Wall
Bobby spun back around the corner he’d been about to round, flattening himself against the wall, eyes wide, trying very hard not to breathe.
Swallowing, he craned his head a little, peering carefully around the corner, while trying very hard not to be seen. Good lord, he hadn’t seen wrong after all.
Damn.
Right where he was standing, he could see Logan’s broad, muscled back, could see that his pants were half pulled down so they sat halfways down his thighs, exposing about half of his ass under the over sized flannel shirt he wore. He was grunting a little, and moving his hips in a very unmistakable pattern.
And though Bobby was loathe to admit it, he even knew who was standing in front of Logan, pinned between him and the wall, gasping little soft cries as he was pounded into the woodwork.
Johnny, no, Bobby thought, not daring to say a word, or even breath harder than a shallow gasp. Otherwise, they’d realize he was there, and... well, that would be bad. Somehow. He wasn’t sure why he wasn’t just leaving, but he felt like he should stay, somehow.
St. John let out a particularly loud gasp, one that Bobby wasn’t sure was supposed to be pleasure or pain, and he felt a hot bubble of anger swelling up in his throat, and he had to swallow forcibly to keep from just freezing Logan right there and then. St. John apparently knew what he was doing, and besides, Bobby rather liked his lungs. Especially inside his body, where they belonged.
Logan suddenly stilled, his grip on St. John’s hip tightening to the point where the boy hissed, and Bobby swore that if it’d been him, his hip would have been broken and lying in pieces on the floor. Along with the rest of him, most likely writhing in pain.
Logan stepped back from St. John, yanking his pants back up, and buckling them. “Thanks kid,” he muttered. “It’ll keep off the edge til they get back, leastways.”
“Yeah,” St. John said, lifting his chin, ignoring the fact that he was still half naked, standing with his hands pressed still against the wall, and from what Bobby could tell... completely unsatisfied. “Any time.”
Logan snorted. “Yeah.”
Then the older man turned, and started to walk away, before pausing, and turning back to look at St. John. “And you might want to tell your boyfriend that this was your idea... I’d hate for him to be jealous.”
Then he was gone, and St. John sank to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, face pressed into his kneecaps.
Bobby had been sure that Logan was going to call attention to him, instead he’d just mentioned him, though he wasn’t really St. John’s.... oh, hell, his best friend had just been nailed into a wall by a teacher, and from the way his shoulders were shaking, he knew he was crying. Swallowing against the fear as much he could, Bobby carefully rounded the corner, crouching beside St. John. It wasn’t until he touched the other’s shoulder that St. John realized he was there, and then he jumped, staring wildly at Bobby.
“Hey,” Bobby said softly, as non-threateningly as possible. “You all right?”
“Course,” St. John spat, scrubbing at his tears with the back of his hand. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be off trying to fuck that bitch of yours?”
And Bobby realized he should have been pissed that St. John referred to Marie like that, but all he could feel was guilt that he wasn’t. Instead, Bobby reached out, and wrapped his arms around St. John, tugging him closer.
St. John struggled for a moment, then finally slumped against him, letting Bobby hold him close. Bobby started whispering nonsense comfort things into his hair, and St. John’s shoulders began to shake again as he started crying, half naked, pants around his ankles, clutching blindly at Bobby’s shirt as he sobbed.
“Don’t worry,” Bobby murmured, stroking the other’s back. “I’m not letting go.”
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