A/N: Y'all know by now that I don't really put author's warnings at the beginning of the chapters, since I warn at the start of the story for most things that happen. But, upon reading through this chapter again before posting it, I thought it might require one. I've also updated the 1st chapter author notes to include this. Anyway, it's non con and happens in a dream, not actually between any characters. Nate is appropriately disturbed by it. 

They were in the principal’s office again. It could have been any one of the times they ended up there, sitting side by side in the uncomfortable armchairs in the waiting area. The furniture was so old that the cushions had long since given out and when you sat you were in real danger of never being able to get back up. It was quiet and smelled of paperwork and teenage misery.

Bailey kept going on and on about how pissed he was and Nate kept getting more and more irritated.

“Can’t you just shut up!” he shouted, climbing to his feet and looming over Bailey’s chair, one hand on either armrest to box him in. Bailey sneered up at his words. “You think just because that little prick distracted me, that I forgot you dumped out my bookbag? You can forget about second period altogether.”

With that, he fisted his hand in Bailey’s hair and lifted him out of the chair, ignoring his cry of protest to throw him against the ground. Bailey crashed onto his stomach, palms striking the ground just in time so that he did not slam his nose into the ground. He twisted around with an expression of pure indignation, but there it was—that spark in his eye that drove Nate mad. Then he smirked.

Nate crashed to his knees, straddling his thighs to stop him from turning over completely. He grabbed both of Bailey’s wrists and stretched his arms high over his head so that he no longer had leverage to push off the ground.

“Fuck off,” Bailey hissed.

“Don’t fucking say that to me,” Nate warned, voice a low growl like tires over gravel. “Haven’t you been egging me on all this time just to get me to do this?”

He grabbed the waistband of Bailey’s little shorts and yanked. The button clattered to the ground and Bailey shouted between clenched teeth, the sudden violent pressure bruising his waist. Nate followed through by pulling the shorts down Bailey’s ass and leaving them around the tops of his thighs, hobbling him and revealing a perfect, round ass.

Bailey was squirming to get away, but he was only bruising his wrists in Nate’s tight grip and making himself look all the more delicious. Nate spanked his bare ass just once, but with enough force that the crack of it rang in his ear along with Bailey’s shocked wail. His skin bloomed a beautiful blotchy red in the shape of Nate’s handprint. He watched, letting the sting dissipate on its own.

“No underwear?” he taunted. “Slut.”

“I’m not!”

Nate spanked him again. “Say it.”

Bailey thrashed, keeping his mouth shut, so Nate spanked him again.

“Say it.” Nate barked. “Tell me what a slut you are.”

“Fuck off!”

Nate curved forward, reaching into the space between Bailey’s hips and the grounds to wrap a hand around his achingly hard, slick cock. “Oh yeah?” Nate purred in Bailey’s ear. “That’s not what this is saying. This is telling me you are a slut.”

Bailey squirmed and bucked as Nate gave him a few strokes. Then he turned his head to the side. His eyes were fever-bright, teeth bared, and Nate was entranced. Until he spat right in Nate’s face.

The saliva landed on Nate’s cheekbone and slid down his cheek. He grinned darkly and reared back.

“Still don’t believe it?” he tutted. “I guess I’ll have to just show you.”

He wiped the spit from his cheek and smeared it between Bailey’s ass cheeks. As the pads of his fingers brushed over Bailey’s rim, he began struggling his hardest yet, legs kicking and shoulders bucking. Nate just laughed, held one ass cheek out to reveal his hole and spat on it.

Then he lined himself up, circling his head through the oozing glob of spit and pushed inside. Bailey cried out, jaw hanging open as he panted in short bursts against the floor. His fingers flexed in Nate’s hold. He still kicked to get away, but Nate just grabbed his hip and yanked him back onto his cock.

“Nate!” Bailey yelped. “Nate, oh my go-”

“Yeah,” Nate tilted Bailey’s hips back for just the right angle and then slammed in all the way. Bailey’s fingers contracted into little fists, knuckles white. His face twisted away, ears bright red. Nate stilled, balls deep, and spanked Bailey a few more times, watching his ass jiggle and glow bright red.

Then he began fucking him mercilessly, hips hammering into that sore ass, pounding  cries out of him. Bailey twisted his head to the side and glared out of the sharp corner of his eye.

“Come on,” he snarled. As Nate watched, blood dripped from his nose and over his upper lip, staining his teeth as he spoke. “If you’re gonna fuck me, don’t be a pussy about it.”

Nate barked out a laugh, reaching forward to card a hand through Bailey’s hair and use it to pull his head back so that his chest rose off the floor. His spine arched. Bailey’s jaw dropped around a silent wail as Nate used his hair and arms for leverage to drill inside him.

There was blood on the knuckles of the hand buried in Bailey’s locks of hair.

“Poor little baby needed somebody to put him in in place.” Nate mocked. “Tell me why you like it so rough, baby.”

Bailey shivered all over, or, rather, he had begun to tremble nonstop, body stretched and pushed to the limits by the way Nate was using it. Despite this, he suddenly relaxed as if all his strings had been cut and let out a gentle sigh.

“Because I’m a slut.”

Nate woke up sweating, legs tangled in his sheets, the dull pleasure of an orgasm just completed pulsing through him. He lay still, staring at the ceiling, feeling the pleasure ebbing away as a surge of self-hate flooded through him. What the fuck was wrong with him?

He just had a wet dream about raping Bailey. About literally holding him down in the waiting area of their high school principal’s office and taking him raw while Bailey tried to squirm away and spat in his face. He covered his eyes with one hand and hated himself.

Lying in bed made his skin crawl, so he vaulted out of it, shoving the sheets away like they were burning him. Then he stumbled across the hall to the bathroom and shoved himself into a scalding hot, steaming shower. The kind that instantly fogged the mirrors despite the fan and turned his skin cherry red.

It was not too hard to figure out exactly where that had come from. A whole sleepless night of researching power dynamics and roleplaying during sex. Bailey admitting he had a fantasy about Nate putting him in his place – although Nate would bet tearing his ass open was not exactly what he meant. But apparently that was a fantasy that they both shared now.

Nate rinsed the sticky cum from his cock and frowned at the realization that he would have to wash his sheets yet again. His mom was going to start wondering what the hell he was doing in his bed. Nate was beginning to wonder the same thing about himself.

After scrubbing off what felt like a few layers of skin in the shower, he dampened a washcloth and padded back into his room to spot clean his sheets so he could avoid suspicion for now. He felt like he had committed a crime and was now clearing up the evidence, ears straining for any signs of someone coming down the hall who might burst through his door and find his guilty ass.

It turned out that nobody was home, which was both a relief and terrible. A distraction would have been nice, but he was not sure he could look anybody in the eye right now. So, instead of fucking around at home before he had to go into the gym for his shift, he grabbed his keys and hopped into his truck to go and begin his favorite coping mechanism—exhausting himself at the weights bench. 

He couldn't find any parking right in front of the gym, and so ended up having to walk a little way from the public lot down the street. 

“Nate!” came a call that automatically tensed his shoulders and sent his heart into overdrive. Instant fight or flight. He took a deep breath, glared his fluttering heart into submission, then turned to see Bailey waving to him from across the street. 

A shopping bag hung from one of Bailey's wrists as he flailed his arms over his head so enthusiastically, he might as well be landing a plane. Nate had not been sure if their late-night rendezvous at the bar, however intimate in different ways both may have each been, meant that anything really changed between them during the light of day. But apparently that was the case.

Nate's heart leapt into his throat, then dropped down into his shoes, churning his stomach on the way down. His immediate reaction was to glance away, eyes darting around the street for a quick escape route, but he'd already been noticed. No matter how ashamed he was to face Bailey right now, it wouldn't be fair to just ignore him, not when he'd done nothing wrong, especially after the things they did together the last time. 

He gave Bailey a little jerk of his head, not expecting their interaction to go any further than that. They were on opposite sides of the street. Between them, there were two lanes of traffic and two lines of parallel parked cars. Not exactly the setting to have a conversation, despite the pretty scattering of cherry blossoms fluttering down to the windshields and sidewalks.

It was probably better that way. He could still hear Bailey’s screams, see the blood running over his upper lip, and practically feel his body squeezing tight around Nate’s cock. Even after the shower and the angry drive he couldn’t shake the feeling that he still had one foot inside that dream and one in reality. All of their strange Twilight Zone interactions had been at night, where Nate’s terrifying fantasies also remained, so seeing Bailey smiling at him during the daytime scrambled his thoughts.

He was about to turn away and continue heading for the gym, but then Bailey bound between two of the parked cars and nearly straight into the path of a passing delivery truck.

Nate’s blood froze in his veins as his figure disappeared from sight for the two seconds it took for the truck to rush past. Once it was gone, Nate saw with relief that he was standing there with one hand on his chest, eyes popped wide. Jesus Christ.

“Just stay there!” Nate shouted across the street. Bailey took two steps back toward the sidewalk, which loosened the sudden tension in Nate’s chest. His head turned as he followed Nate’s progress down to the closest crosswalk. The crossing signal emphatically told him to wait several times as he jammed his finger into the button. He sighed and peered both ways to gauge the traffic, then ignored the signal’s red hand and jogged across the street.

As he walked back up the sidewalk, he realized that instead of approaching as Nate got closer, Bailey was staying put in the exact spot where Nate had told him to. He stood there with his hands behind his back in another one of his cropped tops—this one a band shirt cut off just above his belly button—just waiting for Nate to come pick him up. That scratched an itch Nate did not even know he had, but one he was becoming grudgingly familiar with.

He wanted to march right up, grab Bailey by the shoulder and demand to know why the hell he was trying to cross the street without looking both ways. Instead, he squeezed his hands into fists by his sides and barked, “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was coming to say hi!” Bailey rolled his eyes. “Guess I should have checked both ways first.”

He smiled unapologetically. Nate glared. He did not even know why he came over here. Now they were just standing on the sidewalk, staring at each other. Bailey looked perfectly normal, no blood and no fever-bright eyes, just a soft—dare Nate say—shy smile playing on his lips. A petal from one of the blossoms overhead drifted down between them. Then another. And another. It was the end of the flowering period, so the trees were shedding.