Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 ï>¿Author: Tooluser
Title: Boy Batter
Part: part 4 of ?
Keywords: mb, anal, inc, rom, gay, teen

   (C)Tooluser 2012

   Chapter 4

   Even with so few people in it, the university dining hall still echoed
with the crash of steel cooking pans and the chatter of students.  Waiting
in line to pay, Randy totaled up the items on his tray and then looked at
his little brother's.

   "Don't eat them with your fingers, Chris!" Randy said.  "People are
looking!"

   Chris looked up from his bowl of spaghetti Os, his fingers dripping
bright orange sauce.  "But I'm hungry, Randy!  And the spoons are way over
there!"

   Randy looked at the cashier who was unwrapping a new paper roll,
preparing to insert it into the register.  "You mind if my little brother
goes and sits down?  He's only got milk, spaghetti Os and fries -- and I'm
paying anyway."

   "Sure, honey." The woman smiled, large brown fingers busy with reels and
retaining springs.  "Hunger come on mighty strong when they're growing, I
know."

   Randy smiled his thanks.  "Go on then," he said to Chris.  "But no
running.  I'll come find you once I've paid."

   "Okay, Randy -- thank you, Miss!" Chris grabbed his tray and headed for
the island stand with its tubs of plastic knives and forks and individual
sauce packets.

   "Sorry for holdin' you up," the cashier said, raising her voice above
the food-hall clatter of plastic trays to address the growing queue.  "I'll
be finished real soon -- it's just these old tills are slow and cranky to
load."

   There were murmurs from other students in the queue, and Randy nodded
politely, watching as she threaded the paper tape expertly beneath the
printing guides and hooked it to the take-up spool.

   She closed the tape compartment with a flourish, and rang up Randy's and
Chris's meals, taking the money with a smile.

   Randy collected his utensils and then carried his tray to the seating
area, looking for Chris.  The large dining hall was four-fifths empty, and
Randy scanned the empty tables, but couldn't see his brother.  Then he
recognised Chris's high, clear voice.  He looked over, and felt his hands
clench tight on his tray.

   With dozens of empty tables to choose from, Chris had chosen to share
somebody else's table.  Right now he was sitting down chattering happily to
the loudest, most obvious fairy in the place, too: shoulder-length hair,
dyed a bunch of different colors; a scarlet denim jacket festooned with
badges, and beneath it an old T-shirt reading "Silence=Death."





   "I'm sorry," Randy said as he reached their table.  "Is my little
brother bothering you?"

   The stranger looked up at Randy and raised a manicured eyebrow.  "Not at
all.  I think it's far more likely that _I'm_ bothering you." He blinked,
heavy beaded lashes framed briefly against a powder-pale goth face, his
pursed, meticulously painted crimson lips the exact shade of his jacket.

   "This is Nicky!" Chris broke in.  "He comes to the class on Tuesdays,
only he sits near the front!  Aren't his badges pretty?  Look: all
rainbows!"

   "Sure, they're very nice, Chrissie," Randy said, hardly sparing them a
glance.  He felt a fool standing there with his tray in his hands.  He'd
much rather take Chris off to some other table, but there was no help for
it now.  He sat down.

   "Pleased to have you join us, I'm sure," Nicky murmured.

   "You _only_ eat vegetables?" Chris asked Nicky.  He pulled a face.  "And
you _like_ 'em?"

   "Sure," Nicky replied.  "Just like you like spaghetti Os and fries,
right?  I just don't like eating animals, that's all.  Other people do."

   Chris nodded vigorously, hastily swallowing Spaghetti Os.  "Randy says
everybody's different and that makes the world nicer."

   Randy flushed, pushing his chicken and rice about the plate.  He looked
up, and caught Nicky's eye.

   "I'm sure Randy says a lot of good things," Nicky said, his voice cool
as yesterday's soup.

   "Yeah, he's always telling me stuff," Chris said.  "About people and
things.  What's your tee-shirt about?  Mine's Spirit." Chris tapped the
picture of the heroic sword-wielding boy on his chest.  "He's the one
hunting the trolls in _Gate of Heaven."_

   Randy stared at the "Silence=Death" logo on Nicky's AIDS awareness
tee-shirt.  Nicky noticed him looking and smiled slightly.

   "It's to remind me to talk about important things, even if some people
don't like it," Nicky said.  "You play _'Gate of Heaven'?"_

   Randy breathed out, and flashed Nicky a smile.  Nicky flipped one
slender hand in his direction in a dismissive gesture, plastic bangles
clicking, and continued to talk to Chris.  "Yeah, I thought I recognized
him; he's cute, isn't he?  What level have you got to?"

   "Oh, only level four.  I'm still stuck in the forest.  Do you know how
to get past those tree-nymphs?"

   "Kiss 'em before the sun goes down, I think." Nicky said.

   "Kiss them?" Chris screwed up his face.  "Gross!"

   Randy laughed.  "Sometimes a hero's got to do things he doesn't want
to."

   "It's not fair!" Chris exclaimed.  "You couldn't kiss the soldiers to
get into the armory!"

   Nicky grinned, a wry half-smile that suited his narrow face, Randy
thought, and flicked his dyed hair back.  "I never tried that, even with
the gender patch.  Oh--" he flashed an apologetic, dark-lashed look at
Randy, "maybe you're not allowed to run updates yourself, right?"

   "No, I can do them," Chris said.  "Updates are easy.  What does this
patch thingy do?"

   Nicky seemed to hesitate a moment.  "It changes the way the game works,"
he said.  "So that you can play like Panther without having to change to
her avatar."

   "Really?  Cool!  Her stats are way better.  I could do the training real
easy when I was her.  Except she can't use Soul-Cleaver, of course.  Can
you send it me?  This patch thing, I mean."

   "Chris!" Randy said.  "Don't be a nuisance."

   Nicky smiled.  "It's no trouble.  Though perhaps you'd rather give me
_your_ email, Randy?" His gaze was cool and knowing.

   "Uh, sure." Randy reached for his bag, but Nicky pulled a pen from his
jacket pocket and held it out.

   "Better if you just write it on my hand," he said, trailing the tip of
the pen sensuously down his palm.  "I always lose those little bits of
paper, somehow."

   _"I'll_ write it on!" Chris said, reaching over the table and grabbing
Nicky's hand.

   "Chris!" Randy elbowed his brother sharply.  "Don't grab people like
that!"

   Chris turned to look at him, and pushed out his lower lip stubbornly. 
"I'm your helper!" he said.  "So you only hold hands with _me!"_

   "Chris!" Randy frowned a warning.

   Chris scowled.  "Well, it's true!  You don't _want_ to hold hands with
Nicky.  He's got a boyfriend already; I saw!"

   Nicky looked startled.  "You what?"

   "Oh." Chris blushed.  "Sorry.  I didn't mean to say so loud, 'cos Randy
says it's private stuff.  But it's true isn't it?  You _have_ got a
boyfriend." Sticking his tongue out between his teeth, Chris began to write
Randy's email address on Nicky's hand in round, careful script.

   "It's uh--" for the first time Nicky looked uncomfortable.  "It's kind
of complicated."

   Chris nodded, carefully drawing in the dots in the address.  "Randy said
it was only play acting."

   Nicky snatched his hand away and glared at Randy.  "Well, fuck you very
much.  You and your --"

   "Don't talk to Randy like that!" Chris yelled.

   "Shut up, Chris!" Randy said.  "Nicky--"

   But Nicky stood up and grabbed his tray off the table, his hands
shaking. "Fucking closet cases!" he snarled.  "You're worse than the
_'phobes!"_

   "Nicky, wait!" Randy stood up, but Nicky turned and stalked away.

   "What did you say that for?" Randy said to Chris.  "I never said word
one about any boyfriend!"

   "But you did!" Chris protested, tearfully.  "In the movie!  You said the
hitting was only pretend, and play-acting!"

   Randy subsided onto the seat again.  "You mean the restroom movie?"

   Chris nodded.  "I saw him, in the library that time.  That's how I knew.
Only I didn't know he'd try and get you too!" He sniffed, and wiped at his
eyes.

   "Hey," Randy said.  "Calm down, okay?  Nicky was being friendly, that's
all."

   "Huh!" said Chris.  He looked down, pulling the top off the pen and
fitting it on again, over and over.  "You wouldn't have, would you, Randy?"

   "Wouldn't have what?"

   "Chosen him instead of me?  Only I know he's bigger and knows more--"

   "Chrissie!  Easy there!" Randy put his arm around his little brother's
shoulders and squeezed.  "I'm not choosing anybody instead of you, dopey."
He ruffled Chris's hair and laughed when Chris glared at him.  "That's
better.  You finished with your fries?"

   Chris shrugged.  "I guess."

   "Okay then.  We'll just go check-in those books at the library and then
we'll head home, huh?"

   "You're not going to study?  I thought you had to read those law books
some more."

   It was Randy's turn to shrug.  "I'm thinking you and me need some
private time together.  I won't be able to concentrate if I'm just thinking
about you being upset and scared the whole time."

   Chris looked at him, brightening.  "You mean like baseball time?  And
the Pretty Prince?" He wriggled on the seat, excited.  "Ooo!  Randy -- I
want to!"

   "Yeah, me too." Randy reluctantly let go of Chris's shoulders.  "So
you're not worried about the competition any more, huh?"

   "Competition?" Chris looked puzzled.

   "Other guys," Randy said.

   "Oh." Chris looked thoughtful.  "I'm okay, I guess.  Only we shouldn't
do baseball stuff now.  I promised Mom."

   Randy felt goosebumps down his back.  "What?"

   "I promised I'd be good and not stop you studying," Chris explained. 
"So I guess we'd better go and do law stuff, and play together later. 
Anyway," he added, "you've not eaten much of your chicken."

   Randy smiled.  "It's just like having Mom right here," he said as he
took up his fork.

   Chris giggled.



   h3(#scene).<!>

   The top floor of the library was as quiet as ever.  Randy fetched law
reports and textbooks from the shelves, and Chris seemed to settle down
happily enough, getting out his coloring book and his music player.

   Randy concentrated on his studies, comparing the points in the lecture
to the cases and scratching his head as he tried to understand the arcane
legal language and follow the tortuous arguments in the texts.

   This time though, when Chris tapped his arm and asked if he could go
pee, Randy took no chances.

   "Sure, little dude," he said.  "I'll come along with you."

   Chris grinned.  "You want to peek at me?" he whispered.

   "No," Randy said.  "Nothing like that; only I don't want you getting
scared again." He stood up and offered Chris his hand.  "Come on."

   The block of stairs and elevators ran down the center of the building,
so each floor of the library formed a square around that block.  They set
off together, following the sign pointing toward the restroom, but hardly
had they turned the corner than Chris stopped, tugging at Randy's hand.

   "Someone's crying," he whispered.

   The book shelves stood taller than a man, so the study tables set among
them were invisible from where they stood.

   Randy listened.  "I can't hear anything," he whispered.  "Anyway, it's
none of our business," he added.  "Come on: I thought you needed to pee."

   Chris looked up at him and nodded obediently, but he looked uncertain.

   Randy hurried Chris along, around the next corner to the restroom door.
It squeaked loudly as he pushed it open, and the light glaring off the
blinding white tiles made him blink and squint his eyes for a moment.  A
glance showed the urinals and the three gray cubicles to be empty.  He
opened the door again and beckoned to Chris.

   Chris tiptoed into the restroom, his gaze jumping all over.  "They were
in that one," he said, pointing to the cubicle opposite the doors.  "Nicky
and this big blond guy.  The big guy had Nicky half standing up, half bent
over the pedestal, and he was fucking him real hard and saying how Nicky
was a faggot and a bitch and stuff." He looked up at Randy, his eyes huge
and troubled.  "He sounded real mean and angry."

   "Yes, I remember you saying," Randy said.  He patted his little
brother's shoulder.  "Don't worry about it.  Focus on peeing, huh?"

   "Okay, Randy." Chris went into the cubicle and closed the door behind
himself.  "Hey, Randy -- there's a hole through to the next stall!" he
said, his voice echoing oddly off the tiled walls.

   "Well there's nobody in there, so don't worry about it and hurry up,"
Randy said.

   "Okay." Randy heard the sound of a zipper and clothing rustling. 
"What's it for, though?"

   "It's so guys can do sex stuff without seeing each other.  It makes it
easier to keep secret, see?"

   "Oh." More rustling from inside the cubicle.  "How does it work?"

   Randy heard a little grunt, and guessed that his little brother had
needed more than just a pee.  "You going to be a while?" he asked.

   "I was just doing my ointment," Chris said.  "You know, for my sore
ass."

   "I guess I'd better sit in the next stall then," Randy said, swinging
open the cubicle door.  "So if someone came in, they couldn't peek in on
you."

   "They'd _want_ to?  Just to watch me taking a dump?  Gross!"

   Randy laughed as he sat on the pedestal.  "Well, no.  A guy waiting in
there where you are would be getting himself hard, see, and so would the
guy sitting where I am, and then one would stick his dick through this hole
here, like this -- see?" Randy stuck two fingers through the hole to
demonstrate.  "And then they'd do stuff."

   "Yeah?  Second base, I guess." Chris giggled.  "Though we're on third
now, aren't we?"

   "Yeah." Randy removed his fingers from the hole and applied his eye to
it instead.  "See you!" he said.

   Chris giggled.  He was standing half crouched with his pants and shorts
around his ankles.  In the harsh, artificial light, his little ass gleamed
like two scoops of coconut ice-cream.  He looked over his shoulder at
Randy's peep-hole and wiggled his ass from side to side, pushing his finger
teasingly in and out of his ring as he did so.

   "How is your ass?" Randy asked.

   "It's okay; this creamy stuff is real good.  Can we do it, Randy?" Chris
pleaded, looking over his shoulder.  "Pretty Prince, I mean -- pleease!  I
want to!"

   "No!" Randy said, firmly, although his dick twitched at the thought. 
"Your ass is still too little.  You remember all the noise you made, the
first time?"

   "I'd be quiet!" Chris protested, working his fingers in and out of his
slick hole.  "And the stuff stops the hurting, and you'd be gentle anyway."

   He was an idiot.  He was taking a stupid risk.  But the sight of his
little brother lubing his ass had Randy's dick iron-hard in his shorts, and
he knew dicking Chris in this restroom would be something he'd remember for
the whole of his life.  The risk was, after all, part of the fun.

   "Okay," he said.

   _"Yaaay!_ Chris yelled, his high voice echoing off the tiled walls.

   "Shhh!" Randy hissed.  "Shut up, you moron!"

   "Sorry, Randy!" Chris said, grinning over his shoulder.

   "That's okay," Randy said, feeling his cock throbbing in his undershorts
as he stood up.  "Get all your things and come over to the last stall: it
hasn't got a hole in the wall." He unlocked the cubicle door and gasped as
Chris hurried past bare-assed.  The boy hadn't bothered to dress, only
picked his shoes and clothing up and was carrying them.

   "In there!" Randy said, pushing the stall door open.  Chris hastened
inside, his little butt flashing peekaboo as his tee-shirt flapped.

   Randy followed.  "We can't be long," he said.  "The longer we're in
here, the more chance we get caught, right?"

   "Uh-huh." Chris nodded, and reached out to stroke the bulge in Randy's
pants.  "Oooh, Randy: you're all big!"

   "Yeah, and all for you," Randy said.  "We're still tight, but I don't
want you thinking 'where's all the kissing?' okay?"

   "Okay Randy: we'll only do fucking.  I don't mind." Chris smiled up at
him.

   "Here, let me hang your pants up, huh?" Randy smiled as he took Chris's
clothing.  "Shirt too.  I want to see all of your cute little body."

   "Okay, Randy," Chris said as he hauled his shirt over his head.  "I know
you like to look.  Here." He handed the bundle of warm cotton to his big
brother.

   Randy hung everything from the peg on the back of the door.

   "Gym last period, huh?" He indicated the white sport socks Chris was
wearing.

   "Yeah, it was real dumb - we got all dressed in our sports things only
to sit and watch some lame-o movie about not hitting girls and other guys."
Chris stood there with his little stiffy, naked except for his socks,
vibrating with indignation.  "The _girls_ got to go out and do kick-boxing!
It's not fair!  They hit boys!"

   "Shh!  Yeah, I know, but tell me later, huh?" Randy said.

   "Sorry, Ran-dee." Chris wrapped his arms round Randy's waist, hugging
him tight.  He leaned down a little and rubbed his face against the hard
bulge tenting out Randy's pants.  "Can I take him out?"

   "What?  You're asking my dick out for a date?"

   Chris giggled.  "Yeah, and I'll be real nice to him and make him happy
-- so can I?" He had his little fingers on the zipper already, and a
heartbeat after Randy nodded permission he was pulling the bronze tab down.

   His little brother's gaze was so sexy: so intent as he hauled Randy's
big hard cock out of his fly.

   _"Mmmm!"_ Chris kissed the tip and smiled up at Randy, cradling his cock
in both his little hands.  "All for _meee!"_ he crowed.

   _"Shhhh!"_ Randy said, which only made Chris giggle.  "Or I'll stuff
something in your mouth!"

   Chris looked up at him and solemnly took Randy's cock into his mouth.

   "Hah!" Randy said.  "Okay: got me."

   _"Mmmm-hmm,"_ Chris said, sucking.  He looked up and crossed his eyes.

   Randy leaned against the door, laughing as Chris sucked steadily on his
cock.  "Goddamn' sex-machine," he said.  "That's what I got for a little
brother."

   _"Mmmm,"_ that's nice, he said, resting his hand on Chris's head. 
_"Mmmm,_ that's really good, Chrissie, a bit more, huh?"

   "Ohhh yeah," he groaned as Chris took his hard cock as deeply as he was
able, now well over half of Randy's length.  _"Mmmm,_ -- oh yeah." He
smiled down at his little succubus, loving the way Chris's mouth stretched
wide around his meat.  "'Course, you know what's gonna happen if you carry
on--"

   Chris stopped sucking and frowned up at him, Randy's cock still half-way
into his mouth.

   Randy shrugged.  "Your choice."

   Chris sucked again, hollowing his cheeks, but sliding the big cock out
between his lips as he did so.  "Meanie!" he said, licking his lips. 
"Okay, so how do we do this fucking?"

   "Well, you kneel on the seat, and put your hands on the tank here,
okay?" Randy said, indicating the toilet, a standard white domestic model
with a rectangular water tank set against the wall.  "I'm going to put some
of your ointment on my dick first."

   Randy took the little pot out of Chris's pants pocket and wiped a
generous fingerload of the white ointment over his hard cock.  It smelled
minty and faintly medicinal and then it generated a mild tingling.

   Chris clambered up onto the pedestal and knelt there.  "The seat's kind
of hard on my knees," he said.

   "That's okay," Randy said.  "I'll be kind of lifting your ass up as I
push in, so that'll help.  But you've got to be quiet, okay?  No yelling."

   "Okay, Randy." Chris settled himself.  "It feels real naughty," he said,
wiggling his pale little butt and grinning.

   Randy manoevred himself behind his brother.  God, his narrow little
boy-ass looked perfect for fucking: his tight little red pucker glistening
between his pale asscheeks.  He gripped his little brother by his hips and
positioned the big head of his cock against that slippery little button.

   "You ready, Chris?" he asked.  "Start pushing out, okay?  You remember?"

   "Yeah, I remember." Chris looked back over his shoulder.  "You mean
right now?"

   "Sure -- push now."

   _"Nnnnnn_ -- ah!" Chris gasped.  _"Nnnnnn!"_

   Randy could see his brother's little hole twitching.  "That's it!  Come
on, Chris!" He waited until he saw that glistening little raspberry pucker
gape open a little, then pressed the head of his cock against it and
pushed.

   His brother's little ring was still tight and rubbery, but Randy felt it
give, and pushed in, stretching the gaping little boy-ring further.

   "Ah!" Chris said.  "Nnnnnnn!"

   "That's it!" Randy shoved his hips forward again and felt his cock head
push inside his little brother's ass.

   "Uh!  Ow!" Chris said, panting.  "Ow!"

   "Shhhh!" Randy said, clapping his hand over Chrissie's mouth.  "Shut
up!"

   Randy wasn't sure if Chris was going to ask him to stop, but he didn't
want to, so he kept pushing, feeling his cock sliding slowly up into the
tightness of that hot boy-ass.  Chris's little ass felt as slippery-warm
and tight as before, his ring squeezing the shaft of Randy's cock.  "That's
it!" he whispered, still pushing hard.  "You're doing great!"

   He watched his cock sinking into that small behind, marvelling that the
boy's asshole could stretch so.  Kneeling like this really showed off the
beautiful lines and curves of his little brother's lean body.

   "Ohh, I love your junior-high ass!" Randy whispered, squeezing a lean
butt-cheek with his free hand while he pushed hard again, feeling his big
cock stretching his little brother's bowels.

   _"Mmmf!"_ Chris said, against his hand.  _"Mowm!"_

   "Hurting?" Randy asked, feeling his brother's hot little ass now tight
and slick around a bit less than half of his cock.  "Okay," he said as
Chris nodded, "I won't push any more in for now.  I'll stick to a gentle
in-and-out." He took his hand off Chris's mouth.  "Your ass okay?"

   "Hurts," Chris whispered.  "I'd kind of forgot." He shivered.

   "Aww, Chrissie," Randy said, leaning down to hug him.  "You seemed so
keen.  You don't like me in your butt?"

   Chris shifted uncomfortably.  "No, it's you're so big.  I feel full up,
and I'd forgotten that too."

   "So what did you remember, then?  Me moving in and out?" Randy moved his
hips a little.  "I remember you liking that."

   _"Ow,"_ Chris whispered.  "There was a nice bit, later, but I've got to
do the ouchies before I get to the nice bit."

   "Ouchies, huh?" Randy felt his cock pulse.  His little bro' was really
just too cute, sometimes.  "They real bad?"

   "Not really, now you're staying still.  And anyway it's not like last
time: now I know how to do that pushing thing."
"Okay, well you think about pushing, and I'll move gently in and out."
Chris gasped as he pulled out a little, and Randy felt his little ass clamp

tight for a moment.

   "Ow!  Uh!"

   "Easy there," Randy said, gently pumping his little brother's ass,
trying not to get too turned on by the cute noises and little-puppy
whimpers.  It was difficult though: the sight of Chris's lean body
crouching on the seat, offering his tiny ass up to be invaded made his dick
ache.  It would be so easy to plunge roughly inside; but even the _thought_
of little Chrissie in real pain was enough to kill that impulse: he
shivered.

   "You okay, Randy?"

   "Sure." Randy ran his trembling hands over Chris's smooth back.  "A bad
thought, that's all."

   "Oh.  Only you can do a little more, if you want."

   "Yeah?  How are your ouchies?"

   "They're okay now.  Kind of an ache."

   "That's nice." Randy began gently moving in and out, enjoying the
feeling of his brother's tight ring squeezing his shaft.  He began pushing
in slightly further on each in-stroke.  Soon he felt the pressure of the
boy's inner ass-ring against the head of his cock.  "Push again!" he
whispered.  _"Pusssh!"_

   Chris grunted, and Randy felt the boy's guts move, squirming around his
hard pole.

   "Yes!" Randy gasped, pushing home, into the warm, clutching embrace of
his little brother's bowels.  "Oh, that's so good!  You're so _tight,_
Chrissie!" he exclaimed, humping against his little brother's tailbone.

   Chris groaned like a foghorn, the sound echoing round the restroom.

   "Fuck!" Randy said.  The walls echoed: _"-uck -uck -uck."_

   "Sorry," Chris whispered.  "Only it got so nice I forgot."

   "It's okay." Randy stroked Chris's hips.  "I forgot too: and quiet isn't
really you, is it, little dude?"

   Chris giggled.  "Yeah, you said before."

   "So I guess that's it." Reluctantly, Randy bagan to pull out.

   "What?  No, please!" Chris said, then hastily lowered his voice.  "I
really want to!  Please don't take your dick out, Randy, it's only just
started being nice again!  I'll be quiet!"

   "Until the first time it gets good--"

   Chris kicked his legs in frustration.  "Don't Randy: I want you to do
the Pretty Prince with me!"

   "Whoa!  Easy!" Randy grabbed Chris's hips, unintentionally ramming his
cock home again, feeling his cute little brother's hole warm and tight
around his cock.  _Fuck._ He really didn't want to stop either.  Chris
kicked his legs again, and the brush of cotton against Randy's leg gave him
an idea.

   "Hey!  Stop that!" Chris said.

   Randy trailed his fingers down Chrissie's smooth leg and then over the
cotton-clad sole of his foot.  "You said you've only been wearing these a
couple hours, tops.  How about if you had something in your mouth to keep
you quiet, so you moaned through that, huh?"

   "My sock?" Chris twisted round to look at Randy.  "Yeah!  Oh, Randy:
you're so smart!" his eyes sparkled with excitement.

   "Runs in the family," Randy said, admiring his brother's slender,
coltish legs.  "You're okay with it, then." He stroked the sole of
Chrissie's foot again, from toes to heel, enjoying the taut, slender shape
beneath his fingertip.

   "Tickles!" Chris giggled again.

   Randy felt his little brother curl his toes -- and clench his hot little
ass around Randy's big throbbing cock.  Damn but it looked hot!  The skin
of his cock glistened with the cream, the hard ridges visible beneath,
disappearing into the stretched, strawberry pink ring of his brother's
tight little asshole.

   "You like hard cock up your ass, don't you?" Randy said, shoving more of
his cock into that tight hole.

   "Aiuh!  Oh!" Chrissy gasped.  "Kinda!"

   It was a challenge, peeling Chris's sock off by feel, but fun, and
rapidly developed into a sort of twist and fuck as Randy reached back to
tug the recalcitrant cotton down the giggling boy's foot.  Randy took every
opportunity to tickle: running his fingers over the smooth pear-shape of
Chris's heel; stroking the firm tendons in the arch of the boy's foot; and
finally tickling around and between the soft, bulbous pads of his toes.

   "It's nearly off!  Don't make me drop it!" Randy said, concentrating as
he tried to disentangle the sock from Chris's frantically wiggling toes. 
God, the things the kid's ass was doing to his cock!  The boy's hole was
squeezing and rubbing his hard shaft as the giggling boy wriggled and
shifted his hips.

   "Stop tickling then!" Chris said, between giggles.  "I -- _hee hee hee!_
-- can't help it!"

   "Got it!" Randy clenched the sock safely in his hand.  He sniffed it and
was reassured to smell nothing more than slightly damp cotton plus a sweet
almond scent of boy.

   "Here," he said, passing it across.  "It's clean.  Stuff this in your
mouth and you can moan all you want."

   "Thank you, Rand-ee," Chris said.  "You're so nice to me." He paused
with the sock half-way to his mouth.  "Don't tickle me too much, 'kay?"

   "Sure." Randy patted Chris's little ass.  "Didn't I always stop tickle
attacks when you yelled _pax?"_

   Chris giggled, humping himself back and forth on Randy's hard cock. 
"Just don't stop _everything,_ okay?" He squeezed, delightfully.

   Randy pushed Chris down and simultaneously shoved his cock home, hard.
"Come on," he said, as the giggling boy stuffed his mouth with cotton. 
"We've been in here too long already."

   He began humping that tight, hot little hole, and Chris settled down,
folding his arms on the tank and pillowing his head on them.  Soon the boy
was moaning rhythmically into his improvised gag.

   Randy leanead forward.  "You are a lovely boy," he murmured into Chris's
ear, "and it's so nice you like hard cock up your ass - you really do,
don't you?"

   _"Oh-ey oo, an-ee!"_ Chris mumbled through the sock.

   "Only me, huh?" Randy stroked the boy's hairless armpits, making the boy
explode into muffled giggling again.  When his little brother hollered
_"-ax!  -ax!"_ into his cotton gag, he slid his hands down and hugged
Chris's chest, humping him gently.  "I guess I'm lucky you're not off
choosing some other lucky guy."

   _"O!"_ Chris shook his head, and Randy felt him tense up.

   "Hey; it's okay." Randy kissed the nape of his little brother's neck. 
"If you ever do want to, though, come talk to me, huh?  Lot of guys are
going to be asking, and I'd a whole lot rather you talk to me so I can keep
you safe while you try things out, huh?"

   _"O-ay!"_ Chris bumped his little ass meaningfully against Randy's
thighs.

   "Horny little so-and-so!" Randy nuzzled against Chris's ear, then
chuckled as he felt his little brother squeeze his ass tight around his
cock.

   Randy looked down.  Chris was sprawled up against the cistern, kneeling
on the seat; his soft skin a warm, rich cream against the blue white of the
porcelain.  The boy's lean little asscheeks were actually bulging for once:
squeezed where Randy's hips pressed against them and also spread open round
Randy's thick cock.  Randy humped the last fraction possible up his little
brother's poop-chute, enjoying the sight of his own dark, curly bush jammed
against that velvet smooth, pale little tailbone.  He twitched his cock,
feeling the blood surge up into it, held there by the lovely little
cockring of his brother's tight boy-hole.  He smiled as Chris groaned into
his gag.

   "Lot of hard cock up you, little dude," Randy said.  "So let's just
start out slow." He began easing out.  He still found it difficult to
believe that a little kid's ass could take so much hard cock up inside it,
but there was the evidence: his cute little brother's pale asscheeks, and
between them the wide-stretched ring of his asshole with ridge after
glistening ridge of his own, fat cock easing out of its pulsing, blood-hot
tightness through the steady clench of that ass-ring.

   Chris groaned again as Randy's cock-head eased out through his ring, but
Randy didn't pause to admire the sight of his little brother's ass winking
its red eye.  Instead he pushed back inside, that hot, slippery tube again;
loving the feel of his brother's slick little junior-high ass stretching
around his hard meat.  He pushed his hips: a steady slow invasion until
once again his cock was sheathed right to the root in pulsing warm
boy-flesh.

   He began a steady, slow fucking that slowly accelerated, using the
entire length of his cock to tease and stimulate his little brother's
bowels, long-dicking him with steadily increasing force, his balls slapping
against Chris's neat little thighs, the boy grunting a muffled _"uh!  uh!
uh!_ into his improvised gag at each forceful conclusion.

   He stroked Chris's shoulders and back as he thrust rhythmically, a
soothing, pleasant external massage to mirror the internal one.  He began
thrusting faster, feeling his brother's tight little boy-cunt massaging him
in turn.  Soon, it would be soon --

   The door squeaked just as Chris groaned loudly again.

   Randy froze, his cock jammed deep inside his little brother's tight ass
as hobnailed footsteps sounded on the linoleum.  He kept his mouth wide
open, trying to somehow subdue the sound of his panting.

   "Is anyone in there?" It was a deep, masculine voice: the sound of
authority.

   "Yes," Randy managed, trying not to gasp too obviously.  He glanced
down: a mistake.  The sight of his, glistening, slippery cock, huge and
veiney, stretching the tight pink ring of Chrissie's smooth little ass was
too much to bear.

   "Are you okay?"

   "Yes - fine!" he said, squeezing Chris's shoulders in warning.  A
mistake: Chris groaned again, if not so loud.  His cock felt swollen to the
size of a baseball bat.  Around it, his little brother's hot bowels pulsed.

   "You sure?"

   "A little ass trouble," Randy replied and was appalled to hear Chris
give a muffled giggle.

   "Oh, right." The hobnails _tocked_ loudly across the floor toward the
urinals.

   Chris's ass was a blood-hot velvet glove squeezing his hard cock, and to
Randy's horror, he felt his little bro' begin to hump back against him,
torturing Randy's bloated cock with his tight little boy-ring.

   Randy put both hands out against the tiled wall in front of him, his
legs suddenly weak.  He daren't pull out: even if he wanted to, it would
make too much noise.  He daren't move: all his effort went into clenching
his teeth in a vain effort to suppress the groan from far back in his
throat.  His hips twitched, seemingly beyond his control, fucking the
little kid's tight ass even as Chrissie fucked him back.

   "Don't you mind me," the security guard said.  "Sounds like you got it
real bad, and when you gotta, you gotta."

   That was true enough!  Randy gasped again.

   Chris was humping his little buns rhythmically back and forth on Randy's
hard flesh, supporting himself against the cistern with one hand.  Looking
down, Randy glimpsed the boy's other hand frantically rubbing his hard
little dickie.  He could hear the sticky _slap-slap_ of their flesh meeting
and pressed "Flush", hoping to drown the sound of fucking with rushing
water.

   Maybe the sound startled Chris.  Maybe cold water splashed his thighs or
his little balls.  Randy felt Chris's asshole clench tight around him just
as the boy's left knee slipped off the seat.

   Chris squealed into his gag as he slipped; squealed again as Randy
grabbed him in a confused bear-hug-and-thrust that pinned the boy hard
against the cistern and rammed his cock hard into up little brother's ass,
unstoppably fucking him with spastic, needy thrusts.

   Randy felt Chris's ring squeeze hard around his cock in the way he
already recognized; he didn't need to hear the muffled _"Eee-ee-eee!"_ of
the boy's dry cum.

   His little ass clenched and squeezed Randy's bloated, thrusting cock,
and Randy groaned aloud as he felt his nuts tightening.  He fucked the
boy's ass hard, once, twice.  "Yeah," he grunted.  "Fuck!  Yeah!" as his
seed spurted into Chris's hot, spasming hole.

   The cubicle door rattled.  "You okay in there?"

   "Yeah," Randy gasped, his cock still spurting cum into his brother's
little ass.  "Muscle -- _ahh!_ -- spasm."

   He panted, he hoped soundlessly, as Chris writhed and bucked in his
arms; squeaking and riding his unbearably sensitive cock with his silky,
spasming little boy-ass.  "Fine - we're fine," he gasped, as his cock
pulsed again, squirting sperm deep in Chris's guts.  "A bad take-out."

   "Oh, right." The security guy's voice sounded knowing.  "I'm going to
finish my sweep and then I'm coming back.  If you're still in there in
fifteen minutes time, I'm phoning student health on my cell or popping the
lock: got that?"
"Yessir," Randy said, his throbbing cock still pulsing deep in his

little brother's ass.  "Uh -uhh _UNGH!"_







   Randy sat, drumming his fingers on the library table.  He looked at his
watch again and sighed.  After they'd finished, he'd hastily cleaned
himself and left the restroom: it had seemed smarter to leave separately.
Anyway Chris had needed more time to clean up and get dressed.  He'd
impressed on Chris the importance of doing it all _quickly,_ and for them
to leave the library as soon as possible.

   That had been ten -- no, eleven minutes ago.  Annoyed, Randy grabbed
their bags and stood up.  Chris was doubtless mooning in front of the
mirror brushing his hair, of practicing Elf dance-steps from that goddamn'
game or something.  Sometimes his kid brother was the original ditz.

   Slinging both bags over his shoulder, Randy hastened along to the
restroom, but when he pushed the door open, the stark, white-lit room was
empty.

   Randy cursed, turned round and let the door squeak closed behind
himself. "Now where the fuck has he gone?" he muttered.

   He'd hardly taken two paces before he saw Chris peeking round the corner
of a bookstack.  He drew breath to shout, and then checked, remembering
where he was.

   Chris beckoned urgently and ducked back out of sight.  It made sense:
too late to avoid the security guy now.  Randy followed.

   The aisle was narrow, but widened out into a small study area with a
table in it.  Chris stood with his back to him, talking to somebody.  Randy
checked as Chris leaned down and Randy glimpsed a multicolored hair
dye-job. Nicky.

   Chris looked round and beckoned to him again, then leaned down to
whisper in Nicky's ear.

   Nicky sat hunched, his elbows resting on the table, arms crossed in
front of his face, his shoulders shaking.  His red jacket hung from the
back of the chair, and Randy noticed Nicky had ripped the sleeves off his
"Silence=Death" shirt, punk-style.  His arms were slender, boyish, and his
plastic bangles clicked as he covered his face with both hands, crying
soundlessly.

   "It's okay," Chris was saying.  He looked round as Randy arrived.  "His
boyfriend hurt him!  I told you he was mean!"

   _"Shh,"_ Randy said, seeing Nicky flinch.  "Hug your friend some more,
okay?" He dropped the bags and dug in his pockets for Kleenex.  "Here." He
dropped the packet on the table, near Nicky's elbow.  "You okay?" he said
to Nicky.

   "Fuh -- _fine,"_ Nicky muttered, still covering his face.

   Chris ducked beneath Nicky's arm, wrapping his arms around his friend's
shoulders.

   Nicky sighed and dropped one hand, patting Chris's back.  He stared up
at Randy, his visible eye startlingly blue amid the smudged panda-ruin of
his eyeshadow.  "Having a good laugh?" he asked.  "It's all _play-acting,_
you know."

   "No!  He didn't mean that!" Chris said, urgently.  "I meant about the
hitting, and Randy said that was only pretend."

   "Hitting?" Nicky looked at Chris, evidently puzzled.

   "He saw you in the restroom," Randy said, pulling out a chair.  "You and
your, um, _beau."_

   "Yeah, he was saying mean things." Chris looked unhappy, his eyes
glittering.  "It was real scary." He blinked, and two big tears trickled
down his cheeks.

   Nicky hunched a shoulder, still keeping one hand covering half his face.
"Mike does that.  It's his way, that's all: he doesn't mean it." He
grimaced.  "Didn't mean it." He squeezed his eyes shut and fresh tears
trickled down his face like an echo of Chrissie's.

   "Here." Randy sat down and nudged the Kleenex closer.  "Wipe your eyes."

   "S' okay," Chris said to Nicky.  "I'll do it if you like.  I'll be ever
so gentle."

   Nicky squeezed Chris's shoulders.  "No, it's okay.  I'll do it." He took
his remaining hand away from his face, reaching for the tissues.

   Randy gasped.  "My god!  Your face!"

   "It's a bruise, that's all." Nicky sounded defensive.  "It'll heal." His
left cheekbone sported a purple-gray swelling, like a mouse.  He looked
down and reached for the pack of tissues.  His hand was shaking.

   "Yah." Randy looked from Nicky's bruised face to Chris's unhappy one. 
"Sorry Chris.  I should've listened to you."

   "'S okay, Randy.  I wish you'd been right, too."

   "Most of it's make-up," Nicky said.  "I must have real panda-eyes." He
hugged Chris.  "Don't worry, kid.  It's not so bad."

   "He's done it before?" Randy asked.

   Nicky shrugged.  "What I don't understand," he said, dabbing at his
face, "is your little brother getting scared.  I don't recall Mike and me
arguing in the restroom at all."

   "Ah." Randy coughed.  "Well, you weren't exactly arguing."

   "Fucking," Chris added helpfully.  "It's how I knew you were like us."

   _"Chris!"_ Randy hissed.  "Remember what I told you about private
stuff!"

   "Oh." Nicky blushed.  "I'm sorry.  I guess seeing guys doing it is weird
for a kid, if you don't know."

   "It was only the shouting that was scary," Chris said, with an
apologetic look at Randy.  "But Randy said that was pretending, like for a
game.  Only it wasn't, really," he added sadly.

   "Um." Nicky was beet-red, hiding his eyes.  "I'm sorry.  Kids shouldn't
see that kind of thing."

   "'S okay.  Randy showed me a movie, so I could see you didn't _have_ to
have shouting."

   "What?" Nicky's head whipped up; he glared at Randy.  "You've been
showing a kid gay porno?  That's sick!"

   "Oh that's great: what happened to all that 'talking about important
stuff'?" Randy indicated Nicky's tee-shirt.  "You'd rather he stayed
scared?"

   "He's too young!"

   _"Shhh!_ Don't do shouting, please!" Chris looked frightened, and his
voice shook.  "I'm sorry Randy.  I shouldn't have said."

   "Quiet, there!"

   Randy jumped, recognizing the voice.  Sure enough, when he looked around
a tall, black security guard was striding down the aisle toward their
table, the highlights gleaming on his shaven scalp almost as white as his
crisp, starched shirt.  The way he stood said "army" as much as the
knife-edge creases in his pants.

   "This is a silent zone," the guard said.  He had a square, handsome face
like a modernist sculpture.  "You want to talk, you gotta go outside."

   Chris drew breath, but Randy silenced him with a look.  "We were just
going," he said.

   The guard looked sharply at Randy.  "Feeling better now, huh?"

   Randy nodded, mentally kicking himself for opening his mouth and
identifying himself.  The guard's knowing gaze went from him to Nicky and
back again, and Randy looked away, praying that Chris wouldn't give away
the fact that he'd been the cubicle's other occupant.  "We'd better go," he
said.

   "Okay," Chris said.  "It's all right Nicky: I'll get your stuff.  Randy
won't mind if I'm your helper too."

   It wasn't what Randy had intended, but at least the security guy looked
satisfied.

   Randy judged that his little bro's "help" in getting Nicky's things
together was in fact more of a hindrance; but he also noticed the way that
Chrissie, tactile little kid that he was, kept touching Nicky's hands and
standing as close as he could.  He could read Chrissie like a book: his
little bro' was vastly upset, and "being useful" was helping him, at least.

   Nicky too, it seemed.  Chris kept whispering things to him, and his
expression kept lightening, until at last he definitely seemed to be
repressing a smile.  He hugged Chris around his shoulders.  "I know," he
said, and then actually laughed as Chris shushed him, making about as much
noise as a steam engine.



   "So," Randy said, his resting comfortably around Chris's shoulders as
they stood in the lot, waving.  The high buzz of Nicky's little Yamaha
faded into the dusk.  "What were you whispering to him up in the library?"

   Chris looked up at him, his expression tense.  "I said we'd look after
him, and we'd both stick up for him.  I know I should have asked you,
Randy, but he -- he was hurting so, inside, and I, I--"

   _"Shhh._ I know," Randy said, patting his shoulder.  "Come on.  I'll
give you a cuddle in the car." His gut tightened as he thought about what
the security guard knew.  And if people saw the three of them around
together -- well, they wouldn't see him and _Chrissie_ as the love birds,
would they?  He realized that Chris had stopped walking.

   "What is it, Randy?  What's wrong?" His little brother began to cry
again.

   Randy knelt down in the lot and hugged him, careless of who might see.
"We can't tell Mom and Dad, okay?" Yeah, right, like Dad would need to be
told!  Randy felt the knot in his guts wind tighter.

   "Why - is there something _wrong_ with Nicky?  He's my friend!  I don't
wanna hide him!"

   Randy hugged his little brother's head close against him, feeling angry
and ashamed.  He wished he wasn't this lying, sneaking, second-guessing
coward: wished he had Chrissie's bright courage.  It was the same thing
that drew him to Nicky, he realized.
"No, of course we won't hide him.  We'll be careful, that's all." Randy

winced as he heard himself speak.

   "Oh." Chris sniffed wetly.  "It _is_ going to be okay, isn't it, Randy?
You promise?"

   "Sure," Randy said.  It was the kind of promise he was good at: an empty
one.