Owen and Nicolas

For those of you who are following the series I mentioned in my other story, "Farmhands." Cameron and Mike was number one, Bentley and Alex was number two, and this story Owen and Nicolas is number.

*** Thank you for your readership no matter if you are new to me, or discovered me a while ago. Author.

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This Story is completely fictional, but nonetheless enjoy:

OWEN’S POV

It was another macabre Thursday. Temperatures sweltering, leaving part of town disabled, and the other half miserable. Most people refused to leave the air conditioned safety of their homes or offices. We, the students of John Ace High School were trapped in the dilapidated building. Our school does not have air conditioning in the majority of the building leading to a roasting inferno, surpassing the heat of hell. Go figure this would be our fate, the school was in a large amount of debt and disrepair.

Mrs. Gretchen Poppy, a woman in her late forties, would teach in the harshest of conditions. She bored everyone to near death. Her monotone voice and lack of enthusiasm made it hard for many to learn, myself included. I had regretted choosing Advanced English instead of Honors English. I considered myself on the fast track to college. However, I probably wouldn't get into any colleges because of my economic situation, my family and I had very little money.

Mrs. Poppy said in defeat, “Talk amongst yourselves it is way too hot to teach.”

Cheers erupted throughout the classroom. The cheers soon filled with loud conversation. I was a loner so I didn't talk to anyone and no one talked to me, except Mrs. Poppy.

“Owen?” She asked, fanning herself with a file folder.

I replied, “Yes?”

“Would you be willing to run an errand for me?” She asked.

“Sure.” I said, “Beats sitting here sweating.”

She handed me a large manila envelope, “Take this to Mr. Towers, in room 156.”

Mr. Towers was our Calculus teacher. He was a short, pudgy, nearly bald man. He was most likely in his late fifties. I walked out the door, down the hall, to the other side of the school and ascended the stairs to the second floor. I came across his door, I pulled it open. His class was scattered around the room talking. I walked over to his desk, and handed him the envelope.

“From: Mrs. Poppy.” I said.

He said, “Thanks Owen, and I need to talk to you about your grade in this class.”

I nodded as I thought to myself, learn how to teach and there wouldn’t be an issue.

Mr. Towers started, “You’re currently failing my class. I, along with many other teachers want to see you go to college. You’re on the right track, and more than capable of achieving anything you try to. Might I make a suggestion?”

“You may.” I said trying not to sound agitated.

“I would like to have one of my students on the higher end of the spectrum to tutor you. If you want to, of course.” He stated

“Doesn’t sound like a bad idea.” I said, weighing out the pros and cons.

He hollered across the room, “Nicolas, come here for a second please.”

Nicolas Van Carter, one of the pompous asses I didn’t like, of course.

“Yes,” Nicolas said as he approached the other side of the desk, “Mr. Towers?”

“I would like for you to tutor Mr. Owen, if it isn’t an inconvenience.” Mr. Towers bargained.

Nicolas was silent for a moment, “That won’t be an issue.”

“Okay you two work out the details, tell me if you need anything.” Mr. Towers said, turning his attention back to the computer in front of him.

Nicolas and I walked to the door. I regretted agreeing to the tutoring now.

Nicolas said, “I know you don’t like me. I don’t care much for you either. Let’s bury the hatchet for the time being.”

I said, “Okay, then after we’re done we’ll hate each other again.”

Nicolas smiled, “No problem. Now where do we want to meet?”

I said, “Doesn’t matter to me, anywhere you want.”

Nicolas asked, “Would you be okay with meeting at my house after school. No one is home, so there will be fewer. . . Obstructions.”

I stated, “Fine with me. Just give directions.”

Nicolas said, “I drive to and from school. If you want you can just hitch a ride with me at the end of the day, and have someone pick you up.”

I said, “Thanks. I’ll meet you at your locker. When do we start?”

“Today, if that’s not an issue.” He said.

“Not a problem.” I said. I asked a moment later, “Between which hours?”

“Monday thru Thursday three to six, and Friday three until whenever. Unless you or I have plans.” He said.

I nodded in agreement as I dashed out the door. I walked back to English. Mrs. Poppy didn’t question the time frame. I wasn’t really looking forward to spending three hours with Nicolas. I could guess he felt the same way, but longer hours meant fewer days.

The bell went off. I hopped from my desk and headed to my locker. I grabbed my bag and headed towards Nicolas’s locker, which was only a short distance up the hall. He was standing there socializing. I walked up towards him, he told the other person good bye as he grabbed his bag. He led me to the front parking lot, to a beat up Ford F-150. He unlocked the doors and gestured for me to get in. I climbed in the passenger side. Careful not to step on one of several CD cases sitting on the floor. He bent over from the driver side and grabbed them, stacking them neatly and sticking them on the seat beside him.

Looking at the floor I realized two things. One his truck had the headlight switch on the floor signifying that the truck was old. Two the truck was a standard. He turned the truck on. The truck sputtered to life as we clicked our seatbelts. He backed up and cruised out of the parking lot and down the road.

I texted my mom, “I won’t be home for a little while, and could you pick me up at 6?”
She replied “Sure, just give me directions.”

Nicolas turned onto a dirt road. He unbuckled his seat belt.

He asked, “Owen, would you reach in the glove box and pull out the pack of cigarettes?”

I reached into the glove box. I pulled out a pack of Marlboro Menthol 100’s and a Bic lighter. I handed him the pack. He lit one up as he rolled down the window. He offered me one. I accepted being that I smoked regularly, even though I had cheap menthol cigarettes in my bag. I lit up and rolled down my window. We reached a fork in the road and he veered to the right. Soon we came to a house on the right side of the road. The house looked ancient, it had a wraparound porch. He pulled into the driveway. He coasted into a stop in a patch of dirt.

We hopped out of the truck after he turned it off. He fumbled with his keys for a moment, finding the key for the door. We stepped onto the porch. He stuck the key in the lock and turned it. The door opened revealing a nicely kept living room. We stepped inside. He directed me to the kitchen. We sat our bags on the table. I slumped into one of the wooden chairs.

He said, “Want something to drink?”

I said, “Yes please.”

He reached into the fridge and produced two cans of Pepsi, handed one to me and plopped into the chair directly across from me, as I popped the top on the can. Nicolas popped the top on his and three gulps and a large sigh later he threw the can into a cardboard box by the trashcan in the corner of the kitchen. I sat my can on the left side of the table, careful not to put it within distance of my arm.

Nicolas asked, “Where shall we start?”

I stared blankly at the wall, painted an ugly shade of green, behind his head, “The beginning. I had a hard time at the beginning of the year. Mr. Towers doesn’t really know how to teach at all.”

Nicolas stared at my face, “Isn’t that the truth.”

We both laughed. For once we were getting along. Nic reached into his bag and pulled out his neatly kept math book. I grabbed the monstrosity I called a book out of my bag. Nicolas opened his notebook to the first page. The scrawling in the top margin spelled out Order of Operations, in Nic’s stunningly feminine handwriting.

In some of my spare time I had researched a bit on Handwriting Analysis. Nic’s handwriting suggested he was emotionally withdrawn and tired easily. I was interested to know why he built walls up around himself. I now needed to know why, who, when, and where?

As time for me to leave neared I noticed how attractive he really was. He wasn’t that movie-star sort of handsome either. He was just a good ‘ol country boy. His features; shown in stark contrast to his pale complexion. There were not any blemishes; his skin looked like pure ivory. His red lips looked soft, while his mouth looked hungry and inviting. His little bit of a Southern Accent was a major turn on, he was sweeter then honey.

I had hated him, and he had hated me. I knew that even after we were done with tutoring, I could never hate, let alone look at him the same way. I don’t know for certain if he noticed me as more than what he normally saw in school.

As time grew shorter, we had covered a lot of material. Enough to where my eyes were burning like the summer sun. I could tell he was getting tired. He kept rubbing his eyes. I didn’t let on that I was watching his every move.

I asked tiredly, “Can we stop here for the day?”

He replied with a long yawn, “Yeah that sounds like a very good idea.”

I said, “I’ll have to wait until six though, my mom won’t be home from work until then.”

He shrugged, “Okay. You thirsty?”

I replied, however erotically I wanted to, I didn’t “I’m parched.”

He walked over to the fridge once more, grabbing two cans of Coca-Cola this time. He handed one to me I drank it hurriedly, ignoring the extreme pain coming from my screaming teeth.

I said, “I’m gonna go out for a smoke. Join me?”

He grinned, “Thought you’d never ask.”

We went outside. He asked if he could bum one off of me, which I said he could. I couldn’t help but notice more of the subtle details in his face, posture, and body language. His lips banded narrowly around the butt of the cigarette, almost so tightly I thought he was trying to suck the tobacco out of the cigarette through the filter.

His eyes didn’t show anything for a moment, when they caught my wandering eyes they seemed to get a sudden spark behind them. His body language suggested he was struggling with something.

I tried making conversation, which I never was any good at, but Nic wouldn’t add anything except for a word or two on occasions. I so badly wanted to close the distance between us and introduce my lips to his. He didn’t even know I was having the thoughts.

Mom’s blue Volkswagen pulled into the drive. I slung my bag over my shoulder, turned my head and thanked Nic and told him I’d see him tomorrow. He nodded and smiled briefly.

NICOLAS’S POV

It was a hot day. I, along with the many other students, was trapped in the air-condition-less school building roasting to death. My day went terribly it was so hot that I was having issues not falling asleep. As eighth period came, I talked to my friends until he came in.

Owen, the guy I had always liked but pretended to hate so I wouldn’t have to come out. Owen, the guy I wanted so badly. Owen, the stunning blond with the sweetest little ass; he truly haunted my mind constantly.

Flashback:
I had been infatuated ever since the first day of ninth grade. We had just come back from summer break. Majority of us sporting dark caramel tans. Owen glowed like a god. I watched later that day in gym class. Yes, was I not lucky to have the guy I want nearly naked? As I watched to my pleasure his boxers slid down slightly, revealing his caramel colored ass cheek. I forced the thought out of my head before I could get an erection. Needless to say, I spent the next few nights pleasuring myself to the thought of him sun bathing naked.
(End of Flashback)

By the time eighth period had come that day I was tired. I must have let my guard down. Owen walked into the room, handed Mr. Towers an envelope, and had a brief discussion with him. When Towers called me over to his desk I was scared almost shitless. When Towers asked me to tutor Owen in the subject, I thought I sounded too willing to do it. I thought I would seem too eager, and I might have let slip the fact of my obsession.

When Owen agreed, was set to come to see me today after a school. I was almost filled with glee. I had wanted for so long to sit near him; to feel his body next to mine. When he rode home with me in my truck I put my head between his legs, sort of gauging how he would react. Of course, I covered for it with the excuse of moving my abundance of CDs off the floor. He was clueless.

As the day wore own I grew more anxious, he seemed more comfortable around me, and I around him. I caught him checking me out a few times; I had to maintain my composure while secretly dying on the inside. When we had finished for the day and went out for a smoke. I caught him examining me again. I tried to make myself appear relax, and again I was dying on the inside.

When he had left with his mom; I ran back into the house, into my room, locked the door, and stripped all my clothes off. My modest erection was straining against my denim jeans, as I took them off I was relieved of the slight pain coming from my groin. I lay on the bed, teasing my body with my seemingly nimble fingers. I manipulated my balls as my dick throbbed, screaming for release.

My fingers then moved to my nipples, two perfectly pink mounds on top my muscular Pecs. As I took my cock in my hand and started stroking it slowly, images of Owen filled my closed eyes. I thought of him lying next to me, I thought of him kissing me, I thought of him taking my virginity. At the thought of sucking his cock, however big it might be, I climaxed shooting my load all over the place. Specks of my load landed in my mouth, on my chest, in my bush, and just about anywhere else within reach. As my erection subsided the remnants of my horny fantasies played out in my head. I knew I’d be seeing him tomorrow. Even if I couldn’t touch him, that was enough.

OWEN POV

When I got home that night; I ran to my room, chucked my bag in the corner. I lay on my bed for a while until Mom screamed from the kitchen that supper was done. After I ate, I went to bed. I lay there for what seemed like an eternity, which was only 15 minutes or so. As my eyes closed and my breathing slowed, images of Nicolas filled my eyes; Nicolas’s sweet smile, girlish handwriting, perfect body, and his ornamental brown eyes.

Before I could even think about drifting off peacefully into sleep my mind wandered. I knew somewhere nearby that Nic was laying in his bed, hopefully naked. My mind wandered once more, only this time was into the fantasy realm. I closed my eyes to be greeted by my brain’s rendering of Nic’s naked body. His defined chest glistened with the sweat of the day. His breaths were deep heavy and forceful. The dilatation in his pupils unmistakable, he had been working, working hard. His biceps contorted into tight bunches, showcasing their raw power.

He was speaking, I could see his lips moving but I couldn't hear the words. As he stopped speaking he grabbed me roughly, slamming his body against mine. He locked lips with me and forced his tongue into my mouth. I could feel his bugling erection pressing against my own. He had just gotten on his knees, ready to take my dick into his mouth. I woke up to the sound of the alarm clock. I was pissed. The best dream I had had in years and I had to wake up just as it got interesting.