Speech and Debate

When my eyes opened on the morning after my first workout session with Daniel, I wondered if I had been transported to some kind of medieval torture chamber while I slumbered. Or if the Black Death had made a sudden come back and ravaged my body overnight. Maybe small pox? Or Polio?

I was engrossed in a pain the likes of which I had never experienced, never even thought possible. Each of my limbs felt carved of wood, every joint stiff and unbending. Even my skin seemed to hurt. If opening my mouth to scream hadn't raised the specter of even more pain, I would have cried out to anyone in a five mile radius.

It took several minutes for the panic of my condition to wear off and to make an attempt at physical movement. It was not a pleasant experience, but I eventually maneuvered my legs to the floor and stood on what felt like 100-year-old dry twigs that threatened to break under the weight of my body at the slightest provocation. I shuffled to the bathroom, a journey of about 30 feet that took at least five minutes, all of which I spent cursing Daniel and his insufferable weight training machines.

Burn them all!

I had nearly reached the desired oasis of the bathroom, with the promise of scalding hot water and steam to loosen my body back towards a human state when my mother called up the stairs to me.

"David!" she cried. "Are you up? Is that you?"

In agony, I raised my hand to my temple, suddenly very aware that not only was my body on fire, but my head also throbbed inside my skull. A lovely sidecar to the hateful cocktail of suffering I had morphed into.

"I'm up," I croaked, steadying myself against the hallway wall. "Jesus, Mamma, do you have to scream!"

Her response was immediate and Southern to the core.

"Watch your mouth, young man!" she admonished. "I brought you into this world and I damned sure can take you out if you don't check that tone of voice!"

I actually considered taking her up on the offer. I eventually decided against it.

"Sorry, Mamma," I said as humbly as I could.

I was 18, but I could have been 45 and it wouldn't have made a difference. In the South, your Mamma is your Mamma, with all of the due respect that title entails.

"Your friend is here, Sweet Pea," she called, mollified by my filial response enough to no longer threaten my very existence with sudden termination.

My friend? Here? It's barely 6:00 in the morning?

"What?" I asked, my throbbing head unable to make sense of the new information.

"Your friend is here," she called back again, obviously unhappy with having to repeat herself. She sighed mightily, as if raising me was suddenly a great burden and she wanted to make sure I knew just how much trouble I put her through on a daily basis, but in the loving way of mothers. "Never mind."

Her voice lowered and through the constant sound of blood in my ears I thought I heard her speak to someone downstairs.

"Go ahead up, hun. Second door on the right."

If I had been able to run, or move, or even crawl, I would have. My hazy eyes suddenly focused on Daniel's energetic and fully functioning body as he bounded up my stairs two by two.

Like a goddamned gazelle.

I stood, supporting myself against the wall in my pajama pants, torso bare, as he settled before me with a huge smile plastered across his face. Despite my body's ache for him, I wanted to punch him square in the jaw. If I could have felt my arms, I would have. At least, I like to think I would have.

"Wow, nerd," he said in his sultry baritone as he surveyed my humiliation, "you look awful."

"I wonder why!?" I snapped and immediately regretted the decision to raise my own voice as it echoed with terrible consequences inside my head and sent me reeling. Daniel's arm shot out to steady me. Amazingly, his touch seemed to have a calming effect on my muscles and head alike.

He flung his arm over my shoulder and turned me to lead me hobbling back towards my room. I would have panicked at him seeing it in such a disheveled state, but the harm was already done. What good would it do to rush ahead and throw my dirty clothes under the bed now?

Rush. HA!

Now that was a thought.

"Come on. Let's get you up and moving."

He pushed me gently to my bed, and made no comment about the state of my room. My legs stuck out straight in front of me, my knees unable to bend as they should. My thighs felt as if I'd been whipped with bamboo sticks.

"I'm never working out again," I moaned as I fell back onto my mattress, laying across it in the wrong direction. I didn't even feel Daniel sit down beside me towards the foot of the bed, I was so wrapped up in the torment my body had decided to inflict upon me.

Daniel's fingers wrapping into my right thigh made me wince. He pressed firmly and eased off. The pain lessened a bit, the blood beginning to work back into my legs. He worked my sore muscles, first my thighs, then bending to the floor to massage my calves.

I tried my best not to sigh, but it was a hopeless cause. His fingers knew just where to prod and push, which knots to attack first. For once, his touch wasn't sexual or even emotional. It was healing. He drew the pain from my body, inch by tortured inch, his fingers a magic salve on my skin.

The fire I'd been burning in began to subside to a dull ache. My hips loosened so that I thought walking might be possible in the not too distant future. My arms and shoulders melted under his touch, my shoulders un-bunching and my lats relaxing so that I could actually breathe easier. I hadn't even realized I had been hunching in on myself through the pain, as if protecting myself from a coming blow, but Daniel soon had me straightened.

"Feel better?" he asked after minutes of silence while his touch danced over, around, and through my muscles.

"Much," I replied, still laying on my back, but now able to raise myself onto my elbows. I stared at him for a moment, seeing him for the first time, the blinders of my torture removed.

He smiled at me, his hand rested warmly on my thigh, his thumb moving slowly over my pale skin. I crunched myself forward, uncaring of the blistering pain it re-awakened in my stomach, and kissed him. He returned the kiss gently and his grip tightened a bit on my quads.

"What are you doing here, Daniel?" I asked when I pulled back.

"Just making sure you're okay," he said. I could tell that he meant it.

"That's very sweet of you, Daniel, but you didn't have to do that."

He chuckled at me.

"The little wooden boy I found in the hallway might suggest otherwise," he joked.

"I'm never gonna live this down, am I?" I asked in my most dramatic fashion.

"Nope."

We smiled at each other again.

"Come on, Nerd," he said, suddenly rising from his seat beside me. "We still got work to do."

He stood with his hands on his hips, looking down at me as if he actually expected me to rise up and match his pose. I felt better, yes, but not to the level of his apparent ease. I hadn't even worked as hard as he had last night in the gym, but he looked fit as a fiddle.

He must have noticed my confusion.

"Come on! Grab your books. My car is parked five miles down the road. We're going on a run."

Grab your books. Right. Run? You should be committed. You are obviously dangerously insane.

My jaw worked but no sound came. Daniel grabbed my wrists and yanked me to my feet over my wordless protests.

I'm not sure how I got dressed, much less how my books made it into my bag and onto my back. It all passed me by in a bewildered fog. Going down the stairs was something akin to a death march. The look on my sister's face as I shuffled to the door, my face painted in absolute agony, Daniel urging me out from behind, was humiliating. I would have to find some way to repay her when my body decided to return from vacation.

That first morning run took me nearly an hour. Daniel literally ran circles around me, chatting amiably about this and that, pushing me on and giving me words of encouragement and kindness at each new step.

I prayed for a car to hit me.

Better yet, a Mac Truck.

The next three weeks passed in a similar fashion.

My strength increased little by little until I was only marginally dead when I awoke each morning. Daniel would arrive at my house, we'd jog to his car and he would drive me to school; or he would drive along side me in my Camry as I ran so I could drive myself the remainder of the way. Then the weight training sessions after school.

I hate to admit it, but I began to actually enjoy the physical exertion. For the most part. I still don't recommend it, but no more will I judge those morning joggers and gym goers with so harsh an eye. There are benefits.

One of which, at least for me, was that I got to shower in the Varsity Showers every morning before school.

With Daniel.

As we settled into this daily morning routine, the showers at school soon became the biggest motivating factor in my quest for physical fitness. Each time we entered the Varsity Locker Room, still only dimly lit by a few flood lights so early in the morning and completely absent of the Varsity players it usually housed, my brain flashed to my first encounter with Daniel within those walls.

Though my body ached, I was hard by the time I heard the water of the semi-private showers at the end of the room spring to life. Daniel adjusted the water temperature. It was a race to see which of us could strip off our clothes faster. Sometimes, in our haste to undress, we would forget an article or two of clothing and step into the spray, our bodies pressed together and arms grasping at each other, only to find the clammy wetness of fabric still attached to our skins.

Though I wanted nothing more than to admire the beautiful curves of his body, to wash his skin with my tongue and hold him to me until the bell rang, the nearness of other students and the coming first bell always hung over our heads like a knife. It did little to deter us but it added a level of possible discovery and intrigue that was impossible to deny.

Daniel had my back pressed to the tiles of the big open shower space, his hand working my aching cock in a slow twisting motion he was growing more adept at. His lips pressed to my neck and he softly moaned into me. My head rested on the wall behind me and I melted into his kisses, my hand grabbing for his uncut cock as the water poured over us.

The taste of him, the heat of his cock in my hand and mine in his as I kissed him in the open shower was like a drug.

I was an addict and I didn't care who knew it.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. A small part of my conscious mind still listened intently for the sounds that would indicate someone coming.

We knew we didn't have time for a full-on sexual encounter in our brief morning sessions, but my hands grabbed at his ass and stroked his cock, feeling his wet balls slap against my wrist as I urged him towards his release.

"Fuck yes..." he groaned against me, his own manipulating on my cock never slacking.

We kissed fiercely under the water, his tongue roughly pressing for entry. I granted it easily, every time.

"Mmmmm," he moaned into me. "Don't stop, I'm close. A little faster."

I continued as he asked, increasing my speed a bit.

"Oh shit...yes...oh, god, I'm gonna cum soon. Fuck, you are so fucking hot."

That was the first time Daniel had mentioned ME as being the object of his desire; not just my cock or hole or some body part.

The effect was instantaneous.

I grabbed at his ass for support and raised onto my toes as I felt my cum travel up my shaft.

"Ahhh," I yelled as quietly as I could, unable to tell him what was coming.

My cum splashed against his stomach and mixed with the hot water and mingled into his body hair.

"Fuck yes," he moaned and kissed me roughly.

I felt his cock expand in my hand, my grip tightening in the throws of my release, his tongue making me go weak in the knees. His cum shot upwards and landed on my chest, right between my pecs, as he collapsed on to my body. His cock pressed into my own and my grip expanded so that I held both of our jerking tools in my fist, slowly milking the white cum from us both.

"Ahh...shit...ahhh..."

Our breath came in gasps as our passions ebbed and flowed together. Daniel kissed at my neck and his grip on the small of my back pulled me against him firmly.

It our orgasmic state, we hadn't heard the sound of the main locker room fluorescent lights buzzing to life, or noticed the change in light levels. We were still panting when we heard the voice.

"Is somebody in here?"

It called and echoed around the empty space, a deep and manly tone.

Daniel and I sprung from each others' embrace as if we had been burned by the sound. We immediately turned to face the wall and opened at least a foot of empty space between us. My cock leaked ropes of white from my still aching slit and they fell to the tiled floor and were washed away immediately. Daniel's own cock was arching up to the ceiling and bobbing as it pulsed out a final stream of his seed.

At least, with our cocks towards the wall and our bare asses facing the opening of the shower room, anyone who saw us would only see two guys showering before school.

We heard the footsteps enter the varsity locker room a moment later but we kept our eyes locked on the wall in front of us, knowing that even the slightest change in our posture could give away our very evident states of arousal.

"Daniel? Is that you?" The voice came again.

Daniel craned his neck around, careful to keep his body facing flush to the far wall and answered.

"Yeah, Coach. It's me."

"You're here early."

"Sorry," Daniel began. "Just helping my friend here start up a work out routine."

He nodded his head in my general direction.

I know it's stupid to think that I would have been invisible to Coach B as he saw the two of us from behind, but until Daniel had indicated, "my friend," I held out the vain hope that I would somehow go unnoticed by the man.

"Who is that?" Coach asked, his voice shattering any lingering hopes of my escape.

"Umm...Hi...coach," the word sounded odd on my tongue. "Hi,...umm. I'm David."

Coach B laughed at my flustered state, a full-throated, very friendly, and utterly masculine sound.

"I know who you are, David. You may not play a sport, but I make it my business to know just about everyone at this school."

"Sorry," I offered, unsure how to respond.

"Keep up the good work, boys. I'm sure Daniel can whip you into shape. He's one of my best players. You're in good hands. Lookin' good, the two of you."

I stood and stared at the wall, my cock deflating rapidly from abject terror mixed with utter confusion at what had just happened. I listened as Coach's footsteps receded towards his office at the far end of the main locker complex. I could have sworn that I heard a deep chuckle under his breath as he left.

I must have imagined it. Coaches didn't chuckle. Certainly not at two naked guys in the Varsity Showers, one of whom was as out of place there as an Octopus in the Sahara.

"What the fuck just happened?" I asked Daniel, as I released the breath I'd been holding, afraid to so much as move in case the Coach should suspect...something.

"That was Coach B," Daniel said beside me. I noticed that I wasn't the only one to return to his flaccid resting state.

"Obviously, jack-ass," I retorted. "Do you think he saw anything?"

Daniel shrugged and twisted to rinse himself in the shower spray.

"I dunno," he offered with little evident care in his voice. "If he did, I don't think he cared."

I was shocked, to say the least.

If the Coach had seen something, then Daniel and I were both at risk. Unless, as Daniel suggested, he truly didn't care. It seemed unfathomable that he COULDN'T have cared. We were two guys, after all. And this was the South. This kind of thing just wasn't done. Was it?

My classes with Daniel had become the highlight of my daily academic experience. We had settled into a comfortable routine in the classroom, one of teasing and furtive glances and secret text messages. I still kept mainly to myself most of the time, but even in my usually day-dreaming state, I began to notice that my classmates had begun to regard me with less hostility, or at least a different degree of apathy.

The attention that Daniel had begun to show me, never overtly really, just an acknowledgment of my existence, had served to awaken others to my presence as well. It was a disconcerting change but not an unwelcome one. No one invited me to the popular parties that weekend, or asked how my night had been, but neither did they simply stare through me on the sidewalk. Now, they would step out of my path if I was walking towards them.

I wondered if Daniel had sent some kind of message to the popular crowd, through their secret popular club meetings I was sure they held on a weekly basis, alerting them to his protection of me.

I doubt it.

High Schoolers are often seen as brainless automatons a vast majority of the time, acting on unseen forces that the rest of the world has moved past and left to dimly recalled memories; but they are often capable of subtle shifts in behavior that most don't give them credit for. It is a strange and unique landscape.

Dr. Plarston's AP English Literature was still my favorite class, and not simply because Daniel had taken up residence across from me and teased me with near constant groping of his package and licking of his lips.

"So, as you know," she began one bright spring day some weeks after our return from Boston, as the air was just beginning to warm, "the SAT's are coming up in two weeks. I know most of you have already taken them, and already applied to schools and universities, but this is the final opportunity to better your previous scores and impress the admissions departments."

I looked at Daniel sitting across from me. I knew that he had gotten into the State University, just a few miles down the road and he was planning to attend. I was still undecided myself, but my options were all very good. Neither of us were in need of taking the SAT's again.

I had gotten a 1580 (damned quadratic equations had tripped me up, yet again) and I was satisfied with my score. I didn't know what Daniel had gotten, but it was obviously enough to garner a spot at a decent school.

"I'm going to pass around a sheet. Sign your name on the left if you would like to receive some tutoring on the SAT's from one of your peers. And sign on the right if you are willing to tutor a fellow student," Dr. Plarston announced as she held up a clipboard and started it around the classroom.

"There is extra credit involved for both sides of the tutoring spectrum, so keep that in mind."

The bell rang, releasing us to our next class. I began to pack my things amongst the hustle and bustle of my peers doing the same. I didn't sign the sheet when it arrived at my desk, simply passing it along to the student behind me. I didn't need tutoring, I had no intention of taking the test again; once was more than enough. I doubted if anyone would like to spend any more time with me outside of class, even given my apparent rising social status.

I had maneuvered my backpack onto my shoulders and was headed towards the exit when Dr. Plarston called my name.

"David," she called to me as she sat at her desk. I turned an walked towards her, unsure what she might need from me. I had turned in my assignments and my grades were still the highest in the class.

"Yes?" I asked hesitantly.

She looked up from the clipboard that had made it back to her.

"I'm glad to see that you signed up to tutor."

"Pardon?" I asked confused. I hadn't signed the paper.

"It's nice to see you reaching out a bit, opening up. I know High School can be a trying time, but I'm happy to see you taking advantage of your time here with us."