oh, Alex,” Danny sniffled, “I’m not really your uncle. I only said that so Daniel would let me handle your under-clothing.” The lovers reconciled with a kiss, but the Daddy, who had heard the substance of their discourse, loomed over Danny’s surprisingly butch shoulder blade.

“You topped my mathematical sex son and you’re not even my BROTHER?” Daniel roared. He kicked their vodka-filled champagne flutes, sending them crashing against the nearby poster of Che Guevara. “Now that he has a hankering for sleeping on his stomach, he will never change back! You have destroyed him! For this, you will die!” Brandishing an obscenely-shaped novelty thermos, Daniel unscrewed the lid and poured the liquid contents down the homofairy’s throat.

“I’m gay!” screamed Alex as Danny began to convulse.

“Coffee!” Danny choked. “Black coffee! The only black my lips have ever touched was Macklemore. Alas!” he cried, shuddering to the floor. “Food is toxic to the Homosexual unless it’s hot meat or condiments!” Dragging himself toward Alex, Danny wept out his body’s constitution of Mio and whimpered, “I haven’t gagged like this since I was backstage at the BAFTAs.” A single, dramatically-lit tear trickling down his cheek, Alex shook Danny’s hand as the homo dissolved into a mournful ghost.

None who bore witness to the execution would soon forget it – not the braying of the cats that escaped from Danny’s rucksack, nor the blood orgy that materialized around his corpse, nor in the least the sexual way Danny had moaned for Sweet & Low to ease his suffering before succumbing to his grievous lack of reproductive fitness. When Alex and the Candy Man had been removed from the premises and the police had taken a report of the incident, the body had been placed in the care of Eli’s church to deliver Danny’s last rites. Standing above Danny’s coffin, the cross of the erection shining in sunlight behind him, Eli lifted his eyes to the bright window and held his hand to his cock. “You and Alex will be married, bitch,” he spoke. “This I promise you: if Daniel should stand in the way of your necrophilic gay wedding, I will penetrate him with my nail scissors like a Master, and not in a ticklish way.” Staring out over his congregation, Eli’s voice whined mightily. “Stand tall with me, brothers, sisters, sister-wives, merry men, men who do fellatio to get free lingerie from perverts at the mall, gay-ngsters, and trans-genitalists. Stand with me, and together, we shall upend the chastity of marriage!”

 About the Author

Tom Rob Smith, award winning author of Gay Slut Death and screenwriter of the shelved pilot episode of Fairies Are Gay Sissies, presents this second instalment of Gay Oil as a tribute to the memory of Daniel Day-Lewis, whose violent death this year was almost as upsetting as the fact that Ben Whishaw is now shilling poltergeist videos for cash. Tom is patronized in this effort by the kind inspiration and credit card details of his platonic nightly visitor, Manly Men! Magazine’s own Paragon Shag. His editor, Willpower Butch, hopes that their partnership shall continue to bring valuable edutainment about the cultural corruption of the Gay to millennials for many years to come. Their secretary and friendly neighborhood evil transgender pervert, Dead Summer Days, hasn’t debauched a pure-hearted heiress all week.  

[prompt-master]

Why Choose Him?

Anon asked: can you write something about michael getting a boyfriend and jeremy being super fucking jealous??

Haha, can I? I think absofuckinglutely. I fucking love this prompt

Jeremy wasn’t happy that he lost five bucks on a bet- the bet being who could get a boyfriend/girlfriend first. But as much as Jeremy kept telling himself he needed those five dollars to pig out on Doritos, there was something else putting a bitter taste in his mind.

His name was Ben Dorr, and oh boy was he all over Michael. Constantly. He wondered briefly is this is how Michael felt when he ditched him for the popular kids, this strange anger and annoyance bubbled up inside of him whenever he saw Ben. Every time he saw them together he wanted to throw up, they would link arms, and hold hands, and once he even saw Ben fucking kiss Michael on the cheek. Jeremy would like to show him the door.

He doesn’t even really have the right to be mad, no matter how hard he searched for a reason. It’s not like Ben was an asshole to Michael or anything, in fact they weren’t even a bad match. Ben was a dork just like Michael, they’d talk about nerd stuff all the time. Ben had even gotten Michael into video games that Jeremy hadn’t played yet, so now there were things he couldn’t join the conversation on.

He was fit like Jake, being a swimmer and all. He would know, Michael gushed about going to his swim meets whenever they actually had a chance to be alone and talk. He was a nice guy, he was never mean to Jeremy directly. He was smart, but had a bit of trouble in English, and sometimes helped the SQUIP crew with their math homework. Heck the only thing that he could have done to be considered wrong was help Michael third wheel him unknowingly, so it wasn’t a big surprise that no one understood why he hated Ben so much.

And they were kinda right to not understand, deep down Jeremy knew that he was being a complete asshole. Why can’t he just be happy for Michael? Like Michael was when he dated Christine! But no he had to sit there, bitterly glaring from across the lunch table as Ben and Michael had lunch together. Michael didn’t sit next to him anymore.

“Yo, Jer, you ok…?”

Jeremy looked up at Rich with a sharp turn, not meaning to hiss out a harsh “what?”

“You’re kinda…killing the fuck out of that banana.” Rich mumbled, pointing down at the fruit Jeremy had clenched in his fist.

Jeremy frowned “ew…” he dropped the squished banana, rubbing the excess mush off on the edge of the table.

“So, what turned you to banana murder? You all good?” Rich took a seat next to Jeremy, poking at his sketchy looking hotdog from the cafeteria.

“What? Yeah! Yeah I’m fine!” He stood up straight, his shoulders leaning back to correct his posture, little habits he picked up from a certain incident. Rich gave a disbelieving eyebrow raise though, and Jeremy sighed, knowing he was a shit liar.

“If everything’s all hunky dory why’d you to and commit first degree murder on Ol’ Banana Joe over here?”

“I-I uh…just- it…I always squeeze my bananas…before…eating them?” Jeremy mentally face palmed, his eyes darting up to look at Michael and Ben as the two of them burst out into laughter. He frowned again.

“Ah, you’re still mad about Benny?” He took a bite of his hotdog, his eyes never leaving Jeremy’s, being stared at was making him nervous.

“What?! No! I’m not- I’m not mad why would I-” again with the disbelieving look, Jeremy sighed heavily and slumped over on the table. “Ok, maybe I’m a little mad.”

He felt a hand harshly pat his back, forcing him to let out a small “oof!” Rich smiled at him “talk to me, Jerry! Where did it all go wrong? What’s pissing off the tall ass?”

“Ugh…I don’t know.” Jeremy poked his head up, watching as Ben wrapped an arm around Michael’s shoulders. “Just- that!” He gestured towards the grossly sweet couple.

“What? It’s not different from any other stupid high school couple, whys that piss ya off?”

“I don’t know! Just-” Jeremy paused as Michael put his head against Ben’s, so that the other could hear from his headphones, “I just wanna like- spend more time with Michael I guess! I see them do shit like- like that and I wanna take him away from Mike!”

He sighed and buried his head into his arms “I’m such an asshole, hating my best friends boyfriend for no reason.”

“Well you are being a bit of a prick” at that Jeremy flinched, he knew it was true but it still hurt.

“But…I don’t think it’s for no reason like you think it is.”

Jeremy raised an eyebrow, looking up at him.

“I mean- Michael hasn’t been spending as much time as you, that much is true”

Rich saw the way Jeremy clenched his arms tightly, digging nails in. The way tears built up, as though he’d been building this up for the two weeks they’d been dating. But he waited. He asked again when Jeremy didn’t respond “why does he piss you off so much?”

“I just-” Jeremy took a shuddering breath, his voice filled with a sour anger, “fuck Rich- I miss him you know? Michael and I do everything together and then this- this swim boy shows up and takes him away like nothing? Why- shouldn’t it be me talking and hanging with Mike like that!? Why- why did he chose Ben over me!?”

By the end of his rant there were tears streaming down the boys face, his electric eyes glowing with tears, but his face was red with anger. He had to keep stoping to take a deep breath- letting it all spill out. But what hurt even more was that Jeremy was crying in front of Michael and he didn’t even notice.

He felt the hand on his back rub smooth circles, Jeremy realized that Rich didn’t look surprised or shocked at all at the emotional outburst. It was like he had expected it. He turned Jeremy away from Michael, staring him in the eyes still. His gaze was steadying, intimidating, it was a lot.

“…don’t you think that sounds like jealousy?”

Jeremy froze at that, every little bullshit explanation he tried to give himself went away when it was finally said, the elephant in the room. He stared up at Rich his eyes owlish and wide in shock.

“…jealous? I’m not-”

“Think about it Jeremy. You know you are.” He didn’t know Rich’s voice could get so soft and comforting.

“…” Jeremy wiped furiously at his eyes, before he dipped his head down to lean on Rich’s shoulder. He stifled a sob weakly, “I’m jealous. I-fuck- I like Michael rich- I like him so bad”

Rich rubbed his back as the boy finally came to reality with his feelings, it all rushing through him like a broken dam. He felt it all in his face, exhaustion, sadness, anger, a strange relief. It all burned and felt cold against his cheek in strange waves.

“That’s alright dude, nothing to be ashamed of.”

“How, how did you know?”

He shrugged, calmly saying “went through the same thing with Jake, I could see your jealously from two miles away”

Jeremy frowned at that, it had to be true. With how many girlfriends Jake seemed to get, it made a lot of sense. He opened his mouth to say sorry, when he heard a familiar voice.

“Shit Jeremy, are you crying? Are you ok?”

He turned to Michael, trying to stop the tears, “I’m uh-”

“Jeremy, what’s wrong?? You ok??” Ben stood behind Michael, looking on in worry. Jeremy felt his eyes burn further, the flame in his chest giving him complete heart burn.

He nodded “I just need a moment.” He stood up and left, unable to deal with the world.

Rich sighed heavily as Michael gave him a questioning look, “I’m not gonna tell you what’s wrong, but you should go after him”

Michael moved to where Jeremy headed off- “without Ben.”

“Oh…ok” he let go of his hand “I’ll uh…I’ll be right back.”

But Jeremy was sitting in the parking lot, asking for his dad to come pick him up. He finally calmed his tears, and hearing the SQUIP yelling at him for fucking up in the back of his mind didn’t help. Only Jeremy would be the dumbass to get upset over this, he didn’t deserve Michael.