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Four Times They Were Caught and The One Time They Wanted To Be

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Once, we were supposed to be studying in his room, but if you know studying and us, we got bored rather quickly. Being the playful lover I am, I took it upon myself to tickle him. He was surprisingly ticklish for all the stuff he covered himself in on a regular basis.

So we were having our fun, and of course seeing his adorable little face underneath me, I just had to start kissing him. Literally had to. Now kissing Rakesh is the best thing in this mortal world. He's admitted to only having one or two girlfriends, and only one other boyfriend, so he's clumsy. But how much effort he puts in, like it's a painting, like it's an art he has to master....okay, tangent over. So we were making out, and my hands just randomly started to creep down, unhooking his suspenders, going for his shirt...we rolled over so he was straddling me. Just as I started to enjoy the view, the canopy of his bed fell on us, his foot having gotten stuck in the dark purple fabric.

"What the hell!?" I exclaimed, struggling under the fabric to free us, and subsequently tangling us up even worse. After several minutes of struggling in a blanket burrito with a raging hard-on rubbing on my boyfriend, someone finally came to find us, managing to free us with some effort.

Sally swore not to tell, provided with provide her and Anne with some photos.


The next one is probably a personal favorite, if for nothing other than the look on Douchenic's face.

So Rakesh had managed to get himself completely covered in paint again ("Not on purpose!!" he kept insisting, and I just sighed). Luckily, it was water soluble, so we were just washing off the color from his body, but since he had gotten it almost literally everywhere, it would take awhile. He remembered his shorts that time. Didn't mean I couldn't tease him.

I put some more suds onto my hands, and started to re-lather his chest just to be safe.

"Didn't we already remove the paint from there?"

I smirked at him, and kept rubbing, hands making small circles under his abs. "Just checking." My ministrations were getting more sensual (Isabella would have been proud), and my hand reached the edge of his hips.

"I think you may have gotten it under here. Should I check?" I asked suggestively, tugging at his shorts gently. He looked adorably confused for a moment, before smirking back at me. "I think perhaps you should."

I already removed my shirt and pants so I wouldn't get wet. I didn't care much about my underwear. I leaned over the little see-through door of the shower, kissing him slowly, trying to open it. The kiss grew more and more passionate. The water was getting in my eyes despite them being closed, but I didn't care. He blindly grasped around behind him, managing to turn off the shower. I slowly slide my hands down his paint stained shorts, ready to-

We didn't hear the door open a few minutes after he stopped the shower, but we did hear the thump of Dominic's metaphorical jaw hitting the ground. He held his toothbrush in one hand, and his face was one of pure fear, and disgust, as he caught us, my hands down (a still partially blue) Rakesh's shorts, his hands in my wet hair.

After I finished rolling on the floor in laughter, he made us swear never to tell.


Now this one is Rakesh's favorite, but it might be because I was his total bitch at the moment (I have enough balls to admit I was). This wasn't one specific roommate, but the entire 104 philosophy class.

In our second year, I still helped the philosophy professor grade his papers when I had time, and Rakesh kept up in that minor, so we met more than a few times. He was waiting for me to finish, so he sat beside me, sketching furiously in a sketchbook. Me, being the mischievous imp (read: little shit) I am, kept looking over his shoulder and to see it's progress. When he was in a rare mood, he kept his art very secret, and one of those times was now.

After swatting me away a few times, he put it down. I thought I finally had gotten his attention, so I made to speak, but immediately he was kissing me furiously to keep me from running my mouth. While we were both chill dudes, I suppose I had to get to him eventually. He swiveled my chair, and had me trapped by his arms against the desk. I let out a noise that could possibly be considered a whimper by some (I still have some pride!), and pressed my back uncomfortably against the edge of the desk.

He continued to kiss me, and I wondered what his muse had told him that brought this on. I eventually thought "fuck it" and completely gave in, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, pressing my hips against his. Despite being a good half foot shorter than me, he seemed so huge, growling and untucking my shirt. Pressed against a professor's desk...

That brought back memories of an odd dream I had as a freshman, giving me me enough sense to look up...and see the entire next class looking at us expectantly, like they wanted us to leave or start screwing.

It took an entire semester of papers graded with A's to keep that one quiet (Rakesh loves to bring it up however).


Memphis got us once, really, really good. He had gotten us before, but this one took the cake. At least we had the majority of our clothes on (or were at least covered) the other times, but that time...

So I had just finished a rockin' concert and was high off adrenaline, audience cheers, and my cute little boyfriend in the crowd. When it was over, he came rushing backstage, and I nearly lifted him off the ground. He was still wearing his brown coat, and his hair was matted from where his berét had been, meaning he had left in the middle of a piece to come see me. Overwhelmed with emotions and stimulation, almost literally crashed my lips against his.

I led him to the temporary dressing room I had been given, only breaking contact to open and shut the door. Once it was shut (and more importantly, unlocked), we resumed, mouth over his immediately. He was hiked up against the wall, his legs wrapped and around my hips, saliva dripping down our chins. I unbuttoned his coat as best I could in my lusty state, and my shirt was yanked over my head. Our pants were unbuttoned together, and my hands were roaming under his undershirt. We were grinding against one another wildly, desperate for something.

Now this is being a rock star, I had managed to think. A nice quickie with your significant other in your dressing room, the hum of the crowd still beating in your ears and heart. He looked at me with his expressive grey eyes, and I dropped to my knees, kissing his thigh before I pulled down his underwear and-

We heard the door slam, once again having not heard it's opening. After we finished (because like hell we were stopping), he said he wouldn't tell, so long as we lock the goddamn door.


The by far best time was when I was onstage. Well, by best, I mean it had the best outcome, because we weren't even kissing that time.

Another show went by without a hitch. It was our anniversary show, so our old fans were in the crowd, along with new ones, and it was packed. After our inevitable encore, I went backstage, to see an a beaming Rakesh. His arms were open wide, and I took the invitation, gathering him up in a hug. I sighed into his hair, taking in the ever present smell of paint he had.

After my initial excitement died down, my heart started to beat loudly again, this time in nervousness. There was a little black box in my pocket, and you know what that means. That inside that box there was a ring, and with that ring came...marriage.

I had never considered myself a "settle down" type of guy, but I didn't want anyone else to snatch my little artist up, or him to ever think I'd cheat on him (rock gods are known for that, but I personally found people who cheat on people are total dicks). So hence the ring. It wasn't too big, just...perfect.

After we parted from the hug, my throat clenched. I wasn't sure if I could do this...but then I saw on his cheek, there was a little splotch of paint. I wiped it off, heart full. I took a deep breath, and kneeled down, about to do the most out of character thing in my life.

I don't exactly remember how I had asked, but I think it had been along the lines of "Dude we should totally get married" or something stupid like that. What I do remember was that he had tears in his eyes, and was nodding his head so fiercely it looked like it could fall off. I grinned, and started to put the ring on his finger when the curtain lifted up, revealing us to the still packed crowd.

Now if you were a Back Alley Flash fan in our college days, you might know about me and Rakesh. We were the campus' novelty gay couple after all. But our new fans didn't know. I was worried that we might get backlash for it, but instead the crowd cheered, and clapped, and hollered, screaming things in support. I stood up, feeling damn good, and decided to give the fans what they wanted, as I always do. I tugged Rakesh closer to me. He smiled, knowing my plan, and put his arms over my shoulders. I kissed him deeply, and there was another cheer from the crowd.

That one wasn't hushed up, or kept secret, but was in the local papers everywhere, and there was even a small mention in a national one. The internet went wild with it. We were married in the nearest state on tour that it was legal.

Now we're married, happy as could be, and people still walk in on us every damn time.•