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Nick (Sequel to JP)
Forgive and Forget
|“IAN!” Nick screamed, but Ian wasn’t listening. His entire body was on the opposite side of the barrier now, he hesitated for a moment, staring blankly out at the river far below. Nick began running faster, his sides aching from the effort. This cannot be happening, he thought.
Then, Ian jumped…just as Nick leaned over the railing and grabbed him by the wrist. Ian’s 256-pound body dangled precariously just below the ledge, that heavy weight causing a tremendous strain on Nick. He dug his knees into the concrete wall to brace himself, his broad torso bent over the side.
“Let go of me!” Ian screamed.
“I’m not…going to…let you…do this!” Nick answered back through gritted teeth. He couldn’t watch his old best friend – someone he had grown up with – just commit suicide in front of his eyes. His face began turning beat red as Ian’s hand started to slide in his grip. “AAAAARGH!” he roared, lunging his other hand down to clutch his thick forearm, his body practically lying on top of the barrier, his abs pressed against the ledge. Shit, Ian’s forearm was too big; Nick couldn’t get his fingers around it.
“Nick!” Erin shrieked, running up behind him. Immediately upon hearing her voice, he turned his head slightly, panic only now beginning to show on his face at the realization at what was happening.
“Pull me!” he told her. Ian outweighed him by 40 pounds of muscle; he needed help. Without hesitating, Erin wrapped her arms around Nick’s hard, trim waist – just above his pelvis – and pulled with all her might, her breasts squashed up against his firm buttocks. “COME ON!” Nick yelled, the veins in his muscular arms and shoulders pulsing with blood, his neck throbbing strenuously. His abs were tensed insanely as he tugged with every ounce of energy and strength he could muster. His lats expanded outward, further than they had ever spread, his T-shirt slowly ripping at its seams. But Nick didn’t care; he ignored the pain shooting through him, never more determined in his life.
Slowly, Ian’s body began rising upward, his free arm reaching for the ledge. He no longer wanted to die. At last, he was high enough that he was able to grab hold of the wall and begin to pull himself up, easing the tension off of Nick. Nick continued pulling as hard as he could until Ian rolled back over the barrier and on top of him. Exhausted, his body flushed and pumped, Nick sat up and pushed a delirious Ian over onto his back. Ian was barely conscious and his skin felt cold and clammy. Worried, Nick looked into his friend’s eyes. Shit!
“Erin, look at his pupils!” he said to his girlfriend. Ian’s pupils were dilated – they were no larger than a pinprick. “Something’s wrong.”
“What do we do?” Erin asked, her eyes wild with near-panic. Nick looked up at the two cars parked on the shoulder.
“You take his car,” he ordered quickly. “I’ll meet you back at my place.” Erin nodded and ran off to the GTO. Nick threw Ian’s arm over his back and heaved him to his feet. He had to call his sister; Chrissy was a pre-med major at Johns Hopkins. She’d know what to do. Still somehow managing to keep his head, Nick half-dragged, half-carried Ian to Erin’s Jetta and lay him down in the back seat. He peeled off the remains of his torn shirt, folded it and laid it under Ian’s head as a pillow. Ian groaned painfully. “Relax, man,” Nick whispered. “You’re going to be alright.”
Ian groggily opened his eyes, his vision slow to focus. His head was throbbing and he felt nauseous. He was in a bed in a vaguely familiar bedroom. Posters covered the walls, but he couldn’t yet see them clearly enough to figure out what they were. Stirring a bit, he winced at the painful stiffness of his muscles, as if he hadn’t used them in hours. How long have I been here, he wondered. Where am I?
“Hey,” a soft female voice said. “You shouldn’t move too quickly.” A fantastically beautiful woman crossed into his view, her dark features and bright smile calming him. It was Chrissy Angelakis, Nick’s older sister…and he was in Nick’s room. “It’s great to see you up finally,” she added. “You’re looking better.” She gently lifted his head to adjust the pillow; Ian watched her silently. Her slender arm moved gracefully – like she was moving underwater. “How do you feel?” she asked.
“Like I’m going to throw up,” Ian answered hoarsely. Chrissy smiled.
“That’s good,” she replied. It seemed like a strange thing to say, but the sound of her voice made Ian feel more at ease. Sensing his strength beginning to return already, he started to get out of bed. Chrissy help him.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” he said meekly. Actually, he felt like he had to take the biggest shit in the world.
“That would be the laxatives,” Chrissy remarked. Ian immediately looked at her weird. Laxatives? She grinned. “We’ve been trying to flush the drugs out of your system,” she explained, laying her hand on his huge shoulder. “You almost overdosed last night…heroin, I think.”
“Heroin?” Ian repeated as if out of a daze. What the fuck? “But I—”
“You don’t have to say anything,” Chrissy stopped him. “And don’t try to remember everything, either. Just take everything slowly.” Ian matched her eyes and almost felt like he was going to cry. Regardless of her advice, he began to remember the events of the night before – shooting up with those steroids, driving down the highway, jumping off that bridge.
“It was the steroids,” he said, not sure exactly why he said it.
“I know,” Chrissy replied serenely. Ian looked over his massive chest and down at his feet. Everyone probably knows by now, he thought.
Billy nervously made his way up to the Johnsons’ front door and rang the doorbell. Ever since the night Kim had nearly run Ian over, she hadn’t been to school – almost a week. And Billy had been aching to talk to her…though he wasn’t sure why. A woman with dark hair – the housekeeper – opened the door.
“May I help you?” she asked in a heavily accented voice.
“Uh,” Billy began, not sure what to say, “I’m Billy Freeman. Is, is Kim home?” The woman smiled and swung the door full open.
“Come in, Billy,” she said kindly. “Kim is in the den.”
“Thank you,” he answered, following the woman across the spacious foyer. The Johnsons were one of the richest families in town – Mr. Johnson owned the country club – and lived in a gigantic house. Billy looked around in amazement. He had never been inside before; he had never really been friends with Kim or her brother Luke, who had once been on the football team. The housekeeper led Billy into the huge den, a flat screen plasma TV taking up almost one entire wall of the room. On the couch, Kim lay down, her head propped up against a fluffy pillow. He was watching TV, but her eyes were distant, as if she really wasn’t paying attention.
“Kim, Billy Freeman is here to see you,” the housekeeper spoke up. Kim slowly propped herself up to see him. At first, she looked confused, but then she recognized him. His tremendous bulk filled the doorway to the den, his meaty arms nearly touching the wood of the frame.
“Thanks, Marina,” Kim answered softly. Marina scuttled away, leaving the two teens alone. Billy slowly walked over to the sofa, not quite sure how to start the conversation. She looked up at him placidly, like she didn’t know what to say either.
“I’m sorry about your car,” Billy finally blurted. “If you want me to pay for the damage—”
“It’s ok,” Kim cut him off, sitting up. “You don’t have to worry about that.” A long silence fell between the two, Billy towering over her. “Why don’t you sit down?” she motioned to the loveseat. Billy did so, his wide back taking up most of the space that was available. He gazed speechlessly at Kim; she was pretty – round blue eyes, long blond hair. “You probably think I’m crazy,” she said.
“No,” Billy shook his head, “no, I don’t.” Kim smirked awkwardly and glanced down at her feet. “That was pretty brave of you,” she went on, “stopping me like that. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there.” Billy shrugged his massive shoulders.
“I wasn’t really thinking,” he admitted, trying to keep his face from blushing. “I just came over to see if you were ok,” he added. “You haven’t been in school.” Kim’s eyes looked sad, but she cracked a smile that immediately warmed Billy’s heart.
“Thanks,” she answered. “That means a lot.” Then, Billy felt his stomach churn slightly; it was a feeling he had never felt before, not even when he first met Trish.
“You’re welcome,” he replied in almost a whisper.
Ashley walked into her kitchen, fondly fingering her engagement ring. She gazed down at it in awe. She couldn’t believe Ryan had proposed to her, especially just out of the blue like that. But she knew exactly why he had done it. Brionna had damaged both of them the same way – it was that fact that made their bond even stronger in the first place – and no matter how hard her sister tried, she could never keep them apart. And now they were going to get married. God, it felt like a dream! Giddily, she grabbed the bag of popcorn out of the microwave. Just then, there was a loud knock on her door. Ashley jumped, dropping the bag to the floor.
“Ashley, open the fucking door!” It was Brionna…and she was angry. Ashley felt like ignoring it, but she knew her sister would never just go away. With a sigh, she went over to the door and cracked it, wisely leaving the chain on. “Let me in!” Brionna hissed lividly.
“Why?” Ashley retorted. Her sister narrowed her eyes at her and curled her upper lip.
“What are you thinking, getting married to that bastard?”
“Oh, so you heard the news,” Ashley boldly smirked. “I was hoping you’d find out when you got the invitation.” Then, she made a face of mock realization. “Oh, wait, you won’t be getting one.” Brionna growled and pounded on the door, but Ashley held it firmly. Never before had she stood up to her sister like this…and frankly, it made her feel good.
“You will not marry Ryan,” Brionna snarled through her teeth, ordering her like she was a slave. By this time, Ashley had had enough.
“I’m sick of your shit,” she erupted, the level of her tirade surprising even Brionna. “I’m sick of you telling me how to live my life. I don’t know what your problem is. Maybe you want revenge for Ryan stabbing you in the back, which you no doubt probably deserved. Or maybe you’re jealous that I’ve found the guy I want to spend the rest of my life with.” Ashley was only inches from her sister now, practically spitting in her face. “But you will no longer tell me what to do. Try all you want to stop our wedding, but it will happen. You can never break us apart. Do you understand me?” Brionna was speechless, blinking silently, as if she was in shock. Finally, she swallowed and rubbed her tongue against her teeth.
“Congratulations,” she replied sarcastically. “You’ve finally grown a backbone.” Ashley narrowed her own eyes at her sister.
“Why don’t you go back and fuck your little man-whores…bitch!” Brionna’s mouth dropped open at those words and for the first time in her life, she looked hurt. Certainly, it wasn’t the only time she had been called a bitch, but it definitely seemed to sink in. She closed her eyes and clenched her jaw.
“I’ll see you later, sis,” she answered back, her voice a hint of its usual bitterness. And with that, she turned and walked down the hall in a huff. When she was gone, Ashley shut the door and leaned against it, looking at her ring. It may only have been a little piece of jewelry, but it meant a whole lot more than that. Just having that ring on her finger made her feel stronger, more of a person…just like she felt whenever she was held in Ryan’s big, strong arms. Before Ryan, she had never experienced that kind of protection, that kind of assurance. His proposal had simply changed Ashley. And she would never again let someone rule her life.
Matt felt JP’s tongue grapple with his, their lips interlocked in a kiss of passionate longing. His fingers brushed through his boyfriend’s shaggy hair, turning him on even more. JP’s hands glided down Matt’s back toward his butt, sending a warm chill down his spine. Matt felt his legs begin to weaken – as they always did when JP held him this way – and he slid his lips down to his boyfriend’s insanely thick neck, taking in all of its powerful strength.
“You sure your roommate won’t be back for a few hours,” JP breathed.
“Yeah,” Matt answered, “he’s at a rehearsal.” JP grinned zealously.
“Good.” An intense wave of euphoria swept through Matt’s body as JP’s deep, velvety voice seeped into him. He grabbed his boyfriend by his wide, cannonball shoulders and pushed him – all 245 pounds of muscle – onto the bed, hungrily attacking his pumped, striated pecs with his tongue. They had just come back from a workout at the rec center, during which Matt could barely control himself as he watched JP lift absurdly heavy weights – 515 pounds for five reps on the bench press? Come on! He had to do everything he possibly could to avoid dropping his shorts and fucking him right in the middle of the gym. “Fuck me,” JP cooed, seemingly reading his mind. Matt looked up and met his boyfriend’s gaze. Instantly, he was hypnotized, JP’s deep blue eyes boring straight into his soul. JP began to turn his massive body over onto his stomach. Matt watched every muscle move with rapt awe – his chiseled triceps exploding out of his skin, his thick lats flaring outward like wings, his shredded serratus muscles bunching up. He nearly lost all consciousness right then and there.
“Oh, God,” he hissed acquiescently. Then, as if he were in a trance, Matt inserted his throbbing cock into JP’s flawless bubble butt. JP groaned as he penetrated all seven inches of his dick up his anus. The delirium that flowed between the two lovers was almost unbearable; Matt gripped JP’s shoulders tightly. Once his pelvis made contact with his boyfriend’s ass-cheeks, he started to relax, letting his body melt into the immense power of the god that lay beneath him. He began to fuck JP, moving more easily and more smoothly with each pump. The heat grew between them and he pounded harder and faster; he began savagely licking the huge muscles of JP’s upper back, tasting how they shifted underneath his tanned, paper-thin skin. Suddenly, Matt nimbly arched his back as he poured a gallon of spunk into his boyfriend, both of them screaming out is ecstasy. Five enormous loads erupted into JP as the two squirmed, their sweaty, naked bodies rubbing and sliding against each other.
When it was all finished, when Matt was completely drained of everything inside of him, he rolled off of JP and onto his back next to his boyfriend. JP leaned over and placed his hand on Matt’s chest, his touch hot against his flushed skin. The two breathed hard, neither able to speak; JP’s massive chest moved up and down, touching his chin each time.
“Thanks,” he finally said. Matt smiled back at him and reached up to give him a kiss. “What are you planning on doing over the summer?” JP asked.
“I’m probably goin’ up to visit my dad in Jersey,” he replied. He looked into his boyfriend’s eyes again; he knew what he was thinking. “You can come too, I’m sure. We’ll make a little road trip out of it.”
“Then,” JP grinned deviously, “we can have sex whenever we want.” Matt bit his lip. Damn, that look always did him in.
Greg heard the whirring of the lawnmower outside and it immediately put him into a daze. He knew exactly who was out there, mowing their front lawn…Nick Angelakis. He apparently started doing yard work around the neighborhood to help pay for a car, an admirable endeavor, Greg’s mom would say. She adored him; hell, everyone did. He was a star athlete, a model student, a talented singer…and an all-around nice guy. Nick was perfect.
Why can’t I be like that, Greg asked himself as he gazed out the screen door at the shirtless teen superjock pushing the lawnmower back and forth across the grass. His triceps bulged out of his arms, his pecs rippled, his legs and butt stretched the fabric of his shorts. The guy was so hot, it was unbearable; Greg began to sweat just looking at him. And he’s a whole year younger than me, he thought.
Then, Nick glanced up and noticed Greg standing in the doorway. He smiled – his gorgeous hazel eyes penetrating Greg’s mind – and nodded his head at him. God, his body was incredible. His beefy arms and broad chest contrasted greatly with his small, trim waist…and then his legs were monstrous, thick as hell. Greg had always secretly checked out the jocks in school, but he had never seen someone with such immense size and shocking definition at the same time. Most of the other guys were either one or the other.
“Hey, Greg,” Nick called. “What’s up?” Greg stood there for a second in wonder.
“Uh, hey,” he finally answered. “My mom was, uh, wonderin’ if you wanted something to drink.” He bit his lip. Damn, that sounded so stupid. But Nick smiled warmly, as if he didn’t notice.
“Nah, I’m fine,” he beamed. He looked behind him at the lawnmower and then back at Greg. “But I could use a little break.” Greg gulped as Nick came toward, his pecs bouncing ever so slightly. He wiped the sweat off his brow causing his biceps to flex, hinting at its vast size.
“Wow,” Greg breathed.
“What was that?” Nick looked up as he walked up the stairs to the front porch. Greg blinked, not knowing what to say. He opened his mouth a few times, but nothing came out; he was speechless at the vision of perfection that stood before him.
“What’s it like to be you?” he asked at last. Nick looked at him puzzled; Greg tried to re-word his question. “I mean, what’s it like to be the most popular guy in school?” Nick grinned, blushing.
“What, you thinking about trying to challenge me?” he quipped. Greg chuckled at the ridiculousness of his reply. He looked down at his shoes. “What?” Nick laughed.
“I could never look anything like you,” he muttered, peering up at his idol. Nick shook his head and placed a hand on his shoulder, his touch warming the skin around it.
“You know, you don’t have to have muscles to be popular,” he said. Greg pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek in thought.
“Yeah, but it helps,” he replied, arching up his eyebrows. It was easy for someone like Nick Angelakis to say that…he was over 215 pounds of pure muscle.
“Come on, man,” Nick grinned. “You are a pretty good-looking guy yourself.” Greg blushed a deep red at the compliment. “Not to mention, you’re a great dancer.” Well, Nick did have a point; he was one of the better dancers in the musical…but he had taken lessons for years. Nick’s athletic ability seemed to come naturally to him, as did everything else. The teen god looked down at him, obviously thinking. Greg could only imagine what was going on in his genius mind. “Have you ever thought about lifting weights?” Greg jerked his head backwards. Lifting weights?
“What do you mean?” he said.
“Well, you have a good foundation,” Nick explained. Foundation? What did that mean? “Depending on your genetics, you could probably put on at least a little bit of muscle pretty quickly.”
“Really?” Greg reacted, not bothering to hide the doubt in his voice. I’m a scrawny little 16-year-old, he thought. I won’t put on muscle at all.
“You never know,” Nick went on. “Why don’t you come over to my place next weekend. Check out the equipment. Maybe we can get you started on a routine…and then you’ll be a stud by next year.” Greg’s mind was racing with possibilities. It certaintly wouldn’t hurt to try. Plus, he’d get to spend the weekend with Nick Angelakis. How many guys could say that?
“Sure,” he answered. “That sounds great.”
“Cool,” Nick smiled broadly. “See you Saturday!” And with that, he hopped off the porch and jogged back to the lawnmower to finish his job.
Nick shut the lawnmower off once the lawn was finished and breathed outward. Mowing lawns was tough work, but he really wanted to get a car…and a nice one, too. Erin didn’t deserve to drive around in that little used Jetta she had. He pushed the mower to the bottom of the driveway and picked up his phone to call his dad. Once he got a car of his own, he wouldn’t have to rely on his parents to drive him everywhere. He just finished making the call when he saw Brandon out of the corner of his eye, leaning against a tree. Nick’s heart nearly skipped a beat when he saw his teammate, the blue tanktop showing off his muscular arms…and his baby blue eyes.
“What are you doing here?” he asked in a hushed tone, going over to him. Brandon looked at him silently, his face a straight face of stoicism.
“I heard what happened the other night with Ian,” he answered flatly. “How you saved his life, how you, Erin and your sister nursed him back, how you helped him check into rehab.”
“What are you saying?”
“Why?” Brandon suddenly showed emotion, his eyebrows bowing upward. “After all he did to you, to us. Stabbing us in the back during football season. How could you help him like that?” Nick stared at his friend in disbelief. He couldn’t possibly think that.
“What was I supposed to do,” Nick returned defensively, “just let Ian kill himself?” Brandon looked at him with intense eyes.
“Nick, I’ve seen this kind of thing happen over and over again,” he tried to explain. “There’s no turning back for guys like him. He would’ve been better off dead.” Nick squinted his eyes at him in shock.
“How can you say something like that?” he replied, his voice rising a degree. “I’ve known Ian ever since we were little. He used to be my best friend!”
“Used to be,” Brandon calmly pointed out Nick’s own words. An impossible silence suddenly fell between the two, broken only by the sound of Mr. Angelakis’ truck coming around the corner.
“I don’t know if this is some kind of jealousy of him or me or whatever,” Nick concluded softly, “but I know Ian. He won’t give up…and I intend to help as much as I can.” Then without another word, he turned and went to lift the lawnmower into his dad’s truck.
Ian stopped jogging and bent over with his hands on his knees. He walked over to the park bench to pick up the towel he had left there and wiped the sweat off his face. Nick and Chrissy had got him into a drug rehab program; he had to go to a special clinic in Alexandria three times a week where he was monitored for his heroin addiction. Plus, he had to take methadone every day to combat the withdrawal symptoms. So far, he was doing all right, though he knew the chances of relapse were still pretty high. The doctors said that he was allowed to go back to school next week, but he didn’t want to. He couldn’t bear the sight of everyone staring at him like he was some kind of traitor. Well, he was in a way. He had duped the football and track teams into thinking he was a great athlete – Coach Webber had been devastated when he heard the truth – and all the people who adored him probably hated him now.
Ian looked at his reflection in the windshield of a nearby car. He gazed at the size of his 255-pound body, his 21-inch biceps, his 58-inch chest, 30-inch waist, 29-inch thighs…all with 8% bodyfat. He could bench over 500 pounds – 450 for reps. He could squat an easy 600, leg press 1200. He just oozed with teenage masculinity. Ian should’ve been at the high point in his life; instead, he was at his lowest.
Suddenly, he saw someone come up behind him. He flung around, grabbed the guy by the neck and shoved him against the hood of the car.
“Whoa, take it easy, stud,” Travis said condescendingly. Ian glared at him furiously.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he demanded. “You’re not supposed to even be near me.”
“I just came around to see how you were,” Travis answered smugly. “I heard you checked into rehab.” He made a clicking sound in his mouth. “Heroin is such a nasty habit.”
“A habit you started me on, you fuck!” Ian hissed. The scrawny boy shrugged, clutching his vascular 16-inch forearms. “You ruined my life!”
“To each his own,” Travis smirked. “Anyway, you owe me.” Ian stared at him in distrust.
“What are you talking about?”
“The last few months, your cycles had been getting bigger…along with the rest of you,” Travis explained. “You never paid me what was due. About two large.”
“What!?” Ian sneered, leaning into the boy’s face.
“I came to see if you could pay up.”
“Of course I can’t,” Ian responded immediately. “I don’t have that kind of money.” He had always stolen from Kim to fund his purchases. And now that he wasn’t seeing her anymore, he had no funds.
“Such a shame,” Travis replied in mock empathy. Ian didn’t know what to say; he didn’t know what to do. He glanced at his reflection again. What am I thinking, he thought. I’m three times the size of this punk.
“And what’s keeping me from beating you up right now?” he snarled menacingly. Travis smirked again.
“I have people to pay, too,” he said. “And they know who my clients are.” Ian’s face suddenly dropped. He knew that was true. “You may think your life is miserable now,” Travis continued, “but I could make it a whole lot worse.”
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