By strong arms

The rest of Jesse’s journey home was mostly uneventful. Slouched on the seat of the Maglev carriage, he felt the air-conditioned plastic stick to his naked ass-cheeks. His unprotected cock still dribbled little trickles of fluid out onto his own milky thighs; remembering how many times it had been pushed to climax while he lay paralysed upon the sidewalk. The teen knew he must look a shameful display. Hair sticking out at all angles and obvious off-white stains scattered across his skirt and shirt. For a brief moment he saw his own face pop up once again, on the screen of someone opposite… A sharp stab of fear gripped his chest. But whoever it was, was just browsing, and moved on to other pages without passing the real boy a glance.

Once safely through the lobby doors of Home 23, he practically ran straight into George in his hurry to get to the elevator. The tallest and most conventionally handsome young man in block H caught hold of Jesse as he nearly collapsed in pure relief of just being home. He helped the smaller, trembling figure into the tight, metal box and let him lean against his chest as the room began to move.

“Whoa dude… tough first day then, I guess?” Jesse felt the eyes of his fellow teen roam up and down his body and screamed internally that this was who had found him looking like this.

George kept talking to fill the silence, trying to bridge the gaping void. “Yeah… mine wasn’t great either. They’re making me into some high-class escort for rich, old ladies and this one teacher has already taken a hell of a shine to me… She kept me just with her all day and practically put my spine outta…”

He tapered off, looking down into the watery eyes of his dishevelled companion. Jesse didn’t want him to stop talking. The feel of those words rumbling out through his muscled chest was comforting, just in itself. But George clearly felt his own struggles were a little condescending when compared to the state of Jesse.

“I guess it’s a bit different for you though, huh… Who would’ve thought? Feisty, little Jesse… dressed up like the sauciest tramp around. S’pose we shoulda seen it coming… You always were pretty… For a guy I mean…”

The taller boy ran a hand awkwardly through his neatly-trimmed hair. Suddenly, everything that had happened today seemed to ease its weight off Jesse’s shoulders a little. He couldn’t explain it, but things just seemed a little brighter, somehow. He felt like he could stand on his own two feet again… but didn’t, for a moment… Staying pinned to the supporting strength that was offered, gazing up through unconsciously-fluttered lashes.

George had always been a kind, if straightforward presence around the Home. Blissfully uninterested in most of the small squabbles and petty politics which occasionally swept through the halls... though he was often a focus for more than a little of it. His roommate was one Cynthia: a self-imposed queen-bee attempt. Who never seemed to realise that such a position would require at least some degree of… charisma. Her only really successful method of lording over any of the other residents seemed to be the impressive pair of lungs she had for bouncing muffled squeals through the walls as the most sought-after man on block H was laying into her every evening. Betsy had last night revealed the bitch had been assigned to become a ‘Masseuse (2nd Class)’ and had promptly begun wearing incredibly tight yoga-pants at all times. Betsy had also made several more comments about being able to sketch the contours of certain aspects of the girl’s anatomy after only seeing her once… but Jesse avoided the thought.

The elevator arrived at their floor and the two of them detached to head off in opposite directions. Jesse announced a **** need for a shower, to which George could only laughingly agree.

“You do smell a bit like other dudes, Jess… I wasn’t going to mention.”

With that, the taller boy wandered off down the corridor, not noticing the devastatedly-red face Jesse grew in his wake.