Max’s hand shot behind his back, and before I could process it, he tugged open his shorts and underwear with a single, practiced motion. I was dropped unceremoniously, sliding down the sagging fabric until I landed near the warm, sweaty crevice of his ass crack. The shorts snapped shut, trapping me in a claustrophobic pocket of cotton and skin. The air was heavy, a mix of teenage sweat and a faint, sour tang that made me want to gag, though my strange, numb body refused to react. I pressed myself against the fabric, trying to find a less suffocating spot, but every shift brought me closer to the overwhelming heat of Max’s body.
Outside, the door groaned open, and Max’s dad’s voice cut through the haze. “Max, what’s with the mess in here? You got crumbs all over the floor! You’re gonna attract ants.”
Max laughed nervously, shifting his weight. The motion pressed me tighter against his skin, and I froze, not daring to move. “Uh, yeah, I’ll vacuum later, Dad. Just… got caught up playing.”
“Playing,” his dad scoffed. “You’re twelve, not six. Maybe spend less time with those toys and more time keeping this room livable. Where’s that comic book you were reading? You left pages all over the couch.”
“It’s… somewhere,” Max mumbled, clearly dodging. I could feel him clench slightly, probably nervous, and I prayed he wouldn’t sit down. “I’ll find it, okay?”
His dad sighed, long and exasperated. “Fine. Just get it together. Oh, and your uncle’s coming over soon to watch you. Be downstairs when he gets here, alright?”
“Got it, Dad,” Max said, his voice steadying, that sly edge creeping back.
The door shut with a soft thud. A moment later, Max reached back, his fingers digging into his shorts. He plucked me out, holding me in his palm, my small form damp from the humid confines. He smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief as he looked me over.
“Man, Ben, you really got the VIP seat back there,” he said, chuckling darkly. “Hope you enjoyed the view.”