A/N: This is pure, inexcusable smut. The only purpose of its existence is to be filthy fun to read. If that's not what you're looking for, you should look elsewhere. That having been said, the characters herein do not belong to me, etc.

JUST TRY IT

It was just a typical afternoon of studying and idle chatter between Melchior and Moritz. The two boys were at the Gabor household, sitting in Melchior's room and reviewing trigonometry notes. Moritz had a tendency to forget to square numbers when he attempted to solve the problems, and this had resulted in him doing very poorly in mathematics.

"It only means to multiply a number by itself," Melchior was explaining, "whenever you see that small 2."

Moritz scowled, and pounded a fist on the table in frustration. "I know what it means! That's the thing! I understand it, I do, it's only that I don't notice the notations. Lately I can't concentrate at all! It's miserable."

Melchior was concerned. "You do look rather pale. Have you not been sleeping well again?"

Moritz shook his head violently. "It's the dreams I've been having, Melchi. Nightmares, I tell you! I just can't sleep."

"Nightmares?" asked Melchior, concerned. "What sort of things have you been dreaming of, that they would keep you awake all night?"

"Terrible dreams! I wake up from them covered in sweat and… something else! I have awful, sticky bad dreams…" Moritz shuddered at the thought.

"Oh, that kind of dream! Well there's only one way to fix that!" Melchior laughed. "Know what I mean?"

"What?!" Moritz nearly leapt from his chair. "There's a way to get rid of them?"

"Of course!"

"Melchi, you simply must tell me!" Moritz's voice had the quality of begging. He clutched the edge of the table so firmly that his knuckles began to turn white. "If there truly is a way to rid myself of these dreams, I have to know!"

Melchior chuckled and shook his head. He couldn't believe that Moritz hadn't figured out how to handle something as simple as a wet dream. "Moritz, all you have to do is masturbate!"

"Master what?" The word was about as familiar to Moritz as genitalia.

"Masturbate. You know, to touch yourself?" Melchior lowered a hand to his groin and made a stroking motion. Moritz's eyes grew wide. Melchior laughed at his reaction. "Are you honestly saying you don't?"

"Oh, no, Melchi!" Moritz shook his head. "Mama always told me it was a terrible thing to do! When I was small, she would slap my hand away if she ever saw me touching myself down there. I didn't even understand why!" His widened eyes stared at Melchior in confusion. "Mama said it's wrong, and now you are telling me it's the only way to control these dreams?" He let his head fall into his hands. "I don't understand this."

Melchior scooted his chair around the small table until he was next to Moritz, then placed an arm around the other boy's shoulder. "It makes a great deal of sense, if you think about it."

Moritz looked up, exasperated. "But Melchi, I am thinking about it! How could it possibly make sense? Please explain it to me! I'd do anything to take these horrible sticky nightmares away."

"What happens, Moritz," Melchior began, "is that your body is constantly producing semen—the sticky stuff—and when it builds up too much, your body has to release it somehow. So, either you release it voluntarily, or you end up having those dreams and ejaculating in your sleep. That's why you have the sexy dreams."

"But how can I release it voluntarily? How can you just choose to do it? Does it feel like peeing or something?"

Melchior really burst into laughter then. "No, Moritz, I promise you it feels much better than that!"

Moritz hid his head in his hands again. "Melchi, don't laugh at me! I'm trying to understand! If it keeps the dreams from eja—ejacerlating—well, how do I do it?

"E-ja-cu-la-ting. And it's not the dreams that ejaculate, it's your body. That's where masturbation comes in."

"Ejaculating." Moritz looked overwhelmed. "And masturbation, is that what makes you ejaculate too?"

"Exactly." Melchior smiled at Moritz encouragingly. "When you touch yourself, it sort of… it sort of coaxes the semen out. And that way your body doesn't need such dreams to get release."

Moritz nodded. Then he blushed, his whole face turning a light crimson. "But then how…? Do I have to touch myself… down there?"

Melchior had to stifle a laugh; he didn't want the other boy to feel bad. "Yes, Moritz. That's what masturbation is." He squeezed Moritz's shoulder in a friendly way and smiled at him. "Do you understand now?"

Moritz gave a hesitant nod. "Well, yes. On a theoretical level."

"What do you mean?" Melchior looked at him quizzically.

Moritz's face flushed an even deeper shade of red, all the way out to his ears. "It's just, I still don't understand—don't understand how you actually—well." Moritz cleared his throat agitatedly, "…do it."

"You want me to explain it to you?" Moritz nodded slowly. Melchior laughed again.

"Melchi, please! I'm ashamed enough! I came to you because I needed to know, and thought you of all people wouldn't judge me."

Melchior stopped laughing. "Moritz, I wasn't making fun of you. I was only thinking, it would probably be easier to demonstrate it for you than to explain it to you." Moritz nodded, not thinking. "Of course," continued Melchior, "you'd have to get undressed first."

"What!?" Moritz grew even redder, if that were possible. "But Melchior!"

"If it would make you feel better, I can get naked too. As I was saying during our discussion the other day, I don't think one is as ashamed to be naked around his best friend if his best friend is also naked." Melchior shrugged. "That is, if you want me to teach you. I'm sure you could figure it out on your own."

After a pause as if in thought, Moritz shook his head. "No, I want—I'd rather learn with you. I'm scared of it by myself." His gaze broke from Melchior's, shifting downward. "Could you be naked with me? So I don't feel alone?"

Melchior nodded. "Of course." He stood up from his chair and began to unbutton his shirt. For several seconds Moritz simply stared at the other boy's chest as it came into view. He'd seen Melchior shirtless many times before, but for some reason this time felt… different. But Melchior noticed him looking.

"Moritz?"

Moritz shook his head briskly, the reddish hue again resurfacing on his face. His fingers began fumbling with the buttons on his own shirt. Melchior had already removed his shirt and was now unbuttoning his trousers. It was all Moritz could do not to stare as the other boy pulled the trousers off and seated himself upon his bed to remove his socks. As the socks slid gracefully down Melchior's legs he couldn't help but watch, completely fixated. Luckily, by the time Melchior looked up, he had turned his gaze away and was pretending to concentrate on the task of undoing his own trousers. He slid them past his waist, kicked them off, and peeled off his socks. He continued to sit in the wooden chair awkwardly, and looked over at Melchior.

His friend gestured at him to come over. "You can come join me on the bed if you'd like." Moritz stood shakily up and walked over, sitting down stiffly on the bed beside him. Melchior tugged at the sleeve of Moritz's unbuttoned shirt; the boy had forgotten to remove it. "You can take this off too, you know."

"Oh!" Moritz automatically removed the shirt and let it fall to the floor, leaving both the boys sitting on the bed in only their underpants. That is, until Melchior slid his off, and scooted further up on the bed until his head was resting on a pillow. He lay there, gloriously outstretched, and gloriously nude. He patted the mattress beside him. "Oh," said Moritz again, "you want me to come up there now?" Melchior nodded. Moritz paused. "Do I have to take my underwear off now?"

"Not unless you want to."

Moritz considered this briefly, then decided against it. He still felt a bit insecure about his body. If Melchior didn't make him, he didn't have to, and he didn't want to. He maneuvered himself up further on the bed until he was resting next to the nude Melchior. "All right. Well… here I am."

Melchior nodded. "So, you want me to show you how it's done?" Moritz gulped and nodded quickly. Melchior began, "First, just run your hands all over your body. Notice what feels good. Don't just touch your penis, get to know your whole body." He demonstrated, running his hands down his arms, then across his chest massaging his pectoral muscles gently and rubbing a teasing finger across his nipples. He slid his hands down his sides to his hips, which he thrust slightly upward as his hands wrapped around his legs to caress his inner thighs, running his hands down and then back up his legs until finally he allowed himself to touch his quickly-hardening penis, massaging it gently along the bottom of the shaft with his fingertips. "Do you follow me?" Moritz nodded. "Now you try."

Moritz ran his hands through his hair, then down his face, closing his eyes as he caressed his body. He let his hands run slowly down the sides of his neck, then to his chest. When he tried massaging his nipples as Melchior had done, he let out a gasp. The feeling was incredible.

"Feel good?" Melchior's voice betrayed the smirk on his face.

"Yes! Oh yes." Moritz's eyes rolled back as he continued to brush his fingertips lightly across his nipples.

"Why don't you try pinching them a little?" Melchior suggested.

Moritz did as his friend said. "Oh…" he moaned and thrust his hips upward involuntarily. It felt positively electric, as if the incredible tingling in his nipples was shooting straight to his groin. He twisted his nipples and tugged at them, pinching harder. "Oh god. Oh god!" Unbeknownst to him, Melchior licked his lips and began to slowly stroke himself.

"That's it, Moritz, you're doing fine." His voice was deep and guttural, almost primitive. "Now try feeling the rest of your body."

Moritz whimpered at the thought of having to stop caressing his erect nipples, but after giving them one last, firm squeeze, he traced his hands further down his body. He ran his fingers along the bottom of his ribcage out toward his sides, then his hands slid back up to the center of his body and followed the trail of hair that led down to the waistband of his underwear. He looked to Melchior for guidance.

"Just keep touching. Find out what your body feels like, and what your body likes to feel." Moritz noticed that his friend was stroking his own shaft. After staring for several seconds—which only turned Melchior on more—he lay back, closed his eyes, and let his hands slide over the fabric of his underwear, his touch feathering lightly across the bulge that was evident underneath. He traced the hem along the juncture of his thighs, sliding his hands down along the inside and then back up along the outside of his legs. When he got back up to his hips, he slipped his thumbs under the waistband of his underwear and slid them down and off. Melchior stared at his friend's hard cock, then let his glance run the length of his friend's body, down to his feet and slowly back up to his face. "God, Moritz, you're beautiful." Moritz blushed. "Mmm, you should try stroking yourself now."

Moritz's hand moved tentatively to rest on his penis, then gripped himself clumsily and began to move his hand up and down. It was obvious that it was an unfamiliar gesture. He looked up at Melchior. "Like this?"

Melchior nodded. "Yes, something like that. Here, let me help you." He wrapped his hand around Moritz's, guiding it up and down, up and down, until his friend became comfortable with the rhythm. "You see? It's easy, and it feels good."

"It certainly does." Moritz began to move his hand faster, squeezing slightly as it slid past the tip of his penis. Melchior decided that the boy now understood what he was doing and could please himself—not to mention that touching Moritz had made him ridiculously aroused—and he let go of Moritz's hand to return to his own, now-throbbing erection. Up and down he stroked it, up and down, faster and faster. He almost couldn't stand it.

"You can use your other hand to play with your nipples again," Melchior panted, "while you touch yourself. If you want."

Moritz nodded heartily and did as Melchior suggested, causing himself to moan loudly and thrust hard into his fist. "Fuck, this feels good!" he hissed.

Melchior could only grunt in agreement. Watching Moritz masturbate, hearing his friend moan almost directly into his ear, made him feel more turned on than he had ever been in his life. He stroked himself faster and faster, rocking his hips up and down and moaning primally through his teeth. Lying here, touching himself next to his best friend, watching Moritz and knowing that Moritz was watching him, absolutely drove Melchior mad. When Moritz let out a loud and very enthusiastic moan, that was all it took to send Melchior over the edge. He gasped, pumping his fist up and down and up and down as he felt the slick cum trickle over his hand. Now he understood what it meant to let heaven break over you. That was the most incredible orgasm he could ever remember having; it felt as though his entire body had experienced it.

Melchior then turned to look at Moritz. He was staring hungrily at Melchior's body, unsure why he was feeling what he was. He couldn't have explained the feeling if someone asked him—it was almost as if he felt on edge in a way he never had before. If it were possible to feel on edge in a good way, to feel as if every physical and emotional nerve was stretched to its limit in a sense that was not miserable but instead positively delicious, well, this was it. When he saw Melchior ejaculate (he had a self-satisfied feeling about knowing what it was called now), his body felt quivery and he instantly knew that that was what his body craved. His hand moved faster and faster, and he threw his head back heedlessly. Melchior leaned in and whispered into his ear, "Moritz, you're amazing. I just love watching you."

Moritz's moans became more and more high-pitched as he felt the rapid buildup of his orgasm. "Oh, Melchi, is this—is this—?!" He let out a sudden squeak as his body answered his own question. "Ahhh!" He had no experience in aiming his orgasm; consequently, as he came, it spattered across his chest and abdomen, with a few drops even landing on Melchior. He continued to breathe in shallow gasps as he tried to speak. "That—that was—was incredi—now I understand why people—oh god."

Melchior smiled in satisfaction. He hadn't made Moritz cum per se, but the knowledge that it was because of his guidance that his best friend had had such a pleasurable experience pleased him. "Better than your dreams?"

Moritz nodded as enthusiastically as his overwhelmed head could muster. "Oh yes. Oh yes." He closed his eyes blissfully and let himself fall back into the pillow and lay there for several long seconds. Suddenly, his eyes opened and he turned to look at his friend. "So Melchi..." He looked down at himself, then at Melchior. "... how do I clean up all this mess?"

Melchior smiled and laughed. "Oh, Mortiz." He picked up a shirt that had already been worn, and wiped Moritz's cum off of both of them.

"Melchi!" Moritz looked up at him with a slightly pathetic face. "What I—what we did—," he broke his gaze downward, "it made a sticky mess anyway."

Melchior could only shake his head. His friend was hopeless. "Yes, it did. Let's get you to the bathroom and we'll wash up."