"OK, you know what? My dick is going soft."

He shrugged as if it weren't his problem. It was his problem!

"Fuck it... listen." When extreme circumstances hit... "Let's just give each other a blowjob and call it a day."

He sighed, sitting up. "Ok. A blowjob is better than nothing. Come here."

He positioned himself on the edge of the mattress with his legs open.

"You completely misunderstood."

"You said a blowjob...?" Lucas asked.

"Yes. One each. Explain to me why I should suck you off first? Who's to say you won't back out afterward?"

He became suspicious and closed his legs. "Well, honestly, I hadn't even thought about it, it made no difference to me. But now that you brought it up, I think I want to enjoy your service first."

"And why is that?"

"Because I don't know you, and maybe you're the one who backs out after he's come."

"I have never failed to return a blowjob in my life. I have references if you want."

And on that note, we went back and forth for a while.

It was just a matter of figuring out who was more stubborn. Once, I had smashed through a gypsum wall with my head to see if I could (I could), so I already felt like a winner.

At some point, Lucas glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. "Listen, I still have work to finish. We either resolve this now, or I get dressed."

And so in the end, it was a matter of who desired this fucking orgasm more. It was probably me, because I was the one who knelt down first.

It was a nice experience. It ranked among the top twenty most pleasant blow jobs I had ever received. Of course, giving and receiving were in two very distinct categories.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. "Okay. My turn."

He raised his satisfied eyes to me. Their blueish light sparkled with mischief. "Mhh, I don't know... I'm not really in the mood."

He waited for me to open my mouth in indignation before bursting into laughter.

"I'm kidding! I'm kidding! Come here."

He pulled me by the arm and pushed me to sit down. Then he let himself slide to the floor on his knees, and... oh. Wasn't that a magnificent sight?

My turn was a real delight. That mouth knew how to do some pretty interesting things, things I had sorely missed in those meaningless days.

…

"Are you going to be here tomorrow?" I was sprawled on the bed.

Lucas came back from the bathroom and approached me with a slight frown.. "Tomorrow? But... don't you... you know... have to go to school?"

"School can wait. It's been a good week since I screwed someone."

"Oh, no. A whole week." He said with what I feared was sarcasm. Bastard. "You should go to school, instead."

He didn't wait for me to give my witty and ironic response. He turned around, grabbed his pants, and put them on.

"What are you doing?"

He was already putting on his shoes. "I'm going back to work. I need to get out of here before someone comes back."

Before dashing out the door, he turned to me again. "Uhm... this stays between us, right? Mrs. Smith doesn't know that sometimes I cover my mom's shifts. And I don't think she'd be pleased to know what we've been up to."

"You're safe. The judge and I only communicate if absolutely necessary."

And if I had to tell someone about my sexual adventures, I would call my friends, I wouldn't tell those spoiled bourgeois.

He let out a relieved sigh and then disappeared from the room. I heard the noise of his old sneakers pounding as he went downstairs.

I felt slightly abandoned. I didn't mind post-orgasm cuddles.

Oh well. I suppressed my unfulfilled desire and used my titanic willpower to drag myself to the bathroom, clean up, and put on something.

When I returned to the room, I heard the distant noise of a vacuum cleaner. He was really getting back to work.

I went downstairs.

When I got to the living room, I saw Lucas hurriedly turning off the vacuum cleaner and rushing into the bathroom. There, he opened a cupboard and pulled out one of the many products stacked without even reading the label.

He seemed annoyed that I was watching him, I think. Occasionally, he shot me irritated glances.

He cleaned the entire bathroom in less than five minutes. Then he hurried off to the library, where he realized he had forgotten to vacuum.

He cursed under his breath and rushed to grab a broom.

I stood in the doorway watching him as he lifted a rug and hid the dirt underneath.

This time he was even more annoyed to find me staring at him at the door. "I'll clean that tomorrow."

"AH! I don't think so! You'll be very busy tomorrow too."

"I told you, you have to go to school."

"Okay, mom."

I followed him even into the master bedroom, where he aggressively pulled the sheets and made the bed until it looked perfectly straightened.

"You know what you need after a good blowjob?"

He made an indistinct sound to respond to me, while dusting the nightstands that were already dusted anyway.

"A joint. But I haven't had time to find a supplier around here yet. Do you know anyone?"

He paused to look directly at me. "Drake, I only have an hour to make this ridiculously large house shine. I don't have time for you right now."

Wow. Okay.

But I still had to talk to him about the band and everything else. Earlier, I had gotten lost fantasizing about his cock and had temporarily put the real priority on hold.

And to discuss band matters with him, I needed his undivided attention.

I left him there and went back upstairs. My room didn't look any better than when I left it.

I gathered up all the clothes scattered around and stuffed them into the closet. Then I pulled the blankets and stayed there for about ten minutes trying to make the bed like he had done it, but some wrinkles kept showing up anyway.

Well, who cares. It's good enough.

I wanted to gain a few more minutes, so I decided to tidy up Jeremy's room too. I slipped through the door and puzzled again about how to tuck in the blankets, but nothing. The same messy bed came out again.

Anyway, this one was good enough too.

I collected the books and notebooks Jeremy had left lying around. There was no room on any shelf, so I adopted the old trick of cramming everything into the closet.

I called it a closet, but it was practically a room itself, so it didn't take long to find a free spot. I passed the row of jackets, about three hundred shoe boxes, shirts, ties...

I reached the last niche and crouched down to pile my load between a shoehorn and a cardboard box, a box with THOMAS written on it.

Hm.

Okay. None of my business.

But my name's on it.

But it's not really my name.

I walked away and returned to that niche about ten times, before giving in and listening to the little red angel on my left shoulder.

I opened the box. There were papers inside. Postcards? Letters?

I took the first piece of paper. It had large and hesitant handwriting

Dear Thomas,
I’m sorry that I sad mean things and I was mean
Plese forgive me I love you. 

Well. They were definitely addressed to me, I probably had a 70% right to read them. Maybe 60%, but still more than fifty. I pulled out the whole stack from the box and read them one after the other.

Dear Thomas,
I stole your toys and I said you were dead.
and that is not true
I was mean, very mean, very mean, I was mean, I was mean

Dear Thomas,
mom is crying again and it’s all your fault. I’m not the mean one. It’s your fault. Its not true that I love you, I only writ that when mom is looking at me. I hate you and I hope youare really dead. 

Dear Thomas,
Today I threw a glass at mom because I was angry. Dad was really really angry because mom was bleeding and crying and now I feel guilty. but she keeps saying things that make me angry. I wanted to throw the glass at you. 

Dear Thomas,
I’m sorry I said I don’t want a brother. I love you very very much and I can’t wait for you to come back!

Dear Thomas,
the police said they found a dead boy and maybe that’s you. I am very scared and I’m crying a lot. Mom doesn’t want to tell me how you died and I’m scared I will die too. 

Dear Thomas,
it happened again, I was so angry I hit mom and I couldn’t stop. Dad brought me to a special doctor to cure me because I’m mean. I think it was better if I died in your place, you would not make mom cry like I do.

Dear Thomas,
The doctor told me what happened to you when we were small. She also doesn’t know if you are alive and you are ok. I hope you are ok. I know I said many times that I wished you were dead but it’s not true. And mom is not looking at what I’m writing so I’m telling the truth. Mom was angry with the doctor because now I’m scared to sleep alone, and I’m scared they’ll come and take me away too. So now I have a new doctor. 

Dear Thomas,
A long time has gone by since the last time I wrote to you. Every time I leave my room I see that sign on your door with the name Thomas on it. I tried to remove it but mom found it out and got very angry. I didn’t mean to disrespect you, but it’s just getting so hard sharing my life with a ghost. Last year I decided I wanted to stop writing to you. I buried the box with the letters in the garden with some flowers. I couldn’t tell mom that I wished we hosted a funeral for you. That was the best I could do on my own.
I don’t recall what I wanted to say. I feel like crying again. 

Dear Thomas,
I made a decision. I am going to find you.
Even if it takes my whole life I’ll put to rest mom’s heart and mine. I’ll find out what happened to you and I’ll find the man that took you away from us.
I promise you he’ll pay dearly. 

Dear Thomas,
The police stopped looking for you. They say it’s not true, but I know it is. I can’t take this anymore. I promise I’ll keep looking for you, but I have to accept the fact that you are dead. This is my last letter.
Farewell, Thomas. Rest in peace.  

And that was the last one.

I stood there, holding those notes, with a strange sense of nausea gripping my heart and choking my breath.