Product Placement

Chapter 11 - FWB

Butch wasn't sure why he was here, standing awkwardly in the mouth of an alley, waiting for the hustler to show. After a few weeks of general avoidance, the dealer had suddenly sent him a message to meet him outside after school. He never specified when or where exactly, but Butch lounge against the wall and smoked, waiting for HK to find him.

Unsurprisingly, it didn't take long.

They stood facing each other for a few moments, both unsure where to start. It had been a while and they both knew why that was the case. They hadn't spoken about it to anyone and suspected the other had kept his trap shut too. Butch had stopped limping and Francis' cuts and scrapes had healed enough to be ignored. They hadn't bothered to talk to each other about it, though they should by all accounts (if those relationship books could be believed). It was… well it wasn't a mistake, per say. Neither could attest to not liking it. But it had come close to something taboo, something that neither wanted to be blamed for.

Could it really be considered rape?

Both were shady on the subject. Thanks to sex ed (not that god awful school one, personal learning) the thing to go on was saying 'no'. Neither had – with the exception of Butch biting Francis' fingers when he first pressed in and the borderline vampiric love bites Francis littered his neck with- and they both did enjoy it. Had the other, though? They both had their share of keeping quiet though hating a situation. Butch felt like he kind of did provoke Hustler and goad him into it. Hustler was concerned mostly because Butch had cried and was in obvious pain. Both felt fault, but neither could really shoulder the blame the other, either. The whole situation was pretty damn confusing.

Standing here now, the hustler shoved his hands into his pockets and sighed. Butch looked calm enough (he hadn't bolted yet, but he was smoking pretty heavily). He had wanted to be one on one to figure this mess out. He had tried to by himself but so far it proved impossible. As awkward as it was, he needed to talk to the other end of the equation for this. No better starting point than the truth, he supposed.

"I wanted to talk to you."
"Bout what?" Butch replied casually, taking a deep drag.
"Us."
"Us?"
"Yes. This. What this is."
"What we are?" Butch shrugged and "Well, I'm me, and I'm pretty sure you're you. Of course if you want specifics-"
"Butch I'm being serious. Cut the crap and listen."

So Butch shut up, waiting for Hustler to talk. Problem was that was the extent of his speech. To be honest he had no idea what 'us' or 'this' entailed. It could be anything, really. They've run the gamut from friends to enemies to lovers (rough lovers, but it still counted). The variants and the implications of said variants had been rolling around in his head for days, none of them taking root for long. When he did think he stumbled upon a solution, it blew up in his face- or rather, he thought of all the possible things that could go wrong, so the solution became a much worse problem than the original trouble and was forgotten. He needed another living, thinking, breathing, coherent human to bounce ideas off of. Ergo, Butch.

"So… what are we?" Butch tried, seeing the hustler go silent.
"FWB?"
"Pardon?"
"Friends With Benefits, Butch." He elaborated, rolling with the subconscious suggestion "Friends in the natural sense of the word, but with a little something… extra."
"Extra?"
"You know." Francis stepped forward and looped his arm around the smoking boy, guiding him deeper into the alley "You don't know. Let me spell it out for you then. We'll… be there for each other. A shoulder to cry on, a person to vent to, a handy place to crash, convenient lab partner, all that good stuff. But that can only cover so much. Look, I know you have… needs. I do too. Rather than go through all that running around and schmoosing and flirting, why not find a little relief in each other, hm?"
"Hm." Butch was grinning around his cigarette, nodding a bit. "So you'll scratch my back if I scratch yours. That kinda deal?"
"You got it. I ain't gonna interfere with any future girlfriends or whatever you have lined up. This ain't something official or permanent. I'm not yours, you're not mine, no attachment. That could be saved for, yah know, when we're in college or somethin'. But in the mean time-"
"No, yeah, see where you're goin' with this, Franny" Butch stubbed his cig out on the wall and glanced at him, still grinning. "I'm in."
"Great." Hustler chirped, smiling right back and offering his hand, which Butch took with just as much trepidation as he did enthusiasm. "It's a deal, then."

Hustler's smile waned, however, when Butch didn't let go.

"You know you can leggo now, right?" He tried.
"Yeah." Butch drawled, his smirk renewing itself "But I'ma little fuzzy on the whole 'benefits package.' Lets… take it for a test run."
"Now?"
"You're not busy, are yah?"

Hustler laughed, tugging the hand and body forward until it was uncomfortably close for two friends. Butch grinned, gripping the collar of his coat, crumpling it in his fist. They were close enough to feel each other's breath (which was coming a little faster than before). Anyone walking by could mistake the closeness for a staring contest or a soon-to-be brawl. Rather than throwing a punch, however, Hustler merely chuckled and asked "Your place or mine?"

O/O

"You've got one helluva house, Franny."
"Stop calling me that." The door shut somewhere behind him and he grabbed Butch and yanked him back "And don't go poking around without me."
"Then take me to bed and kick me out, why don't cha?"
"Gladly."

Butch was spun around and kissed, which was nice but would have been nicer with some sort of warning or something. He figured (hoped) Fran wouldn't be reckless and try this with his parents lurking around somewhere – but then again, this house was damn huge. It might take a while to get found. The hustler nipped his lip and Butch shrugged, sliding his hands up the heavy coat and just getting into it when he pulled away.

"Comin' or what?" He breathed, pulling away and towards the stairs
"I sure as hell hope so."
"Slut."
"Hooker."
"High priced call girl, thank you very much."

Butch chuckled, itching for a cigarette. Sure, they were cracking jokes and making fun of each other, but he was scared to death. What if this turned out just as bad as before? What if he bled again? Was it going to hurt? Fuck, what was he supposed to do if they finished late? How the hell was he gonna explain this to his parents?

He bumped into the hustler. He lifted his hand to take a drag off a cigarette that wasn't there, derailing it to an awkward head scratch. Hustler raised a brow but didn't say anything, ushering him into a needlessly large bedroom. Butch whistled and immediately prowled around under Francis' watchful eye.

"Anythin' you're lookin for in particular?"
"Something to blackmail you with."

The hustler seemed pleased enough with his response and stayed quiet. Butch was glad for the extra moments of peace while he snooped. He wasn't really looking for anything so much as buying time. He figured the more time he had in the room they were about to do it in the more of a level head he would get and he could either get on with it or just fucking leave. No harm, no foul. He didn't wanna screw up again or go through another awkward period or explain this to anyone ever and-

Arms slid around his waist, carefully avoiding his stomach scars and drawing him backwards into a very large slab of a body. It was enough to make Butch gulp and his head reel, but rather than something terrible happening all he felt was a soft pressure on the side of his neck. Nothing more, he wasn't even sure if it was a kiss or nuzzle or whatever. He twitched a bit and tried to relax. The grip was lose enough he could get out of it with a kick in the balls, but he was fine here for now.

Hustler guided him to the bed, playfully pushing him on it. Butch almost complained, but then he felt the mattress. Oh what a mattress it was. He fell back and made some sort of noise, scooting up to the pillows and headboard and squirming around. It was so, so much better than his couch back home. He didn't even mind the heavy weight hovering over him, lowering onto him like a heated blanket. A blanket with a pulse and a pair of wandering hands and lips – not that he was complaining too much.

"Somethin bothering you? You seem kinda stiff – no pun intended."
"Nervous."
"This was your idea."
"I know."
"Do you want me to stop?"
"…I dunno. Keep doin this though. Feels nice."

So Hustler did, slightly less so now but he kept up. Butch seemed to be relaxing, but as a precaution he kept everything above the waist and was exceptionally careful of where ad what he laid his mouth on. It might have been the cold, calculating bastard or the sensual seducer in him but he couldn't help but map out every point that made Butch gasp, that made him moan, that made him twitch. He promptly then abused the good places, hoping that Butch would start responding past a few squirms and sloppy kisses. He didn't want to force Butch, not after what happened last time, but he wasn't going to sit idly by until Butch thought now was a good time to have sex.

"Still feeling good?" He half checked, half teased.
"Mhmm. Move your hand up a bit, wouldja?"
"Too low?"
"No. Your hands are cold and it feels nicest there."
"Warm me up a bit, then."

Butch chuckled and raised himself off the bed, allowing Hustler's hands to move where he desired and brought the slightly warmer body closer. It squirmed happily against him and started to respond, using his hands for a change. It progressed slowly but surely, moving from careful, almost awkward explorations to something more experienced. They'd occasionally correct each other, but it wasn't more painful than a pinch or a nip. Butch seemed to be enjoying the attention, if not just the making out. Francis was certainly enjoying it.

Somewhere along the line, Francis shifted over him, pulling to the side a bit. He wanted to try something, and he figured it would be the best to try while Butch was distracted by a particularly deep kiss. Plus, he had never been with a guy before, so he was flying a little blind. At least he could use Butch as a guinea pig. Carefully and above the clothes – he'd been with enough girls to know you do not put skin on skin until they were damn well good and ready- he slid his hand down from Butch's neck to his hip (wary of the scars on his stomach), and gently over his crotch.

Butch twitched a little and broke the kiss, gasping. He paused, breathing heavy, and to the hustler's delight dove right back into it, drawing him closer. If that wasn't an indication of want (that and the grinding against his resting palm), then he was at a loss for what this guy wanted. He shrugged internally and kissed back, pressing down with a bit more force. Butch bucked, which made Francis smile into the kiss, which made Butch draw him closer. It was a pretty convenient and enjoyable cycle for both parts, though the both of them were both trying to enjoy and trying to forget what happened last time. They were succeeding for the time being, focusing on the touch and taste rather than silly things like thought and rationality.

Perhaps that's why they didn't quite notice when they started dry humping each other.

They both gathered coherence at seemingly the same moment, half ignoring it and half embarrassed about the situation. It didn't stop them, but they did slow down, just a bit. It was an awkward situation to be in. Did they just continue this? Should they start stripping? Should they have sex? Dry humping felt really nice. They could continue that. But what would they change into? Butch couldn't fit in Francis' pants. But sex was good too. Sex felt good, even if it hurt a little. It would be a nice change to not be bleeding and limping and guilty and bruised and bitten afterwards. So they were stuck at an impasse, but a nice impasse, to be sure.

"Do you want to do this?" Hustler finally asked, half speaking against his mouth
"I… I dunno."
"I won't force you. I just kinda wanna get off. Soon."
"Me too." Butch paused for a moment and shrugged "What the hell. Lets do it."

The hustler seemed relieved, but he was careful. Every few minutes he was asking if Butch was sure, if anything hurt or if he wanted to back out. Butch appreciated the thought and knew why he was so damn cautious but it was a bit much. He told the hustler to hurry the hell up already. The fact he was horny as hell probably impaired his decision, and he gave it some serious rethinking when he saw the condom and lube get pulled out. Hustler asked again and Butch snapped at him until he was naked and an equally naked hustler was hovering before him.

It flew by so fast.

One minute he was bracing himself for the first finger and the next he was finished and panting heavy. It was almost as if it hadn't happened at all, or that he dreamed it up or something. He couldn't remember like last time, but then again he could. He did remember everything, but it seemed so weird, so out of place with everything else that it was like recalling a dream. He grimaced, feeling Francis pull out rather than watching him. It was better with his eyes shut. He could gather his thoughts this way.

I hadn't hurt. He wasn't aching like before. There was a small one, but it didn't feel like he'd been ripped in two. He was breathing heavy and he felt kind of sticky. That was… well, that had happened before. Puberty and all that. But Butch couldn't ever remember having a dream so vivid, so lifelike that he could reach up and touch the sticky skin and feel the heavy breath coming from someone else. It seemed it hadn't been a dream at all. Relief and some sudden shame washed over him, taking place of the after-sex high. It felt good. Really good. There wasn't a whole lot of second-guessing for fucking, not even with a guy. But why did he have to be the fucking bottom?

Francis sighed, catching his breath. He had always been one to rebound pretty quickly. Back alleys aren't exactly places you want to sit around and savor the afterglow – he trained himself out of it, somehow. He felt Butch sigh and weakly punch him in the chest to get him off. HK rolled, laying his head in his arm and shutting his eyes for a few moments. Sex with a guy. Butch. Sex with Butch. He was officially bi now – that first one didn't count because it didn't. Interesting. Didn't feel any different. The sex was actually pretty good. He got off, anyway.

He was at a loss of what to do now, however. Normally the girls got up and left of their own accord, needing to go somewhere. Then he'd lie back a bit, shower, and take it easy for the night. Butch seemed content enough to lie there, looking up at the ceiling, hogging his bed. He debated kicking him out anyway, getting his bed back and taking a night off. The hustler sighed, rolling over for a moment to clean himself up, discreetly tossing the condom he managed to remember into the trash under a few tissues. The sheets were going to be a bitch to clean, but he could wait until tomorrow. Butch was the pressing matter right now, and he was still at a loss. After a few moments of silence, he figured Butch could wait too. At least until morning.

"Regrets?" He murmured to Butch, pressing his head against the pillow.
"….N-no. Not… no. I don't regret." Butch found it in him to smirk a little. "You gonna kick me out now?"
"…No."
"No?"
"No. You can stick around. You don't have to sleep here though if it's too weird."
"We just fucked. It doesn't get much weirder. Now shove over and gimme some covers."
"You have plenty."
"Give me some fucking covers or I'll hit you where it hurts."
"My my, aren't we violent after sex - was I that bad?
"Shut up."

Butch rolled over, facing the other wall. He took most of the blankets with him, so Francis followed, slipping most of himself over the smaller body. It grumbled and tried to bite him. Hustler just pulled him closer. Eventually they were situated so they were both covered, so that Francis was holding Butch and Butch was pressed into his chest. Spooning. It was a strange feeling- being surrounded and near such a beating heart. Butch couldn't remember any time past childhood where he used to sneak into his parents bed that he felt this warm closeness (which was freaking him out a little because that was inadvertently connect his parents with gay sex). Francis wasn't sure he ever got this close to anyone – at least not gently like this. All the strangeness aside, it wasn't too bad. Hell, at least they were both covered and kinda comfortable.

They could get used to this.

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