Trevek: Hosting Feelings

Spontaneous /18+/

Major Smut Warning People

Trevor's POV:
I open the door with some force behind my push as its old and rusty demeanor will no doubt be noncompliant. Slowly, it creaks open, worn hinges rattling inch by inch with my arm straining against the door's resistance. Our tepid struggle comes to an end when I finally swing the weathered metal wide enough and prop it open with a nearby crate to my left. Me and Derek cautiously enter the seemingly unstable dwelling. This old shed really has seen better days.

So we're on a mission issued to us by my patron, sir dad. My father elected our civil punishment for today to be to locate drawing references for his latest project that he long stockpiled in the house of forgotten projects. The famed reality show: Hoarders has nothing on the sad piles of supplies my art-weilding parent collected over the years.

"Ok, what the fuck." Derek says plainly, expressing exactly how I feel. "I knew we were gonna have to do sucky labor, but torture? I thought your dad loved us." Derek quips, eyes scanning the impossible mountain of paper before us. The man himself apparently couldn't help aid in the search and rescue party because his current project demanded all his focus, so it fell to us to do his dirty work.

"He does love us," I start before running  smack dab into a rouge file cabinet, "oww. At least, I think he does. " I finish, rubbing my shins caught in the crossfire. "I didn't really wanna have to hunt down 2d treasure today either, but he said the papers he was looking for were in a blue folder with stickers on it. The sooner we start, the sooner we can leave. " I rationalize, trying to be positive about our impromptu positions as file whisperers.

"Dude, there are like a million different blue folders in here, and those are just the ones we can see. This sucks, and on a day off, too? I'm starting to hate the color blue." Derek rants, clearly pissed about being made a lackey in my father's grand design. He shouldn't blame blue, though. The sky and the sea did nothing to earn his ire, and I know blue is his favorite color.

I grab my phone and turn on a spotify playlist reserved for motivation, like when we have hard projects at school to complete, or we plan to sneak out of Derek's house for late night fun. The upbeat music kicks in, and the backbeat is contagious. The rhythm flows into my cells, and I start doing one of the things I do best. Grooving. I take one of Dereks' hands and use my free one to start moving dusty folders.

"Come on, groove with me Derek". I say, moving him along to the beat of the music; encouraging him to get into the passionate thrall that was my amazing moves.

"Dude, that's not dancing, you are having a seizure." He comments as I string him along with my flowing movements. Ah, young Derek, denying the effervescent presence that was my performance.

"Make any joke you want, you know my moves turn you on." He scoffs but doesn't pull away from my lead, smiling and sifting through papers as we play a bizarre mixture of flamenco fever and Dora the explorer. The process is probably half as effective with us holding hands and half dancing, half searching, but damn if it wasn't fun. As the doofus ballet continues, we eventually break up our duet and scour opposite sides of the shed.

I come across some unattended files on one of the long benches, and I lean over toward them after spotting sight of a blue corner. Could this be the one piece I seek? I pull the papers forward wrapped in the folder and spot two graphic art stickers of meteors adorning the cover. Found it!

"Derek, I think I got it," I say as I back up from the low bench and get suddenly stopped by a random groin blocking my butts path to freedom.

"Ha! Got em!" Derek says as he thrusts  his hips forward towards my rear in a suggestive pose that would put yo-ga Tiktokers to shame. "Glad we finally found it though. That gives us some time to have a little fun," he implies, grinding his crotch on my backside like a dog in heat.