Oliver was in the bathroom shaving when he heard Elio return from downstairs. It sounded like he was almost skipping up the staircase and across the threshold to his room. A few seconds later, the door swung open and Elio was halfway in to the bathroom, pausing when he saw Oliver. Elio was clearly not expecting anyone, he was wearing white briefs that rode almost up to his bellybutton. His body was slick with sweat and tanned, making the whiteness of his underpants even more pronounced. Oliver was looking at him in causal surprise. Elio moved forward, then back, unsure of what to do. He was clearly embarrassed, after another second he managed a "Ha! S-sorry" before ducking out of the room. Oliver smirked to himself as he turned his attention back to his lathered stubble. Elio Perlman, the worldly little scholar in tighty whities?
Oliver finished shaving and swaggered out of the shared bathroom, not to his room but to Elio's; the younger boy had just finished changing in to jeans and a limp white t-shirt that almost hung off his shoulders. He raised his head at the sound of Oliver entering the room but lowered it again when he saw him.
"What?" Elio asked tersely. Oliver could tell he had no interest in discussing what had just happened, probably praying Oliver would pretend it never happened.
"I didn't know little Elio Perlman still wore tighty whities, that's all" Oliver said with a smile and a shrug. Elio shuddered at the embarrassing, rhymey name.
"Ran out of boxers. Had to go in to town" Elio said while lacing up his sneakers, still not looking up at the older boy; who knew he was wearing a smug, condescending grin.
"You know, I don't think I've ever seen you wear any other boxers than that red check pair..." Oliver pondered to himself, Elio was still trying to ignore him. This bugged Oliver, he liked seeing Elio embarrassed. He slowly inches towards Elio's dresser and slid open the top drawer.
"Hey! What are you doing?!" Elio exclaimed, suddenly jumping to life as he lurched to close the drawer, but it was too late. Oliver could see the stacks upon stacks of white briefs, glowing against the hardwood interior of the drawer. Elio slammed the drawer shut and looked away for a second, then met Oliver's eyes.
"I thought as much", Oliver smiled, looking down at Elio's face which was slowly growing redder. "You're reading Homer and Heraclitus but you haven't graduated from little boy briefs yet? What happened?"
Elio opened his mouth indignantly, ready to argue, but then closed it and turned to walk away; there wasn't much he could say to defend himself. This was when Oliver lunged at Elio, wanting to have more fun with him. He grabbed his slender wrists with his hands and pinned them against his chest with ease. In the tousle, Oliver saw a flash of the familiar red check boxers peeking out from Elio's jeans. He dug his hands inside and pulled the boxers out, making Elio yelp.
"You sure got changed fast!" Oliver teases, pulling on the papery cotton. That material was especially painful for wedgies: it induced a lot of chafing and cutting. Elio was gripping the back of his waistband along with Oliver, and kicking his legs trying to break free. With another few rugs, the boxers tore and slipped right out of Elio's ass, leaving Oliver with a handful of underwear.
Elio turned and looked at him in disbelief, gripping both his cheeks in pain. "Guess you'll be needing those tighty whities, huh?" Oliver laughed, chucking the ruined boxers in Elio's face. He couldn't lie, he had enjoyed the humiliation a little. He turned to Oliver and out of nowhere spoke, "don't!" Oliver turned at looked at him curiously, "d-don't tell anyone", Elio finished, giving him a small smile, which he was sure Oliver understood. The smile was returned as Oliver backed in to the bathroom, and with a wink, as he closed the door.
Elio toyed with the torn boxers in his hands, trying to let what had happened catch up with him. The raised eyebrows as Oliver first saw Elio's real underwear, the casual strength he exhibited in the wedgie. Even hearing his own name and "tighty whities" in the same sentence had made him shudder with excitement. He almost wanted to chastise himself for being so pathetically turned on by these things, but that shame added to the humiliation in a strange way that somehow made him more excited.
Dropping the boxers on the floor, he sidled over to his dresser drawer and picked up a pair of his trusty tighty whities. The cotton was thick in his hands and the soft, snugness he felt when he slid them up his legs and the way the high-rise waistband almost ticked his bellybutton made him crazy. Just about ready to rekindle the feeling, he suddenly stopped himself. He had a good idea. He skipped across the room half-naked to retrieve a black marker and lay the underpants on his desk. He wrote ELIO in big letters across the inside of the waistband. Turning them around, he saw his name had already seeped through the material to the other side.
He smiled to himself as he finally slid the underwear on, followed by jeans and a dark red polo shirt that as of this year was a little short on him. As he walked, crouched and bent over, he could feel the shirt riding up and showing off his waistband. Excited, he ran downstairs, hoping to run in to Oliver down there sometime soon.
