Jinx- okay here's juts what plays in my head. Written down and here we go!

^ ^ ^

Vincent walked casually out of detention, and right into the person he hated most: Benjamin Dion. As if the day hadn't been bad enough already- now he was going to get bitched out by some prick that thought he knew everything. He bid someone to shoot him if the day got any worse after this.

"Watch where you're going, asshole!" Ben spat at Vincent, looking down at the little bouncy-looking blonde boy in disgust. The boy wasn't bouncy, even though he looked like he would be; really he was a prick who constantly had a stick up his ass, at least in Ben's opinion.

"Fuck off," Vincent retorted placidly, glaring at the taller boy with an uninterested look on his face. He didn't care much for a confrontation with his enemy right now, though usually he would be up to verbally sparring with the older child at least.

"Suck my cock, bitch. You look like a girl anyway."

Vincent rolled his eyes. There wasn't really anything he could comeback with on that comment- he knew he looked like a girl. So what? He wasn't ugly, and he wasn't so girly that people thought he was gay.

"I bet you get more practice than girls do," Ben added.

"Yeah," Vincent said, smirking. He knew just how to make this boy irate at his own words. "But that's just because you football and basketball players are so into yourselves that a girl sucking your dick just isn't good enough anymore. I bet it feels nice to you when you have some gay little faggot on his knees for you. You need them don't you, Ben? You need some little fag boy to worship you so you feel invincible."

Ben slammed Vincent into the lockers beside the detention classroom. "Shut your fucking mouth!" he said dangerously. "If we weren't in school I'd rip your fucking heart out for that comment."

Vincent smiled. And now to take the cake . . . He leaned forward swiftly and planted a chaste kiss on Ben's lips.

Ben gasped and jumped back, staring at his enemy in a mix between anger and confusion. "You little-!"

Vincent, who knew there was no more need for words, simply walked away, not hearing exactly what word it was that Ben chose to call him. And this time, he watched where he was going.

^ ^ ^

"I can't believe that stuck-up little fucking prick!" Benjamin ranted to his twin brother, Will, after telling him what had happened in the hallway after his basketball practice.

"I can't believe you, Bro," Will responded, running a hand through his jet- black hair. "Give it up, will ya? You've never won a single argument with that boy, and you're not gonna!"

"I know! He just pisses me off!"

"He's just a kid," Will said. "I mean, look at him, Ben. He's a foot shorter than you, and he's tiny compared to you, but he can still beat the hell out of you and he does every time you two get into a fight. It's a question of pride with you, that much we know. But . . . what is it with him? What's his deal?" w2 "How the hell should I know?" Ben asked in an irritated voice, noting the curious look on his brother's face.

"Well, aren't you the least bit interested? I mean, come on! No one knows anything about him, no one. His name is Vincent Corey Callahan, which I assume would make him the son of Richard Callahan, so-."

"Er . . . Who's Richard Callahan?"

"Remember the trial on that adultery case years back with that Senator Anthony Cappucci? The one that everyone still talks about."

"Yeah, what about it?"

"He was Cappucci's lawyer, and the reason he got away with what he did. Callahan is the single most respected lawyer not only in the country, but in every country on the western half of the globe, English speaking and non."

"So. . . ?"

"So don't you find it weird that he allows his son to run around like that and get into so much trouble?"

"Huh?" Benjamin looked curiously at Will. He knew his brother had some sort of a scheme worked out in that head of his, and he also knew that Will was going to drag him into it whether or not he wanted to comply. Usually he wouldn't mind, but why did Will have to be so nosy about this kid? Why Vincent Callahan? Why the boy he hated more than any person on the planet?

"I mean, wouldn't that make him look bad, like he was a bad father or something?"

"Okay, okay. Just tell me the plan."


"I know you've got something worked out in that head of yours already, so spill it."

"Right. I just wanted to talk to him, buddy. Chill. We COULD invite him to our party. . ."


^ ^ ^

"I can't believe I got suckered into doing this," Ben muttered to himself later that night. "I have to invite that little prick to my party. This is going to suck."

Ben thought about the fight between the two that happened earlier that day. He bit his bottom lip, for some reason trying to imagine the taste of the smaller boy's lips. He knew Vincent wore some kind of a lip-gloss, and he'd always thought it was kind of gay that he did so. But now he wondered what kind of lip-gloss it was exactly that he used.

The black-haired boy touched his lips with his fingers, picturing the moment that Vincent's lips touched his. He wondered what the little man would look like if he actually saw him feel something other than anger or nothingness.

In his mind he pictured a half-naked boy with pleading eyes and a helpless look on his face. His large icy blue eyes were accompanied by a touch of mascara to make his long eyelashes more visible, and his jaw-length multiple-layered light blonde hair with natural highlights tricked out with something that he guessed was a mix between just getting out of bed, and just finishing practice.

He didn't pin why the boy in his mind was half-naked with only a pair of jeans on, looking sweaty and tired at the same time. Well, not until he felt himself grow hard.

He was just about to jump off of his bed and start cursing when the boy in his mind dropped to his knees in front of him and took his dick into his mouth.

Ben's hands found their way into the depths of his jeans and did their work as he pictured all of the erotic things he could think of that would happen between two boys. Images of the boy on his knees and under him but facing up like a girl danced in his mind. In his dream his hand found the boy's member and he was driven crazy by merely thinking about touching a boy that way. But he wanted it! He wanted it so bad.

Only after he came did he realize that the "boy" in his mind was . . . Vincent.

"Oh. My. God," Ben gasped to himself, having no one around to hear him. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no."

^ ^ ^

At ten o'clock Vincent finally arrived at his home. It had been a long day and he was really ready to just collapse on his bed and fall asleep, but he knew that that wasn't possible. He had homework both from college and from high school to do, plus the fact that if his father didn't "need to talk to him" for the next two hours, he would surely have something he wanted him to do. But he guessed that his father would choose to talk to him for the next couple of hours about his so-called behavior problems in school. Damn it.

Vincent slipped off his black tennis shoes and took off his thin-framed glasses. A girl had told him earlier that day that he was hot, and wearing his glasses made him ten times hotter. He growled at the memory of the girl that told him that, hating the fact that everyone seemed so accustomed to addressing those whom they did not know with such disrespect.

"Son," he heard his father say.

"Yes, sir?" Vincent replied, not at all interested in what his father had to say to him tonight.

"I just got a call from your high school." His father gave him a curious look. "Your principal told me that you kissed a boy in the hallway."

Vincent got an image of Benjamin's facial expression after he kissed him to scare him earlier that day and just couldn't hold in a laugh. And then he couldn't STOP laughing. The prospect of the idea just seemed so overwhelmingly funny to him at the moment.

His father tilted his head to the side in confusion. He wasn't accustomed to so much as a smile from his son, not to mention laughter. It just seemed so foreign to him . . . But then he realized that that was because he had never before heard it. The sentiment made him bewildered as well as upset. He guessed he just hadn't yet figured out this child. Eight years of living with him and all he had gotten out of him was an empty look and a lot of trouble.

"Vincent," his father said softly yet firmly.

Vincent immediately stopped laughing. "Yes, Richard?"

Now that he seemed so serious all of a sudden, his father was hit with a sudden bout of sadness, and thus didn't respond immediately. He found himself missing that sound already. It just . . . sounded so . . . so . . . angelic.

"I- oh never mind."


"It's nothing."

Vincent cleared his throat, a sure indication that he was absolutely dissatisfied and would not accept to the terms he was given. He wanted a better explanation than what Richard had offered.

"Do you have homework?" his father asked, changing the subject.

"Yes, sir."


"Chemistry and Geometry for starters, and then I have a story to do for Writing and a bio for History."

"Due when, may I ask?"

"Tomorrow, tomorrow, next month, next week."

Richard smiled. "Right then. Have fun."

Vincent accidentally rolled his eyes. He had never before showed any disrespect to his father, and did not intend to start. He closed his eyes in anger at himself.

His father simply raised his eyebrows in an attempt to nonverbally ask what that was all about, but Vincent retreated to his room without saying a word.

^ ^ ^

Ben stared at his light blue ceiling, wondering if he was still sane. The fact that he had jacked off to the image of himself with another boy would, under normal circumstances, be enough to make him gag. But for some reason he didn't really mind now. Actually, he was rather curious about all the things a boy and a boy could do.

But that was the least of his worries at the moment. First off, he wasn't sure what to make of this gay thing, and secondly, he didn't know exactly HOW this Vincent Callahan had made him so . . . horny.

"WILL!" Ben yelled, knowing that his brother, who most likely would be watching TV, would abandon whatever he was doing and come to speak with him. He just hoped he could come up with the right words to say to his brother. And more importantly, he prayed that his brother wouldn't . . .


"I need to talk to you," Ben mumbled, lying on his stomach on the bed with his arms propped up and his chin resting on his hands.

"What about?"

Ben switched his position and sat up, facing his brother as he sat down on the bed too. He took a deep breath and shut his eyes. Well . . . here went nothing . . .

His eyes flickered open and met his brother's just as he said: "I'm gay."

Will's mouth dropped in shock, but he recovered from it quickly enough. "I was beginning to wonder . . ." he said thoughtfully. "Um . . . how'd you figure it out?"

"You DON'T wanna know!" Ben said, giving Will a serious look.

"If I didn't wanna know, I wouldn't have asked," Will replied.

"Okay . . ." Ben said, in the habit of submitting to his brother, who always won any argument that they had. "I was thinking about how Vincent kissed me in the hallway earlier, you know- when he was trying to spite me, and I um . . . got this image in my head of this boy and he kinda dropped to his knees and it just went from there . . ."

"And the image of the boy was an image of Vincent, I presume?"

Ben nodded.

"You mean you have a thing for that prick?"

Ben nodded sadly.

"That is too cute!"


"You've fought with him all this time because you liked him! It's sweet."

"Oh, yes, it's really very sweet that I was mean to the guy I'm in love with."


^ ^ ^

By the time Vincent finished his homework it was five o'clock in the morning, which was the time he had to get up in the morning for school anyway, so he hopped in the shower and got himself clean. Not paying attention to what he grabbed, except to make sure that it was out of the ordinary, he threw on some clothes and headed downstairs with his backpack.

Once he got downstairs he put his backpack by the door and walked into the kitchen. Curiously, he looked at his father, who was reading the newspaper. Vincent pondering whether or not to ask his father if he was doing well, considering the short conversation they had had the previous night.

But then he decided just to get himself a cup of coffee.

Once he sat down at the table, Richard set his newspaper aside and folded his hands on his table, looking expectantly at his son. "What time did you go to bed last night?"

Vincent didn't answer immediately. He stared into his coffee for a moment, too tired to be awake enough to debate with his father, which was usually their nightly routine. Finally, he looked up. "I didn't, Richard."

"Might I ask why?"

"I'd rather you didn't," Vincent said, standing up and heading for the doorway.

Richard caught his arm and pulled him back, giving him a severe look. It was the first time Vincent had ever seen him be truly angered by anything that he did.

"I've had enough of this!" his father hissed.

Something panged in Vincent's stomach: Fear. He was afraid that Richard would be like all of the other families he had lived with: They all thought he was the most precious, angelic looking thing they had ever seen, but they never kept him. They always sent him back.

The fear didn't show on Vincent's face, though it was eating away at his stomach, or so it felt. What he felt was a weakening in his emotional barrier, the barrier that kept everyone out. He swallowed silently.

His father had not uttered another word, but still held his arm tightly. The pressure he was unconsciously applying to it made it hurt almost unbearably.

"Let go!" Vincent said a little loudly. He tried to free his arm, but was unsuccessful.

His father shook his head.

"Richard," Vincent whined, "You're hurting me!"

Richard let go, unsure of what to make of the situation. "I-," he started, but Vincent interrupted him.

"I have to go," he uttered tonelessly.

^ ^ ^

Vincent got his Chemistry book out of his locker and stared at it emotionlessly. His heart felt like someone was putting bricks on it to weigh it down. His eyes were yearning to cry, but he wouldn't let them so much as issue a sad look. He didn't want to feel, and so tried to push the feeling aside.

"Yo! Callahan!"

Vincent turned around to glare at whoever it was that addressed him. William Dion, Benjamin's twin brother.

Will grinned and it somewhat charmed Vincent, who was always taken in a gentlemanly way by the Dion brothers' beauty. They were both tall, dark, handsome Italian boys with light Italian accents and purring soft voices.

Vincent cocked an eyebrow. He wasn't sure he could manage to speak steadily, and so chose not to speak at all.

"Not so much as a 'Good morning,' huh?" Will said, still grinning. "Listen, we're having a party this weekend and-." Will stopped because Vincent pushed him aside and started to walk away.

"Hey! Come back here!" Will said, shocked by the smaller boy's actions. "Come on, man! Don't be so rude to everyone. It's no wonder why everyone says you're such a prick." He grabbed Vincent's arm.

"Let go of me!" Vincent said immediately. Will let go and stared at the boy for a moment.

Vincent was one of those people who didn't like to be touched, but usually he was so incredibly polite about asking people not to touch him. Will wondered if maybe . . . No, that couldn't be it, but for some reason, he accidentally said it.

"What? Your old man hit you or something?"

Vincent punched him so hard that he was knocked off of his feet. "FUCK YOU!"

^ ^ ^

Will sat in the principal's office, trying to explain what happened that morning. "Um . . . It wasn't really his fault, Mr. Aaron," he told the principal.

"Not his fault? Will, I understand that you're a forgiving person, but honestly- that boy is in here every day for something different. What on earth would give him grounds to hit someone like you? You've never been trouble before, so I don't see why you'd do something to provoke him."

"I didn't. Okay, well, I didn't mean to."

"What did you say to him?"

"I don't want to tell you. It's really not my place to say it anyway, especially since it can be taken two ways. He's probably just under a lot of pressure from school and college and stuff, you know? Can't we just let it slide this time?"

The principal, Mr. Aaron, stared at Will for a few moments. "We'll talk this over with him before I decide that one, Mr. Dion." He pressed a button on his phone and told the secretary to send Vincent in.

"Sit," the principal told him as soon as he walked in the door and had it shut behind him.

Vincent, saying nothing, sat down.

"What's this all about?"

Still, he said nothing.

"Vincent, you know I don't like repeating myself. What's the matter with you today? I know you get in trouble a lot, but this isn't like you. Why'd you hit Will?"

The boy opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He shut it, unable to speak.

Will wondered what was going on. He tugged on Vincent's shirt.

Vincent turned his head to Will. He closed his eyes.

"Why aren't you talking?" Will asked. "Are you upset or something? Look man, I'm sorry I said that, all right? I know it was really messed up to say something like that, but it's not like I did it intentionally. I didn't even realize what I said till after I said it."

Vincent nodded to show he understood. He almost wanted to say he was sorry to, but even under normal circumstances he wouldn't say a thing like that.

Mr. Aaron sighed. "I'm sorry Will, but due to his lack of cooperation, I'm going to have to punish him." He turned to Vincent. "Mr. Callahan, you are hereby suspended for two weeks, which to you, probably means a lot of free time, but I know your father will disapprove, and I'm going to request that they take you out of those college courses. I just don't believe you have the maturity level for it."

Vincent glared.

"Will, here's a pass, you can head back to English, and Vincent, you can wait outside. I'm going to call your father."

Vincent wanted to do anything- beg if he had to- to stop Mr. Aaron from calling his father at work. He knew that his father would be irate at what he did as well as his punishment, but if he was interrupted at work to find out about it . . .

^ ^ ^

Richard didn't say a word to Vincent, nor did he so much as look at him in the office or in the car on the way home. Vincent was frightened to death about what might happen to him, but he didn't show it for one reason or another. However, hiding these emotions was getting harder by the minute today for a reason he couldn't pin. His eyes were burning, itching, begging to cry. He wouldn't let them. He couldn't allow himself to show that kind of a weakness.

Once they got inside, Richard bided Vincent to sit down in the living room. Before he started to speak, he took a deep breath and sighed. He shook his head.

"Why must you do these things, my son?" he asked tiredly. "I'm sorry about this morning, but did you really have to get back at me through this?"

Vincent stared at his father, wondering how in the world he came up with an explanation like that.

"What is it that I am doing so wrong?" Richard asked. "I try to be patient because I love you, I'm trying to lookout for you without interfering with your life, but still, nothing. You show me nothing! Why?"

Vincent tried to concentrate on fighting back tears. He wasn't going to give up so easily . . .

Richard said nothing more for a moment; he simply put his head in his hands. "I know I'm not cut out to take care of you," he said softly. "I don't know the first thing about you, still. Eight years and I have nothing to show. I couldn't even tell you who you are . . . what you like . . . I have nothing. You're blank, at times mute, always so cold . . . I think you need someone else, someone better that can care for you and give you the things that I apparently cannot."

He choked. He couldn't hold back the tears any longer. "That's a lie!" he pleaded, shooting up from his seat. "Richard, you know that's not true at all. If you weren't cut out for this then you would have known it much sooner than this! I'm sorry for what I did; sir, but I can't change the past. I-."

"Stop," Rickard ordered. He too stood up. "This is nonsense; the two of us arguing like this." He walked over to his son and took a seat beside where Vincent used to be seated. "Sit," he ordered.

Vincent complied easily enough turning to face his father.

"Tell me, why DID you hit Will? He doesn't seem like the type of person to make someone angry enough to fight."

"He's not, at least I don't think so." Vincent tried furiously to wipe away the tears that streamed down his face. "He just said something that made me go off."

"What did he say?"

"Well, more like, he asked me something . . ."

"And that was what?"

"If you hit me."

Richard looked genuinely surprised.

Vincent lifted the sleeve of his shirt up to reveal a bruise. "See, you left that this morning. Will grabbed my arm there and I tweaked on him. Then he asked if you hit me and I lost it."

"I see . . ." Richard said thoughtfully. "Why didn't you tell your principal that?"

"Couldn't speak, sir."


"I was . . . upset." Vincent bit his lip and looked away.

"Oh, well, that makes sense. I'm like that, too."

Vincent looked back up to see his father's polite smile. He leaned over and kissed the older male's forehead. "Love you."

Richard looked shocked. "I love you too."

"Why the look?" Vincent asked.

"First time I've heard that one," Richard replied. "And for that matter, I think yesterday was the first time I heard you laugh."

^ ^ ^

"He . . . what?" Benjamin laughed at his brother, staring at the bruise on his cheekbone. "Ha! Go figure that one. Must be because you look so much like me."

Will grinned. "Something like that. But anyway, I tried, so now it's your turn to ask him."

Ben gave a scared smile. "Right . . ."

Will handed him the cordless phone. "Here ya go."

Ben dialed Richard Callahan's number, hoping it was Vincent's number too. Well, half-hoping, you could say. Half of him didn't want to be completely embarrassed if it wasn't, and the other half was too afraid to talk to Vincent now that he understood why he never liked being around the boy.

"Hello?" a young sounding voice answered.

" Vincent there?" Ben asked.

"This is he."

"Oh, ha. Well, um this is-."

"Benjamin?" the voice on the other line said, sounding surprised.

"Yeah, me."

"If you're going to yell at me for hitting your brother then save it for a time when I don't have the opportunity to hang-up on you, kay?"

"Ha, you're funny," Ben replied, rolling his eyes. "Actually, all I really wanted was to tell you that you're coming over tonight for a party."

"No I'm not."

"Wanna bet?" Ben said, trying a new style of argument. He wasn't giving the boy the option to tell him no, and he utterly refused to lose the argument.

"What are you talking about?"

"Look, I'm going to come and pick you up at about seven. I know you can drive, but alcohol and driving don't bode well, so you'll have to stay the night."

"Um . . . how about not?" Vincent said firmly. He was about to hang up the phone. "Look, whatever this is, I don't have time for it. I have better things to do than hang out with an idiot like you."

"Stop being such a prick for a moment, will ya? Seriously, I want you to come over tonight, and I'm not taking 'No' for an answer, got it?"



"Why?" Vincent asked, sounded completely irritated.

"Because I said so. See ya at 7." Ben hung up the phone.

Will laughed. "Now, do you REALLY believe that worked?"

"No," Ben said, "but I'm not done yet. He'll be here."

"If you say say . . ."

^ ^ ^

"What was that all about?" Richard asked curiously.

Vincent stared at his phone, wondering what the hell kind of a scheme Benjamin and Will had cooked up for him. Part of him was actually willing to go just to see what it was, but the other part was wary and just too emotionally tired at the moment.

"Benjamin Dion just called and told me that he's going to pick me up at 7, and he won't take no for an answer. He hung up the phone on me after that."

Richard raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like a date."

"Ha, you're funny," Vincent said sarcastically. "It's a party, Richard."

"Um . . . should I be letting you go, then?"

"Who says I'm going? And besides, it's not like I'd drink or something."

"They might."

"Maybe, but . . . Oh, I don't know. He's probably just pulling some stupid prank or something."

"I don't know, Vi," Richard said slowly. "It doesn't sound like Benjamin to do something like that. Of course, I could be wrong, and I don't know of any other explanation. Unless of course it is a date and he's going to confess his undying love for you."

Vincent rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh. Right. Whatever you say, sir."

^ ^ ^

Vincent, for some reason, decided to get a shower and get dressed in a sort of nice way. He had on a dress shirt (one of the white button-up ones you wear under tuxes or suits,) a black overcoat, and baggy black pants. (They're the ones with all of those stringy things hanging down, I can't remember what they're called, but skaters wear them.) He left the dress shirt un-tucked and unbuttoned it three from the top.

He decided after a couple of minutes not to pull his hair back, and a couple of minutes later, he decided he looked better with his glasses on. Satisfied with his appearance, he went and laid on his bed, and taking off his glasses for the time being, looked over at the clock. 6:30.

He closed his eyes and drifted to sleep, having a strange dream about Benjamin. In his dream, the boy was nicer, more sophisticated, and definitely gay. He did in fact confess his so-called "undying love" for Vincent, and then they kissed.

Vincent woke up to the sound of knocking. "Mm . . ." he mumbled. "What?"

"Are you SLEEPING?" Benjamin asked from outside the doorway.

"No . . ." Vincent said as Ben opened the door and stepped inside of Vincent's room. "If I were sleeping I wouldn't be answering you, promise," he finished coldly.

"Neat room. You really ARE rich. And don't be so rude."

"I'm not rich, my father is," the smaller boy retorted. "What do you want? What's the stupid catch to this?"

"There isn't one!" Ben said sincerely. "Can't you believe for one second that I'm not going to do something incredibly mean to you?"


"Whatever. Come on, everyone's waiting. We'd better head out."

"What makes you think I'm even going?" Vincent asked, sitting up and putting his glasses on. "It's not like you can make me. And I KNOW there's a catch. Come on, man, I just decked your brother today and you're inviting me to your house. There's got to be something I'm missing here."

"You'll find out soon enough, but it's nothing important really. I just need to talk to you is all. My brother kind of wants to talk to you as well, but I'm not supposed to say what it's about."

"Right . . ." Vincent had a sarcastic smile on his face. "That's cute. I really believe you now."

"Oh come on! Don't be so difficult!"

"Yeah, right, how rude of me. I should be more cooperative with the man that goes completely out of his way to start shit with me. My bad, but then again I guess you're used to that kind of treatment from everyone since you're the MVP of the basketball team, and I right?"

"That's not what this is about!" Ben pleaded. "Just trust me for a minute, will you?"

"Forgive me, but I don't think I CAN trust a person like you."

"A person like me, huh? So that's the way it is."

"Yeah, now either tell me what you really want or get the hell out of here."

"I told you! I just want to talk to you!"

"Then talk."

Ben sat down next to Vincent on the edge of his bed. "Um . . . Well . . . Okay, uh, yesterday, remember when we got into that fight in the hallway?"

"What about it? You gonna tell me something along the lines that you discovered you're gay and you've loved me all this time and that's why you're so mean?"

"Um . . . I don't know about the love part," Benjamin said, looking utterly shocked, "but yeah, that's about it." He offered a small, frightened smile.

Vincent's mouth dropped. Then he started laughing, not meanly, but kind of sympathetically. "You're joking, right?"

"No . . ."

"I'm not buying it, dear."

"There's nothing to buy!" Ben said in a frustrated voice. "I like you!"


Ben glared at Vincent for a moment, intent on leaving and forgetting the boy ever existed, but then he got an idea. He grabbed the smaller boy lightly by the back of his head and pulled him to him, pushing their lips together.

Vincent shot back and fell off of his bed. "What the-?"

"I TOLD you I wasn't joking."

"So you said." Vincent got back up and sat next to Ben, giving him and inquisitive look. "Do it again."

Benjamin stared at the blonde boy for a moment. He leaned in and pressed his lips to Vincent's. Then he felt the smaller boy's tongue on his lips. He knew what this meant, and so opened his mouth to receive the younger male's tongue. The two boys kissed for a few minutes before Vincent broke it off.

Ben smiled. Vincent rolled his eyes and giggled. He reached his hand for Ben's belt, and the older boy jumped at first, but then he let the boy unbuckle his belt, curious of what was going to happen.

Vincent undid the button and then got off the bed and down on his knees in front of the taller boy, undoing the zipper with his teeth. He took the black haired man into his mouth and caressed him with his tongue. He wasn't really sure of what to do at first, but he complied with Benjamin when he pressed his head down so that he deep-throated the boy and from there he just did his work.

"Shit! Vincent, I'm gonna-." But it was too late.

Vincent withdrew looking displeased in a cute way. He cringed at the taste of the cum and shuddered.

"Taste that bad?"

Vincent nodded. "Well, I didn't imagine it would taste good, but I guess it's not THAT bad."

Ben rolled his eyes. "So, um . . . shall we?"



Vincent growled. "I gave you what you wanted, didn't I?"

"What?" Ben looked shocked. "No, that's not what I wanted, Vincent."

"Then what the fuck do you want, damn it?"

"You," Ben said sadly.

"Do you really think it would EVER work between us, Benjamin?"

"We could . . . we could make it work, couldn't we?"

"No we couldn't."

"Yes we could. Can't you just give it a chance? It's not like I'm asking you to spend the rest of your life with me, I just want to be with you . . ."

"And what happens after that? Let's say you actually did somehow convince me to . . . be with you. We'd just end up breaking up like everyone else does."

"Yeah, my friends said you'd say that . . ."

"You told your friends?"

"What do you think? I'm not good at keeping secrets buddy. Just give me tonight, will you? We'll hang out and see how it flows."

"Fine," Vincent agreed grudgingly.

^ ^ ^

"He actually came, huh?" Will asked, laughing. "Hey there, Vincent."

Vincent glared.

"What'd you do, tie him up and force him to come?"

"Not quite," Ben said.

"What happened then?"

"There were a few interesting developments," Vincent said slowly.

"Like what?" Will's friend Seth asked. "Did you two hook up?"

"No," Vincent said flatly. "I asked him sarcastically if he was in love with me or something and he said he wasn't, but that he did like me. Then he tried to get me to believe him by kissing me, but I jerked back so hard I fell off the bed."

"Oh, so how'd he get you over here then?" Marcus asked.

"Negotiation," Vincent answered. "Plus I'm probably not ever going to get rid of him now."

"Do you want to?" Seth asked timidly.

Vincent glared hatefully at Seth for a moment, pondering what to say, and wondering whether or not he should be angry at himself for being conned into this, or plotting a way to get the hell out.

^ ^ ^

Jinx: okay, I should seriously not write these stupid things. But it's the one way to actually get this stuff out of my to be honest that really doesn't work that well. By the way: Vincent's really not a social person, so he really just went along with Ben to get him to shut up. Hee hee.