<div class="floatright">(http://i425.photobucket.com/albums/pp340/daggeroflath/dyllansmall_zps351171d4.jpg)<br/><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="bbc_u"><strong>Dyllan</strong></span><br/><strong>The Room</strong></div></div>Dyllan climbed the chair, following Brad's instructions. He was starting to feel sick with nervous tension, but he set he set his knee in place trying to get the limited strength of his whole body lined up. If he did it quickly, it wasn't going to hurt Brad as much. While the thought crossed his mind that delivering a little pain to Brad might be some deserved payback, he knew that their 'relationship' didn't work that way. All the pain was delivered one way, from Brad to him. Anything going back the other way went against the natural order of things, and he didn't think Brad would put up with it without giving him some payback of his own on top of the regular allotment of torment.<br/><br/>He was distracted thinking about lining himself up correctly when Brad let out his scream of pain. He flinched so hard that he almost fell off the desk, thinking 'ohgod ohgod ohgod, he's really going to kill me this time, what did I just do'. He almost fainted with relief when Brad turned and smiled at him, just another joke to embarrass and humiliate him in front of everyone. He didn't know why Brad bothered with that sometimes. Surely everyone at school already knew that Dyllan was just a chew-toy to big alpha dog Brad.<br/><br/>His heart was still pounding from the fear, but he actually felt a bit more comfortable now as he got ready to reset the arm. Brad's little joke, showed that he knew exactly what Dyllan was afraid of and if he was willing to make a joke out of it, he probably wouldn't take it seriously later. That was what gave him the confidence to set himself back up and on the count of three pull back with all the strength and weight he could manage. The snaps and crackles he heard made him a little greener, but it seemed to work.<br/><br/>When Brad turned at looked at him, they were both pale and looking a bit sickly. Dyllan stared at him, wondering 'did it work? did I fix it? is he going to pound me for this?'. After a moment the prolonged eye contact from so close became uncomfortably awkward for Dyllan. Both of them breathing so heavily it seemed somehow intimate.<br/><br/>Brad solved the awkwardness of the moment in typical Brad-fashion by wrestling his head into a lock and giving him a noogy. It hurt a little, but was far from the most dreaded tool in Brad's arsenal. Somewhere in the back of his head, possibly the very spot Brads knuckles were tormenting, Dyllan associated noogies with Brad not having the time, energy or creativity to mess with Dyllan in another way and just reminding him of his place when they ran into one another. It was almost a handshake or a wave. This wasn't even a particularly bad one, though he struggled to pull his head out of Brad's lap and get out of the noogy.<br/><br/>When Brad released him, Dyllan staggered back a little relieved by how well the whole thing had gone. Brad seemed calmer now than he had been when he first charged into the room and it seemed he was done with tormenting Dyllan, at least for the moment.<br/><br/>He walked back over the desk where people had been playing cards, glancing nervously back over at Brad a few times out of sheer spinal reflex. He wondered what Brad meant about 'Big boy games'. He even felt a little bit proud of himself for surviving that little encounter and smiled nervously as he approached the table,<br/>"What's going on?" he asked, not having spared any attention for the rest of the room while his focus had been solely on Brad.