Coiled (Book 1 of 2)

I'll Let You Call Me Reggie

As the door to the classroom swings open, the young man shakes his head disapprovingly at the other, "Smoking indoors?"

"What of it?"

The door, shutting softly and locking.

"Put it out. I don't fancy the smell."

Silence as they stare at one another.

Snapping his fingers, he bristles impatiently, "We've gone over this. You know this. So put it out."

Sighing, the other boy rolls his eyes but obeys without any further argument. Staring back he takes the cigarette and extinguishes it against the ledge of the window he's leaning against. As he smothers it, he stares his companion down thoughtfully, "Colour me quite surprised, Henry."

"And why's that?"

"You, seeking an encounter between us so soon after our last -"

"- It's been a week."

"Exactly. Much sooner than I'd have expected."

"Who says it's going to be an encounter? Perhaps it's just a private conversation. Perhaps this is strictly business for the cause."

"Is it, Henry?"

"... No."

"So then ..."

The two of them, smiling sharply at one another as the one begins walking slowly towards the other.

"So you do want an encounter, then. You want to fool around."

Having reached him, the darker haired boy shrugs disinterestedly. Bringing his hand up and out, he begins to lightly stroke at the other's straw coloured hair, "What can I say? Perhaps I'm catching feelings for you."

"Oh?"

"What would you say to that?"

Trying his best to keep his voice even, the other young man laughs, "Lucky me. I'd say I'm the luckiest fellow in the whole castle."

He'd be a liar to pretend he wasn't secretly thrilled at catching someone's eye, though this wasn't quite the man he'd had in mind for himself. And he's a fool for believing this one has any real feelings for him.

But all thoughts are derailed as the other boy suddenly pulls his hand back and snaps his fingers impatiently, "Undress. Quickly."

Rising upwards from his perch on the ledge of the window sill so that their bodies are now pressed lightly against one another, he begins to slowly unbutton his shirt. And when that's cast to the side, his trousers follow.

Voice faltering with obvious excitement, he leans in for a kiss that never comes, "What now then?"

But there's no immediate reply. Instead, he's met with a cold gaze; the familiar set of intimidatingly black eyes.

A few seconds pass before the black eyes blink, "... We're going to play a game together."

"And what game's that?"

"Does it really matter? You like my games."

"Humour me?"

Guiding his now nearly nude plaything back down against the ledge, he leans over and continues to stare him down, "The simplest sort."

"Elaborate."

Hands slipping onto the band of the other's underwear, he tugs at him teasingly, "Let me ..."

"... Let you?"

"... Let me edge you relentlessly."

The bold proposition, combined with his continued eye contact, is completely shiver-inducing for the one to whom it's delivered.

"What do you say?"

"Obviously yes."

At this, the cruellest smile, "Buuuuut ..."

A groan of both dread and anticipation, "'But' what?"

"There are rules I demand you must follow."

"I'm not the sort who's known for following rules, as you well know. In fact, I stake my entire reputation on -"

His words are cut short and replaced with a desperate moan as the other man slips his hand beneath the fabric of his underwear and delivers the lightest, slowest, stroke.

Then, just as quickly, the hand falls away, "I see. Pity ... I suppose we'll forget it then -"

"- Wait!"

"Mmmm?"

"Name your rules."

Their eyes once again locked, the one in complete control leans closer, his demand breathy as it hits the other's lips, "Let me call you Evan while we play. I want to use his name, not yours. I want to pretend you're him."

Shock and righteous indignation at such a proposal, "Fuck that! Use my name."

"No. I think not ..."

Pausing, he slips his hand slowly back onto him and begins stroking with a completely tantalising rhythm, "... Evaaaan."

Shuddering, the other gasps with unexpected arousal, "Alright! Alright, then. Fine. You win."

"Yes. I win. I - always - win ..." Each word, teased out to match the pace with which his hand rubs and strokes.

Gasping and tossing his head back, the other young man whimpers approvingly.

It's humiliating, to be called another's name; but it's the kind of casual degradation that completely turns him on.

Hand darting away once more, the one in control suddenly grips the other boy's chin and pulls him in for a deep, demanding kiss. Then, a teasing murmur against his lips, "... Tell you what ..."

"What?!"

It's yet another reply that betrays the desperation for feeling the hand resume its work against him.

"... I'll let you call me Reggie."

That earns the loudest gasp yet. For though it's true, it's never been spoken aloud: the secret, forbidden desire this one carries.

"How did you -"

"- I'm observant."

He's not just observant, he's a man who takes risks and follows his hunches.

"But Henry -"

That earns an immediate slap across the face - one that stings terribly, "- Ah, ah, ah! Wrong!"

"Reggie! I meant to call you Reggie."

"That's right. Now silence. The only thing I want to hear from you from here on is pathetic, pleasured whimpering. Understood?"

A nod of acquiesce. And as he resumes his caresses and kisses, as he tortures the other relentlessly under his hand, as he delivers unto him a ruined ...

... Throughout it all, the only thing he can think about is Evan ...

Evan, whose name he calls him over and over.

Evan, the one he really wants under his hand.

Evan, of whom he has a hunch now.

Still just a hunch, but quite a strong one.

Because after what happened the other night between him and Evan, he's narrowed it down:

Evan said he likes 'certain' men.

And given the way he reacted in the dark ...

... That leaves only two possibilities:

Reggles or Amy.