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If It's Good For You, It's Good For Me, Too
By Rayna
Pairing: Andrew/Steven, Andrew/Steven/Abriel
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Some non-con
May, 2005
Andrew's POV
-Written to The More You Talk, the Less I Hear, by Armor For Sleep-
I knew what it was. Without ever having felt it before or even thought about it overly much, I knew what it was when I felt it. It made my face flush with warmth and color, made my stomach tighten with nervousness, made my palms sweat and the fine hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I knew what it was, for what else could it have been?
He was my friend: my best friend, who knew everything there was to know about me and kept it to himself. He kept my secrets secret, and there was a trust between us that most friends never have. We had a bond, and while neither of us ever spoke of it, we knew it existed. I should have realized that it would only be a matter of time before something drastic happened to change how we viewed each other, but I didn't care enough to take the necessary precautions to keep it from happening.
I was seventeen and he was nineteen. He seemed to know everything about everything, and much more than me. I looked up to him, almost like he was my older brother, because that was how he acted. He helped me out with my algebra, stood up for me when I had problems with people, and cared about me. No one, not even my dad, had ever shown me any kind of affection or made me feel like I was wanted. Maybe it was just me; maybe I wanted to be loved so much that I imagined things in my head that made them almost appear to be real. Maybe there really hadn't been anything between us except friendship... with benefits, like he'd told me.
I believed everything he said, because I trusted him more than I trusted myself. He could do no wrong. When we'd sit in his bedroom and I'd watch him smoke pot, I could never bring myself to believe it was wrong. If he did it, how could it be wrong? It wasn't wrong when he told me to stay in his car while he broke into a house and took jewelry and money to buy us something to eat later that night. It wasn't wrong when he cheated on his college exam. I believed him when he told me that he did what he did only to get by, but then, I was always na�ve.
I didn't question him when he was tipsy with alcohol and looking at me with those half-lidded eyes that I'd only seen on the faces of the porn stars on his computer. It made the nerves in my stomach tighten because I was scared, scared because I knew what he was thinking. When he put his half-empty beer bottle on his dresser to join the others and moved toward me, I sat rooted to the spot. He pushed me onto my back, straddled my hips, and I couldn't bring myself to say a word, only gape at him and try to remember to breathe.
He always knew what to say. Every time I had some doubt in my mind, he'd take it away, and it was no different with this situation. Caressing feather-like touches along my lower belly, brushing his fingers through the dusting of hair around my navel that led into my shorts, he said in that soothing voice I'd come to know, "You're so gorgeous, Andrew, do you know that? Let me make you feel good... do something for you that'll make you feel amazing." He moved down to sit on my thighs and ran his hand over the bulge in my shorts that I hadn't been able to stop from happening. His blue eyes were glassy when they met mine, but I could still see the familiar flicker in their depths that let me know he wasn't as drunk as I may have thought.
"I've wanted you for so long," he said as he unzipped my fly and pushed his hand inside. "I wanted to wait until you were eighteen, but you're old enough. No one's ever been in here before, have they?" His hand had worked its way into my boxers and felt cold against my burning hot flesh. Unable to speak, I shook my head.
"Only me?" He smiled a lazy, smug smile and stroked me slowly.
Breathing heavily, I whispered, "Only you," but my pulse was hammering in my head so loud that I couldn't hear myself.
I had been in a sort of trance, focused so solely on him and the pleasure I was feeling that it only registered he'd pulled away when the lights flicked off. Just as quickly as he'd gone, he was back, his lips on my throat, sucking my Adam's apple and making me squirm as he took the ticklish skin between his teeth. I felt his need pressing warmly against my side, and sighed as a flutter of nervousness rushed through my insides.
His lips were tinged with salt as they pressed against mine. He grasped my hands, laced our fingers, and pressed me into the mattress, making me feel helpless under the onslaught of his mouth as it gently, sweetly raped my own. His thumbs settled on my wrists, feeling the quickening pulse as I grew more frightened and more aroused with every slide of his tongue over mine, and every nudge of his member against my side. When he finally pulled away, I was out of breath and quivering with need.
He sighed and I squinted to see his face in the dim light from the window behind him. The moon wasn't full, and the trees obscured the streetlamp, so all I could see was the outline of his body as it moved off me. He was undressing, and I was too busy wondering what he was going to do than to bother with removing my own clothes. Apparently, my indecision didn't matter much, because he tugged me up and took my shirt off over my head. I didn't stop him. Even if I'd tried, he probably wouldn't have paid me any attention, just because when his mind was set on something, it was hard to persuade him to change it. And it wasn't like he was hurting me...
Once he'd gotten my shorts and boxers off, he pushed my legs apart and kneeled between them. I looked down and saw how hard I was, and wondered for a fleeting moment how two boys would do what he wanted to do. Then I remembered that I didn't even know what he wanted to do, and my fear returned.
"You trust me, don't you? You know that I'd never, in a million years, do anything to hurt you?" He kissed the skin beneath my belly button, an act that could have made even his worst enemy relent to him.
"I know," I said, my voice sounding strained even to my own ears. I did trust him, still, more than anything. He'd never have reason to doubt that, and he'd never given me a reason to believe he would do anything that wasn't good for me.
I felt his breath ghost over my erection as he hovered over it. It seemed like he spent an eternity just sitting there, his hands palm-down on my thighs, smoothing up and down them almost contemplatively. Finally, he said, "I want you to relax. The more you relax, the better it feels. You have to trust me and do what I tell you to."
Before I could respond, he had taken me into his mouth. The hands that had been so tender seconds before had gone to grasp my hips, and the tips of his fingers dug into my flesh hard enough to bruise. The myriad of pain and pleasure and fear made me gasp, and I writhed under him, unable to do much more. His mouth was scorching, his tongue restless. He'd obviously had practice at this, because he took me into his throat and swallowed around my length, and I cried out, my head tilted back into the pillows and eyes shut tight. It was so different than my fist, even when I'd wet it with spit so it'd slide easier; this was no cheap imitation--it was the real thing. His fingers pushed deeper into my hips and I whimpered in pain. My hands fumbled weakly, trying to get him to relinquish his deathgrip on me, but he wouldn't. His head bobbed up and down, and I opened my eyes to watch. Saliva glistened on me and shone in the faint light before it was engulfed in the warmth and darkness of his mouth again. It was beautiful. Every nerve in my body was on end, waiting for what was so close. He slipped his hands under me and pulled my hips up off the mattress, taking me all the way into his mouth.
I whimpered and cried, my body shuddering ceaselessly. He handled me like I weighed nothing at all, and despite how I wriggled, it didn't seem to phase him. I felt him put two fingers into his mouth, even while my erection occupied it, and then one of those fingers pressed against me... there. It dawned on me all of a sudden what was going to happen, and I struggled to get out of his grip. He wouldn't let me go, instead doubling the vacuum of his mouth to the point that I couldn't get away without losing one of my most valuable parts. I gave up, letting myself relax and trying not to pay any mind to the finger that was working its way in and out of me. The act was relatively painless, until the second finger joined in; then it hurt, and I begged him to stop. I was too afraid to physically force him away from me, but petted his hair, tugging just enough to hopefully get his attention.
He mistook my gentle hair-pulling as an act borne of pleasure--which I was still feeling, but was beginning to lose my nerve. Despite whatever discomfort I may have been feeling as his fingers drove inside me, my erection was pulsing harder than before, throbbing needfully, and he was answering its call with his tongue and throat. My eyes fluttered closed, and my stomach tensed. He let me thrust up once, then swallowed around my pulsating need, and I gave a long-suffering moan as I came forcibly in his mouth. Not a drop went wasted; he waited patiently for me to finish, for me to collapse, sweaty and exhausted, to the mattress before letting my softening sex slip from between his lips. His fingers were still inside me, prying, moving, but I was too sated to be much bothered by it anymore.
He kissed my scrotum, slid his tongue over the inside of my thigh, and said quietly to me, "You're absolutely perfect. I can't believe no one's ever had you before." He seemed preoccupied with the thought that he would be my first, and as I watched him between my legs, I got rather preoccupied with it, as well. Would he be gentle, or lose himself in passion like he'd done while sucking me off? I didn't know, and my breathing quickened again when he pulled his fingers out.
I heard him sigh as he put a condom onto himself. I couldn't think of why he would wear one, because I'd gone to health class and was fairly sure I wouldn't get pregnant. I didn't question him, though.
"Get on your knees," he commanded, and I winced because his tone had changed slightly. He seemed to hold more authority than he had before, and I did as he said. I tried to find a way to get comfortable in such an awkward position, and ended up propping my front up on my elbows and letting my head rest against the bed. I heard him breathing behind me, and blushed to know he was looking at me.
"You're gorgeous," he hissed, sliding his erection into the cleft of my ass. I felt myself getting hard again, and shifted my hips in expectation. The condom he'd used had been lubricated, but even so, he kept telling me to relax. He pushed against my entrance, and I had to close my eyes and shove everything out of my mind, only focusing on his voice telling me to calm down, to let him in. His hands were running up and down my sides and my back, caressing lovingly, whispering sweet words to me. The head of his arousal slipped into me and he sighed in bliss, then gripped my hips and pushed himself in the rest of the way.
He stayed still, fully inside me, but panted with the effort it took to restrain himself. My erection was pressing against my stomach, demanding my attention, but my mind was still concentrated on remaining calm. "God, Andrew, you feel so good. Are you okay?"
"Yeah," I muttered, my voice muffled by my arm. What else could I have said to him? I doubted that even if I'd been screaming and crying, he'd have stopped. It wasn't so much painful as it was uncomfortable; I felt full, filled, consumed. It wasn't so bad, and the intoxicating throbbing of my erection was almost enough to blot out any unwanted pain.
His length pulsed idly inside me until he finally leaned back away from my body, sliding out nearly all the way, before pushing back in to the hilt. I groaned and rubbed my forehead against the bed, unsure of whether I was feeling good or bad. It didn't really matter anymore. His hands remained on my hips, guiding me against him in time with his thrusts. We rocked together, a tempo having been created, and that's when one of his hands drifted down between my legs to grip my length. A shudder wracked my body as I moaned and shoved myself hard back against him.
He growled a profanity at me and started jacking me off roughly as his hips pumped hard against me. We were moving so volatilely the mattress was beginning to slide off the box spring, but he either didn't notice, or didn't care. I felt the familiar tightening in my groin, the heat beginning to gather there, awaiting release. His balls slapped against me with the force of his thrusts and I shuddered again. My entire body was trembling with my oncoming orgasm, and he must have known, because he began slamming harder into me. My insides quivered as they were violated over and over, and his fist was so tight around me and jerking in time with his thrusts that I couldn't hang on...
Suddenly, the head of his erection pressed against something inside of me that made my eyes shoot open. My body stiffened and I screamed into the mattress, hands clawing weakly at it. He stayed still, stayed shoved up against that spot, then swiveled his hips, rubbing gently against it while his hand continued to stroke me. It seemed like the world stopped for an infinite moment as I found my completion for the second time that night, tightening impossibly around him. He groaned loudly and I felt lips on the small of my back as he kissed me and licked the beads of sweat that had gathered there, and his hips kept moving against me until the warmth of his seed shot into the condom and I felt it like liquid fire inside me. My elbows slipped out from under me and I fell belly-down to the bed, with him thankfully catching himself on his hands before he could crush me.
He stayed laid on my back, stayed inside me, pushing my hair away from my neck so he could kiss the sweaty skin there. We caught our breath until he slowly pulled out of me, and I winced at how empty I felt when he'd gone. The room was sweltering and I was exhausted; the air reeked of sex and sweat and alcohol. I was just wondering if he would be filing this escapade under 'Drunken Fling' when he suddenly pulled me up and into a hug.
Unsure of exactly what to do, I let him hug me and lowered my eyebrows. He whispered in my ear, "You're the best friend in the world, you know that? This changes nothing between us; just friends with benefits. Remember that, okay?"
"...Okay," I said, still unsure and confused, but willing to do whatever he said.
He got off the bed and turned his lamp back on. I squinted and shielded my eyes against the light, but heard him open the door. When my eyes had adjusted to the brightness, I saw that he had taken off the condom and was standing nude, obviously waiting for me.
"What?" I asked dubiously.
He smoothed his frizzed, tangled hair down and I noticed that his eyes were a lot clearer than they'd appeared earlier. "We have to get dressed so you can go home. My parents are going to be back soon."
Nearly numb from the shock of what we'd done and how quickly he was getting rid of me, I gathered my clothes and got back into them while he did the same. Back at home, in my bedroom, I admittedly felt used. He had used me for pleasure, and then dumped me back at my own house. Thinking it over, though, I realized that maybe it wasn't such a big deal, what we'd done. He didn't seem to think it was much of a big thing, so why should I? We were just friends with benefits, after all...
You see me, do I look okay to you?
Give me your hand, I'll shake it and shake it again
I'll smile till my face falls off my head
If it's good for you, it's good for me, too
Their words are flying over my head
I try and hear, but I'm somewhere else again
You laugh and I smile back to humor you
If it's good for you, it's good for me, too
Our lives went on as normal, as though nothing out of the ordinary had ever happened between us. He picked me up from school sometimes and took me to get food, oftentimes not sneaking me home until the wee hours of the morning. My dad didn't care what I did, as long as he didn't have to pay for it. If it were left up to him, if I had been so young that I couldn't take care of myself, I'd have probably been dead from what little he did for me. I lived in his house; that was basically it. I had no car, and no money of my own. If it wasn't for Steven... Well, if I didn't have Steven, I'd have had no idea what to do.
I knew something had changed when I woke up in the middle of the night from a dream. It'd been a good dream, pleasurable, and I was hard from it. I'd never had a dream about him before, but he's who it had been about, and that made me remember what we'd done. Ever since we'd... done what we'd done... I had tried to keep it all blocked from my mind, just because he hadn't said anything about it afterward. If he had forgotten about it, I figured I would forget about it, too. My subconscious, however, had decided to bring it back, and reality was like a wave crashing over me, drowning me, and sucking me back to that night in his room like a riptide.
I realized I loved him--for what else could it have been?
There was no way I could tell him, though. He'd laugh at me, tell me to stop being a pussy, and tug my ear like he always did when I was onto something and he didn't want to hear it. So I kept what I felt buried deep, deep in my heart. He didn't need to know.
I must not have been too obvious, because he kept coming over at all hours and driving me around in his truck. He came in the middle of the night, nearly four months after that night that I knew would plague me for the rest of my life, and tapped on my window for me to come out. I came with him, because he always had trouble sleeping and that was why he always came to get me; that, and none of his other friends appreciated being woken up so late. I didn't care. I'd always go with him, anywhere he wanted to go.
Sitting in the passenger seat of his truck in a pair of hastily-put-on jeans and a T-shirt, I waited for him to get back from the jiffy store, wondering if he was robbing this one or just getting sodas. His demeanor never changed when he did things, bad or good, so I couldn't tell until I saw him crossing the parking lot with two Mountain Dews in his hands.
He got in, handed me my drink, and we sped off. He'd been uncharacteristically quiet since picking me up, and I couldn't stop wondering what was going on in his mind. I tried not to stare at him, but the world outside the window was dark, and he was the most interesting thing I could see.
Finally, I had to ask, "Are you okay?"
Those incredibly bright blue eyes glanced at me for a split second before cutting back to the road. "Why wouldn't I be okay?"
"I don't know... You're just acting kind of... off."
"Off," he repeated thoughtfully. Then he slammed on breaks, nearly sending me through the windshield. Thankfully, there was no one behind us to blare their horn. I was gasping, clutching the armrests as the truck bounced back on its tires. He was glaring at me angrily, and I had no idea what I'd done wrong.
"You sit there looking like some kind of debauched angel, and you ask me if I'm okay? You say I'm acting off?" He grabbed a fistful of my hair, not roughly, but held it firmly enough to pull me to him so we were face to face. His eyes were piercing as he whispered hotly, "You are all I think about, you're all I dream about. You. Ever since I tasted you, you're all I want." He yanked my hair, then, and I whimpered. "You want me, too, don't you?"
"You know I do," I said quietly, and our breath mingled. I sighed as he stroked his hand through my thick mat of curls, and I cautiously leaned in to kiss him. He made the kiss deep and all-consuming, but just as his tongue had wrapped around mine, a car came up behind us and honked their horn, so we had to drive somewhere else. His passion frightened me, but I still trusted him. I still loved him, no matter how much he scared me.
He was driving so fast, I had a hard time recognizing where exactly we were. The road had no streetlamps, and the only light came from the outside lights on the houses, but they were hardly enough to illuminate the street signs. I had to hold onto the armrests again to keep from flying out of my seat when he suddenly turned into someone's driveway. The tires squealed and my breath caught in my throat as the truck pulled to a stop and he shut off the engine.
"What are you doing?" I asked, chewing my bottom lip anxiously.
He grinned, apparently back to his normal self. "We are going hang out with my buddy, Abe for the rest of the night, 'cause my sister is at my house tonight and I don't want to see her." He tilted his head at me and I saw his eyes twinkle. "Is that okay?"
"Yeah." I laughed, relieved that he was acting like he usually did.
Off the top of my head, I didn't remember who Abe was, but when Steven rung the doorbell and he answered the door, I immediately recognized the stocky football player. Abe was easily over six feet tall, and would have been very intimidating if I had passed him on the street without knowing him. He and Steven were obviously good friends, and I felt more like an accessory than a real part of the group, but Abe let me in anyway.
"So you're Andrew, huh?" Abe asked me as we all sat in his living room. From the lack of family photos and the disarray the house was in, I figured he lived by himself, or perhaps rented the house from someone.
Tucking my hair self-consciously behind my ear, I nodded.
Steven tugged my ear playfully and laughed. "You'll have to excuse my friend. He's a little shy," he said to Abe.
I leaned back into the couch and crossed my arms over my chest, not paying much attention to what the two of them were saying. I was mainly watching Steven, because he was a very animated talker, using his entire body to illustrate what he was trying to get across. I stifled a yawn and my eyes found a clock on the wall. It was nearly three in the morning, and I was getting tired. Steven and Abe were involved in a heated conversation, so I didn't interrupt them by asking where we were supposed to sleep. Steven had said we were spending the rest of the night over here, and I planned to turn in early... as soon as a lull came over the room.
Steven didn't keep me waiting long, because he always seemed to be in tune with how I felt. He nudged me with his elbow. "Getting sleepy?"
"Yeah," I replied, glad that he'd noticed.
"Feel free to go on upstairs. The door to the guest room's open," Abe offered, and I gladly took him up on it.
"Thanks," I muttered, dragging my feet tiredly up the stairs. After a quick stop in the bathroom, I found the guest room and collapsed onto the bed. It had a powerful, male-cologne scent to it, and the smell was even stronger on the pillow, but at that point, I didn't really care. I slipped my shoes and shirt off and left them on the floor, then curled up on top of the blanket and fell asleep quickly.
It wasn't light yet when I woke up several hours later, but Steven was laying next to me. He had put the blanket over the both of us, and was pressed close behind me. The position made me extremely uncomfortable, and the thought of Abe walking in and finding us like that made me pull away from him. Sleepily, he reached for me, and I saw his eyes open.
"What's the matter?" he slurred, still trying to get a hold on me.
I sighed and moved closer to him so he could wrap his arms back around me. "Nothing," I said in answer to his question, then lied, "I think I had a nightmare."
He grunted and buried his face in the back of my neck, nuzzling beneath my hair. I forced myself to relax, and when his hands settled comfortingly on my stomach and rubbed gently back and forth, my eyes slipped closed. He knew just what to do to calm me down, and I fell back asleep.
I did dream this time, one of those dreams every teenage boy never wants when he's in the same bed as someone else. It was a wet dream of random scenes of Steven and me, and it was incredibly arousing. At the peak of everything, like normal, I woke up, but found that the pleasure hadn't ended with my dream. Steven was between my legs, sucking hungrily on my erection, and it was such a shock--I was already so turned on--that I came right then, and he swallowed greedily to get it all.
He slithered up my body until we were face to face and his eyes glimmered in the faint morning light as he smiled at me. "I want you so bad right now," he said to me, rubbing himself persuadingly against my stomach. "You know what else?"
"What?" I whispered.
He got close to my ear and said quietly, "Abe wants you, too."
All of a sudden, I became aware of the other presence in the room. My eyes widened. Steven was kissing my ear, presenting a very worthy distraction, when I felt an unfamiliar set of hands spreading my legs apart. I felt weak, queasy. This was only my second time, and already Steven was introducing me to another person--his friend, who I knew nothing about. I was scared to death.
Steven moved so he was sitting on my chest, and I was wondering how he'd managed to undress us without ever waking me up, but we were both nude. I couldn't see Abe because Steven was in my way, but I felt him between my legs, touching places that made me blush and shudder and wish it was Steven down there instead.
But Steven had other ideas, which somehow made me believe he'd had this planned the entire time. He put his hands behind my knees and folded my legs up so they were around him, leaving me completely spread open. I took a deep breath and tried to focus on his face, which was split with a grin. I didn't understand how he could be so easygoing about what he was doing to me. Nothing ever seemed like a big deal to him.
His hands massaged the backs of my knees gently, and it was then that I felt Abe's tongue flicker over the sensitive entrance to my body. I jolted; if Steven hadn't been sitting on me, I might have fled, the feelings were so intense. I tried to move, but Steven had a firm grip on my legs and I could only lay there and pant as Abe rimmed me.
Once the shock of having a tongue up my ass wore off, I relaxed my tense muscles, thoroughly enjoying how it felt. I closed my eyes, moaning quietly as Abe pushed his tongue inside to lick at my inner walls. My cock was hard and leaking so profusely from where it was wedged between my stomach and thigh that I feared it might burst. Steven must have been feeling the effects of how I was buzzing with pleasure, because he let my legs drop and scooted closer to my face.
I opened my eyes as he pressed the head of his erection against my lips. Obediently, I opened my mouth for him and, holding his gaze, sucked tenderly on the hot piece of flesh. A smile pulled at his lips, but he didn't say anything, just pushed deeper until he hit the back of my throat and I coughed. I thought he'd have been disappointed in me, but he only moaned, grabbed the back of my head, and forced himself deeper. On the verge of gagging, I hardly noticed when Abe had stopped licking me. What brought me right back to earth, though, was feeling his massive cock pressing against my slickened entrance.
Abe kept my legs up and apart so I was as open as possible. He wasn't nearly as slow or gentle as Steven had been, and slammed forcefully inside me with no warning. I gasped, choking on the cock in my mouth. My hands pushed at Steven, trying to make him get off me, but he only whispered, "Shh, calm down. It's okay..." and stroked my hair as he rocked gently against my face.
Abe was being far too rough; unnecessarily rough. I felt my insides yield to his almost painful girth as it pounded mercilessly in and out of me over and over. My head was spinning from the rush. It didn't exactly hurt, because he'd done a good job working me open for him, but the pummeling was still brutal.
"Jerk him off," Steven said suddenly, and I gasped again as my erection was encircled in Abe's strong, meaty fist. I groaned and sighed around Steven's cock, but I was starting to get the hang of breathing and could finally take him as deep as he wanted to go without cutting off my air.
The feeling was ethereal: the hot, pulsing piece of flesh in my mouth, the harsh pounding as Abe shoved himself into me, and the throbbing of my own leaking arousal... I was overcome. On some strange sort of instinct, I reached up and took Steven's erection in my hand, stroking it quickly while I continued to slurp around the dripping tip. He moaned deeply, his back arching, and he cried out as he spilled himself. My mouth was flooded with thick, searing, salty liquid, and my first instinct was to spit it out, but I swallowed. It caught halfway down my throat, because I gasped suddenly as Abe brushed against my prostate, and a great spasm of pleasure shocked through my entire lower body.
I came hard, my semen splattering against Abe's stomach, and his body stiffened as I brought him with me. My body was nothing more than a mass of trembling nerves, and once Abe had pulled out of me and Steven'd gathered me in his arms, my mind was such a blank, happy place that I was able to relax. I was content, sated, and utterly spent.
Steven kissed the side of my mouth while he ran his fingers through my hair lovingly. "Did you like that?"
Like wasn't quite the term I would have chosen, so I didn't even bother to say how it'd made me feel to him. Low. Degraded. Used. But I only sighed quietly. "As long as you did," I said, no longer feeling Abe anywhere near me, but not caring much about where he'd gone.
Steven smiled. "It was perfect. You always are."
I never told him I loved him, but I was sure that's what it was--for what else could it have been?
If it's good for you, it's good for me, too.
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