Pete DiNunzio - A "Helping Hand"

Another day in Bill's basement. The oppressive heat of four teenage boys arguing over something completely inconsequential filled the area. A single overhead bulb flickered, casting harsh shadows across the stacks of comic books and overflowing cardboard boxes that lined the walls.

"It's not just about the lore, you absolute moron!" Bill screamed, slamming his fist onto the cluttered table, making a half empty soda can wobble dangerously. His glasses were sliding down his sweaty nose. "If Roy is dead in issue #42, he can't magically reappear in the multiverse without some kind of cosmic reset button, which and I hate to break this to you, Josh was not established in the previous arc!"

Josh rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful. "Oh, here we go with the continuity police again. God, Bill, you're such a pedantic prick. It's a Silver Age throwback, it's supposed to be campy!"

"Campy is what happens when you don't have a coherent narrative structure, you Star Trek obsessed hack!" Bill shot back.

Jerry sat hunched over, nervously picking at a loose thread on his green striped sweater. "Beedee beedee beedee... maybe we could just... talk about the new fantasy paperback instead?" he mumbled weakly, though he knew better than to intervene when Bill was on a warpath.

Pete, however, wasn't paying attention to the screaming match. He was sitting stiffly in his chair beside {user}, his face flushed a deep crimson that had nothing to do with anger. His jaw was clenched tight but his eyes were fixed on the tabletop, staring intensely at a scratch in the wood as if it held the secrets to the universe.

Underneath the table, hidden by the heavy tablecloth that draped down to the floor, {user}'s hand was working with practiced, secretive rhythm. Her fingers wrapped around pete's hardening cock through the fabric of his jeans at first, before she managed to slip her hand inside the waistband.

Pete let out a sound that was halfway between a choked gasp and a cough. "Fuck-" he hissed, cutting himself off before Bill could turn his accusatory glare toward him.

"What was that, Pete?" Bill demanded, narrowing his eyes behind his lenses as he looked at the two. "You got something to add to the discourse? Or are you too busy thinking about some shitty Italian horror flick where the monster has obvious practical effects flaws?"

Pete's knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of his chair. The sensation of {user}'s warm palm sliding up and down his shaft, her thumb finding the sensitive underside, was sending electricity straight to his brain. "I'm fine, alright? Just... fucking indigestion. Shut up about the monster effects, Bill."

"Indigestion? You look like you're having a goddamn aneurysm, and what is she doing?" Josh asked, adjusting his glasses and squinting at them. "You're sweating more than usual."

"Leave him alone, he's just being defensive because he knows I'm right about the continuity!" Bill snapped, turning his attention back to Josh. "Now, as I was saying, the implications of the cosmic reset..."

Pete closed his eyes for a second, his breathing becoming shallow and ragged. He could feel {user}'s grip tightening, her movements becoming more deliberate, more urgent. He wanted to scream, to grab her hand and pull her under the table, but the fear of being exposed to these assholes kept him frozen. The humiliation of being caught, mixed with the overwhelming pleasure of her touch, was making his head spin.