There was pain, and then there was pain like breaking both your wrists.
Oliver blacked out somewhere between rolling onto his back on the basketball court pavement and being carried to the nurse's office.
Later he woke up in hospital with sharp pains jumping up and down both arms like he'd submerged his hands in electric eel tanks. The bright hospital lights mixed with a dizzying concoction of adrenaline and morphine and he blacked out again.
He woke up in a recovery room, both hands suspended in front of him, wrapped in casts that reached from his knuckles to his elbows. He tried to wiggle a finger and regretted it.
His parents took him home later that morning and the next two days were occupied with naps and light snacks, lots of water, and one very awkward visit to the bathroom where his mom had to help him get his pants back up.
By Thursday Olly felt pretty normal, other than a few aches and pains when the meds wore off, and he was almost getting bored enough to want to go back to school. But the doctor's orders were to take at least two weeks off and then deal with school work remotely - no carrying heavy backpacks or going to gym class for at least two months.
Olly's room was the basement suite his parents had originally built to rent out, but when the market turned around on his dad's business they didn't need the extra income and it became an eighteenth birthday gift for their only son. He'd spent the last two years making it his own: installing soundproof padding, a surround sound system centred on his bed, a network of back lights and LED strips all connected to an app. With just his phone, Olly could shift the whole mood of his space from respectable middle-class teen's bedroom to a movie theatre to a rock concert to a rave party porn theatre.
He'd even hooked up a cheap sensor at the door of the stairs so the whole thing could go quiet if he wanted a warning.
Now, stuck at home with both hands out of commission, Olly was never more thankful for his automations. Siri became his butler, turning on and off the lights and TV, playing movies and music, and even ordering dinner when his parents had to work late and told him he could.
It was pretty much the best situation possible, given the circumstances, and he would have been fine with it if he didn't have a constant, throbbing, erection.
Olly tapped at the bulge in his sweatpants with the hard shell of his right cast. Since his hands were little more than hooks that could pull things up or down, he'd taken to wearing just sweatpants; no underwear, no socks, no shirts. He stared down over his smooth bare stomach at the bulge and it twitched, taunting him.
He wasn't the champion fuckboy that some of his friends seemed to be, but Olly had fooled around a bit in a bathroom during a drunken house part with one girl, and another time at another party in a closet playing seven minutes in heaven with a different girl. Neither had wanted to make it a reoccurring thing. Technically there was that camping trip when he and his friend Chris had jerked each other off in their sleeping bags, but something about it had made him nervous and he'd refused Chris's offers for a repeat.
So the only recurring relationship Olly had was with his right hand.
He pressed the cast up against the throbbing bulge again and was met with minor shooting pains in his wrist.
Fuck, if it was this bad after a couple of days, what was going to happen in a month?
The idea of having wet dreams again when his mom had taken over changing his bedsheets was a nightmare.
Olly rolled over on his side to face his phone, which rested on a stand next to his pillow so he could use it without holding it. He pecked at it with one finger to distract himself with some doom scrolling, but the first thing in his browser was frequently visited PornHub links.
"Fuck!" he shouted as he returned to staring at the ceiling.
"You ok, man?" came Chris's voice from the stairs.
Olly started at the voice, but relaxed as Chris stuck his head through the curtain at the bottom of the stairs.
"Intruder alert," said Olly.
Chris grinned and stepped into the room. He was a basketball player like Olly, but unlike Olly he was good and actually made the school's team. Practice must have just finished as Chris was wearing the team's black and teal tank top and silky shorts. He had a backpack over one shoulder and looked a bit sweaty, but his short blonde hair looking fresh.
Out of habit, Chris stuck out a hand to slap wrists. Olly just raised an eyebrow and held up his imprisoned arms.
"Sorry man, that sucks. But hey, I've got something to make you feel better!" Chris dropped his bag beside Olly's bed and rummaged through it.
"Is it a time machine?"
Chris glanced up with a smirk. The loose tank top revealed his bare chest and just the sight of skin made Olly's bulge throb again. He tried to casually hide behind his casts as he sat up against the headboard.
"Ta da!" Chris said as he tossed something through the air.
