Bully Blues

Cory shuffles down the street on his way back from school, rubbing at his bruised knuckles. They're slightly skinned and they ache, although not as much as Jason Augor probably aches right now, considering the knuckles went right under the edge of his ribs.

Cory hadn't really meant to beat up Jason again. He's been sort of trying to stop beating people up, and mostly he has, but every time he sees Jason's stupid little face, with his stupid little nose and his- well, he just can't help himself. It's like a compulsion. He doesn't even have a good reason for it at this point—beating up Jason is just what he does.

Cory looks up only to find with mild surprise that he has been so caught up in his musings that he's missed his street. His feet have carried him onward of their own accord, and it takes him a second to re-orient himself in his surroundings and realize where he's walked off to. Not too far—only two blocks past his house.

Normally he'd recognize this block immediately, but he was disoriented by a new shop in the center of the block that he's fairly sure he's never seen before. Fairly sure, but the shop looks somehow like it's been there for ages, its faded red sign—"Solution Shop"—sitting comfortably between the two adjacent buildings. Taking a few steps closer to see into its dim windows, Cory notices that underneath the large letters of the shop's name on the sign is the slogan, "Problems Solved."

That's vague enough, for sure. But something called a "solution" shop sounds like it might have some salve or ointment or something, or at least some disinfectant, and his knuckles are really stinging at this point. He shoulders the door open, causing a little bell to tinkle faintly in an announcement of his presence amidst a small rain of dust.

The shop looks old—way old; on the shelves sit all sorts of boxes and bottles with fading, barely-legible labels and murky contents. But despite this, he does actually manage to find a bottle of disinfectant-slash-painkiller in one of the bottom rows on a shelf in the corner. It looks old, but the sell-by date claims that it's still good. It's not a brand he recognizes, either, but then, nothing in here is.

Cory stands up from where he was stooped by the shelf examining the jar and glances around the shop for the checkout. When his eyes land on the cash register, he starts—a tall, spindly white-haired man stands behind it, eyes focused intently on Cory as though he's been staring at him since he came in. Cory hadn't noticed that there was anyone else in the room.

Giving himself a small mental shake, Cory takes his disinfectant up to the counter. "Just this, please," he says. The man continues to stare at him with dark, piercing eyes behind his small, square spectacles.

"My my," he says after a second, glancing down at Cory's hand around the bottle, "what happened to your poor hand?" His voice is deep and melodic, almost hypnotizing in its smooth rhythm.

Cory shrugs. "I was in a fight. No big deal."

"A fight?" The man stares off into the distance over Cory's shoulder, and his lips curve into a small, not altogether pleasant smile. A small shudder runs up Cory's spine. "Not, perhaps, a fair fight, I think?"

Cory feels himself blushing, and feels hostility rising in him towards the old man. Who is this stranger to judge him? "None of your business," he huffs. "Not like I wanted to fight anyway."

"Ah, but I have a solution for you!" the man says, abrupt and strangely clipped. He stoops down behind the counter in a swift movement like a diving hawk. Moments later he is back again and handing Cory a small package, clear plastic and sealed with a stapled piece of cardboard at the top, like the sort of small novelty items you might get out of a 25-cent vending machine at a supermarket. Inside the plastic bag is a curling snake of rope. The man drops it on the counter beside the antiseptic.

"This is what you should use," says the man. "Yes. This is the perfect solution for your troubles."

"What is it?" Cory asks. He picks it up, skeptical, and turns it over in his hands.

"It's something... hmm." The man pauses for a moment. "It's something like a dreamcatcher. If you want to stop fighting, it will help you."

"Yeah, thanks," says Cory, "but I don't need to buy some stupid little useless trinket. I'll just take the stuff for my knuckles."

"Oh, no need, no need!" cries the man. He places the "dreamcatcher" next to Cory's other purchase. "I will include it for free! No charge necessary! It will help you, I promise."

Cory shrugs, finding himself more and more creeped out by the guy every second, and quickly pays for the antiseptic, wanting to get out of the shop as soon as possible. The man places the small bottle and the plastic package into a brown paper bag and hands them to Cory, who nods his thanks and darts out of the store as quickly as he can.

When he returns home he drops the bag on his bedside table and takes out the solution for his knuckles. Despite how old it probably is, it works well and the pain numbs immediately. Cory's never used an antiseptic before that didn't make the sting worse, and so he's kind of impressed. He seals the bottle again and leaves it next to the paper bag, forgetting about it until later that night when he's readying himself for bed.

As he pulls on the boxer shorts he sleeps in, Cory's knuckles give a twinge, and he looks over to the night stand for the antiseptic. He reaches for it and spots the paper bag, crumpled and forgotten, next to it. With a feeling of condescension and a hint of self mockery, he pulls out the plastic bag that the man gave him and looks at it once more.

The directions on the back of the cardboard label say to take the rope out of the package and to tie each end of the rope to one of the posts on the headboard of his bed. Cory shrugs and pulls the package open with a pop. The cord did not look particularly long in the package, but he finds that it stretches easily between the bedposts with even a little slack between. He ties the knots around each post securely, as the package indicates, and lets the slack hang down in the middle.

Cory stares at it when he's done, thinking it looks pretty stupid and nothing like a dreamcatcher, and throws the empty packaging into a trash bin next to his door. He slips out into the hall and goes down to the bathroom to brush his teeth in preparation for bed.

He returns from these ablutions shortly and re-enters his bedroom, closing the door behind him with a soft snick. Then he stops short, staring in disbelief.

In the center of his bed, crouched on his knees, is none other than Jason Augor—completely nude. He is facing the wall at the head of the bed, and his wrists are tied up in the length of rope that spans the bedposts. In his current position, Jason would be on all fours were it not for his suspended arms; his naked rear end squirms invitingly in the middle of the bed.

"Cory?" Jason squeaks, catching sight of the still dumbfounded boy standing by the door. "What's- what's going on? Let me go! Untie me!"

Cory steps forward, intending to do so, but suddenly the old hot feeling of anger towards Jason rises in his chest. Stupid Jason. Stupid, perfect little Jason, with his perfect little body that Cory isn't allowed to touch, isn't supposed to want to touch, and so he wants to destroy it instead, to feel it break underneath him, if that's all that he can get.

Cory kneels on the back of the bed, but doesn't move to untie the smaller boy. Jason cranes his neck around, attempting to see Cory behind him. Not fully understanding himself, Cory takes a hand and places it firmly on Jason's right buttock, squeezing it roughly.

Jason yelps. "Hey, stop!"

Cory doesn't stop. He puts his other hand on the other buttock, squeezing that one as well, and spreads them apart with his palms. The tight, pink pucker of Jason's anus stares up at him from between the spread cheeks, as though daring or perhaps inviting him.

Cory moves his hands more towards the inside of the cheeks, still clutching and spreading them with his fingers, so that he can press his thumbs against that little opening. Jason murmurs and tries to squirm, but Cory holds him steady. He pushes against the pucker with his right thumb, pressing hard, massaging it.

"No! Not there!" Jason protests, squirming. "Don't! It'll go in! Stop it!"

Cory has never listened to Jason's pleas for mercy before, and he doesn't start now. He continues to press with his thumb, feeling the tight resistance of Jason's anal muscles. The boy seems to be deliberately clenching them as tightly as he can, trying to shut Cory out. 'Well,' Cory thinks, 'can't have that.'

With a harsh shove, he plunges the end of his thumb into Jason's ass. The friction is heavy on his dry digit, and it doesn't go in far; even Cory can feel the harshness of its scraping. Jason mewls at the penetration, still murmuring protests.

Cory releases Jason with his other hand, just long enough to stick his thumb in his mouth and give it a perfunctory lathing with his tongue. He returns the hand to Jason's buttock and removes his dry thumb from the boy's anus. He hears Jason give a small sigh of relief and feels the tension in his hips lessen somewhat.

This changes abruptly to a squeal and a tight clench of anal muscles, but it is too late; Cory has forced his wet thumb inside in one long, squelching push. Jason's initial clench changes to a writhing motion as Cory begins a small pumping motion with the thumb, turned on by the obscene wet noises Jason's ass makes as it spasms around the digit, clenching and unclenching and sucking the thumb inside greedily.

Jason tries to lower his hips, but Cory won't let him. He fucks the boy's ass with his thumb, pushing it in as deep as he can, listening to the boy's whimpers every time the ball of the thumb forces his anus wide.

Knowing where this is going—where it must go—Cory grabs the edge of his boxers with one hand, still thrusting into the boy with his other thumb, and pulls them down past his quickly hardening cock. He spits into the palm of his hand and rubs himself, coating his dick in a thin sheen of saliva. With a sick grin he lines himself up with Jason's anus—thrusts particularly hard with his thumb so that Jason whimpers again—and then yanks the thumb all the way out, replacing it on his next thrust with his cock.

Jason's ass is incredibly tight—much tighter than he imagined—and the spit is only the barest lubrication. He manages to thrust the head inside on his first go, but not much more. Nevertheless, Jason squeals like a stuck pig as the tip of Cory's penis enters him, and shouts, "No! Take it out! Take it out! It's going in! Stop it!"

And it is going in. Fraction of an inch by tiny fraction of an inch, the forward pressure of Cory's hips force his cock deeper into Jason's ass. It's blissfully tight. Cory squeezes his eyes shut, stilling, his cock only halfway in, and feels the tight pleasure and heat of it, the softness of the inner walls. He's not much further in now than his thumb was earlier, but Jason's whole body is shaking around him.

He begins to thrust, using the momentum of his motion to work himself a little deeper inside with every thrust. Jason makes an interesting little choking sound every time he thrusts in and each time it only makes Cory harder. Finally he can't take it anymore and grabs Jason's hips roughly in his hands, slamming them backward as hard as he can as he slams his own hips forward. His cock sinks, heavy with pressure, almost reluctantly, into the depths of Jason's ass and Jason lets out a high, breathy moan.

Cory thrusts in earnest now, feeling the glorious tight friction of Jason's ass still clenching on him spasmodically. He tries to time his thrusts to the spasms, so that he is deepest inside when the clenching is tightest. It feels amazing, and he finds himself reaching across Jason's back and grabbing his hair, wrenching his head back as he pumps in and out, in and out, tightness and heat all around him. Jason groans, moans, and clenches, enveloping him almost like an embrace, and something in his little whimper or perhaps the heat, or the softness, sends Cory over the edge and his hips buck wildly, spurts of cum shooting into Jason's ass, more heat inside the already burning tightness.

Cory slips out of Jason with a gasp, trying desperately to get his breath back. Almost immediately, cum begins to drip out of Jason's flush and open anus, even as sweat drips into it from above, down off the curve of his spine.

Jason is still writhing and groaning, and as Cory falls down to his elbow on one side, he sees that the boy is hard—very hard. He grins.

"Look who got turned on from having his ass fucked, huh? I knew you were a little slut."

"Please," Jason mutters, his eyes screwed shut. "Please, I want to... please, can I- let me touch it, please-"

"Nope," says Cory cheerfully, feeling powerful and vindictive. "If you want to come, you're gonna have to do it with me fucking you."

Even from this angle, Cory can see the blush that blossoms across the bridge of Jason's nose and tints his ears. "Then, please-" he mutters quietly. "Please, I need..."

"Need what?" Cory asks. His cock twitches in pleasure from Jason's obvious torment. "You're gonna have to say it. What do you want?"

"P-please," groans Jason, "do it."

"Do what?" Cory insists. "I'm not sure I know what you're talking about."

"P-please f-fuck me," says Jason.

"Better than that," says Cory. "Tell me what you want. Details. What do you want me to put where?"

He can hear the gulp of Jason's harsh swallow. The boy's voice is nearly a whisper. "Please, f-fuck my ass with your c-cock."

Cory's cock is already stiffening again, and he's amazed—he's never gotten hard again so quickly after coming. "Louder," he demands, thrilling in the power—cute, polite, shy little Jason, entirely at his mercy. "I can't hear you."

"Please," Jason says again, his voice strained but louder. "Please stick your penis up my asshole!"

"That's right," says Cory. "Since you asked so nice." And he slides his cock back into Jason's anus, easier this time as Jason's sweat and his own cum provide additional lubrication.

Jason lets out a yelp that becomes a moan as Cory buries his member to the hilt inside him. Cory fucks him rough and uneven this time—it takes him a few thrusts before he's even fully hard again, stiffening inside Jason, feeling Jason's tension increase as his cock goes deeper and deeper as it hardens. Jason is moaning now, wanton, canting his hips backwards to meet Cory's thrusts, trying desperately to pleasure himself. Cory watches the cords around Jason's wrists bite into the skin as his fingers clasp and unclasp, twitching at each thrust. Eventually Jason grabs onto the headboard and uses the leverage to slam himself back against Cory's cock, impaling himself harder and deeper than before.

Cory tries to drag it out, but his cock is over-sensitive from having come once already. He manages a number of violent, vicious thrusts, but sooner than he'd like he's burying himself deep in Jason's ass and coming for the second time, feeling the soft walls squeeze him, pouring himself out into Jason's insides.

When he disengages, Jason whimpers. "No, please, more!" he insists. Cory glances around the side to Jason's cock, and finds it so hard it is weeping, precum leaking from the tip and dripping down the length of his cock to join the mixture of sweat and Cory's cum soaking the boy's balls. The spendings of Cory's own testes drip liberally from Jason's anus now, a rivulet that snakes down out of his ass, over the dangling sack of his balls and down the inside of his right thigh.

Jason tries to lower his hips, thrust against the sheets to get some friction against his desperate cock, but Cory won't allow it. He lifts up Jason's hips, confining the member to the still air once more. "Ah-ah," he chides. "What I said before still goes."

"Please," Jason begs, "please, please, it hurts! It hurts so much! If you won't let me touch it, then please fuck me again! Please—ram your cock up my ass! I need to come! I need to come so bad!"

"Well, I don't know if I can get another one up quite that fast," says Cory truthfully. "How about you help me out?"

He manuevers his way around Jason and over one of his bound arms and sits on the headboard, where his spent cock dangles right in front of Jason's nose. "I might be convinced to fuck you again if you give me a little... encouragement."

Despite his wanton words and aching body, Jason hesitates at the approach of Cory's cock. Cory takes Jason's head in his hands and directs him, holding his face over the flaccid member and keeping it there when Jason tries to balk.

Tentatively, Jason sticks out his tongue and leans forward, sliding it up the side of Cory's cock. It shudders and twitches, and Jason, encouraged, licks it in a greater swath. He makes a face, then, and wretches slightly. Cory continues to hold his head firmly in place. "You like the taste of your own ass on my cock?" he asks, grinning.

Cory holds still as Jason licks up and down his shaft and laps down at his balls. The boy is unquestionably skittish about it, and finally Cory loses patience and says, "Take it in your mouth. Suck it."

Jason hesitates, and Cory reaches down with one hand and lays a harsh smack across the boy's buttocks. Jason cries out, his teeth clenched, but at the second such smack he complies, opening his lips and lowering them down onto the head of Cory's now half-hard cock.

The warmth and wetness of Jason's mouth is new, and Cory finds himself hardening quickly now, in the moist cavern. He can tell Jason is struggling now not to gag—probably from the taste, since little more than Cory's head is actually inside his mouth. Cory takes Jason's head in his hands again and abruptly drags him down at the same time as he slams his hips upward, forcing his dick as far as he can into Jason's mouth. Jason does gag then, but Cory forces him to keep his head in place and not to draw back, enjoying the way Jason's gagging makes his throat twitch around Cory's cock.

The gagging causes saliva to drip from the corner of Jason's mouth and down his chin, and the trickle of liquid makes Cory wonder what it would be like to get off on that sweet face; fuck his throat until he was right on the edge, then pull out and spray his juice all over Jason's face, the bridge of the nose, the cheeks, those now-swollen red lips. Maybe tangle his cock in the boy's soft hair and just rut, thrusting over and over until the soft hair is sticky and matted with his come.

Cory is hard again, but loathe to leave Jason's mouth. Still, he knows the boy's ass is even tighter, and he wants to go back. He gives a few more deep thrusts down the boy's throat for good measure, enjoying the spasmodic gagging, and then draws himself out abruptly, leaving Jason coughing and retching slightly.

Moving over Jason's bound arm once more, Cory resumes his former place behind the boy. Without so much as a grunted warning, he slides inside once more. Jason moans.

He slides in easily this time—the large deposit of cum combined with the liberal coating of Jason's saliva means he glides slickly into the fucked-open hole, which seems to clench on him almost as an afterthought, as though it hadn't realized at first that he was there.

Cory can tell as soon as he starts that this fuck will last longer. His previous two orgasms mean that he doesn't feel the need as desperately, and the slick slide of his cock means that the friction isn't as heavy as it has been the last two times. He sets a slow, deep rhythm that seems to drive Jason mad; the boy grabs the headboard once more and begins to thrust backwards wildly onto Cory's cock, trying to get him to move faster, harder. He only stops when Cory slaps his ass again in warning, and even then he whimpers piteously.

Cory grabs one of Jason's buttocks in each hand and presses them together, trying to increase the friction. The boy's ass is a mess: splashed, leaking, and sticky with cum and sweat. He focuses on the point of penetration, watching the slick skin of his cock as it slides into Jason's anus, the muscles swallowing it hungrily, greedily, clenching on him as he tries to draw away for the next thrust. Jason's anus is twitching, muscles completely out of his own control, and Cory can feel him straining for friction, trying to bring himself off.

On and on Cory goes, slow, steady, maddening thrusts that have Jason squirming and whimpering until he is literally weeping with desire, tears streaming down his face and clear, fluid precum streaming down his cock.

Finally, Cory feels himself closing in on his own orgasm and begins to thrust as before: shorter, harder jabs that rock them both forward on the bed. Jason gives a shout and comes immediately with a high-pitched keening sound, his hips shaking and bucking wildly as his cum splashes out onto the bed.

Cory continues thrusting, feeling bright bliss as Jason's inner walls clench and unclench, spasming with his hips. A last particularly tight clench finally wrings out his own third orgasm, and he bites his lip as his cock deposits a third load of cum in Jason's ass, to join the previous two.

When he pulls out—cock sliding limp from Jason's wrecked and gushing hole—he collapses on the bed next to Jason. Jason himself collapses as soon as Cory's cock leaves him, as though the point of penetration was the only thing holding him up. Only his hands remain raised slightly where they are still tied to the headboard. For a moment, the two of them pant in silence.

Finally, Cory lifts himself onto his elbow with a groan. "Fuck," he mutters, "let me go get something to clean us up." He staggers out into the hall and down to the bathroom, supremely glad that his parents' bedroom is downstairs on the other side of the house and they probably didn't hear him.

From the bathroom, Cory grabs up a box of tissues and makes a U-turn back for the bedroom. When he arrives back however, he stops dumbfounded for the second time that evening.

Jason is gone. The rope is hanging loosely between the bedposts as before, and there is no sign of the boy that had been tied up with it. The only sign that Jason was there at all is a large wet spot on the bed where he'd finally come. Cory rubs at his eyes, but the sight remains the same. It is still the same when he goes back to the bathroom once more and then returns. He is entirely unsure what has just happened, but there seems nothing he can do now except sleep. Perhaps it has all been a dream.

The next day in school, Cory has shoulder-checked Jason as he passed him in the hall even before he recognizes him. He intended to keep walking, content that Jason had dropped one of the books off of his always too-large pile, but he stops when he sees the sharp blush that blooms over Jason's features, and the way Jason averts his eyes.

Grabbing the boy by the front of the shirt, Cory drags Jason around the corner and into a stairwell, away from the throng of students that filters through the hallway between classes. "What the fuck was that?" he hisses.

"What?" Jason squeaks. "What was what? I didn't do anything!"

"You did!" Cory insists. "You blushed! And what the hell was that look?"

"N-nothing!" says Jason, voice rising in pitch. But the blush becomes even stronger now, his whole face an embarrassed red.

"Fuck nothing," says Cory. "Tell me." He shakes Jason slightly to emphasize his words.

"Nothing!" Jason repeats. "Just a dream! I can't help what I dream!"

Cory stops still, disbelief filtering into his mind. "A dream..." he says hesitantly, "...involving being tied up?"

He hadn't thought Jason could get any redder, but he is definitively proven wrong. "I- wh-" stutters Jason.

Cory reaches down and with a boldness that surprises even himself, grabs Jason's crotch through his pants. The boy is already half-hard from their encounter. Jason looks down and won't meet his eyes, but he doesn't struggle or try to escape.

Cory takes a deep breath, weighing his options. Finally he gives the cock in his hand a quick squeeze—eliciting a whimper from Jason that he recognizes intimately—and lets the boy go. With a swift stoop he bends down and presses a quick kiss to Jason's lips. Jason's eyes open wide, and he stares at Cory in disbelief.

"Go on," Cory mutters. "Get to class. I bet you've never been late to class in your life." Jason nods with a dumbfounded expression, and moves to leave. As he reaches the edge of the stairwell however, Cory calls out to him. Jason turns.

"Listen," Cory says, feeling sort of embarrassed, "if you want, you could come over to my house after school. I still have that rope tied to my headboard."

Jason stares at him, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. It makes Cory think of the fantasy he had last night, about coming on Jason's face.

"Sure," says Jason quietly. "I- I'll meet you by your locker at three." And he turns and flees.

Cory grins to himself in the empty stairway.