I'm no good with titles, damn it

It was the summer between our junior and senior years of high school, and he, someone I'd once and for a long time considered my best friend, was sleeping at my house that night. We'd been spending less and less time together at that point. He was making new friends, so was I; it happens, nothing worth getting upset about. I don't think he'd even noticed all that much, but I had. He was pretty naive and assumed that good friends stay good friends forever. Unlike me. We were becoming less and less like each other as time passed, and only I could see it.

My friend Spike was a bit of a trouble maker, but he'd never been involved in anything serious. I knew damn well he was still a virgin. He went through his rebellious doing-shit-that-pisses-off-your-parents phase; dyed his hair purple, got some piercings, and smoked way too much, but that was about it. And tonight, he was getting drunk for the first time in his young life.

Yet another empty bottle on my carpeted basement floor, and he'd barely gotten started. Talkative enough when sober, his current tangent was making less and less sense by the second. I was nodding and smiling, pretending to listen while really absorbing this image of him in my mind. See, Spike had a rare gift he wasn't even aware of. He could exude innocence and seduction at the same time. His hair was a mess, and his eyes a bit unfocused. Slowly losing his balance, he was leaned back against the sofa, legs sprawled out in a clumsy sort of way. His jeans were torn, showing hints of skin underneath, and his t-shirt had ridden up just a bit. I was mesmerized by that skin, thinking about how no one had been lucky enough to touch it before. I'd be understating if I said he looked cute at that moment.

"Ya know what I mean, Lance?" he asked me with a grin, gesturing with a hand that held another almost-empty bottle.

"Fuck yeah," I said. Of course I didn't know what he meant. At all. I pretended to be just a little more drunk than I was. Relatively little time had actually passed since we'd started drinking, he'd just been sucking it down too fast. I put out my cigarette and glanced at the clock. When I looked back at Spike, he was shaking out the last drops of his drink. I smiled. He'd gone an impressive several seconds without running his mouth. The only sound was the stereo quietly in the background, like a grunge soundtrack for our special night together.

"I been meanin' to tell you something, Lance," he slurred with his eyes closed. He moved like he intended to sit closer to me, and fell to the floor in the process. I helped him back up as he laughed.

"Ya all right?"

"No no, dude, it's like, I feel real bad and shit, okay?" He put his arm around me as he said this. "Because, I haven't been a good friend."

"Oh shut up," I said. "Yes you have."

"No, I mean it." He stopped to belch. "And you were always there for me and shit."

I sighed and patted his shoulder. "Whatever you're talking about, don't worry about it, alright?" I looked down at his limp form slumped onto me. It was dark, but I could still see his eyes were a bit glazed over. "You feelin' okay?"

"I-I'm good," he sighed, looking as if he could fall asleep. He wouldn't for a while still, though.

"You should get more comfortable," I said. Without waiting for an answer, I slowly, gently laid his on his back on the floor.

"I'm already...comfortable..." he mumbled. I slowly unzipped his sweatshirt and started to pull it off of his shoulders. "What are you doing?"

"Aren't you hot?" I gently put it aside and took off my own.

"Yeah," he answered hazily. "And..my head kinda..."

"Headache? Yeah, that's to be expected," I assured him. He'd never been drunk...he wouldn't know the difference, right?

I slowly, carefully started to pull up his shirt. By the time his nipples were exposed, he laughed and tried to bat my hand away. "What're you doing, dude?"

"Just relax," I said in an almost-whisper. I kept pulling it up and over his head. I'd seen his body before, of course. But it looked so much more delicious now than ever before, knowing that I could touch it all i wanted. I ran my hands up and down his torso, felt his nipples and his belly button. He squirmed.

"Hey, what are you doing?" He looked up at me, clearly not all there. I didn't say anything this time. I'd been waiting so, so long. My hormones would soon get the better of me. I unzipped his jeans and pulled them down. "W-why are you..." He grabbed at my hands weakly. I stared at his gorgeous young cock for just a few seconds and then dived in. Before he knew what hit him, my mouth was around his cock, my hand pumping him. "HEY! w-what the hell are you doing..?" I felt his hands in my hair, making a feeble attempt to stop me. I rolled my tongue around the head of his cock and stroked his shaft, then bobbed up and down as I felt him get harder. I heard him moan. I licked the underside from his base all the way to his tip, tasting some nice salty precum. I sat up and looked at his face. His cheeks were flushed bright red.

"Lance," he said. "Why--"

"Shhh." I yanked his jeans the rest of the way down and off. I played with his balls a bit roughly. He moaned in protest. "You like that," I said. I wasn't asking, but telling. He shook his head and tried to pry my hand away again. With my free hand I grabbed his wrist and pinned it to the floor easily. "Yes you do," I said as I stroked up and down his hard length. "So nice, huh?"

My own hardness was straining against my jeans. I unzipped and pulled them down just enough to free it. He barely had time to register before I had my hips level with his head and had pressed my arousal to his face. His face grew even redder, he tried to turn away. I grabbed a fistful of his soft hair and turned him back towards me. I pressed the head of my cock to his lips.

"No!" he said as he pulled away again.

"Don't be like that," I said. "Come on, open your mouth."

"No, NO!" In the instant he opened his mouth to protest, I shoved my cock inside. He grunted. I tightened my hold on his hair and pulled him in closer. He gagged slightly. I waited just a second for him to get used to it, and started to slowly thrust in and out. His hot, wet mouth closed around me was more satisfying than I can describe.

"Uhn, yes," I panted. "That's so good...ya like that?" I was so lost in the sensation I'd hardly noticed his moans and whimpers. He was still trying rather pathetically to pull away. "Don't be like that," I said. "I know you like how my cock tastes." I held his head with both hands and kept sliding in and out, feeling his slick tongue, his soft lips wrapped around me. As much as I enjoyed the feeling, seeing his face was just as sweet. It looked so beautiful and delicate, his eyelashes so long and black, a nice red tint to his cheeks. That was when I noticed tears welling up in his eyes. One streaked down his cheek. I started to feel the urge to cum and remembered I had other things I wanted to do.

I pulled myself out of his mouth. More protests started to emerge as soon as I did. Barely noticing them, I grabbed one of his thighs and pushed it up. I sucked on the fingers of my other hand, getting them good and slick before reaching down and finding his hole. I shoved two inside at once. He gasped loudly, followed by a whimper. I moved them in and out rapidly.

"Stop!!" he begged me. I shoved in a third, added some more spit, fucked him with my fingers, stretched him out. I wasn't in the mood to take it slow.

"Lance! LANCE!" I finally looked at him. His eyes were wide now, his cheeks still flushed. I smiled at him. I got in between his legs. I heard more cries of 'no' as I put the head of my cock at his entrance and just baaarrely put myself in him. I watched his face closely as I put both my hands on his hips, and with one rough thrust sheathed myself in him fully. He winced in pain. I felt his walls flex around me.

"Oh God, Spike," I moaned. "You're so nice and tight." I pulled back slowly and then rammed back in. He screamed. I wasn't worried; there was no way my parents, who were fast asleep by now, could hear anything from the basement. His hole squeezed me in delicious, warm tightness. "You want more?" I asked him.

I watched his pained expression as his eyes pleaded with me. "Please stop," he said.

"I know you like it," I whispered. I held his hips tightly and pulled out of him almost all the way, and roughly shoved my way back in. Again he cried out in pain. I started building up a slow rhythm, listening to him punctuate each thrust with a whimper or a moan. His mouth was slightly open. As I watched his face intently, more tears fell from his eyes.

My thrusts got a little faster. I made them nice and hard, and every other one was met with a sob from him. His insides gripped me so tightly, I found myself tossing my head back and moaning. My hands gripped him probably hard enough to bruise as I pulled his hips to meet mine. I pounded him faster and faster, feeling my climax draw closer.

I heard him squeal and cry out with my intensified fucking. I couldn't hold back a moan of pleasure when I finally came, letting my load fill his tight hole. After a moment basking in the feeling, I pulled myself out of him and looked down. There was quite a bit of blood on my cock.

"Damn, no wonder you cried so much."

And he was still crying. His eyes were closed, but tears continued to run down his cheeks, his body shaking every now and then with a weak sob. For a second, I felt pity for him. But he'd be unconscious before long.

When he would awake the next morning, he would be fully clean and clothed, and not be able to remember a thing from the previous night. When he'd comment about being sore, I'd laugh and tell him how in his drunken state he'd come on to me relentlessly, practically forcing me to fuck him. I'd sound a little regretful, and say how if I hadn't been so drunk myself I wouldn't have done it. Then with a chuckle I'd shrug it off, saying "what can you do?"

He'd grin back weakly and nod, agreeing. I'd see doubt in his eyes, but he wouldn't say anything else about it, and he'd leave as quickly as he could.

I never saw much of him after that.