Best Friend

“Drew. Drew, wake up, silly.”

Drew blinked his eyes open, looking around the classroom. Shit, the classroom. He’d fallen asleep at school again. “I’m awake,” he muttered.

“Good. It’s time to go home.”

“Right.” Drew stood up, looking around the empty room, at the windows pounded by rain. He came to settle on Derek, which made him smile. “Thanks for waking me up.”

“Of course,” Derek said, helping Drew stand. He was such a good friend. Drew’s best friend. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

Swim Class

Moe wasn’t sure if the other kids on the bus were loud because they were excited to learn how to swim, or because learning how to swim meant they got part of the morning out of school, but they sure were being loud.

He wasn’t being loud, because he wasn’t that excited. Even though it was nice to get some time out of school, but he didn’t know how to swim and he was sure he’d drown and then everyone would come to his funeral to laugh at him for being so bad at swimming. Unless they forgot who he was because he was weird and didn’t know how to be friends with kids who didn’t aspire to be full-time cockwarmers.

Gym Class

Uri’s sister had said that the new school board had split the gym class into one for boys and one for girls because they were all perverts. Geoffrey agreed with her, so Uri guessed that was probably true, though not all the things they’d done to the school were perverted. They’d given lots of new instruments to the music room and replaced all the stairs with ramps and put sign language and Braille in the curriculum, and gotten all the books updated. There was some perverted stuff like the lube and condoms that were in the bathrooms now, and those were just helpful anyway.

Regardless of whether the school board were perverts, though, Uri knew that the gym teacher Mr. Neart was one. He was the sort of weird kind too, one who’d watch them get changed for gym but hardly ever do anything else. Not the cool kind of pervert like Geoffrey who’d actually do something perverted and fun, like have a naked sleepover.

Pajama Day

Gavin sighed, turning left, then right. “These places are laid out so fucking weirdly,” he said to Owen.

“You get used to it,” Owen promised. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come?”

“No, it’s fine.” Gavin shifted his phone to his other hand. “I’m fully capable of doing this, and you’ve got work.”

“So do you.”

“Yeah, but I make money faster than you can give it away,” said Gavin, smirking. He did have four meetings and six job interviews later in the day, but this shouldn’t take long. “I have to take breaks sometimes to give you time to catch up, or else it’s just embarrassing for you.”

“You know what, just for that I’m going on Kickstarter during my break and funding every project I can find.”

Knighthood, 95

Edwin woke up sore, laying on his belly with Grey Rain on top of him and Grey Rain’s dick still inside him.

He yawned, wondering how late it was. Owen was still in bed with them, also asleep. To be fair, Edwin had fallen asleep while Grey Rain had still been pounding his ass into oblivion, and Owen had probably stayed up until that was done. He wasn’t Sir Babysitter yet, after all.

Owen was half sitting at the head of the bed, and that didn’t matter as much as the fact that Owen’s dick was basically right there in Edwin’s face. He was still sleeping, but Edwin knew how much he loved an early morning blowjob, so he figured there was no reason not to pounce on an opportunity that was literally in licking distance.

Dragon, 109

“Honestly I’m kind of grateful for full moons,” Owen said, as Gavin frowned at a scratch on his shoulder. It wasn’t like it was deep, Grey Rain had just gotten a little too close last night. “It feels like we hardly ever take time off, and being made to take at least one day every month is good, I think.”

“I would argue that we need more than one day off a month,” Gavin muttered, dabbing Owen’s shoulder with some alcohol, which stung more than the cut had because medicine sucked like that. “And also that it would be nice if we could have one without you getting hurt.”

“Oh, it’s just a scratch,” Owen protested. “He was only playing.”