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Sam had very few good memories.
It was not like his life was completely miserable. Yes, he lived with a stepfather that didn’t give a crap about him unless he was yelling at him for being in the wrong place or doing the wrong thing. And yes, he was bullied almost every day at school because he didn’t really have friends and was an easy target. No point in making friends when he had close to nothing in common with them. And who would want to be friends with the UFO nutjob, anyway?
Even so, he had a home and a family that made life close to tolerable and that was almost a luxury compared to some people he knew.
So he couldn’t really complain.
But he knew that if one day he had the slightest chance of finding his father again, he would go for it with all his strength. After all, all of his good memories involved his father somehow, the time they had spent together and their trips to exotic places to explore the greatest mysteries of the universe.
And now, that day was finally here.
He paced around his room restlessly, too ecstatic to sit down. His mind raced through all the possibilities that John had just unveiled by confirming that yes, he was from another planet and yes, there were bad guys chasing after him. Which meant there was a chance that his father was still alive.
His father had been on to something, he’d always known it. What could it be, though? They’d been to so many places, collected so much raw information and so many weird objects. Unfortunately, he’d been too young to process and understand what they meant or which were actually important. The strange rock he kept on his desk, for example. Gray on the outside, glowing a strong blue on the inside. He didn’t remember clearly where they had found that odd, inexplicable feat of nature, but he had kept it. If nothing else, it was a souvenir from his past life. And there was so much more crap that he had hidden in the garage, afraid that his stepfather would throw it away.
He was itching to go back in there and dig though it until his fingers bled. Among all that stuff there had to be a clue, a lead, something that could tell him what to look for, and where. But he didn’t dare leaving the house again and evoke his stepfather’s anger. Who knew what that old idiot could do to his father’s stuff if he found out about it?
He let himself fall onto his messy bed, not caring about all the clothes, notebooks, photos and whatever else he was crushing with his weight. His head spun slightly from thinking too much, he felt like Mark had just kicked his ass around for the last half hour.
Actually…
He rolled his right shoulder slowly, only now feeling the soreness from being shoved into his dad’s truck. Not his smartest move, to threaten a guy with superpowers, especially when his bluff was as easy to call as it had been. It had been kind of humiliating to be single handedly pinned to the truck and crack under a simple “you know I can hurt you”.
Now that he thought about it, his chest prickled a bit where John had shoved him. More out of curiosity than anything, he took off his shirt and rolled to his side to catch his reflection on the mirror. Yeah, there it was, a faint red circle in his chest vaguely resembling a hand. John had been… mad? Scared? He couldn’t really tell. But it had been strong enough for his power to manifest.
With the tip of his finger, he pressed a little white dot on the reddened skin. It didn’t hurt as much as it should but it still sent mixed sensations through his nerves. He pressed again a little harder and closed his eyes with a quiet sigh.
He went back to the garage in his mind and replayed the encounter. Only this time John kept him pinned to the car while going through the pictures on his phone, snorting at his failed attempt at blackmailing him. And instead of feeling ridiculed, Sam felt… validated. Like he had just been let in on the best-kept secret in the world.
And then, without so much as a warning, his imagination ran completely out of control.
Phone forgotten, John turned to him and held both his writs in one hand right above his head. His heart skipped a beat and then thundered in his chest, as John fixed him with those guarded eyes, full lips just inches from his face.
“You can’t tell anyone,” John warned, leaning over him just enough to let Sam know who was in charge.
“We’ll see,” he replied, though his voice didn’t sound convincing in the least.
John’s free hand grabbed his face to tilt it upwards. “I’m not asking, I’m warning you. You know I can hurt you.”
And in his room, Sam let a small whine escape his throat as he spread his legs just enough to get his hand in his boxers, to squeeze his half hard cock for some relief. He needed to unwind and this felt perfect. Fuck , I shouldn’t be doing this, he thought nonetheless, just as he started a slow pumping motion, in time with his ragged breath.
Only in his head it was John’s hand, letting go of his jaw to palm him through his trousers, slowly, the heat emanating from him almost palpable. He moaned and tried to snatch his hands free, completely ignoring the fact that John could throw football players through the air like sheets of paper. But he wanted to touch back so desperately, he wanted to see how a Lorien was like under what seemed to be a perfectly human appearance. His hands twitched in his grip as John bent to scrap his teeth on his neck and his hips bucked into John’s hand of their own accord.
Sam rolled his head to muffle the embarrassing sounds he was making in his pillow, hand speeding up to meet his building need. God, this felt so wrong and so right at the same time.
John’s hand was inside his pants now, making him shiver with pleasure as he nibbled on his ear shell. He tugged on the hold John had on his wrists once more, legs threatening to give under him, but John simply closed the space between them and held him against the truck with the weight of his body. Hot, so hot against his shirt, and he wanted nothing more than taking it off, to feel that heat on his bare skin.
His pillow was doing well enough muting his sobbed moans, but the way John captured them with his lips, tongue pushing against his own and teeth pulling on his lower lip until he whimpered was making him want to cry out. He bit on his lip to suppress the sound and thrust his hips as hard as he could into his fist instead, half afraid that John would set him on fire for this. It was too late now, anyway.
“You can’t tell anyone,” John repeated, against his lips this time, and Sam felt the urgency of the words reverberate in his veins as his muscles began to quiver. “You have to promise.”
“I promise,” he groaned quietly into his pillow, hand becoming erratic in its movements as he gasped for completion. I promise, he thought again, and with a final thrust he came, one hand clutching his pillow as the other ripped the orgasm out of him, breath coming in short, thin bursts. He collapsed on his back, panting, brain completely fried as he rode out the waves of pleasure.
Of course I promise, this was the best thing that ever happened to me, he thought, with a sated smile on his face.
And that was when he realized what exactly he had just done.
Embarrassment crept up his neck to flush his cheeks a deeper red. If he ever hoped to face John again in the near future, he couldn’t tell anyone about this either. That is, assuming Loriens didn’t have the power to read minds or something. He hoped not. This was the only chance he’d ever get to find his father again, not to mention getting away from this shitty life.
Well. Whatever the case, he had something to fight for and he would just deal with whatever life threw at him. He’d dealt with worse before.