Six Of One, Half A Dozen Of Another (BoyxBoy)

Six of One Half A Dozen of Another

~Chapter One: Your My Bitch ~

Jude’s POV

“Guys come on, can we talk about this? We’re all dudes here! Please just put me down!” I beg thrashing around in their tight grip. I’m thrown over one of the jocks shoulders being toted through the halls like a sack of freaking potatoes. No one try’s to help but I don’t resent them for it because if they did they would be the one being tormented, not me. There are three of them all laughing at my misery.

“Hang the gay boy from the flag pole by his underwear?” Patrick the leader of the meatheads asks and they cheer.

“No, please not the flag pole! Don’t I get a vote?” I whine starting to panic when they step outside. It’s been a while since the last time I was strung up on the flag pole but I remember it hurt like a bitch. The door slams shut behind us and all hope is lost because there are no teachers outside, their all inside teaching a class. The ass holes don’t even pay attention to me whist I thrash around and plea for mercy. We’re in front of the pole now and I’m kicking and punching at my capture but because I’m so fucking scrawny and weak it does relatively nothing.

“Guys put me down!” I’m yelling now so flustered that I’m sure my face is red. They go on laughing, the assholes.

“You heard the kid.” A gravely husky and impossibly sexy voice says off to the right. “Put him down.” The jocks stop abruptly and turn to the voice, and since I’m thrown over their shoulder I turn to meet the stranger’s eyes too.

Leaning up agents the building one hand shoved deep into his jean pockets is the most amazing creature I have ever laid my eyes on. He’s dangerous looking, with hair the color darker than the night sky spiked up in all directions. Piercing eyes fickle in color look back at us in a board kind of way. I’m not sure if their blue or black but they shine ether way with some kind of inner light. He’s tall no doubt about that, and his black wife beater (A/N I hate that term but I don’t remember the other word for it) does little to conceal his taught tan muscles. He’s standing on one converse clad foot the other casually crossed over his ankle.

“What did you say?” Patrick asks because the others don’t have enough brain cells to form a coherent sentence. The stranger snorts snuffing out his cigarette and pushing himself off the wall slowly and somehow, gracefully, striding over to us while still looking extremely dangerous and alluring, maybe even more so.

“You stupid and deaf? I said put him down.” He orders a sight (and amazingly attractive) growl in his voice. The group seems to blanch for a moment before recovering with a flourish.

“And who the fuck are you to tell us what to do?” Patrick growls back and the boy smirks. I’m just there laying limp in the jocks grasp because really, I’m shocked. This guy is standing up for me and he has no idea who I am, and from the looks of it he doesn’t care who I am just that Patrick and his gang let me go.

“I’m Kale and you mother fucker are about to have your asses beat.” The stranger, Kale, threatens before stepping forward and punching Patrick square in the face. I think that everyone is as blown away as I am by this turn of events.

“Shit!” Patrick curses holding his jaw and his goons spring into action, dropping me in the proses. I land on my back in the dirt looking up at the fight that unfolds before me.

Tim, Patrick’s right hand man, charges throwing a punch that goes wide and Kale easily evades. Spinning on his heal Kale puts Tim in a head lock while Tim claws at Kales arms, trying to break free. With an angered cry the last opponent, Joey, goes to punch Kent but he shifts his weight causing Joey to punch Tim in the face instead. Kent drops a now unconscious Tim to the ground delivering a set of punches to Joey who stagers back spitting out blood.