Graveyard Shift with Dawson

Slowly the silence was becoming a bit much. He lay there, feeling a bit cramped from the position, and yet Chip didn't seem to notice. His eyes grew a bit dark, as he finally moved, but it wasn't what Dawson expected. Instead of reaching for him, or something, he reached down and pulled his underwear up over his crotch.

For a second, Dawson thought he saw a flash of disgust, of anger, but he couldn't be sure, as he moved, to go sit in the only other chair of the room. It was as if suddenly he was with a stranger, as Chip quickly dressed, making a point of zipping up the pants. He barely looked at Dawson, and it felt so odd.

Just moments earlier he had the guy's dick in his mouth, his cum had been dripping down the corners, and now the guy was acting like he barely knew Dawson. It was a total switch, and he was too tired to try and figure it out. He stood up, and thanked Chip for the coffee, and said he had to be going.

He had thought Chip would say something, to keep him from leaving, but instead seemed relieved that he was going. It didn't make much sense, as he headed out of the apartment, with Chip several steps behind. It was like he didn't want to get too close to him, or like maybe he had some disease. If he hadn't been so tired, he might ask, but fuck it, it wasn't worth the effort. Besides, he had gotten to suck him off, so it hadn't been a total waste.

Heading home, he felt slightly pissed off. The more he thought about Chip, about how he had acted, the angrier he got. It wasn't like he had asked to go up with him, or to have coffee. It wasn't him that had started to talk about sucking cock either, and hell, the guy did seem to enjoy it, so why the cold shoulder? Okay, sure he was nervous, and maybe he was a closet case, but it didn't give him the right to be rude afterwards.

He knew he would have to work with him too, as he was scheduled for tonight's shift, which only made it worse. Dawson didn't want his sex life to ruin his job, as it was a perfect job for him. The pay was good, the hours were what he wanted, and it did suit his needs, for now. Besides, it did give him time to whack off, when he had the right working partner, which obviously Chip wasn't working out to be. Still, it was a worry, and he knew he would agonize over it all day, until he got to work.

Then he also knew he'd have to have it out with Chip. If Chip wasn't into it, fine, but he wanted to make damn sure it stayed between them, wasn't gossiped about in some twisted way. He had seen those rumours happen, and he did not want to be involved in that type of crap. The job just wasn't worth it, and given how some of the others were, he really wasn't up for their crap either, if they found out about him.

Opting to skip classes, he had a nice hot shower, and closed the blinds in his place, shutting out the pale glimmer of sunlight. Turning over, he still couldn't shake Chip from his thoughts, as he set his alarm clock and tried to get some sleep. It had been a long night, and he had another late shift ahead. Maybe after some zee's he'd be able to figure out just what really had gone down this morning. He was pretty sure that Chip had wanted it, had more or less asked for it, but he never had said the words.

Had he read him wrong? Had he maybe pushed his own desires onto him, and being his boss, did Chip feel the need to comply? Christ, that was all he needed, some stupid sexual harassment charge. God, he'd be fired in a flash, whether it was true or not, then what would he do? Not like he'd get a reference, and these days, you needed one of those.

Still, he was certain Chip had asked, in his own way. He also didn't think he'd be the type to go running to the Boss, least not without clearing the air with him, or was he just hoping that was the case? Shit, what did he know about Chip, other than he was damn sexy, and that his cock tasted delicious?

What if he wasn't 18? Shit, he had assumed he was, simply because he said he was just out of Grade Twelve, but fuck, what if he had been one of those accelerated student? No, no way could Chipper be one of those, the guy sure didn't exhibit the brains one would assume an accelerated student would have. He had to be 18, and besides, he was a jock. Not like they were noted for brain power, least not the one's he had ever dealt with.

Still it was a troubling thought, making his sleep rather fitful, so when he heard the ringing, he naturally reached over for his alarm clock. With bleary eyes, he stared at it, not willing to believe it was time to get up, and as his eyes focused, the ringing jolted him, making him lay very still. It was his phone, not the friggin alarm clock, and he quickly grabbed it, mumbling into it.

He couldn't hear a thing, and repeated his greeting, still getting nothing. At first he thought whoever had called, had hung up, but then his mind cleared enough, and he was certain he could hear someone breathing on the other end.

'Hello? I can fucking hear you breathing, who is this?'

Still no answer, and he got pissed off. Bad enough to have had to deal with Chip, and now his sleep was ruined by some prankster. Fuck he hated kids, and their idea of a joke, as once more he yelled into the phone. With no reply, he yelled again.

'Fuck you dip stick' and hung the phone up. He lay there, panting a bit, realizing he was still on edge. Glancing at the clock, he figured he could still get some rest, before the alarm rang, and turning over, he pummelled his pillow, and laid his head down on it. Just then, the phone rang again, and he cursed, reaching over for it, answering it more calmly.

'Hello'

He listened, and again he knew he could hear someone there. Yet not a word, nothing, which was really pissing him off. Bad enough the asshole woke him up, now he was just getting him mad, as he yelled at the receiver, telling whoever to fuck off, and slammed the phone down. He then turned off his ringer, figuring screw it. Not like anyone important would call, and if it was, they knew where he lived, or how to get a hold of him later.

Trying to relax, to let the sleep come, he couldn't help but keep thinking of Chip, and now the phone call. Suddenly he felt wide awake, as the thought came to him that maybe it was Chip calling, that maybe he was phoning to apologize? But if it was him, why the fuck didn't he speak? Or was he too scared, too ashamed of himself?

Come to think of it, the guy had acted rather nervous, rather like he really was turned off by the thought of enjoying another guy's touch, or worse, being sucked off by a guy. Something about the morning, how he had looked, made him wonder, if maybe Chip really wasn't a straight guy, but queer, just not ready to admit it? Course he was no shrink, but then again he had felt that hesitation, that reluctance.

Christ, just what he needed, some closet case stalking him, or worse, hating him for it. There had been that case on one of the talk shows, where a guy had gone nuts because some gay guy had professed his love for him. Man, just what he needed, a nut job after him, and worse, he had to work with him later tonight.

Dawson stared at the phone, and at the alarm clock, thinking. It had to be Chip, but then he rather hoped it wasn't. If it was, man he'd chew him out tonight. The anger was still there, but then he started to think. If it was Chip, it could get dicey at work. What if he had some of his jock friends come by work? Man, it could get really ugly, and fear was making him chilled.

He could feel himself breaking out into a cold sweat actually, as he kept thinking about all that could go wrong, all because he had sucked the guy off. Shit, it wasn't his fault, the guy had wanted it, but then he had said he had only wondered, about some stupid saying. Okay, so he had asked him, and had gotten a nod, but he never spoke the words, never actually said 'yes suck me off' or anything like that.

Then there was no shaking the dread he was feeling, about the possible complications for work. He was the supervisor, if he wanted to, he could have Chip fired, so could he have somehow misunderstood Dawson? Could Chip make a case that he was merely nodding, so as to keep his job?

God what a mess, as he threw the sheets off, and headed for his shower. He needed sleep, but no way was he going to get any, thinking of jock boy and this morning. He needed to wake up, to think this thing through, to decide if he was going to even show up for work. Maybe he should call the boss, fake not feeling well or something. Hell, it wasn't like he had ever really taken any time off before, even when he had felt like crap. The boss wouldn't tweak to anything, unless Chipper had called him to complain. Course, the boss would be pounding on his door if he had, so as of now, he felt like it was still manageable.

That didn't mean it would stay that way, as he let the hot water cascade over his tired body. He reached for the soap, and couldn't help but keep on thinking of Chip. The guy was hot, no denying that, but he sure needed some lessons in manners. Christ, even if he hadn't liked the blow job, he didn't have to go all silent, all nasty looking.

The hot steamy water was gradually easing the tension in his body, and his mind. His hand soaped his body up, as he tried to relax, to ignore the fear that was gnawing at him. He really didn't think it would become a problem, but better prepared than to be caught off guard. Still, Chip didn't seem like the type to resort to violence, or in running to the boss. Course he could always deny it, make something up that Chip came on to him, to get a better recommendation or something like that.

He shook his head, letting the water do its job. No sense in spending more time worrying, as he felt the water spray against his chest, felt it sting a bit, as he turned the hot water up more. Dawson let the spray beat against his body, striking it until his mind ignored everything else, but the tiny darts of heat that soaked into his body. The tiredness seemed to go away, as he let his body just soak, desperately pushing aside the fears, the worries.

Once he got to work, he'd know the score. If the boss was there, well he'd deal with it then. If it was just him, then he'd know that it was Chip who had been phoning. Now if Chip showed up, well he'd just play it like nothing happened this morning, let the little jock sweat for a change, maybe wait and let him bring it up. Be a damn sight easier, and then man would he lay into him.

Even the hot water couldn't stop his body from recalling the morning, nor how good Chip's cock had tasted. He wasn't the first straight boy he had ever done either, but certainly the tastiest. Plus, he had the look, that perfect blend of skin, muscles, and aroma. Kind of a shame to see it wasted on some fish, but hell, whatever turned the guy on.

Least he wasn't going the clingy route that one of his earlier tricks had done. Now that hadn't been freaky, just that it took him awhile to get him to back off. Like the guy was cute enough, certainly wasn't a bad fuck either, but he just wasn't Dawson's type. After all, he did have standards, and while Mark was cute enough, he did like his partners to at least move around a bit, to show they were enjoying the sex, even if it was faked.

Still, Mark did have a nice ass, firm butt cheeks that were perfectly shaped. The way they looked as he would spread them apart, how firm they felt when he would put his hands on them, to stretch them apart, how he would push his knees against the firm thighs, to widen the legs, so he could enter him just right, was nice, but there was a damn site more to sex, that firm asses.

He found that while Mark appeared to like being fucked, the most he ever got out of him, was a few long drawn out grunts. He didn't arch back, didn't moan or whimper even. He just grunted, while he would pound his ass with his dick. In and out, and never one cry of pleasure, or pain. Shit, even the moment of penetration barely got a grunt out of the guy. And he had been Mark's first fuck too, yet it was as if Mark was born to take a dick up the ass.

Least the way it slid in so easy, the way it glided in and out without even a whimper of pain, or joy. He had to either be born with a loose butthole, or had lied about Dawson being his first fuck.

Thinking about Mark, he felt a small little twinge at his groin. His hand moved down naturally, to squeeze his balls, to give his dick a bit of a stroke, as he let the warm water cascade across his face, making him relax a bit more. No doubt Mark was just full of it, and was nothing but one of those who pretended they were straight, but were doing every dick they could find. For some, maybe it was a bigger turn on, if the other was straight, but for him, he just didn't give a damn.

He liked his men to show they were enjoying it, that they were into it. Like Chip had done while he had been on his knees, sucking on that dick. Now he certainly was straight, at least until he had his dick in Dawson's mouth. Sure didn't sound straight then, but fuck, the look he gave him afterwards, still gave him the shivers.

Dawson slapped the soap in the palm of his hand, trying to change his mind's focus. Thinking of Mark was no good, but then if he was honest, not too many of the other's he had sex with were memorable, least in the way he would prefer. Ronny, now he might be worth a quick pull or two, but nothing special there either.

Sure the guy had a nice dick, uncut too. Only trouble was he didn't always wash his head good enough. Though he had solved that particular problem by making cleaning it a bit of their foreplay. Still, the guy didn't lay there, and that was damn better than Mark, though Mark had a bigger cock. Still, Ronny groaned, he made noises that gave him a bit of a thrill, as he drilled his hole, or sucked on his pole.

Now the fun he had with him was worth a bit, but in the final end, Ronny was just like the rest. He wasn't boyfriend material, that was for sure. A good lay when there wasn't much else, and sure, he had a good tasting penis, after a nice bit of a wash, but that wasn't enough to build a relationship on. Dawson wanted more, and it turned out, a damn bit more than Ronny was prepared to deliver.

For starters, he might moan, might shake a bit, but when he was done, he was done. There was no reciprocation, no turning over and doing Dawson. Once his cock head reared back, the foreskin drooping over it for a second, before it pushed out and fired off a shot of hot cum, that was it. No seconds even, not even a dribble after that first load came out. Not like he tried for more either.

Plus, soon as that first stream was gone, that dick was back to looking like a shrivelled up prune. Like, how could anyone be so hot, so aroused that their dick looked like a huge steel rod, then suddenly look like a new twig on a tree? It just didn't make sense, and while he could handle a soft dick, it was like Ronny's entire sex drive shrivelled up with the spent dick.

Hell, one second he would be panting, the next it was as if he had just spent the last half hour sleeping, recharging. His chest would stop its heaving, the instant his cum was shot. The racing of his heart, suddenly would be like a gentle purr of a cat being stroked. As for returning the favour, of even stretching a hand out to stroke Dawson's cock, that was, like, so not happening, that it made him go soft almost as quickly.

Chip wouldn't be that way, he thought, as he let the hot water rinse his body off. There was no doubt that Chip would be a real moaner, plus he'd be active. He would move, shake, jiggle, whatever, and he could just imagine how he would be as a top too. Man, it would have been nice to have found out, but that wasn't about to happen. Not now anyways.

Towelling off, he felt a bit better. So much that he turned the ringer back on his phone, and almost had a heart attack as it shrieked at him. Just his luck, a call the instant he turned the ringer on. Grabbing the handset, while trying to hold the towel around his middle, he felt his stomach drop, as once more it was just some jerk, breathing.

As he was about to yell, he got the idea of turning the tables on the sicko, whoever it was.

'ooh baby, that sounds so sexy, your hot breath, bet it would feel good on my dick, shit I can feel it now, the odd drop of saliva, hitting my stiff shaft, on the back of my hand, as I stroke my dick, ooh baby, breath some more, I am getting a hard on, come on big boy, breath for daddy'

The click gave him a chuckle as he replaced the receiver, and instead of turning the ringer off, he decided to hell with it. Let the fucker enjoy that, and hell if he called back, well, he had a few other ideas of how to have fun with the sicko.

Adjusting the towel, he went back to his bedroom, to towel off, and unwind. Maybe he could grab an extra hour before heading off to work, if he picked up a burger or something. Hell, he could always send Chip for something, as he stretched out on his bed. His dick was a bit hard, as he thought about the dip shit that had been phoning. Maybe he had scared him off, or maybe he'd call back, wanting more. If he did, well what the fuck, why not. It would be a good lark, and he could satisfy himself at the same time. After all, not knowing who was on the other end, was half the fun of phone sex.

Maybe he should think of that, for a job? Might be fun to get paid, to get other people all hot and bothered, and while doing it, get himself off too. He had seen the ads in the magazines, and why not, if the pay was good? Still, the whole idea of some stranger calling him was bugging him, and the more he dwelled on it, the more convinced he was becoming that it was Chip.

There was no doubt that his little bit of sex talk got whoever upset, you could hear it in the way the breathing suddenly stopped, surprised. Then too the click, as whoever it was, hung up. It wasn't slammed down, but just placed down, and no way some pervert would do that. It had to be Chip, but why the fuck wasn't he speaking? Was he trying to piss him off, or play some sick game?

Dawson closed his eyes, wishing he knew, wondering what tonight would bring. It was like the hot shower hadn't helped, as he tossed and turned, wondering, dreaming. It was not restful, specially when his alarm clock buzzed, along with the phone. He stared at the phone, as he punched the alarm button, shutting it off.

He kept staring at it, as it rang, then reached over, to shut off the ringer. Screw it, if it was Chip, he'd find out soon enough, if not, well the creep could wait till he was ready to whack off. There wasn't time now, as he grabbed his pants, and got ready for work. One thing was certain, tonight's graveyard shift wouldn't be boring.