Disclaimer:

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorised duplication is prohibited.

Author Notes:

This is a challenge/reward fic for Amblexis, asking me to make use of one of her old thoughts.

Concept drawn from the unpublished works of Amblexis, with permission and encouragement of the Author.

QUOTE:

"Let's play a game." I said to him.

"What kind of game?" he asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

"A fun kind of game," I replied, a smug look spreading slyly across the features of my face. Though he seemed to take no notice of this fact and instead, returned my evil grin with a fully authentic smile.

END QUOTE

That was the brief. Here's what I got out of it.


Let's Play a Game

Simmy was bored.

This would have historic implications.

Sure, maybe not on the level of Genghis Khan, Apollo 13 or flared trousers. But for 110 Randal Street, This would be no less profound than lemon sorbet, cheap Tuesday, and the great pregnancy scare of 1992.

Simmy was bored.

And he knew just the boy who could entertain him.


Ka-click.

The door opened, and a teenage body passed itself through the entry, closing the door behind him.

"We're outta ice-cream," he announced, looking at the other boy perched on the edge of the room's bed, half propped up by a nest of pillows. The settled teen didn't look up from his phone, just shrugged.

"Don't worry bout it, Simmy. It's getting a bit too cold for ice-cream, anyway."

"Too cold!" the standing male, Simmy, exclaimed in fake outrage, pumping out his fists.

"Heathen! Blasphemous rogue! You defile thy religion, Nik, you ice-cream hating person, you!"

Nik chuckled lightly, as he flipped through screens on his phone, but didn't glance up to the other youth. The standing boy cupped the back of his head in his hands, smirking.

"Oh, come on, that was good! I came up with that all by myself."

Nik smirked. "It shows."

"I think thy have been insulted. Or is that, thee?" The standing male left the doorway and clambered onto the bed, snatching a pillow away from the other teen's 'nest', so that he had something to lean against, the bed being pushed flush against the wall. The nested boy's brown eyes gave him a glare.

"What!" Simmy retorted to the look. "It's my bed! You're just sleeping in it."

Nik tilted his head to look at him. Brown eyes met sky blue.

Simmy turned red.

"Err, you know what I mean," he said, tapping his fingers together. The other boy just smiled and turned his attention back on his phone.

Simmy scowled at himself. 'You know what I mean?' he mouthed sarcastically, miming holding a gun to his head and blowing his brains out, behind the other teen's back.

"Very subtle."

"What?" Nik asked, frowning at his phone's screen.

"Nothing," Simmy said quickly. "Just talking to myself," thankful when the other male just smiled lightly and shook his head in amusement, rather than say-

"It's the first sign of madness, you know."

'Oh-fuck-it-all!' Simmy glowered.

"I knew you were going to say that," the teen muttered.

"That's why I said it," Nik returned, covering a yawn.

"Right, so why are we friends, again?" the brown-eyed boy quipped.

"Our Mum's felt sorry for you, and made me play with you," Nik answered immediately.

Simmy glared.

"That's cold, dude."

"Well it's certainly not your good looks and sex appeal."

Simmy glared harder. "Keep it up, Mister Papopaulos, keep it up."

The boy just gave him a wink to let him know he had been joking. Simmy scowled back.

"Best buds for ten years, you'd think that'd get me some respect. Or at least some brownie points."

The other male made an 'hmm' sound.

"That's against guy code," he said, matter-of-factly.

Simmy blinked, before laughing aloud.

"Totally."

Simon 'Simmy' Galagher and Niko 'Nik' Papopaulos had been friends since grade school, going all the way back to their first week. Simmy had made fun of Nik's name, Nik had responded by calling him a girl, and after giving each other bruises and earning a time-out, they had been inseparable. Well, except for that time when they were nine, for about a year, and again in junior high for six months, but by in large, inseparable. Best buds and mischief makers in chief, it was all very bromantic. But somewhat surprising since they didn't have a hell of a lot in common.

Sure they both may have gone to the same school, had the same classes, took the same electives, watched the same TV shows, listened to the same music and had their birthday in the same month, but for reasons Simmy would never understand, Nik preferred Soccer to Baseball. The blue-eyed boy took great pleasure in telling his BFF about what a gay thing that was, liking Soccer over a true man's sport, like Baseball.

Plus Nik was short, and short-arses shouldn't play Soccer.

Being 5'6 a full two inches shorter than Simmy's 'respectable' 5'8, naturally meant Nik would forever be a short-arse in Simmy's opinion. And that was the only opinion that really mattered. Nik's rebuttal that he was fast and lean, and that his height was fucking fine for a sixteen year old, was not to be considered.

Nik, was a short-arse. Soccer is gay, and Simmy likes cock.

That was how the universe went.

Okay, so maybe the blonde hadn't made his best bud aware of that last part yet, but it was only due to guy code that Nik didn't know that for the last couple months, Simmy would have gladly crawled on his belly, across broken glass, nails and other sharp painful burny things, for the chance to suck Nik's knob.

And swallow.

And do other things.

Like kiss and stuff.

Though, that didn't mean Simmy was gay or anything, like Nik was with his stupid Soccer. No, he just wanted to wake up in bed with him, maybe also with a non-parochial burn in his backside.

Not gay!

And it was just a matter-of-fact that Nik was attractive, and Simmy wasn't turned on by Nik's brown hair, warm expression and Mediterranean complexion. The Greek boy said he wasn't Greek, that he was third-gen American and didn't speak and effin word of it, but he had a medi-something-something name, and a tan, so to Simmy, he was Greek.

And he had a beautiful dick that Simmy wanted to worship with his tongue.

Not gay, just a fact he had observed after claiming the adjacent shower post-gym class, when the other boy finished his gay Soccer practices.

It wasn't like Simmy beat himself raw afterwards to the thoughts of Nik's penis or anything. That would be weird. No, Simmy's sixteen year old body just had needs, and they just so happened to present themselves around Nik after gym class. Or when he slept in Nik's bed during sleepovers at his house. Or when he woke up from a dream about Nik. Or when he thought about Nik's-

"Crud," Simmy muttered as he felt the movement in his pants, moving the pillow from behind his back to cover his lap.

"Hmm?" Nik murmured to him still playing with his phone, but having heard the noise.

"Oh, um, nothing," Simmy returned. "Just thinking that I err, need, need to re-dye my hair soon. The roots are showing."

Simmy habitually dyed his naturally black hair, skater-boy blonde. He had been doing it since the start of junior high. He hadn't properly cut it since then either.

"Seems fine to me," Nik said, giving him a speculative rake over with his eyes.

"Well it's my hair, and I'm saying I need to dye it again!" Simmy defended, hotly.

The brown-haired boy held his hands up in mock surrender.

"Sorry. I'll try to be less nice about it in the future."

"You do that!" Simmy scolded.

Nik actually was nice. He once kicked a guy's arse (no really, he actually kicked a guy in the arse), because the guy, who was also on the Soccer team, had pulled on Simmy's hair and called him a girl. Nik took offense since he was the only one who could call Simmy a girl. The blonde felt he probably should be offended on multiple levels, but had been oddly chuffed about the event.

Soccer was still gay, though.

Simmy squirmed in his seat, grateful for the pillow to cover his crotch. The teen bit his lip at the pressure in his pants, inwardly cursing his dick, which had a bloody mind of its own these days. On the bus, in the shower, when he woke up, when he was about to go to bed, after gym, whilst tying his shoelaces, during algebra class. Fucking algebra class. Whenever he became remotely bored, bang!

Hello, sailor.

Yes, you do look happy to see someone, and no, that is not a roll of quarters in my pocket.

The only time Simmy didn't suffer an erection was when lesbian porn was the topic of interest. Not that the pretend blonde brought that up, and not like 'nice' Nik brought that up either. But he went to a school, which had teenage boys. And teenage boys are sick little monkeys. Not as bad as teenage girls, but still, pretty fucking sick.

"Hmm," Simmy exclaimed thoughtfully.

"What?" Nik returned to the boy absently, whom in turn, floundered and flushed.

"Oh, nothing. Just thinking," Simmy murmured, shoving the pillow behind his back, since his erection had subsided.

"Don't hurt yourself," was the other teen's absent reply.

Simmy just rolled his eyes, and huffed.

"Jock."

Nik smiled lightly in reply.

The boy sighed, schooling his mind to not think about Nik, Nik's cock, and his desire to worship at the altar of said cock.

They had already played videogames for a few hours, before setting it down for the night. And they had already talked about all the usual stuff. School, Superman, Sonic, Soccer (which is gay), and stupid stuff the school's sadistic staff slam suffering students with to slavishly slug through. Aka homework.

Regrettably, the disadvantage of being in contact so regularly was that there was so little to talk about. Hence, Simmy was bored.

"I'm bored," Simmy complained, vocalising this profound realisation.

Nik shook his head in humour.

"Can't you amuse yourself?"

"Nooo." Simmy whelped.

He had masturbated already today.

Twice.

"You're pitiful," Nik muttered.

"Pitiful, and bored," Simmy said, flapping his arms onto the mattress.

"Entertain me!"

"No."

Simmy glowered, at his unmoved best friend.

"Don't make me invoke, guy code!"

Nik smirked, not responding as he sent a text message. The youth huffed.

"Who are you texting?" Simmy mumbled.

"Your mum," Nik replied matter-of-factly. The blonde boy glowered.

"Oh, ha ha," Simmy growled. "Who are you really texting?"

KNOCK KNOCK

The door to Simmy's bedroom opened unexpectedly and a pretty woman in her mid-thirties poked her head through. She had dark hair and blue eyes in the same shade as the blonde boy's. Additionally she was wearing a yellow MILF t-shirt.

"Hey, boys. I'm just on my way out to my movie now, and won't be back until late. Possibly late tomorrow, if the night's good," the woman said in a cheery voice.

"Niko, make sure Simon doesn't try to cook anything. Last time he tried, it almost burnt the house down. If you get hungry, I left pizza money on the kitchen counter."

"I can too cook!" the blonde boy exclaimed, indignantly. The other two just snorted. Simmy gave them both wrathful looks.

"Have a good night out, Miss G," Nik said for the pair. "You look hot."

Far from being taken aback or insulted at the words, the woman just beamed at him, preening at the brusk compliment.

"Thank you, Niko. You know the way to a woman's heart. Simon can stand to learn a thing or two from you," she said approvingly, and subsequently shaking her head in mock disappointment at her son. Simmy crossed his arms and shot daggers.

"I will not call my mum; hot!" he protested.

The woman glared back.

"That's mean, dude," Nik said teasingly.

"Yes, Simon," the woman nodded. "I should ground you for-"

Beep!

She trailed off as she fished he phone out of a pocket.

"Oh, text message from you, Niko," The woman said pleasantly, reading the screen, whilst the blonde teenager sent his companion a scowl.

"Simmy is bored," She read off the screen. "Escape whilst you still can."

The blue-eyed boy shot his friend a glare of annoyance, whom in turn, just grinned unapologetically.

The woman snorted.

"Yes, well," She began ponderously. "Try and keep the little angel entertained, would you, Niko?"

The Soccer player's grin dimmed at the word 'entertained' whilst simultaneously, the other male crowed in victory.

"Thanks! Enjoy your date, mum," Simmy said with a beaming smile, shooting his friend a look that promised pain. The woman saw this and laughed.

"Now play nice," she directed in mock authority, her body moving to shut the door.

"See you guys, later."

"Bye, mum!" the skater-boy called, as Nik nodded his own goodbye to the woman.

The door closed.

"Entertain me!" Simmy demanded.

"Nope," Nik returned immediately, patting his pockets, distracted.

"Aww. Come on! Play with me!"

"Na-uh," the more built soccer player muttered, pulling some earphones out of his pocket, and plugging them into the phone.

"Pleaaaase?"

Simmy's pleading was ignored by the other male, whom was pushing one earbud into the ear closest to the wailing fellow teen. The blonde huffed quietly as Nik shuffled into the mound of pillows intent on ignoring him. Scowling, Simmy, changed his position on the bed, giving the nest of pillows an ineffectual kick.

Sighing, the boy forced himself to relax back into the bed linen. It would be no use getting stroppy. The other teen would just keep ignoring him. Best mates were good for things like that. Gazing up to the ceiling, the boy's forehead contracted in thought, as he listened to the nearby sound of the music pumping out of the other boy's earphones. He exhaled heavily. It wasn't so bad actually. Silence. Sometimes it was fine just to leave things as they were.

"Do you think my mum will enjoy her date?" He asked at random.

The music lowered slightly.

"Maybe," came a quiet offering back.

"She goes on a lot of dates, though?" Simmy voiced, tilting his head down to look at the other boy, in his throne of pillows. He could see him frown a few seconds before answering.

"It's not the old days any more. People are allowed to date a lot."

"Yeah, but, uh. Never mind. It doesn't matter," Simmy said, trailing off.

"No, what were you going to say?" the other male asked, and the blonde could see that the other boy had stopped his texting to await the answer.

Simmy sighed.

"Nothing. It's just that um. Just that I." he hesitated in his answer, but decided to just say what he was thinking.

"I don't. I don't want to be like that. You know."

Nik sat silent, waiting.

"Alone," Simmy concluded. His expression became a little less clouded at his realisation.

"I don't want to be alone at my mum's age."

The seated boy didn't respond right away, and he turned back to his phone, tapping through screens absently whilst he thought.

"Your mum, isn't alone. She has you."

"That's not want I mean," the blonde returned, feeling a bit uncomfortable with what he was feeling. "Thanks for not making a wisecrack, though."

"Yeah," Nik muttered back.

"Are you afraid of that?"

"What?" Simmy asked.

"Being like your mum."

Nik had turned to face the boy.

"Sometimes," the blonde said, staring back wistfully. Nik's brow twitched, and he looked away, before replying.

"We all do. Some people are just, just luckier than others."

Simmy frowned at that, directing his eyes back to the ceiling that he bored holes in with his gaze as his pondered that.

"Is it luck, or do you need to, err like they say, make your own luck? Fate too I guess."

Not getting a response the marginally taller boy turned his head and saw that the soccer-boy, was giving his phone screen an intense look.

"Nik?"

The brown-eyed boy gave no motion of a response, and examining him further Simmy saw that the teen has shoved the second earphone that had been hanging, into his ear, and hadn't heard his comment.

Simmy sighed.

"Thanks, bro. Way to ruin my moment."

"Gotta make your own fate," he mouthed to himself sarcastically, plopping his head back down on the bedspread, glaring at the roof. The teen felt depression begin to claw its way into his stomach.

"Stuff it!" the youth exclaimed, clambering off the bed in a speed that startled the room's other occupant. Especially once the blonde from his position standing in front of the lounging soccer player, pulled the earbuds out from his ears.

"Hey! What are you-"

"Let's play a game!" Simmy demanded.

"What?" Nik asked in annoyed surprise.

Simmy flushed. He hadn't thought that far ahead.

"Oh, um... dammit. Let's play ah..." Simmy's eyes twitched, and his mouth voiced the words without conscious direction.

"Are you scared yet."

"Pardon?" Nik exclaimed, giving the spontaneously-enthused boy a wary look, as he flushed red.

"Are you scared, yet?" the blonde repeated, visibly steeling himself."

"Um, No," the tan boy said carefully, his eyes forwarding a 'what-the-fuck' look. In reply the blonde boy swallowed nervously, and leant closer such that he has shifted into the space between where the soccer player's legs hung over the edge of the bed.

"Are you scared, yet?" Simmy repeated, in a shaky voice as the seated teenager looked at him contemplatively.

"No," Nik returned in iron tones.

Simmy swallowed and shifted further forward such that his hands were on either side of the seated boy's hips, their faces about a foot away. Nik's expression changed from cautious to startled.

"Are you scared, yet?" The blonde asked quietly.

"No."

Simmy shifted in closer, his lips only inches from the other boys. He could feel the pump of blood in his ears, and knew his face must have been as red as the face of a horny teenage boy who was about to kiss his secret crush for the first time ever.

"Are you scared, yet?"

"…No."

Lips hit lips, and the blonde found his eyes flitting shut as feelings and sensations assailed him. It was like wet lightning. Weird, but entirely addictive. The grind of soft lips. The taste of something called Nik. His mouth was mating, and it was good.

Simmy drew back with a gasp, once his oxygen ran out. The other male was breathing hard, his brown eyes dilated, his expression unreadable.

The blonde boy swallowed his first question in favour of a second.

"Are you scared, yet?" Simmy asked.

Silence and a twitch was his reply. Simmy's hands reached out, trembling visibly, as they latched onto the soccer's player's topmost shirt button. Fumbling he manages to undo the top one.

"Are you scared, yet?"

"No." It was said more quietly and speculative-like than the previous statements.

Simmy swallowed again, and quickly unbuttoned the remaining number of buttons. He licked his lips, his mouth feeling dry. Nik's shirt was open. He had seen him shirtless, and more than shirtless, enough times to sink a ship, yet this felt like the first time Simmy had ever truly 'seen' Nik. Looking down from where he stood, the blond boy gripped the bottom of each side of the shirt in a tight grip between his thumb and forefinger, like the material was all that there was grounding him onto this plane of reality. That at any moment the angels would herald his unwelcome ascent from carnal bliss.

The teenager inhaled as he cracked the shirt open, looking down on the seated male whose legs he stood between. He looked down at the tan valley between developing pectorals, past smooth flesh and the cave of an umbilical scar. Down to the fine hairs leading into satin boxers riding above the waistband. Gripping the corners of Nik's t-shirt, Simmy lowered himself, so that he was no longer standing between legs looking down, but kneeling between thighs, looking up. Face level with the pant zipper, Simmy's damp palms pulled the flaps of the shirt wider as he looked up the 'waist-land' to the brown eyes, staring down at him fixedly.

Simmy licked his lips.

"Are, are you, scared, yet?" He managed to get out.

Nik frowned in response, unable to speak, staring down at the kneeling skater-boy for long moments that lasted an eternity. But then he shook his head.

Blue eyes departed brown and moved down the tan skin, to the little bronze button and zipper in front of his nose. Simmy's clammy mitts left the shirt, and took centre-place in his vision, touching the obstacle before him. His hands, shaking, had difficulty accomplishing the task his mind set out, and it was with combined feeling of expectation, lust and outright terror that the bronze clipped out of its denim catch. Breathing in, Simmy lowered the tab along metal teeth.

Kneeling at the altar of his deity, it was plain to see that 'he' was happy to see him.

Nik's boxers were tented, such to the extent that that the crying head and two inches of flesh had magicked itself out between two buttons to greet him.

Simmy's gut clenched in want.

This was art.

With numb fingers Simmy reached out, careful to avoid touching the alluring flesh to undo the final barrier. Paralysed by the view, Simmy's patience snapped, and he quit his fumbling with the final button and instead gripped the fabric and pulled, snapping the button off. In response, the beast within the restraining folds of cloth, exploded fully outward into view, slapping him on the nose and upper lip as the solid tumescence found its steady-state align directly with his mouth.

Simmy's cock gave a violent shudder in his pants, at the visual, whilst his brain experienced a micro-seizure at the familiar, but much amplified smell of Nik assailed him.

The blonde licked his lips, the proximity such that the act was a hair's width away licking the dew. Then, forgoing any thinking, he did exactly that.

Oblivious to the sharp intake of breath, Simmy emitted a groan of pleasure at the taste. Using his hand to grip the base of the impressive shaft, the blonde's brain hit the pilot eject button, and his subconscious took the helm, running the boy's tongue around to collect all of the offering, and then fighting to get as much of the organ in as possible. Ignorant of the world, Simmy, sucked and hummed, groaning and gasping around the steely shaft, wanton for pearlescent tears.

"Sss-stop. Ss-Simmy! Ss-stop!"

Hands took the blonde by the shoulders, and Simmy was thrust roughly backward, landing on his elbow.

"Ah! Nik! What the-"

"Shut up!"

The tanned boy was wrestling himself back into his pants and zipping himself up, red in the face, and frenzied.

"Nik, I-"

"Don't!" Nik snarled, cutting the blonde off. "Just…Don't."

The athletic male, stalked out of the room, without looking at him. Shaken, Simmy pushed himself up onto both elbows. He could taste Nik's flavour on his tongue. His guts were still doing loop-da-loops. Just that now he felt like throwing up as a result. Staring at the door in silence for a minute, Simmy pushed himself back against the bed-frame and curled his arms around his knees. If he moved he would hurl. But that was okay. He couldn't move, or think, or remember even to breath, bodily stopping even that function for long spans of time, where he'd breathe out and thirty seconds later suddenly inhale sharply, before repeating the process.

It was to this that nineteen and a half minutes later, Nik would return to.

Simmy could sense him standing in the doorway, not saying anything, and kept his gaze levelled on the floor.

"I'm, uh. Sorry. Let's just… fuck, I mean." Simmy heard the other male exhale heavily. "I'm sorry. Let's get some sleep."

Simmy nodded into his knees, breathing, but feeling disembodied.

"The bed's yours," the blonde boy mumbled, as he stood, and made to head for the couch in the room's corner.

"No, you take it," Nik responded firmly, as he moved in the direction of the couch, leaving Simmy standing paralysed.

"Um, are you, are you sure?" Simmy returned, in a weak voice.

"Yes. You take the bed," Nik affirmed, back to the other boy, as he roughly threw the couple blankets and pillow off the back of the lounge and made it up for sleeping. In the space of a few seconds he was done, and standing by the light switch.

"Did you need to use the bathroom or anything, or can I turn the lights out?"

It must have only been 8.30pm. Simmy wasn't tired. Simmy hadn't eaten, and Simmy had the taste of Nik's precum in his mouth.

"Turn them off," Simmy said, and soon found himself in darkness, climbing into bed.

The blonde still felt sick. Plus now his eyes felt itchy.

It was the first time that he could remember since Nik had first stayed over at his house, that Simmy could recall sleeping in his own bed. He had always slept on the couch, and Nik in the blue-eyed boy's bed when at his house, and vice versa for when they were at Nik's house. It was something of a ritual, started way back when they were grade schoolers, to offer the bed to the guest. Consequently, 'this' didn't feel right.

Nik should be in his bed, and he should be in Nik's bed.

The Simmy sniffed. He could smell the 'Greek' boy on the sheets. The teen's eyes were very itchy. So he lay there telling himself he was sick.


An indefinite period of time later, the blonde came alert. He could smell something. Simmy smelt Nik. Not on the sheets and pillows, it was stronger than that.

The boy felt a dip behind him on the bed, and the hair on his arms rose.

"You're such a girl, Simmy, crying in the dark."

"Fuck off."

The hurt boy's warning was ignored, and the bed sheets are thrown back, a warm body sliding into the bed and under the sheets, grasping the blond from behind, making the skater flinch. The blonde's tense body was pulled back against a naked chest and velvety boxers. Simmy shivered, knowing full well that with the contact between them, there is no way the other male could have missed his reaction.

A hand claimed his available hip, making the teen twitch away at the contact.

"Simmy. I… I'm sorry."

The hand on his hipbone tightened, pulling them tight together.

"I'm so…fuck. I was. You asked me if I was. I was. I was …scared. I was scared. And I wussed out. I won't let it happen again. I don't want the fucking couch, I want. I want."

"S'okay," Simmy muttered, staring ahead. "I get it."

The blonde was starting to feel much less sick.

"No," Nik murmured, pulling Simmy's pliant body in impossibly tight. "I don't feel right about this. I fucked up. It's not my aim in life to hurt you. Properly, that is, anyway."

Simmy, felt the other boy's head rest in the crest of his neck, muzzling.

"Let me make it up to you," Nik breathed into the shell of Simmy's ear.

The blonde felt his skin begin to heat, in desire, his boxer's filling.

The boy wanted Nik. Wanted him badly.

"How?" the blue-eyed teenager breathed.

Simmy yelped as a hand slid into his boxers and took a hold of him.

"Let's play a game."

THE END


AN:

As always constructive feedback, comments and reviews are welcome and appreciated.

Until next time.