gay romance

8===> More than the big ball in Times Square drops at midnight

As Josh pulled into the pizza store parking lot he shifted the still half-hard shaft straining the fabric of his shorts. He also took one more glance at his phone again…hoping against all hope to find a text from Kyle he had missed…and saw that it was a few minutes after 10PM now. He frowned at both the hour and at the still empty, new text screen before he kicked open the car door and sluggishly walked into the shop.

“Please tell me I am done and can get the hell out of here,” was the begging whine he gave Cody when he saw just two boxes stacked on top of each other under the heat lamp. “That last run almost killed me man.”

Cody grinned wide at first as he couldn’t help but notice both the obvious protrusion and the dark wet spot on Josh’s crotch. Then his face adopted a, ‘You don’t wanna know’ look that made Josh cringe. “Well little bro…”

Josh cut him off in mid sentence with, “Fuck no Cody! Somebody will be back soon enough to take that one! Please don’t ask me to do ‘just one more’.”

“Shut the hell up and listen a minute, Josh,” Cody ordered.

Josh slumped to the chair next to the dispatch screen without looking at it, but did give his friend a look that could kill as he already knew the pleading that was about to come. “Oh what the fuck! It’s not like I have anything to go home to except an empty house anyway.” His expression was something resembling a martini blended of hatred, lust, and despair…and eyes that were like a pair of wet olives floating on top trying to make love to the mixture but only succeeding in weeping.

“Josh…” Cody began as he walked to the chair and squatted down as he wrapped an arm around his shoulder, “…listen to me guy. This one is the last one and the only reason I want you to take it is because it’s right on your way.” He paused before adding, “Its a comp’d order, but this guy will tip big anyway. Easy money for you.”

Josh felt the squeeze on his upper arm and saw the magnified smile on Cody’s face. Exceptional tip or not, he had no desire to even see another customer tonight, much less be friendly. He just wanted to go to the house and cry. “Please Cody. Let somebody else deliver the damn thing,” he whined.

Cody playfully turned Josh’s face to his and looked straight into his eyes as he said, “Josh, you just might want to look at the address before you bitch anymore because this is a really good customer of yours. But if you really don’t want to drop this one off…” The sarcastic grin he tacked on the unfinished statement was as confusing as the wink and glance he gave towards the computer screen above them.

Josh’s eyes grudgingly followed Cody’s to the glowing monitor. He shook his head a little to find clarity of the street and house number he was seeing; then almost knocked his friend over as he jumped up from the chair and pasted his face to the screen to let the far too familiar address bore into his brain. “If you are fucking with me, I swear I will stuff your ass in the pizza oven, Cody!” burst from his lips and his eyes began to moisten. He spun around to take in the wide smile on Cody’s face and was literally shaking as he mumbled, “Are you serious? Is he REALLY there?”

Cody grinned from ear-to-ear as he embraced his friend and whispered in his ear. “All I am going to say is the customer said he is really, really, really hungry, and he will never order from us again if anyone but you shows up with his food. And the customer is always right aren’t they?” The huge guffaw that came after those words made Josh start laughing too, as tears of joy streamed down his cheeks.

After managing to regain some composure, Josh looked at Cody and asked, “Is this some really twisted scheme Kyle talked you into to mess with my mind half the night?”

Cody simply grinned and replied, “Nope! All I am allowed to tell you is his cell battery died at the Rochester airport just as they called for his flight to board, and he called the shop from a pay phone about two hours ago, to tell me he was in Atlanta and catching the last commuter here in 15 minutes…but to not tell you.” Cody halted for a breath and then added, “I think he wanted to surprise you since the day had been so fucked up, Josh.”

Josh slammed both hands on his hips and announced, “I don’t know whether I want to kick his ass or just make love to him until his evil head explodes.” He couldn’t help but join Cody in a very healthy laugh at his supposedly conflicted emotions. Deep down inside, he was doing a happy dance like he had never done one before. His man was home!

Getting checked out was done in record time and after a hug and New Year’s kiss from Cody, Josh literally ran from the shop to his car with his one last delivery of the night. As he started the old Honda up, the radio station began playing hits from the 1990′s and the first one was the 10,000 Maniacs chart buster ‘Because the Night Belongs to Lovers.’ Josh’s tears of happiness wouldn’t stop coming for the next three blocks as he let the words of the song speak to him. As much as he wanted to drive faster than a Blue Angels pilot showing off in an F-18 Hornet, Josh wasn’t about to take any chances and drove slowly and cautiously while taking in every word of the song playing. At one stop light he looked up through his windshield at the mist covered moon, and spoke to it with, “Please let that song be ours tonight.” He kept staring at the twinkling stars and luminous moon and allowed himself to drift into daydreaming about his and Kyle’s live video session again before a honking horn behind him brought him back to reality. As he slowly drove under the now green light, he felt a pleasingly painful hard-on that was once again straining the fabric of his too tight briefs. He snickered as he realized part of his fresh wood came from the vivid memory of the mutual huge explosions he and Kyle had shared by their own hands while camming last night and how they had video cuddled and pillow talked afterwards. He also knew that a bigger reason was the fantasy that was taking more and more space in his mind of what was to come yet tonight. By the time Josh turned into the driveway of the house on the bay, his undies and his mind were both a sticky mess.

He was almost all the way to the front door when he remembered the food that was in the car. ‘Dammit! Kyle is probably actually hungry,’ zinged thru his brain as he did a heel and toe spin, and ran back to grab the two boxes sitting on the passenger seat. An evil smirk crept to his lips as he approached the small covered porch again and he spoke quietly to the warm cardboard in his hands. “He wants to play pizza boy at the door by calling in an order, does he? Couldn’t be bothered to call me and say, ‘Hey I am home,’ could he? Thinks he won this one, does he?” He snickered under his breath as he decided to get even and be ‘just the pizza guy dropping off a freebie.’ Instead of barging through the entry like he wanted to, he rapped the door hard with his knuckles and waited patiently.

When the door opened a moment later, Kyle was standing there in only the same blue and white board shorts he had on the first time they met. “Great! Dinner is finally here,” was all he said as he stuffed a pair of crisp $20′s in Josh’s shirt pocket and snatched the two boxes from his grasp. Before closing the door in his boyfriend’s face, he tacked on, “Thanks and keep the change.”

Josh slid down the wall and sat on the concrete with his arms crossed waiting for the door to reopen. He chuckled as he thought to himself how Kyle thinks he is winning this little game of foreplay chess. He reached down to rub the strange double lump in the large pocket on the right side of his leg. “I still have his extra icing cups for the cinnamon bread in my pocket and that’s called ‘Checkmate bitch!’” But he decided to play it up and pasted the most despondent look he could muster on his face when the door creaked open again.

“Aw come here babe. You know I am just messing with you, ” pierced the night air above him.

Josh started to pull himself to his feet, and tried to not let the excitement of seeing his lover’s nearly naked frame silhouetted by the lights from inside the house get to him, but gave in as Kyle clutched his head and pulled him to his lips. Josh returned the tongue battle as he also snaked his hand down to the pouch of his cargos holding the extra icing containers, and managed to get one out and the top loose without Kyle noticing. Just as he was feeling Kyle’s hand slip behind him and grope his globes, Josh raised his hand to the front of Kyle’s boardies and pulled the waistband out far enough to be able to squeeze the icing down inside them. Kyle jumped back as he felt the semi liquid ooze down over his cock and pubes and yelled, “What the hell Josh?”

Josh grinned wide and pulled out one of the twenty dollar bills Kyle had wedged in his shirt pocket. “Sorry buddy, but I only get bought off by one guy now.” He snickered as he pressed the bill into Kyle’s hand. “But hey…at least you got your dick wet and sticky.” The befuddled look on his face was priceless as Josh knew he had him by the balls now. He sealed that in Kyle’s mind by moving his hand to his crotch and massaging them thru the surfer trunks. “But I am kinda horny, so if you don’t tell him, I won’t either, stud.”

The laughs and embrace they shared then was only finally broken when Kyle said, “Oh what the hell. I have never been able to say ‘no’ to a really cute blond pizza guy.” He laced his fingers with Josh’s and guided him through the doorway before adding with a wink, “Just don’t wear me totally out…my boyfriend is supposed to be here sometime yet tonight.”

Josh angled his face to Kyle’s ear and whispered as he kept rubbing the globs of icing on Kyle’s cock, pubes, and balls through the shorts. “By the time I finish licking off the mess I am making of your crotch, you will forget about any other guys even existing. In fact, by the time this night is over, you won’t even remember your ‘other’ boyfriend’s name.”

Kyle pinned Josh to the foyer wall and kissed him again. He could feel his pre leaking and mixing with the sweet dessert topping. “Okay baby…I’m going to let you win this one only because I have missed you so much and can’t take it anymore.”

The nuzzling that Kyle’s lips began inflicting on Josh’s neck made him quiver and decide that both of them were going to be the winners tonight. He pulled away from Kyle long enough to pick up the food boxes from the hall table and tease him by walking away with it. “Dinner in bed sound good, hunk?” He purposely wiggled his bubble butt and then looked over his shoulder with a seductive smile and a throaty, “Or do you want dessert first?” Not waiting for an answer, he then ran for the bedroom with Kyle in immediate fast pursuit. He came to a screeching halt one foot inside the bedroom door and stared in disbelief at what he saw. Had Kyle not been quick enough, the pizza box would have followed the dessert one and hit the floor too, as they both slowly slipped from Josh’s grasp.

Kyle quickly sat the rescued boxes aside and said, “So much for being able to seduce you first and surprise you.” His arms encircled Josh’s waist from behind and snuggled his boned up crotch to Josh’s round butt cheeks. “You like it baby?”

Josh had to literally dig to find his voice. “Gawd Kyle…it’s…it’s…it’s amazing!” eventually found a way to escape from his lips. He had found out long ago that Kyle had a serious romantic streak, but he had really outdone himself this time. There were scented candles burning everywhere…some red, some white. The TV was on showing the partying in Times Square, but with the sound muted in favor of the Elton John love songs CD playing on the stereo. A new, pure white comforter was adorning the California king waterbed along with four oversized pillows sheathed in white satin cases. Deep red rose petals were scattered all over the bed and the huge Tigger and Pooh stuffed animals were cuddled together in the center…patiently holding the spot for their owners. Josh leaned back into Kyle’s arms and sniffled a little. “You are just too much at times, babe.”

Kyle pulled him back into him tight. He exhaled a hot breath into Josh’s ear and then added the words, “There can never be too much when it comes to you after that stunt with the sign at the airport, lover.” He gently kissed his way across Josh’s cheek and then lightly brushed his lips over the moist ones he found. Kyle could taste the saltiness on Josh’s cheek and spun him around to stare in his eyes while he held him. “Why are you crying baby?”

Josh inhaled deep and in almost a whimper answered, “Because with all the ways I thought of how special I wanted this New Year to start, I never thought it could be like this, Kyle. I love you so much. Sometimes I am scared I can’t be everything you deserve.” He surrendered himself to Kyle’s strong arms and buried his damp face between his bare pecs.

Kyle muzzled the little laugh that was trying to crawl from his throat and simply stroked Josh’s thick blond locks while holding him. He thought to himself, ‘I do stuff like this because I cant always find the words to say how much you mean to me.’ Eventually he tilted Josh’s face upwards and after kissing his nose he softly and sincerely uttered, “All you have to do to be everything I want or need, is to just keep being you. You finished owning my heart ten days ago with that sign at the airport.”

Josh smiled.

Kyle smiled.

The smiles evolved to a passionate kiss and they continued to just hold each other while swaying to the music and words of ‘Can You Feel the Love Tonight’ echoing from the walls. The digital clock in Times Square on the television was showing 11:01 as they sank down to the softness of the bed. There were only fifty-nine more minutes left in what had become a most special year for both of them.

They spent a few long minutes of just laying with their arms and legs entwined…trading tender kisses and finding a lulling peacefulness from the rest of the world while huddling together. Kyle finally broke the silence by propping himself up on his left arm and letting his eyes drill into Josh’s as he declared, “I love you so much, Joshie.”

It was by far the most seductive he had ever heard Kyle’s voice be. Before he could reply back, Josh’s work polo was being rolled up his abs and he let a purr trickle from his lips as he felt Kyle’s fingers dance across them. He sat up slightly and raised his arms to make it easier for Kyle to finish removing the tight pullover. Teeth were tenderly nibbling on his right boy teat before the shirt hit the floor beside the bed. Josh gritted his own pearlies and released a deep moan from his innermost being as he grabbed the thick, dark hair of the head pinned to his chest. “Mmmmm Kylio, my one and only,” seeped from between his lips as he pinched his eye lids shut in pleasure from the combined feelings of the mouth on his pecs and the fingers erotically moving back and forth on his smooth tummy. Kyle had his pinky in Josh’s belly button teasing it, at the same time his thumb and index finger popped the snap on his khakis. He allowed himself the gratification of gliding his hands down Kyle’s firm back and enticingly tug the waistband of his board shorts downward…just far enough to expose Kyle’s hard cheeks and snug the elastic at the bottom of them. It was as much a go-ahead signal to Kyle, as it was a desire to get them off him. The warm, moist lips moved to suckle the small divot at the base of Josh’s neck at the same time he felt the fingers graze his fabric trapped erection as his zipper was being lowered.

“I think somebody has a big hard-on,” accompanied the grinning face that Kyle gave Josh as he finished opening the flaps on his cargos. He bent over to kiss the large damp spot showing near the elastic on the baby blue bikinis he had found once he jockeyed the work shorts lower. Josh was so hypnotized by the movements of Kyle’s lips on his cotton covered cock, that he didn’t even feel his hand slip inside one of the leg pouches and pull out the final dessert icing cup Josh had there. “I think we need to free it before it rips out a seam or two,” came from Kyle just before Josh lifted his hips to allow the shorts to be pushed down to his feet. Kyle smiled as he sat up on his knees and noticed Josh’s oozing mushroom sneaking out from the yielding waistband of the skimpy, well-packed, blue briefs.

As he kicked and freed the khaki shorts from his toes, Josh smiled back and reached up to grab a handful of the bulge that couldn’t have been any more obvious in the blue and white surfer trunks. “I don’t think I am the only one with a massive wood problem right now.” Continuing to clutch and fondle his lover’s crotch, Josh added with a grin, “Feels like you have a petrified Redwood hidden in there, babe.” He pondered for a few seconds on whether to run his hand nonchalantly up inside a leg opening and sensually search for Kyle’s prize, or just let his lust go wild and yank his boardies down and swallow it. Before he could decide, Kyle shifted quickly and dropped a knee on each side of Josh’s stretched out legs and leaned over to grind his tree trunk against Josh’s. The intimacy of their pleasure rods meshing together through the two fabrics of their underwear was almost too much. Josh snapped his eyes closed again to enjoy the gentle thrusts and grinds of his lover. He grasped Kyle’s forearms and let out a moan that was near orgasmic by itself to Kyle’s ears.

Kyle happily smirked as he looked down and saw a growing puddle of pre juice pooling on Josh’s tummy. He sat up on Josh’s thighs again and shifted his fingers to Josh’s hips. He worked his long digits inside the binding elastic at the sides and in almost time-lapse photography fashion, ever so slowly peeled the tight blue bikinis that he would never find sexy on any guy but his Joshie, down his young lover’s still farm-hard thighs. He left the undies hang around Josh’s knees and shimmied his butt back onto his calves. As his hand encircled the base of the standing-at-attention erection, he verbally observed, “Oh yeah baby…looks and feels a whole lot better than it did last night on the cam.” Kyle tacked on a big wink before lowering his face to tease Josh’s nut sac with his tongue tip. His palm gripped tighter around the pulsing flesh and just squeezed it forcefully while Josh’s hips raised to meet Kyle’s tongue. The noises Josh began to make, could have been a soundtrack for a porn movie.

“You don’t have any idea how much I have missed being with you, Kyle,” finally squeaked out in between Josh’s gasps and moans. He tried fruitlessly to grab Kyle’s shoulders and pull him up to his face to make out some more…his hands finding nothing but air as Kyle continued to nurse his cum holders with his mouth and milk his tool with his fist. A major shiver ran up his spine as he felt Kyle drop the grip on his trembling cock and his tongue cruise under his balls to lick at his sweet spot. “Oh fuck me running, babe,” screamed from his lips when Kyle’s teeth took over and he munched just hard enough on the knot to simultaneously make Josh’s legs spread even wider and rise to a half sitting position. Leaning far enough forward to be able to manage latching onto the waist of Kyle’s board shorts, Josh shoved his hands inside them and begin a fumbled search that ran from first pawing at the hard globes, to forcing their way to the front and be able to finally touch the hard as rock flesh he hadn’t for almost two weeks. “I want your fucking dick, lover,” exploded from Josh’s mouth and he snared Kyle’s eight incher and held on as if he would let go, he would never get the chance to touch it again.

Kyle was half laughing as he pulled back from the snacking his mouth had been doing on Josh’s nuts. He sat up and then leaned back on his hands with a devilish smile on his boyish face. “Help me get the hell out of these damn shorts then, baby,” was all he said as he dropped to his back and begin to push the blue and white trunks over his massive boner. Josh said not word one as he slapped Kyle’s hands away and fixated his eyes on the biggest tent he had ever seen Kyle create. His finger tips from both hands locked into the waistband and without bothering to unlace the draw string, he jerked it down over Kyle’s blood engorged flesh. Once the fabric had cleared the head and shaft, Josh was like a wild man as he yanked them down his thighs and calves so fast that it was nothing but a blue and white blur as they came off his ankles and flew across the room. Kyle was biting his tongue to keep from laughing at Josh’s excitement; but was strangely turned on by it also. Kyle was now naked and fully prone on his back with his flag pole pointing to the ceiling. He reached for the icing cup he had sneaked out of Josh’s cargos a few minutes earlier and waved it in Josh’s face as he adopted a slutty but also innocent voice. “Want to add some more before you clean up that mess you made in my pubes when you first got home, baby?”

Josh’s first ideas were to either burst out laughing or to snatch the icing and cover Kyle’s face with it. He allowed his own evil grin to mold his face as he took the container from Kyle and opened it. He dribbled one long rope after another of the white dessert jelly on the twitching pole and squished the last bit out onto his balls. As he used his knees to separate Kyle’s legs and begin to bend down, he gave a hint to what he had planned with, “Oh I am going to do more than just clean you up good, stud.” With nothing more said, Josh’s head dropped fully and he began to lick up all the sweet glaze that was now mixing with the natural cream that was getting coached from the slit of Kyle’s cock.

Kyle alternated from watching Josh lick every square inch of his pubes and family jewels, to closing his eyes and enjoying what was quickly becoming the best tongue bath Josh had ever given him. It felt at times as if Josh had three separate taste organs working him and at least a couple pairs of lips; and at other times that his lover was determined to use them to make him cum long before he wanted to. Sometimes it was as if Josh was wired with 220 and sending electric shocks through his whole body via just his tongue tip. Other times he felt as if Josh was trying to swallow his entire torso as his lips and tongue seemed to be everywhere. At one point, Josh pushed him right to the edge as he slurped his way down his man stick and gulped the head into his throat…and then began to lick the icing from his nut sac while still having his tonsils choked. The blobs of the dessert topping had already been cleaned from Kyle’s well trimmed pubes, but now his balls were churning hard and ready for release if Josh didn’t slow down soon. As much as he was enjoying Josh making love to him this way, he also knew there was something much more important to both of them tonight. He reached down and gently pulled Josh off his cock and up to his face with the whispered caveat, “Not yet baby…don’t make me cum yet…please.”

Josh folded himself into Kyle’s arms and they shared a wet and sticky kiss. Both their tongues enjoyed the strange sweetness of the combination of the sugary gel and Kyle’s pre juice. Josh finally pulled away from Kyle’s lips and lustfully spoke, “I just want you good and ready to cum for me babe.” With the shortest of pauses he sneered and added, “Well, I want us both good and ready actually.” He sprawled his compact body on Kyle’s larger frame and smiled so wide as his eyes twinkled and he squirmed his butt cheeks against the thick rod. “You know what I really want Kyle…” He let the unfinished statement hang with nothing but a pleading sneer and simply waited for the man he loved so much to complete it.

Kyle’s face beamed even bigger and brighter than Josh’s and held him tight. He used a finger tip to trace the outline of Josh’s lips and then kissed them…not intently; not deep; not with any tongue…just in a way that was so seductive, tender, and loving. His arms were draped over Josh’s shoulders and his hands were seesawing from yearningly stroking his bare back, to gingerly digging into the muscles. About the same moment that Josh forced his tongue between Kyle’s lips again, Kyle locked his fingers together at the base of Josh’s spine and ever so effortlessly, rolled him over while sucking on the cat-rough tongue now in his mouth. Now on top, Kyle’s hard bone mashed down against his young lover’s equally stiff shaft and Josh began what could only be described as a rhythmic waltz of his hips. The resulting slow grind caused each to moan deeply in the other’s mouth. Kyle stopped kissing long enough to be able to exclaim happily, “My gawd Joshua…I don’t think I have ever wanted you more than right now.”

Before Josh could reply, Kyle smothered his lips again and returned the slow, methodic gyrations with his own. Their male nectar seeped in an almost constant flow from their slits and after a few minutes of the intense frottage, the squishing noises coming from their waists and tummies was almost as loud as their guttural moans. Suddenly in one swift but flawless motion; and without breaking the lip lock he had on Josh; Kyle shifted his lower body up and wedged his fleshy snake under Josh’s tight sac. It first bumped the hard skin just under the nuts, and then seamlessly slid down along the crack of Josh’s cheeks…trailing pre slime along them like it was marking territory. A happy whimper spewed from Josh as he clamped his upper thighs and butt split around the welcome invasion of his man’s throbbing meat. Even though the patient strokes weren’t making contact with his own cum tube, Kyle continued to thrust slowly and gently so that the top side of his tool was pleasuring his lover’s hot spot.

Josh finally had to tear his lips from Kyle; partially to take in a much needed breath; and partly to utter the words that Kyle was waiting to hear. “I love you so much Kyle. Please make us one tonight. Please!” His finger nails broke the skin on Kyle’s hard back as Josh dug in with uncontrolled passion. “Please make love to me…no…please make love with me…in the one way we still haven’t. Please!”

Kyle stopped the motion of his hips but left his timber stay between the warm, trembling mounds of the young man that had unknowingly taught him how to truly love again. His face was glowing as he placed it against Josh’s; stared more intently into his eyes than he ever had before; and murmured, “I am ready to become one too, my sweet baby.” Before Josh could respond, Kyle added, “One tonight and one forevermore.” The looks they then exchanged said it all…but were quickly coupled with barely audible multiple ‘I love you’s’ as their bodies frenziedly confirmed the words they shared.

Josh gave up his lip grip first and teasingly squeezed his butt cheeks on Kyle’s bone. Kyle grinned but said nothing as he planted kisses along Josh’s face to his neck and then down to his chest. His hardness slipped from between Josh’s quaking buns as Kyle shifted downward more and his moist lips and wet tongue continued to map their way south. By the time he was swirling his tongue in Josh’s man shrubbery, legs were encircling his waist. “You are really gonna drag this out and make me completely crazy aren’t you, Kyle?”

A devilish grin appeared as Kyle lifted his face for a second and gazed up across Josh’s body. He was cupping his ball sac and massaging it gently with his palm as he asked, “You don’t really want ‘Wham! Bam! Thank you Sam!’ do you lover?” Since Josh predictably began to snicker and shake his head no, Kyle returned his to the previous spot and embarked on licking his way over the right side of the pelvic bone and then down to the taut skin where crotch, balls, and thigh all meet. He lifted and pushed aside the leg that was keeping his taster from that piece of sensitive flesh, and nursed in it until his suckling had Josh thrashing the bed with his fists. The begging moan that came from above as he slithered his tongue down the inside of Josh’s thigh a few inches told him he probably shouldn’t continue the foreplay teasing he was giving his man too long. As Kyle kissed his way back up the thigh and let his tongue caress Josh’s nuts a moment; he battled in his mind between wanting to make this first time the most special one ever, and the selfish growing desire to bring both of them to satisfaction in the next ten seconds. He quickly dismissed the latter and moved back under Josh’s balls. As he used his entire mouth on the flesh between cum holders and butt crack, he intentionally kept avoiding Josh’s cock that was spasming on its own against his pubes and tummy. It was far more for fear that even a little glancing touch at this point might make it totally convulse and explode, than it was from lack of wanting to play with it. They smiled at each other with the mind-meld knowledge that Josh also was avoiding touching himself to keep the coming specialness of shared orgasms tonight, from happening prematurely.

“MMMMM Kylioooo,” flowed from Josh’s throat when Kyle’s tongue first wiggled its way down the fissure that separated his soft cheeks. When Kyle grasped one in each hand and pried them wide so his tongue could whisk over the winking pucker, Josh squirmed wildly, anchored his knees to Kyle’s ears, and then locked his ankles together across his back so he could pull the amazing lips tight to his manboy pussy. Soft screams of “OH MY FUCKIN’ GAWD KYLE! Eat it! Get it ready!” filled the room as Kyle shoved his tongue thru the tight ring and began to use his teeth and lips to make Josh’s bung heat up. His fingers corkscrewed into Kyle’s dark hair while his ass was being welcomingly intruded by a curled tongue. “Get it all wet lover. You need it wet so that huge fucking man tool of yours will fit without using a pry bar. I want to make love…not feel like the Washington monument is taking my ass. Get it wet and ready and make us one, my love. Make it beg to be screwed!”

Kyle chortled under his breath at the way Josh was pairing loving thoughts with sexually excited trash talk. More seemingly contradictory thoughts kept flowing from Josh as Kyle rammed his tongue in and out, in and out, in and out…again and again and again. He was also scooting up to his knees and raising Josh’s legs at the same time he was treating the love hole like a buffet. On his final oral attack, Kyle synched grabbing Josh’s waist with pulling him into him while he jammed his face forward. His tongue went in as deep as it could without using a scalpel to make it big enough for his entire head. Kyle’s lips were sucking from the exterior like he was trying to get the first drop of an extra thick milkshake thru a narrow straw, as he also rapid fired his tongue against Josh’s interior nerve endings. That brought Josh’s ass high off the bed and Kyle quickly reached for one of the white satin pillows to stick under him. By the time he backed his face from the puckering flower, Josh’s buns were settling onto the pillow at the perfect height for Kyle to snuggle his bone up against it.

“Now…Kyle…now…puhh~lease!” was all that Josh could muster when he felt the knob glancingly poke him. His words and his breath was coming in rapid, short bursts. His eyes were ablaze.

“Soon baby…very soon…I promise,” was the commitment Kyle gave as he began to rub his oozing head over the spot his mouth had just left. “Let me get that sweet man twat of yours a little more wet so we don’t need lube.” After smearing Josh’s entrance with his own juice, he chanced pushing him over the edge by swiping up into his palm, some of the pre that was leaking from Josh’s mushroom. It was an almost terminal error as Josh shook and quivered uncontrollably, and his balls noticeably drew up extra tight. A quick thumb from Kyle, slapped tight to the base of his cum hose, was all that kept Josh from painting them both at that moment. Kyle kept the pressure on as he felt the fight Josh’s load was making to get free. He leaned over and kissed Josh deeply…hoping to help shift his mind from subconsciously forcing the eruption to happen and so Kyle could concentrate on working a pre soaked finger or two inside Josh. He knew his lover was relaxed and almost ready, but he also knew there was no way either could hold out for the time it would take to work his thick cock inside him without a little more prep. He succeeded in getting the first wet finger in easily and Josh responded by clamping down on it with his ass muscles and sucking hard on Kyle’s tongue at the same time. He felt through his thumb, Josh’s load finally give up and retreat back to his balls as he wiggled the tip of the second finger in. Josh moaned in Kyle’s mouth and alluringly shimmied his rump back onto the new intrusion. Kyle used some more of his own white goo to slick up his lover’s hole and slowly finger fucked him until Josh seemed as relaxed as he could be. Pulling his mouth from Josh’s, and with a few more easy finger pokes he simply asked, “Ready baby?”

“More than you can possibly believe Kyle.” Nothing else verbal came from Josh. The smile on his face was big. The gleam in his eyes was unmistakable. The softness in his voice had been as tender as the hand that was now running to-and-fro on Kyle’s hard pecs. The desire for intense physical love making had replaced the lust for a fuck me hard and quick orgasm.

The legs Josh lifted onto his shoulders finalized the unspoken visual answers for Kyle. His hips drifted lazily forward until the seeping cock tip was pressed to Josh’s most intimate spot. He paused just long enough for Josh to take another breath and then gradually eased forward on his knees.

As he felt Kyle push gently and his willing rosebud start to bloom open, Josh purred with, “Make us one my forever love.” His eyes rolled back. Then the lids slowly closed. He bit down on his upper lip as he felt Kyle finally pierce his ring.

Kyle was holding Josh’s ankles high and wide and he just barely caught the chomp Josh made to his lip thanks to his own eyes snapping shut as the tip of his dick disappeared into his lover’s most special slot for the first time. “mmmMMMMmmm,” poured across Kyle’s tongue, and was followed with, “My baby is soooooo tight,” as the rest of his once again preeing madly cock head cleared Josh’s tight opening. He stopped and let the mushroom lay and throb just inside as he ran his hand over Josh’s cheek and asked, “You OK sweetie?”

Josh opened his eyes and they fluttered a little as he licked his lips and smiled before saying, “Oh yeaaaah…I’m more than OK babe.”

Kyle could tell that Josh was holding back the total truth and even though he was bigger than average, he didn’t consider himself anything huge. But he also knew that it had been months since anything more than his tongue or a finger or two had been in Josh’s warm cavern. He didn’t want to go too fast and chance hurting him. His mind…surprisingly; considering the moment…was also recollecting the night they had folded up together for pillow talk after an intense mutual oral session, and somehow ended up discussing their sexual pasts. Josh was surprised to find that Kyle had been almost virtually celibate for the past three years after being dumped by his high school boyfriend; and simply depending on jerking off in cyber session hook ups from chat rooms, and a little internet porn to handle his basic physical needs. Kyle lovingly told Josh how he understood the wild oats he had been sowing since losing his gay virginity at the start of the semester…but he also got him to accept that not only was it a foolish and possibly fatal risk to keep taking; but that he expected total monogamy if Josh wanted to keep seeing him. He smiled to himself as he realized that was the moment that Josh took the real first step towards where they both were in the present…when he told Kyle that the stipulation was more than fine with him. He knew between school and the pizza job, that Josh was constantly being tempted to break that vow. But he also knew Josh’s word was gold and that he was no good at lying. From that night forward, Kyle gave him…rightfully so…the same total trust Josh gave to him. There had never been any question of faithfulness. The sudden pressure on his joy stick of Josh slowly pushing back into him with his bubble butt brought the instant replay of that night to a quick close.

“MMMmmmMMM, Kylioooo. More babe…now…please,” leaked from Josh’s lips as his quaking loins worked against Kyle’s stiffness. His hands were roaming all over the hard chest and lightly rippled abs above him, as his body was slowly but also instinctively giving up more and more of itself to the one poised above him. He pinched his lips tightly together as he felt Kyle shift into him with a new inch of hard flesh and stared in awe at the man he was yielding himself to so willingly before his eyes closed tight. His mind began racing behind the lids. Even though he found Kyle to be so appealing thanks to his almost Greek-god-like chiseled good looks; he also remembered something that Kyle proffered the first time they voiced their innermost feelings for each other while on the forced holiday separation…how if the words were real, they didn’t come from falling in love with the skin. When he mulled that thought over in his mind then, he knew in his heart that he had fallen in love with much more than a physically beautiful guy…it was what was inside that really counted. He snickered slightly as he knew he would love Kyle no less at this moment…even if he opened his eyes to see a young, Danny DeVito look-alike between his thighs.

Kyle was about to question the half laugh coming from his boyfriend, when another couple of inches of his bone was swallowed up by an abrupt shift of Josh’s hips backwards. The smile on his face and the glittering, again open eyes, told him Josh had composed himself to having Kyle’s thickness inside him and was permitting himself to enjoy it as the initial pain dwindled away. Kyle pulled back an inch or two and then slowly moved three back in as he throatily moaned, “I love you so much.” Josh opened his mouth but his only reply became a firm grasp on Kyle’s hips accompanied by a jungle-like growl as Kyle repeated the pull-back and thrust-in a new extra inch or more again. He paused and let his eyes take in Josh’s expression to make certain he wasn’t going any faster than his lover was prepared for. Just to make sure, he softly asked, “Still OK sweet one?”

Josh spit out an obviously happy, “MMM~HHMMM,” and jolted back against Kyle enough to take almost all of his remaining shaft.

The shiver that ran up Kyle’s spine as Josh’s ass muscles squeezed his rod was a like a sudden bone-chilling, sub-zero, Rochester winter wind and made his balls tingle as if they were frost-bitten finger tips bumping against a steel pole. The wintery feelings were juxtaposed with the Sahara desert like heat of their bodies and the near overpowering warmth he had in his heart at that moment. It was if he had plugged himself into a living machine that was testing every nerve ending in his body to see if it could short out the circuits in his brain as he kept teetering between passionate love and crazed lust. He slowly withdrew all but the tip of his cock from Josh’s butt grasp and with the same unhurried restraint, persuaded it back in almost to the hilt. After repeating the same casual but also deliberate movements a couple more times, he pushed in fully and let Josh’s nut sac rest in his pubes while he literally willed his cock to throb inside him. The wildly erotic scream Josh let out, told him he had bumped his lover’s button. Risking fate, Kyle left his cock head pressed to the G-spot and pinned his body to Josh’s to kiss him deeply again.

The cook had fed us with steak and cleaned up and left, leaving the two of us alone. My host put some soft music on and lit the fire. The wine had been excellent and I was feeling it in my head. The white bear-skin rug in front of the fire looked so inviting, and I wanted my head to stop spinning, so I laid down on that on my belly, facing the fire, staring into it and becoming quite mellow. My host left me there for a short time, letting the fire and the music and the soft rug and the buzz from the wine float me away.

He was back, in a short cotton robe. He must have been at least in his late forties or early fifties, but he’d aged well. His leg muscles were firm and I thought that he must have been an athlete at one time—and probably still worked out. As he leaned down to me, the front of the cotton robe opened and I saw a well-developed chest with a matting of salt-and-pepper curly hair running from his chest down in a thin line to where the lapels of the robe met.

“Some port or cognac?” he asked in a rich baritone. His face was distinguished. A lawyer or a banker or corporate CEO. Even after two weeks, I didn’t know. He spoke little about himself, showing more concern for me. So kind. If he hadn’t found me at the side of the desert highway, brought me to this big house on the ridge above Santa Fe, and had a doctor in to look at me after what the beating and the hours on the sand by the highway had done to me . . .

The steel gray hair was expertly cut, a perfect-teeth smile. A slight scar under his left eye—his eyes were hazel and so alive—only serving to emphasize how handsome his chiseled features were. Model handsome. A healthy Santa Fe tan smoothed out the laugh-line wrinkles.

“No thanks, Mr. Grimes. Another drop of alcohol and I’d go right to sleep.”

“We couldn’t have that, now, could we?” he answered, the low laugh conveying his mood. “And I’ve told you, it’s Bill.”

“I have trouble with that . . . Bill. You’ve been so kind, and there’s such a divide between us.”

“We must see what we can do about that too. Here, take a look at these. I work with photography. I’d like to know what you think.”

He was handing a folder to me. I opened the cover to find a set of loose photographs. The ones on top were art shots—nudes—of a young, handsome youth. A bit younger than me. About nineteen, I’d guess. The photos were expertly done, although it wasn’t the artistry of them that took my attention. Toward the bottom of the pile, the photographs were more explicit—much more explicit as I leafed through to the bottom of the stack. And the youth wasn’t alone. Grimes too was in these photos. I turned my head toward the sofa to see the cotton robe fall onto it in folds.

I shuddered and stiffened as his body came down on top of me, covering me full length. My torso was raised on my elbows, as I was fanning through the photographs. His hands laced in underneath me and he was unbuttoning my shirt and then pulling it off my arms.

“Relax,” he whispered in my ears. “Just concentrate on the photos and let your body drift with me.”

I did what I could to let the tension in my body flow away. “Mr. Grimes. Bill,” I whispered.

“Sure you don’t want to try the Cognac? I still have the taste of it in my mouth,” he whispered back at me. He cupped my chin and turned my face toward his, and, when he kissed me, I tasted the rich, full-bodied nectar of the wine.

His hips were moving against my pelvis, and I felt the hardness of him through the material of my jeans and briefs.

I felt the palm of a hand on my belly and fingers working at the buttons of my jeans. Instinctively, without conscious control, I lifted my butt into his crotch as the zipper of my jeans was being pulled down. I wanted him to know there would be no struggle, no indecision, no holding back for whatever he wanted. He had paid for this in full. All of the hardness went out of my jaw and I opened my mouth totally to him.

The moaning I heard was almost detached, but I recognized it as mine.

He wouldn’t release the hold of his lips on mine and in the wake of the taste of the Cognac, his tongue had invaded my mouth cavity. I could hardly breathe. But I didn’t care if I couldn’t. He was still possessing my mouth as he was pulling my jeans and briefs below my hips.

Skin on skin now below the belly. A hard dick inside my butt crack, stroking up and down on the rim of my hole. I shuddered and groaned and he released my mouth and gave a low, comfortable laugh.

“The photos. Concentrate on the photos,” he said.

I returned my attention to the photographs, pushing through the ones of the handsome youth solo, down to the ones of the youth with Grimes. He was moving down the line of my back now. Kissing and licking my shoulder blades, while one hand pulled my jeans and briefs down and off my legs and the other one worked my nipples and then came down to palm my belly as his lips reached the mounds of my butt cheeks.

His teeth nipped at the sensitive skin of my rump and I groaned as I heard the low, appreciative laugh again. I felt a light slap on each cheek and they were being squeezed and nipped again. A hand went between my thighs and pulled my cock and balls through. I tried to widen my stance, but he moved his forearms to trap my thighs close together, tightly against my dick. A hand possessed my cock and slowly stroked down. I raised my buttock further, presenting to him in supplication—for whenever he wanted to mount me.

“Bill, Bill,” I whispered.

“Ah the divide narrows, doesn’t it? Surely there will be no trouble with first names now,” he answered back. And then that arousing laugh again. He clearly was enjoying this.

“Do you like the photos?” he asked. “Don’t the two of us in these photos make the smashing pair?”

“Yes.” It was a whisper.

“Does the lad look happy? Am I fucking him well?”

“Yes.” It was a whimper, followed with a moan.

He had taken both hands and was spreading and squeezing my butt cheeks with them. When he blew across my hole, I shivered and groaned.

“So nice. Such a rosy bud. And already opening.”

“Bill,” I whispered. “Bill.” And then “Bill!” as he kissed the hole and his tongue started working into me. I writhed under him for countless minutes as he tongued my hole and worked my cock with his hand. Intermittently he moved his mouth down to my cock and balls and gave suck, and during these intervals his fingers invaded my channel and found my prostate.

“Bill, Bill! I’m gonna come. You’re gonna make me—”

“Oh, I hope so, Rick,” he muttered. “I certainly hope so.” And then he laughed again.

And I came.

He covered my back fully with his body again and his cock was rubbing inside my butt cheeks once more. I raised my pelvis further to him. Fully presenting to him. Wanting him. Wanting him to know I wanted him. “Bill,” I whined.

“Ah, are you ready? Do you want me inside you? Permission to fuck, my young lad? Jeff wants his daddy?”

“Yes,” I whimpered, all of my senses focused on the shaft rubbing across my hole, not even catching the reference to a Jeff.

He went up on his knees, reaching over to the sofa. I heard the slight rustle of the condom packet as he opened it, and then I felt the coldness of the lubricant he poured liberally between my cheeks and worked into my opening with probing fingers. My chest was flat on the floor, my cheek against the photos of Grimes fucking the youth, my arms splayed out at my side. I was up on my knees, though, with my quivering butt raised high to him, my legs spread.

Fuck me, fuck me now, was what I was trying to convey.

He crouched over me, pulling my chest up, me now on all fours. The cock was rubbing inside my crack again, sending electric impulses as it stroked again and again against my hole.

“Please. Bill, Please!” I begged.

He laughed. And then I felt the bulb presented at my hole and he was slowly pushing into me. I gasped and my eyes started to water and both my elbows and my knees began to quiver and to give way. But Bill, crouched over my midsection and continuing to enter me, held me up with strong arms wrapped under my rib cage. I felt his lips at my cheeks, and I turned my face to him, letting him possess my mouth again—masking my groans and moans.

Who would have known he was so thick and hard—and that it would take so much length of my channel for him to bottom?

Coming out of the kiss, my face was suspended over the photographs. The one on top was of Grimes crouched over the hips of the young man, who was on all fours—on a white bear-skin rug in front of a fireplace; this fireplace. The expression on the young man’s face was one of ecstasy. Bill was looking into the camera with an expression that almost conveyed, “At last; in at last.”

Only half hidden below that was a photo of the young man on his back on the same furry rug and Grimes kneeling between his thighs, knees under and raising the young man’s buttocks, Grimes fisting the youth’s slim ankles and holding his legs up and out, wide. I could see a good two inches of the root of a thick cock at the young man’s channel opening. And again, that “gone to paradise” expression on the young man’s face.

A third photo was of Grimes completely sheathed, the youth’s legs running up Grimes’s torso now, his hands reaching around Grime’s thick waist and clutching the older man’s thin butt cheeks close to him with fingers digging into the flesh, obviously trying to take in every centimeter of the cock. Eyes wild, mouth gaping open, and tongue hanging out. I trembled in anticipation.

He stroked me so long and hard that my elbows and knees did give out and, with a laugh, he rode me to the rug and kept on riding. He was babbling as he fucked me, and I occasionally heard the name “Jeff” spoken. But never the name “Rick.”

Fucking me at such depth, and so filling. My channel walls undulating across the shaft as it mastered me. Throbbing, hot, relentless. Strong hands pulling my thighs in tight. Oh, god, the tightness. The almost despair as he pulls back. Oh, no, don’t leave me! Oh, shit, yes! at the long hard plunge back to the depths. Yes! Again. Oh, yes! And again. Oh Shit! And AGAIN. Paradise. Faster now—stroke, stroke, hold, stroke—making me pant and writhe against his strong hands and moan—and beg for it to go on and on.

I felt him tighten and take in a long breath and then—with my channel trying, unsuccessfully, to close on his cock and keep him inside me—he pulled out of me, and I groaned at the loss of him and heard the condom being ripped away and then felt the flow of him on the small of my back.

He covered my back with his torso again and continued moving on top of me, stroking the small of my back with his cock through his cum. He hands glided along my arms and took my wrists. I turned my lips to him again. His prisoner for as long as he wanted me.

“I’m sorry if you weren’t expecting that this evening,” he whispered in my ear when he once more let loose of my lips.

“I don’t know what took you so long,” I answered, with a sigh.

“I thought perhaps I assumed so much. But you are so beautiful and sexy. I couldn’t help myself. Hardly a good host.”

“You saved my life,” I whispered back. “And . . . and the perfect host. Almost too polite, I was beginning to think.”

“I have given you every reason to think otherwise, even if you weren’t consciously aware of it.”

Rick didn’t comment on this. At the time he assumed the man was referring to the current move to seduce him.

He turned me on my back, my head resting in the pile of his photographs. He covered my body with his, his cock lying against my own between our still-heaving bellies. I looked down the line of his body. His barrel chest with the matting of salt-and-pepper gray standing out in moist curls and below that a still-flat, hard belly—even at his age. I wanted to run my hands through the matting on his chest, to search out the taut nipples I saw hiding there between the curls of the hair. But he had his fists wrapped around my wrists and they were trapped on either side of my shoulders. So, instead, I dipped and raised my face into his chest. I found a nipple almost immediately and sucked it in hard as he gasped and then I nipped at it, which produced a yelp from his mouth and an engorging surge in his cock.

Releasing one of my wrists, his hand grabbed my head under the chin and forced it back into the pile of photographs and his mouth was hungrily attacking mine, his tongue invading, every bit as filling and probing as his cock had been. I gasped and nearly gagged.

I wrapped my legs around his, my heels rubbing up and down his hard calves. His free hand snaked between our bellies before I could completely push in as close as I could to every inch of him. The hand wrapped our two cocks together. And he stroked our shafts and worked my mouth with his until, with a lurch and a shudder, I came again.

He released my mouth and cock then. I could feel he was fully hard again. Amazing for his age. Not so much, though, considering the strength and power of his fuck. He raised his torso off mine a bit and looked down into my eyes. He was smiling that melting smile of his—the one I saw in the photographs when it was clear that he had mastered the young man to exhaustion.

“That’s not fair,” he said in a tone of false pout. “You’ve gone twice and I only once. Would you mind terribly if—?”

“I hoped you would,” I whispered breathlessly, my mind possessed by what I’d seen in the photographs, as he knelt between my legs, pulled my buttocks up on top of his thighs, and reached over on the sofa for another condom packet. I lifted one of my legs up his torso to hook an ankle on his right shoulder while I watched him roll the Golden Ticket on his cock and prepared to raise the other to his left shoulder when he was crowned, positioning myself to roll up my rump to receive the deepest thrusts I could eke out of him. I spied three more condom packets on the sofa and shivered in anticipation. I had seen other photos of other fuck positions the young man obviously had enjoyed.

But who, I was wondering, who the fuck was Jeff?

* * * *

“Hey, guy, are you OK? Here, here. I brought some water. There, let’s get you up and . . . for the love of god, you look just like . . . is it a mirage? There for a second. . . . Here. Yes, drink some of this . . . not too much at first. Later more. Are you OK?”

“K,” Rick said. He’d been on his side, curled up, the pain in his side grinding away as the only clue that he was still live. The man turned him onto his butt and raised his torso, supporting him underneath with a strong arm. And he was offering a plastic bottle of commercial water for Rick to sip from.

Rick groaned from the pain in his side when his body was moved, but his hand with the bottle of water was at his lips and he almost had to be restrained from gulping down too much of it.

“Sorry, are you hurt? More than just the heat in the desert?” the man asked.

“Side,” Rick answered. “Hurts.” He looked up at the man. A handsome businessman type, slim build but good strength. Gray haired. In his forties or fifties. Beyond him, at the side of the road, Rick saw a late-model Mercedes sedan. Not the cheapest model.

The man had lifted Rick’s shirt. “It’s bruised. Have you been in a fight or something? Are you from around here? Anyone I can call?”

“No one. Just walkin’ . . . walkin’ to Mirage,” Rick said.

“Mirage?” the man said and looked at Rick funny. Rick thought there was something else he was going to say, but then he didn’t. “You going east or west?”

“West. Mirage, Arizona,” Rick said and then he grimaced and reached for the water bottle. “Sorry. Can I? Mouth feels like cotton.”

The Man looked like he understood better. “Ah. Arizona. Got to get through New Mexico first, and you’re obviously in the need of a doctor—and to get out of this sun. I see there are other bruises. Someone’s worked you over. The worst of them yellowing, though, not that recent. Here, I live in Santa Fe. In a bit of a hurry. There aren’t any hospitals around here that I know of. I can take you to Santa Fe and have a doctor who I can get to look at you. That OK?”

And then when he saw that Rick wasn’t responding. “That OK, son? Oh, lord, don’t zone out on me now. I swear the resemblance is . . .”

But Rick wasn’t listening. Rick had lost consciousness.

When he regained consciousness, he was lying along the backseat of a luxuriously appointed car. He wondered if this was his chariot to heaven.

“Where? What?” he muttered.

“Oh good, you’ve come to. I couldn’t leave you there out on the desert between nowhere and nowhere else. We’re on the way to Santa Fe. But if you want me to leave you somewhere—”

“No, that’s . . . that’s fine,” Rick murmured. “No place better than that. And . . . thanks.”

“There’s a water bottle on the floor of the car by your head,” the man said in a rich baritone that exuded relief. “Just don’t try to drink too much too fast. We’ll be home in about four hours.”

“Perfect,” Rick muttered. And although his throat was parched, he drifted back off to sleep, dreaming of a knife cutting into his side. Feeling the pain of it; ruminating on the thought that one wasn’t supposed to feel pain in a dream. Home, where was home for him? This was Rick’s last thought before blacking out.

* * * *

“It’s a bruised kidney,” the doctor said. He was standing over Rick, who was tucked into a queen-sized bed in a rather large room that must have belonged to a young boy, one who had enjoyed athletics and Spider Man, although the Spider Man stuff mostly had drifted to the floor to be replaced by Rock band posters. The baseball and football trophies had obviously held their place of honor, though.

“It’s on the mend already. I’ve seen to some other cuts and bruises that should have been taken care of a week or more ago, but are managing pretty well on their own now. You were in some sort of fist fight, were you? More than one maybe?”

“There was something like that, but I never had a chance to get into it.”

“I see,” the doctor said. “Ganged up on, were you?”

“One was enough.”

“I’d say one was more than enough. A relative of Bill’s, are you?”


“Bill Grimes. This is his house. He called me in.”

“No. He’s just a good Samaritan,” Rick answered. “Picked me up on the road outside Amarillo.”

“Texas?” the doctor said with surprise.

“Yeah, I guess that’s where Amarillo is. I’ve come from back East.”

“Walked the whole way?”

“No. I was with some other guys.”

“Guys with bruised fists?”

“No. But it’s complicated.”

“And now you are here in Bill Grimes’s house.” It was said like there was some meaning behind it.

“Yeah, I guess. I feel like I’ve slept forever.”

“Bill said you got in late last night. He couldn’t get me until this morning. I just got home this morning from Vegas.”

The doctor looked at Rick for a long minute before he spoke again. He was putting medical stuff back in his bag and snapped it shut. “And you say you aren’t a relative of Bill’s?”

“No. He just stopped for me. I was down on the side of the highway.”

“I see,” the doctor said. That tone again of there being more than just seeing. But then he got up. At the door, he turned and said, “I’ll look in at you again tomorrow. Another couple of days, and I think you can get out of bed without much pain.”

Only when the doctor was gone did Rick realize he was naked under the sheets—and clean. He blushed, suddenly bringing to mind the only thing he had remembered about arriving here. They’ve driven up the slopes above old Santa Fe, and Rick had the impression of a long, low adobe building that went on forever. And then an elegant, open space of an entryway with a sunken living room below, beyond which, through a great expansion of glass, the twinkling lights of a low-lying city could be seen. The wall of windows was broken by a gigantic fireplace with a white bear-skin rug in front of it. A large dining area was off to the right upon entering the front door, opening to a similarly large kitchen beyond with gleaming black glass fronts on the appliances. To the left of the door was a corridor leading back to what must be a bedroom wing and an adobe-encased staircase leading to a second floor area above the bedroom wing.

The man who had brought him here in his Mercedes—who Rick only now knew was named Bill Grimes—had half carried Rick to a Leather sofa near the fireplace and gently lowered him down into the corner of that.

“I’ll be just a few minutes,” he’d said. “I’ll prepare a room for you and be right back down. And I’ll bring you something that will help with the pain.”

The man disappeared up the stairs to the second floor. Rick looked around and it didn’t take him long to find out something important about the man who had saved him in the desert. There was considerable art work around. Bronze and silver sculptures and oil paintings. All large and showy, and obviously expensive. The sculptures were all of men’s muscled torsos and the paintings were male nudes. There wasn’t much more bric-a-brac around except for along the tops of the bookcase balcony rising in a semicircle around the inner side of the living room, separating the sunken area from the corridor and dining room on the raised level. This space was devoted to framed photographs. They were too far away for Rick to see, and his eyes kept going back to the nearer artwork anyway. Two art books lay on the huge, glass-topped coffee table, both with black-and-white photos of artfully posed male nudes on the cover.

When the man returned, he had changed to a short cotton robe and was carrying a glass with fizzing liquid in it. As Rick took this down in several long gulps, the man asked him what his name was, how old he was, and where his family was and, it seemed, told Rick his own name. But none of this stuck—neither the specific questions nor the answers. Almost before Rick had finished drinking the medicine, his eyelids were drooping and he was drifting off to sleep.

The next face Rick saw was the face of the doctor in that room with the posters and the athletic trophies.

After the doctor left, Bill Grimes appeared with a bowl of soup and a glass of milk, and Rick’s nearly two-week period began of healing his wounds from his beating at the Big C ranch and his heat stroke from the stumble on foot along the highway out of Amarillo.

Grimes gave Rick plenty of time to rest and sleep and during that time, all conversation, which was terse and relatively rare, was focused on Rick and on making him well. Grimes said little about himself and Rick didn’t press him. For most of the first week, Rick was in a semiconscious state, often almost in a coma, induced by whatever medicine the doctor had left to be given to him. The doctor only visited three times—covering the first three days. Whatever he left for Rick to take was of such a strong nature that Rick spent more time sleeping and when he was sleeping, he slept as the dead.

Each morning when he came back into a semiconscious state, he was naked and clean under the sheets.

Twelve days after his arrival, Rick made his first journey down the stairs and to the living room. For two days prior to that, he had made sojourns out onto a balcony off the bedroom he was in, the bedroom also having its own full bath and a massive walk-in closet with just two hangars—his neatly cleaned and pressed jeans, cowboy shirt and briefs hanging on one and a cotton robe similar to the one he’d seen Grimes wear on the other. Rick’s duffel bag was on the floor. There was very little in the duffel bag; just some clothes. Whatever money Rick had once had was now gone, and it took Rick a few minutes to remember the Hispanic men who had robbed him by the side of the road.

Feeling well enough to move about, Rick put on the cotton robe and went out on the balcony, which was oriented out toward the west and hovered over a steep slope down the ridge side. He shivered when he looked down into the ravine. It must be a drop of five stories or more down to the rocks in the dry stream bed.

When he decided to go down to the living room for the first time, he put on his jeans and cowboy shirt. When he got to the bottom of the stairs, which required some effort as weak as he was, he found a rather rotund Mexican woman in the kitchen cutting up food and humming. She smiled at him and he smiled back. He went to the window by the fireplace in the living room, which turned out to be a French door—all of the space on either side of the fireplace was devoted to the same sort of door—Rick turned the handle, wanting to go out onto the portal beyond and take in the fresh mountain air. The door was locked, as was the one beside it. He didn’t see any knob or anything to unlock it from the inside.

He turned to ask the woman in the kitchen about going out onto the portal, but he saw, instead, Bill Grimes walking briskly toward him from a room beyond the kitchen.

“Ah, Rick, it’s good you’re up and about. Come on back to the den and let’s have a drink and I’d like to show you the book of Ansel Adams photographs I was in Dallas buying before we met. Do you know who Ansel Adams is?”

“Yes, I studied him in a photography class,” Rick answered. The reference brought Groton and the movie he was making to mind. It all seemed eons and continents away now.

They entered a room almost as large as the living room. All of the artwork here was of Southwestern art—and most of it consisted of photographs. There were bookcases lining two walls. These cases were packed with art books, most, that Rick could see, of Southwestern landscape oils and lithographs—Georgia O’Keefe type stuff or of landscape photography. One whole section, though, caught Rick’s attention. They looked like photographs of male nudes. He started to gravitate toward those, but Grimes took him by the arm and led him toward a leather-covered sofa with a glass-topped coffee table in front of it. A large book was open on the table, and even Rick could see that the photo shown was an Ansel Adams.

“Here, this is the book I wanted to show you. And here’s a drink. I’m sure it will be OK for you to drink this now. You’re almost fully well, I think.”

Rick could tell from the delicate touch of the man’s fingers on his arm and from the way he looked into Rick’s eyes—the flash in his own hazel eyes, and the curve of his mouth when he smiled—that he wanted Rick. Rick had now been into this sort of thing for quite a few months—going back to Tony, who had given Rick the exact same look before fucking him.

Although the artwork in the living room had alerted Rick, he would have known from how the man touched him and looked at him now that this is what the man wanted. What the artwork had done for Rick, though, was to give him time to think about the circumstances. The fact that the guy had stopped for him and brought him here and gotten a doctor to see him and nursed him. This all made Rick feel like he owed the man something. Beyond that, the man was quite handsome and well built. And overriding everything else, Rick liked to be fucked and hadn’t been for two weeks.

Rick would like this Grimes guy to think he was seducing Rick, if that’s the way he wanted to play it. But Rick was already prepared. He was ready to play.

Rick started drinking the drink as he sat next to Grimes while Grimes turned the pages of the Ansel Adams book and spoke in that rich baritone of his about this nuance and that of lighting and location and time of day. Rick had no idea when either the drink or the photography show was finished, though, as the strain of a first trip downstairs had gotten to him and he drifted off to a deep sleep.

The next morning he awoke in the room on the second floor. He was clean and naked under the sheets.

The next night, Grimes himself decided that Rick was well and strong enough to come down to the dining room for a full meal. The cook prepared them a delicious steak dinner with excellent wine. As they ate, she cleaned up the kitchen and was gone before they were finished.

Grimes invited Rick to go on down into the living room and to take his wine glass with him. Rick felt hazy from the wine, but it was so good that he took another drink of it at the table. He didn’t feel steady enough, though, to carry his glass down into the living room, so he left the glass on the dining room table and carefully negotiated the stairs down there with the use of both hands.

Rick perched on the sofa as Grimes moved about the room, dimming the lights, putting soft music on the CD changer, and lighting the fire.

As Grimes was doing this, Rick looked around, sensing that there was something different about the room than from the time he’d first sat on this sofa two weeks previously. It wasn’t the artwork; that was all still in place. Then, he noticed that the photographs were gone. The living room bookcases were now empty of all photographs. In their place were some replicas—or genuine as far as Rick knew—of black and white Southwestern native pottery.

Rick didn’t dwell on this find. His head was spinning from the first alcohol he’d drunk since coming here. But that wasn’t completely true; he’d had a drink in the den with Grimes the previous afternoon. Of course he hadn’t been able to hold that very well either.

He wanted his head to stop spinning. The fire and the bear rug looked so inviting. He slipped down onto the rug on his belly, facing the fire.

Grimes entered from the bedroom wing, dressed in his short cotton robe. He offered Rick some port or Cognac to top off the evening, but Rick begged off. Then Grimes was leaning down to Rick, with a portfolio in his hand.

“Here, take a look at these,” he said. “I work with photography. I’d like to know what you think.”

As Rick fanned the photographs out—artistic nude shots of a young man, and more explicit photos below those in the stack of the young man with Grimes—Rick turned his face to the sofa to see the cotton robe fall onto it in folds.

And then Grimes was lowering his naked body onto Rick’s back.

They fucked for an hour and more, in several positions—all inspired by the photographs Grimes dropped on the rug under Rick’s face. As the logs in the fireplace were being reduced to glowing embers and Grimes was on his side, with Rick cuddled into his chest and Grimes holding Rick’s leg up for access to Rick’s channel as he was still stroking him deep in a side split, Grimes put his lips to Rick’s ear and said, “It’s so nice. You’re such a sweet fuck.”

“Yes, yes, it is nice,” Rick whispered back with a mellow sigh.

“It’s so much nicer fucking you when you are conscious,” Grimes said.

“Conscious?” Rick responded, in confusion.

“Yes, we have made loved more than a dozen times already. Even asleep, you responded fully and openly to my fucking you. You are a sweet lay.”

“But . . . but I was asleep.”

“And your sweet vulnerability enhanced my enjoyment of you. I assure you that you were able to move your hips in rhythm with me and moan in your sleep.”

Rick froze in shock and instant realization. Going out like a light after being given a drink; waking up naked under the sheets and clean—it all fit into place with just that one statement from Grimes. Rick gasped and tightened up and shuddered, marking this as the start of his need to be out of this house, to escape the insane clutches of this man.

If Grimes noticed the change in Rick, he didn’t signal it. He just kept on stroking deep inside Rick’s channel. And ultimately Rick gave into the fuck fully and lay there panting and moaning, arms and legs spread in full supplication for anything else Grimes would want to do and with a sloppy grin on his face. When Grimes was finished inside him, he withdrew and stood and went to the kitchen for another bottle of wine. He came back into the living room with a photography book on Mapplethorpe nude male models and sat on the sofa, leafing through the pages. At length he looked down at Rick again, still sprawled on the bearskin rug, completely open to him. Grimes smiled and got up from the sofa and went over to a table and retrieved a camera. He came back.

“Don’t move. You look lusciously vulnerable and open.”

Rick did as he asked, watching Grimes circle him, snapping off shot after shot. This was something Rick was accustomed to; this was of the world Douglas Groton had initiated him into. Gradually, Grimes narrowed in on Rick until he was kneeling between the young man’s open thighs.

“You. You do it,” he murmured.

Rick reached down and took Grime’s reengorged cock in his hands, crowned him with the Golden Ticket condom taken from a packet on the nearby coffee table, and guided the sheathed cock into his hole, as Grime’s fired off camera shot after shot of the entry and then panned up to catch the pain and shock in Rick’s eyes as Grimes slammed his cock home deep and immediately began to stroke hard.

* * * *

Rick hadn’t thought about escaping Grimes’s house nearly fast enough, and the more he just drifted along, the harder thoughts of escape became. The easiest time to try to split and run would have been at the point of learning that Grimes had already been fucking him while he was unconscious—probably from the first night Rick had been here. Thinking on it retrospectively, Rick remembered that the first thing Grimes did when they arrived at the house was to strip and put on one of those skimpy cotton robes of his. He’d then given Rick something to drink that had put him out like a light. There was every reason to believe that Grimes fucked him as soon as he was unconscious—that first night. Most of the reason Rick wasn’t quick off the mark was that, when conscious, he loved Grimes’s cocking. He loved seeing the photos of what the man was going to do to him—and then having it done—and then, sometimes the photos Grimes took while fucking him. Groton had taught him to love this.

And at the same time he found that escape wasn’t going to be easy, he began to see what the rhythm of life was going to be like around here.

Grimes had fucked Rick so silly on the bear-skin rug in front of the fireplace that he let Grimes help him upstairs to his bedroom. While Rick showered, Grimes stripped the bedroom bare of all of Rick’s clothes. And when Rick came out of the bathroom, he found he had been locked into the bedroom. So much for a quick exit.

And then, late in the night, Grimes came back into the room and woke Rick in mid fuck.

“No, no, go back to sleep,” Grimes whispered. “Fucking you in your sleep is more arousing for me.”

Rick relaxed and closed his eyes, let his limbs go limp, his torso arched back and his arms dangling at his sides, as Grimes shoved his knees farther under Rick’s buttocks, wrapped an arm around the small of Rick’s back, and slow pumped Rick’s channel.

This was a more gentle, loving fucking. Always the taking in other parts of the house was exotic, lustful. But here, in Rick’s bedroom, it was slow and attentive to Rick’s needs—almost loving. It was this fucking, too, when Grimes dispensed with the use of a condom. It was then, at the height of passion, as his ejaculation started and Rick felt the strong flow of Grimes inside him, that Grimes murmured the name that wasn’t Rick’s: Jeff. They then settled down to sleep, their bodies entwined. In the morning, Grimes was gone and the door was locked.

He appeared with a breakfast tray.

“I think it best for you to rest up here during the day, Rick,” he said. He made no mention of the missing clothes. And believing the man unbalanced and set on a short fuse, Rick said nothing about the missing clothes either. He was more concerned that Grimes didn’t mention not using a condom the previous night. This gripped Rick like a hand tightening around his throat. This brought permanence to this ritual of the night that caused the ringing of trap doors shutting in Rick’s mind as nothing else had.

The man wanted to fuck him when he was unconscious and without a condom—and while murmuring the name of someone other than Rick. He clearly was bonkers.

“I’ll bring you your breakfasts and lunches. The housekeeper will make enough for you to eat a dinner she’s prepared after I have done so in the evening, and then you can come down and we’ll enjoy ourselves. I have so many interesting photography books to show you—so many ways I want to fuck you.”

Rick thought of trying to get to the housekeeper while she was here, but he already knew she only spoke Spanish, and, from the evidence of what he saw that Grimes kept around the house, Rick could only assume that she already knew about Grimes’s “arrangements” and perhaps was paid enough to not help Rick even if she could. And then there was the part that Rick could only come into her presence in the nude.

That night, after dark, when Grimes let Rick come downstairs to eat dinner, the first thing that Rick noticed were that two video cameras had been set up—one in the dining room and one in the foyer corridor, that were panned down to the bear-skin rug in the living room.

He knew what these were for. And, strangely, they were more calming than shocking to him. This had been what he had associated with the sex act as Doug Groton had brought him across the country toward Mirage, Arizona. Being on camera would give him a role. He had experience in that.

As Rick ate, wolfing the food down both because it was good and also because fucking taxed so much of his energy and he was being taken multiple times twice a day now, Grimes, in one of the several short cotton robes he had, sat patiently at the table, looking through a book of pornographic male art, showing Rick images Grimes liked or thought that Rick would.

“This is the art of Dan Saba,” he said as he turned the book toward Rick. “Can you see the sensuality of it? The time they obviously are taking in his posings? The arousal and love in their eyes?”

“Umm, muh,” Rick responded. Yeah, right, it looked like the younger guy was enjoying the older one fucking him. And, yeah, the shot of the young guy leaning back and his legs raised on the bench and spread and giving a good shot of his hole, cock, and balls was pretty good too. And the one of two guys fucking in a shower.

Rick looked away when he saw a well-thumbed image of a man being fucked in his sleep on a bed.

“And here, in this book, Tony Caperton’s ‘On the Beach’—obviously mimicking that famous pose from the movie. Don’t the two lovers look totally taken with each other?”

Grimes was holding the book open with one hand and already stroking Rick’s cock with the other.

“Oh, god, yes, I like that painting. It’s a lot like the one you have on the wall over in the foyer, isn’t it?”

“Yes. You’ve a good eye. That’s by the same artist.”

“I think I’ve eaten enough now,” Rick said, as he laid a hand on Grimes’s chest and ran his fingers through the curly hair there. His eyes told Grimes that Rick was ready and open to him.

Grimes fucked Rick slowly and sensually on the bear-skin rug, murmuring that Rick should think of the artwork he had seen. All the time the cameras were whirring. The slowness and total taking of the cocking did recall in Rick’s mind the artwork.

On successive evenings, the two played wrestlers on the rug for the cameras after the form of a Thomas Eakins painting of that name and Rick was introduced to a psychedelic drug for a wild, full-color and high fantasy taking in the style of Jon Smith. An image of a fucking bent over a table was played out in the dining room and another series of art photos inspired a scene where both just stood in the middle of the living room, and Grimes spiked Rick’s ass from behind and wrapped his hands around him and Rick arched back to him and they kissed while Grimes gave Rick a rocking fuck.

A Tom of Finland portfolio moved them on to Rick’s wrists being tied to two pillars in the foyer, and Grimes gripping his butt cheeks and standing between Rick’s spread legs and swing fucking him roughly.

They even explored Japanese art, where Grimes produced two brocade robes and Rick sat in his lap facing him, and the fuck started inside the robes, with nothing provocative seen other than the expressions on their faces and knowledge of the movement of their bodies assuring the camera-aided voyeur that they were fucking. And then slowly, ever so slowly Grimes opened up Rick’s robe to expose body parts that Grimes would tease with his lips and teeth, until Rick’s body was revealed fully at the height of the fuck. The film would be cut to focus in on root of the cock lengthening and shortening as it moved in and out of Rick’s hole, surrounded by the folds of the soft brocade of two Japanese robes, ending in a shudder of the cock root marking the ejaculation.



“Hey…. Neil. I’m really sorry, but you have to wake up now. Just for a sec.”

I opened my eyes, struggling because my eyelashes were gummed together with sleep. He was sitting on the bed next to me, holding his small red cell phone. He was naked from the waist up, and I could see his shoulder blades under his pale white skin. There was something beautiful about the structure of his bones. Like a marble statue.


“What’s your manager’s number?”

I blurted it out without really thinking. I stretched under the covers, and winced with a small moan because of how badly it hurt.

“Why? What do you need it for?”

He punched it into his phone, muttering the numbers under his breath. “You’re calling in sick, that’s what.”

I could hear the ringing tone. I felt sick. I closed my eyes and buried my face in the pillow. Drake’s voice was soft and professional and soothing.

“Hey, this is Neil’s older brother, Ben. I’m just calling, and I’m sorry, we should have called sooner. There was an emergency last night.”

I could hear my manager talking vaguely, like how the adults talked in the old Peanuts cartoon. Drake told him that I had been mugged on the way back from work the night before. That I was okay, but that I had gotten pretty beat up, too much to work for a day or so.

For a moment, he held the phone to my ear. “So. Sick yesterday, and now you got mugged.”

“It’s the truth.” I whispered.

Maybe he heard something in my voice, but he didn’t say anything else about it. He told me to come in as soon as I was able, and he hung up.”

I turned over on the bed and closed my eyes again. I was so fucking tired.

He nudged me awake. “The gas station, too. You have to call your manager there.”

“Mr. Browning?” I mumbled.

He rubbed my shoulder. “C’mon. Last one, and then you can sleep.” He leaned down and kissed me on the side of my head. “I promise.”

I gave him the number. A second later, the phone was to my ear. He was giving me this one.

“Hello?” That soft whispery voice that had gotten me into this in the first place.

“Hey… Mr. Browning, I don’t think I can come into work today.” My voice was hoarse. He was asking me if I was okay.

“I got mugged on the way home last night. Sorry, I should have called you sooner.” The words felt monotone and false on my tongue. He would know. He had to know.

“Oh… Well, I guess I can handle it alone for one day. I hope you feel better.”

He sounded so lonely. I resented him sometimes, but I also realized how much I owed him.

“Kay… I’ll see you tomorrow.” I murmured. My eyes were closing. I felt so tired. I didn’t hear Mr. Browning’s response, because Drake flipped the phone shut and put it on the counter.

“We have some time now. You should get some rest.”

I curled up on the bed, and patted the fabric next to me. He smiled a little, but his eyes were sad. He lay down next to me and I rested my head on his chest, on the slight muscular pillow.

I closed my eyes. The whole day was free, at least until eight. That was when I had to face my family, feed them a lie about the bruises on my face. When my brother Toby was released. I would have to lie to him too.

I felt hot tears squeezing out under my gritty lids. I could hear Drake’s heartbeat, feel his chest rising and falling with his breath. He rested his hand on my head.

“It’s okay.” He whispered. “Shh. Just rest.”

I took a deep shuddering breath and relaxed. He gently tussled my hair.

“It will be better when you wake up.”

I exhaled, and I closed my eyes.

The first knock on the door made me flinch, the next two tore me into consciousness. It was quiet for a moment as Drake moaned and got up. Then the knocking came again, louder and more insistent. There was something frightening about it. Something that made me shrink, and pull the covers over me. I wanted Drake to stay in the bed, not answer the door.

But he was already up, peeking through the hole in the door. Clad only in baggy sweatpants.

I remembered that first night, pulling up his shirt to show me the scar under his nipple.

Drake opened the door, and Ferdinand was there, rubbing the bridge of his nose. His face seemed more droopy than normal, probably because of the sleepless bags under his bloodshot eyes.

He glanced at me, and I cringed, holding the sheets tight around my shoulders.

“Get up.” He said softly. “I need to see what those cunts did to you.”

I didn’t want to. I was afraid to. I looked at Drake, and he nodded slightly. His body language was tense and defensive. That made me panic.

I got up, feeling the air against my bruised and scraped skin, feeling all of my muscles ache. Feeling my torn asshole throb. My genitals felt like they were trying to shrink inside of me.

He walked around me quickly, for a man of his bulk. I flinched when he touched my lower back with one cold thumb. He was touching the bruises above my kidneys.

He touched the gauze pads on my elbows. “When did these happen?”

“I…” It was hard to talk. My voice was shaking. “I tried to get out of the van. I fell and… And I scraped myself on the sidewalk.”

He finished walking around me. My legs collapsed and I fell bonelessly onto the bed. I wrapped the sheets around me just as quick as I could. I could see bright sunlight filtering in through the shuttered window, and the alarm clock said it was one in the afternoon.

Ferdinand looked down at me and dug in his pocket. He pulled out a polaroid. One of the old snap-photos. He tossed it to me.

I picked it up from the bedspread. I nearly gagged when I saw what was in the photo.

Stanley/Chris and Benji/Tio, next to each other. Their faces were swollen. I could see teeth missing in Tio’s mouth. They were discolored, bruised and beaten out of recognition.

“Are… Are they…” I gagged again.

He picked up the polaroid and went over to the toilet. He started burning it with a cigarette lighter. “Nope. They aren’t dead. I just taught them a lesson. They wont buy any boys from me ever, and they better not show their faces around here again. I just wanted to let you know that.

“Also, you’re going to come with me and Drake here to see my doctor. I want you working again tomorrow, until our agreed time. No excuses.”

“Yes sir.” I whispered, cringing on the bed.


Drake was standing up. He looked resolute. I felt sick for him. I didn’t want him to try and quit, not now, not when Ferdinand was like this.

“Drake…” I whispered.

He glanced at me, but didn’t stop. “I want to leave, Ferd.”

Ferdinand looked at him long and hard. His eyes were cold. He glanced back at me and shook his head. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

He sighed. He dropped the tiny burning edge of the polaroid into the toilet and flushed before digging a small notebook out of his jacket. “You’re done on the twenty fourth of October. A Thursday.

He eyed us both. “You two are working full time starting tomorrow. Get here at eight, don’t leave till three. I’m gonna put out the word to some of the loyals that you two are leaving, so you better take on as many customers as you can. No breaks.”

He lit up a thin black cigarette, and the tang of cloves filled the air. “Drake? Get him some duds. We’re going to the doctor now.”

Drake nodded smartly, and started digging around in his drawers.

Drake grabbed me a granola bar and a banana on the way out of the apartment. They were gone, but I was still hungry. The back of Ferdinand’s car smelled like a million different flavors of smoke, and I felt a little queasy, but the hunger was still there. I had never felt sick and hungry at the same time before. It was strange.

The seats were upholstered, soft and cushy and maroon. I closed my eyes. Cracking the back window open a little so I could have a stream of fresh air against my nose and mouth as Ferdinand smoked his clove cigarettes. The sunlight felt uneasy and warm on my skin.

Drake’s clothes were loose, creased. They had been folded in a drawer, not grabbed from a fresh laundry pile. The folds in the jeans felt strange. The shirt felt too crisp. Almost starched. I was barefoot. I could feel ashes and piles of what felt like magazines by my feet. I looked down, I saw notebooks. Ledgers. Books. I recognized none of the titles. I lifted my feet, wincing at the twinge from my muscles.

Drake was sitting in the back with me. I felt him put his hand on top of mine. It helped me feel the rough soft fabric of the seats, and the wires underneath.

The clothes I was wearing smelled like him. A little. They were clean, so the smells were smells from his room. Air freshener, detergent. A ghost of his body spray.

I looked up, and I jerked my hand away. Ferdinand was looking at me through the rearview mirror. His eyes were so cold. I cringed.

He was looking back at the road. Drake put his hand on my knee through the fabric. I winced because of the scrape.

“You don’t have to be afraid.” He said softly.

I knew that I was being jumpy. But I just couldn’t help it. Ferdinand scared me so much.

It was a clinic like any other. Nestled in a suburb between an eye clinic and a pharmacy.

But I was stripped naked in one of the clinic rooms, with a heavy doctor carefully probing my asshole with one lubricated finger.

I whimpered.

I had pissed in a cup. He had checked me all over for bruises and lacerations. Now this.

He finished the probing, and gently cupped my genitals in one cold gloved hand. He was checking them for bruises, but his touch was repellent. He was stroking and squeezing. I was stiff and resisting his touch until he let go.

Ferdinand was sitting in one of the chairs, chewing on the end of an unlit strawberry cigarette.

I flinched away, sliding out of his grip as the doctor grabbed my hip.

He pouted. “Come here. Get down on your knees… I don’t do this for free…”

Ferdinand grunted. “No, not that one Perez… Dean is gonna take care of you.”

“Oh.” He mumbled. “Well, send him in.”

Ferdinand sent a text on his phone and made a slight flicking motion at me with his outthrust chin. I gratefully grabbed the clothes that Drake had leant me and put them on as fast as I could, moaning when I accidentally strained my hurt muscles or touched a bruise. The doctor wrote me a prescription for a kind of lotion for my bruises, painkillers, and something I was supposed to apply to my rectum every day.

Drake walked in, eyeing the doctor coolly. “Should I take a piss test now, or after?”

I walked out with Ferdinand, but I still caught the line.

“Why not during?”

I waited out in the car with Ferdinand. Silent. Leaning close to the window to get as much fresh air as I could. He was smoking a coffee flavored cigarette now.

“Why you, I wonder?” Ferdinand didn’t sound like he expected me to answer. So I just stayed quiet. “You’re cute, I guess. But he was rubbing on you right away. Now I’m losing a good boy and a great one.”

He glanced over at me. “Are you just good in the sack? Is that it?”

This time he was expecting me to answer. And instead of lying, I told the truth.

“We haven’t had sex yet.”

He seemed so shocked by that that he had nothing left to say.

We both jumped a little when the car door opened and Drake slid in. His hair was wet, and Ferdinand started to complain, but Drake cut him off.

“I took a shower. My clothes are clean.”

He saw my grossed out expression and he grinned slightly. “Sick old fuck. But he works cheap and discreet. You guys get the medicine? Lets get out of here.”

Three in the afternoon, and I was back in Drake’s room. I was wearing his clothes, and he was carefully applying makeup to a my swollen right ear. We had to stand in front of his mirror. The scrapes on my chin and elbows I would just have to explain. Everything else I could hide.

“There. All done.”

I looked in the mirror and my ear looked just fine. I kept looking in the mirror as Drake put his arms around my neck and peered over my shoulder. I saw him smile and gently kiss me under my tender ear.

It felt good. I shivered a little. The place under my ear was sensitive. It was like I felt warm prickles of life go straight to my cock.

“Drake.” I whispered. I clasped his left hand in my left hand. And with a tiny moan, I led his hand around to the front of my pants, and pressed it against my crotch. I felt him moan softly in my ear, and squeeze through the front of his pants that I had borrowed.

He was breathing hard in my ear. I could feel his cock against me from behind.

And then he wasn’t touching me anymore. Just like that.

I turned around. Confused and unfulfilled. “Drake?”

He was sitting on the bed. His hands crossed and cupped over his crotch. His face flushed.

“I let him piss on me, Neil.” He whispered. “And then he told me to piss on him. And he was licking it up. Like it was lemonade.”

I took a step back. I said his name softly. I didn’t like seeing him like this. He was normally the strong one. And I just felt so helpless when I couldn’t help him.

“I… I’m saying it badly. Neil? I’m going to have to do a lot of stuff like that. I’ve had to do gross stuff for a long time now. I like you a lot, and you make me feel good.” He laughed softly. “You make me feel, horny. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve felt horny?”

I sat on the bed next to him and I brought the blanket around our shoulders. He snuggled into me.

“One of my fears… A big one. Is that we’ll have sex and I wont feel anything.”

I gave a theatrical shudder, and he giggled a little.

“I… I just want to wait until we’re done for good. I don’t want to associate this…” He gestured around the room in a vague but angry gesture.

“With this.” He kissed me gently on the lips.

I wrapped the blanket tighter around us and I pressed my forehead against his. We stayed like that for a second. I sighed. “I know what you mean. But I don’t have to like it.”

I could feel his lips smiling. That’s how close we were.

“It’s just three weeks.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

He checked the clock. “We’d better get you home.”

I blew air from my lips. I really was scared of that, but I tried to be nonchalant about that. I would get to see Toby tonight.

“Yeah, I guess.”

He walked me back, and he let me go about a block from my apartment. I would’t have to go to the brick building tonight. Tonight was my day off.

Tonight, Toby was getting out.

I climbed the ten flights of stairs. I had to take two breaks, once on the fifth floor, and once on the eighth. I felt so weak, and it hurt to breathe too fast. It hurt my raw throat, where Chris/Stanley had choked me.

I thought about the bruises in that polaroid. The thought brought me savage pleasure.

Out of breath and tired, I slid my apartment key into the slot and opened the door.

It was four. The kids were still in the local after-school program. Ben was at his Economics class. Lisse was over in Rosa’s room. The apartment was blessedly quiet. It seemed so large when no one was here.

I sat down with a soft sigh on the couch. I would sleep here tonight. Toby would get the big bed. That way I wouldn’t disturb anyone by coming in at three in the morning. I had fifteen days left, starting tomorrow. Starting tomorrow, Drake had twenty.

So starting tomorrow, I had twenty-one days left until I could be with my boyfriend.

It still felt strange to think of him like that in my mind. It was like a mouth-sore. I couldn’t leave it alone. I kept touching it. Kept going back to it. Coming back to the idea and rubbing it raw.

I went to the room and folded up Drake’s clothes. I hid them at the bottom of my drawer and changed into some of my clothes. I went back to the couch and curled up hugging a cushion. The cushion had a dull brown spot on it where Celia had gotten a nosebleed. The cushion was soft, and it smelled familiar.

I closed my eyes.

“Shh… careful… one sec.”


Before I had a chance to stir, or even get my bearings, somebody jumped on me, shaking me and whooping at the top of their lungs.

I yelped with real pain. My bruises burned and throbbed. I flinched and flailed at my attacker.

Suddenly my attacker had me in a bear hug. I was squashed against his hard chest. I finally woke up all the way.

“Toby!” I yelled. He had already lifted me off of the couch and I hugged him with my arms, propping my knees on the couch. I felt tears, hot and stinging at the corner of my eyes, falling even though my lids were closed. I made a sound that was half sob and half laugh.

He squeezed me extra hard and let go. Ben was still at the door and Celia was bouncing around the living room. Lisse was back in her playpen, laughing and trying to get out. Calvin was nowhere to be seen.

Ben was frowning slightly. “When I got home you were so tired that you wouldn’t wake up. So we went to county without you.”

I could tell that Ben was about to ask, but Toby asked first, frowning and touching the gauze pad on my chin. “What happened?”

I shook my head. “Nothing, it was an accident. Why are we here when we could be celebrating!” I felt so happy that my worries had been brushed away, at least for now. Toby was back!

Toby shook his head. He scratched his chin, and I noticed that he had about a week’s worth of stubble. Nah, being home is all the celebrating I need. Besides, look what we picked up on the way back.

Calvin walked in the door carrying buckets of chicken from KFC, Toby’s favorite restaurant. He was tired, but smiling. I glanced at him, trying to make sense of the image in my head. Calvin hated Toby. Calvin always acted like he hated Toby. But he had a huge grin on his face. It wasn’t just from the chicken.

Celia cleared the table, setting out paper plates and forks. The sink was filled with dirty dishes. I numbly set up the food, the smile on my face was so big that it hurt. I couldn’t stop. Ben was filling in Toby about his classes and I was happy just to listen. To hear my big brother’s voice again. Toby was back. Nothing else seemed to matter.

The KFC had been reduced to traces of gravy, crumbs of cornbread, and greasy blackened chicken bones. I went to the sink to wash my hands, keeping my ears open. Toby was telling a funny story about an obsessively clean inmate. Everyone was laughing. They all sounded so happy, so normal.

I opened the cupboards to see if we had any desserts of any kind. We had three Twinkies left. I brought them out.

Ben grabbed one. Toby smacked his hand and teased. “Can’t you do the math?”

He opened each container. I noticed that his knuckles were pink and scarred. How did that happen? He took an untouched plastic knife and sliced each one in half. Everybody got half of one. He was just cutting junk food in half. But it felt sacred somehow. Like a communion. No one complained about getting half. Nobody argued over getting a bigger piece. They just accepted it. And nobody (except Lisse, who started gnawing on it immediately) took a bite until Toby was done and he took a bite out of his.

Best Twinkie of my life.

We finished, and we all stayed to clean up the mess. Nobody ditched, nobody tried to shrug out of it. I almost felt like crying. Things were going to be good now.

Toby was getting ready to make an announcement. We all shut up. I could hear Lisse playing with her toys in the playpen.

“Listen, that meal out was the last expenditure that we’re going to make unnecessarily. I know that we’re in trouble as far as funds. I’m going to make sure that we can fix that. I’m going to get a job, and we’re going to pay off mom’s bills. Once everything is paid off, we’re gonna buy better food. Fruit and veggies and meat and things. Things are going to get better.”

The cold feeling was back in my stomach.

Here’s the last of it.


January, Cont.

“Here, Derek. I found tracks.”

Derek had been wandering around the remains of his burnt-out cabin for nearly twenty-four hours. Gina had flown out immediately, as had Gorge, one of the FBI agents working with Ruben’s father. They went over the property with fine-toothed combs. The basement contained no bodies, though it was where the fire started. That damned oil lamp. Derek cursed his lack of electricity for almost an hour, until Gina confirmed that people had come into the house after Rye.

“Come on, Derek. I need you thinking clearly if we’re going to find him.” Gina was perched on the seat of a snowmobile she’d borrowed. “Hop on. I’ll show you what I found. Your boy fought hard. I want you to see that.”

Derek climbed on mechanically and held on tight. She took us back to the main road and drove down a half mile before pulling off to the side and parking. Truck tires and footprints spattered the white ground. Bare footprints took off from the road and into the dark maze of gray tree trunks, and Gina urged Derek to follow. Her own prints ran beside two others, following the barefoot escapee. She pulled Derek onward, following Rye, until they made it to the shape of a sprawled body.

A distorted snow angel.

“He fell, or was pushed, here. They grabbed him, picked him up, and walked him to the road up that way.” She pointed. “This was dropped in the snow.”

Half the paper was soaked through, the ink running and spreading until it was barely readable, but Derek saw the threat first.

He’s mine.

“Turn it over,” Gina said. “I don’t know how your boy got hold of the paper, but he did.”

The other side was in pencil, written with barely any pressure and almost invisible, but Rye’s sprawling script made Derek’s heart leap.

Master Pagely came. Sorry I burnt the place down, but I got him in the face with the lamp and it shattered.

“Fuck.” Derek sank into the snow, clutching the wet paper in both hands. He’d let his boy down, had practically handed him over to Pagely, leaving Rye alone like that.

“With this, we know, for sure, who has him. Gorge reported in already. Their case might be cinched with this, and we’ll get Rye out. The chopper is ready to go when you are.”


Derek stormed around the Carfi’s living room as Gina watched him in silence. He was such an idiot. He was such a fucking idiot, leaving Rye alone like that. He’d been too confident that Pagely would heed his warning and wouldn’t risk it all just to recapture Rye.

Four days, and his boy was still missing.

Four days, and Pagely was playing legal peek-a-boo thanks to his lawyer and not making any public appearances.

“I don’t care if you’ve seen him lately or not,” Derek tried again. “I still need his addresses—all of them you haven’t touched—and I want to go take a look for myself.”

“There are too many,” Gina said softly. She bent to feed Fritter—now banished to a (very large) cage in their living room. Derek had raged over his lack of control hundred times in the last four days, and the woman had the patience of a saint. “You don’t have the skill to break in, and Ruben’s dad and his higher-ups aren’t about to send people with you. Keep in mind, they don’t even have a warrant on anything yet. They need solid evidence. Everything they have against Pagely is still pretty insubstantial, at the moment.”

“Fuck it. This is my lover. I will do anything to get him back. I let him down. I have to make up for it all.”

Gina just nodded, eyes sad.

“Let me look, Gina. Let me at least take a peek at the information for each place. Maybe I can see something you all haven’t. Maybe I’ll remember something he said that I forgot; maybe I can rationalize where he is from the files. Please. I’m begging you.”

“He owns eighty-four properties within city limits, Derek. We’ve only gone through twenty-six.”

“I know. That’s why I need to look. I might be able to provide valuable insight into which he won’t be at, and which he will. I love Rye, and I can’t let Pagely break him again. It took me so long to get him to open up, the last time. This time Pagely could kill him, and it’d be my fault.”

“If Pagely’s men had found you in that house too, you’d probably be dead. Just keep that in mind as you beat yourself up.”

“I should have taken him into town with me. I should have moved him, as soon as Pagely showed up the first time. I should have—”

“Derek, just stop.” She sighed and opened her laptop. “Ruben and his dad are both going to beat me just for showing the map to you. Don’t get into trouble. I don’t want Ruben blaming me if you die.”

“I don’t actually plan on going,” Derek said, sounding as convincing as he could manage. “I just think I could be more of a help if I see the information.”

“Here,” she said, pulling up a map of the city. “These little red dots indicate properties we know he owns, and the pinker shade shows what we’ve already checked out. The blue ones are properties we suspect he owns, and the yellow are ones that have been linked to human trafficking in previous cases.”

There were an awful lot of blue and yellow overlaps, and several instances where red was in pretty close proximity to yellow.

“I’ve had people check out the properties overlapping with yellow, but we haven’t found any evidence of current traffic. The priciest places—such as his penthouse condo on Park Avenue—were almost immediately crossed off the list, due to the sheer insanity of trying to keep a smuggling ring in the center of the city. The FBI has forty or so places to watch and gather information on yet, and they should get a good portion of those done tomorrow.”

Derek stared hard at the map and tried to think of all the details Rye had given him about his first real escape from his prison in the City. If they could find that place, they might get the solid evidence they’d need.

Rye had been in an apartment, on the third floor. He’d come out in some less than savory neighborhood, he’d said, but that could be a good number of places on the map—even more, after dark. He’d seen skyscrapers in the distance, but he hadn’t been close to one. That described far too much of NYC. Derek squinted at the map and reached up to block the skyscrapers out with his hand.

There were still at least two dozen red arrows, and twice as many blue.

Pagely was smart, Derek thought. Pagely wouldn’t put Rye where anyone suspected him to be.

Derek ignored the yellow and concentrated on where the red and blue stood alone.

“Try here next,” he said, pointing at a cluster of five dots close together, somewhere in the depths of Brooklyn.

“Okay,” Gina said, accepting his statement without question.

She pretended not to see as Derek scribbled down the addresses for himself, and then began to scroll through the various pictures.

“This place, where is it?” he asked as he came across a shot of the outside of an old apartment building. There was trash on one corner, and Derek saw shattered windows on the third floor.

“Here, it’s one of the group you picked out earlier. They took that picture yesterday. Should I try to convince the dad-in-law to look into that one tomorrow morning?”

Derek nodded. Gina squinted at him for a moment, then dug into her purse.

“Here. Take this, just in case.” She handed him her camera. “You never know when it might come in handy.”

Yeah. Gina was a smart one.

He left Ruben and Gina’s condo with the addresses burnt into his memory, and instead of driving to his apartment, he drove past the buildings he strongly suspected had been used in holding Rye hostage the first time. Two buildings didn’t have skyscrapers visible, and a third was in the middle of renovations. He wound his way over to the next old apartment building, the one with the shattered windows. The whole place made him feel greasy. He parked along the street, hoping his pickup didn’t get towed while he was inside. He pulled Gina’s digital camera from his pocket.

The main entrance to the apartment building had no security, and Derek slipped into the dark without fanfare. The stairs were made of bare wood and had dark stains set in almost every riser. One step was still partially lined with an abandoned strip of carpet tacking.

Derek climbed up and tried to ignore the faint scent of urine.

The third floor had four doors leading from the landing, and two of them had music coming from behind them. Derek pressed his ear to the third and heard faint television noises. A faint aura tickled his skin, one of sadness and futility.

The fourth was the apartment with the broken windows. Listening through the door awarded only silence.

Derek tried the knob. Locked. Of course it wasn’t going to be that easy.

He gave the door a good, solid kick. The sad aura intensified, and he heard the creak of ancient hinges.

“It ain’t gonna open.” The door across the hall had swung in, and light poured out behind the little black-haired, black-eyed girl. She couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven. The TV was on softly behind her, running an old cartoon.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Derek asked.


“Why won’t the door open?”

“It’s a strong door, it won’t break. My brother tried to get in, one time, when somethin’ started stinkin’ inside. He had to pick the lock. There was two boys. I think one was dead, but he wouldn’t let me look.”

“Then it’s the right apartment,” Derek said. “Has anyone been back since?”

“The man who rented it, once right afterward. We stayed inside, just in case.”

“Is your brother home?”

She shook her head, face somber.

“He went away a few weeks ago and don’t come back. I don’t got no one to take care of me, now.”

“No family?” Derek asked, kneeling in front of her.

“No. Ma, she died when I was little. Marco is all I got.”

“Do you have enough food, Nina?” Derek asked.

“Marco stocked up, always did. He collected denty cans. Landlord’ll be kicking me out soon, I think, but until then, I’m set. I been goin’ to school, too, like Marco always says I should,” she said defensively.

“I know a couple people who might be able to help you out,” Derek said. “They’re helping me find out why there were boys in cages, and who the boys were, and where they went. They’re taking care of my rabbit right now. They might be able to find you another place to live, too, and help you find your brother.”

She just blinked up at him, and he could see the disbelief in her eyes. She wasn’t the sort to hope.

“I’ll make you a deal, mister, ’cause I like you. You call and see if you can get me taken care of,” she said wisely. “I can pick the door for you in return. Marco was teachin’ me.”

“Would you? I wouldn’t know where to start,” Derek said, feeling for all the world like a horribly corrupting influence.

She nodded, darting back into her dingy little apartment. When she returned, she had a cheap set of lock picks clutched in her little hands. She watched as Derek dialed Gina’s number on his cell phone and started talking. He quickly told Gina about the girl, and she agreed to come over and talk to Nina after cursing Derek a blue streak for taking off and investigating on his own. Not that she hadn’t expected it. Then she reminded him to take pictures, and possibly a movie of the apartment once he was in. After Gina’s lecture wound down, Derek handed the phone to Nina, who immediately started to bargain over where she ought to get sent as she fiddled with the lock in a careful, studious manner.

The door popped open a few minutes later, and she stepped back, triumphant. The faint scent of decay wafted over them both, and she wrinkled her little nose. She handed the phone back to Derek and backed up toward her door.

“Here, Nina,” Derek said, pulling his wallet out of his pocket. “Take this for your hard work. It should hold you over until Gina comes. And thanks.”

She grinned at the handful of twenties and darted back into her apartment, door closing softly behind her.

“Oh God, Gina,” Derek whispered. “It’s bad. I can smell it.”

“Is he there?”

“No, it’s abandoned. It’s been abandoned for a while, but I’m sure it’s where he was held last time.”

“If it’s that bad, get out of there. We’ll get law enforcement in there tomorrow morning.”

“No. I need to see. For Rye’s sake, I need to see.”

“Derek—” Gina said, but he was already hitting the end button and tucking the phone back in his pocket.

He pushed the door open further and slid inside, trying to keep himself from puking at the faint rotting stench that still permeated everything inside. He slid his video camera out of its case and began to record.

The living room contained the two broken windows, and two heavy, moldy curtains kept the light from permeating inside. A bloody mattress was tipped against one wall. A cheap plastic toolbox sat next to it. A pair of rusty pliers rested on top of the lid.

The walls had been hastily soundproofed, and the door had been reinforced with metal bars and cheap insulation. Even in this cheap little apartment complex, nobody would have heard the sheer panic behind the screams. The muffled noises would be brushed off as TV programming, or something from a video game. He kept going, looking for any sort of clue as to where Rye might be.

Six giant dog kennels sat in the bedroom. One had skeletal, half-rotting remains inside. Four were empty. The last was open, with nothing more than a little dried blood and a lot of broken down bodily waste to mark the former occupant.

Oh, Rye. Derek wanted to kneel down and cry. Instead, picked up the phone to call Gina again. The cops would have to come soon, if only for the body. Then he held up the camera. He needed documentation. Evidence for Gina and the FBI to work with.

He had to find his boy, and he had to find him soon.

He knew what Pagely was capable of. He was seeing it with his own two eyes. Pagely wouldn’t have cared if Rye had died, just like the nameless skeleton.

The fact that the skeleton was still there made Derek even more frustrated. Pagely was so confident in his ability to keep his secrets that he hadn’t done anything about the evidence.

Pagely was more confident than Derek was, when he’d left Rye all alone.

The man was so cocky he probably had Rye in his fucking penthouse.


“What do you mean, they won’t go in?” Derek shouted at a disheveled Ruben. He’d been on the phone with his father for hours, trying to find some way to get into Pagely’s condo.

“Dad won’t authorize a move without a warrant, and for that we need proof. We already sent a contingent out to check on the body you found last night—that gave them what they need to convince a judge—but the convincing itself will take time.”

“Is the body not proof enough?” Derek gave Ruben a thoroughly disgusted look. “You saw the pictures.”

“I know, I know. After seeing that, I was ready to go, but they need to check out the place and make sure Pagely had some sort of connection to the building.”

“Try being there, Ruben. God. I never thought I’d see something worse than Seth in the basement, but that got close. How soon do you think they’ll be able to get a warrant?”

“Tomorrow, Derek.”

“It’s too late. He put himself under my protection, Ruben, and I know he’s got to be at the penthouse.”

“There’s nothing we can do until they decide to move.”

“Then I’m going to go knock on the front door,” Derek said. “If I so much as feel Rye’s aura, I’ll do everything I can to get into that condo.”

“Are you a fucking idiot?” Ruben asked, snorting. “Knocking on the front door?”

“He knocked on my front door. I can do the same to him,” Derek replied. “I have nothing to lose, Ruben. Not any more. He took it all away when he took Rye.”

“He took away your brains, too. Idiot.”

“Yup. Derek is an idiot in love,” Gina said from the kitchen. She brought out plates heaping with breakfast and settled them in front of the men. “I just have one request. Wear a tracer, so we can find you once everything starts moving. And watch the language, we have little ears around.” She darted back into the kitchen for her own plate and the juice carton before Derek could thank her. Nina came trailing out with her own food.

“You’re supposed to be helping me keep Derek alive, not encouraging him,” Ruben said.

“If I were in his shoes, I’d do the same for you,” she said, pouring orange juice into her husband’s glass. “I’ll go get that tracer,” Gina said with a fond smile at the both of them. “I’d love to give you a gun, but I don’t think the FBI would like that. When they get the warrant, they’ll chase after you as quickly as they can,” she reassured him.

She sped out of the room, a woman on a mission. Nina began to pick at her food, though she watched Derek and Ruben when she thought they weren’t looking.

“Great. We can find your body faster.” Ruben snarled. He still hadn’t jumped into the plan the way his wife had, and Derek winced at the harshness in his voice. His friend had always been there for him, but Ruben cared for Derek like a brother, and he was having a hard time letting Derek walk into what could, potentially, be a very bad situation.

“I’d appreciate that,” Derek said with a grim smile. “I don’t want to start stinking before you find me. You’d never be able to look at me the same way again.”

“I don’t think I can look at you now,” Ruben said, heaving his most put-upon sigh. Derek stood when Gina came back, and she studied his body from top to bottom.

“Where would a gay man not see this?” she asked, holding up the giant syringe.

“Um,” Derek said, staring at the needle. “I’m pretty sure he’d find that if he frisked me. It’s big.”

“The capsule inside, silly,” she grumbled.

“We can just stick it under my shirt, can’t we? No injection needed?”

“And what if he gets you out of your clothes?” Gina asked sharply. “He isn’t exactly the sweetest man in the world, and you’re waltzing into his house. Bad things could happen to you if he’s home, Derek.”

“Little ears,” Ruben called, exchanging a wide-eyed look with Nina.

“All right, all right. It’ll make a bump, right?” Derek glanced down at himself. “My feet. He didn’t seem like a foot fetish kind of guy, and if he is, he might not be able to distinguish between tracer bump and vein.” He took off his shoe and sock and pointed at the lightly haired, veiny skin. “See? Not something he’d find in the middle of a r—” Derek glanced over at Nina and bit off the rest of the word.

“Great. Now you’re treating rape like a viable possibility,” Ruben said. “You know, he’ll probably kill you just to make sure you stay out of his way.”

“Nina, will you bring the orange juice back to the fridge? I don’t want it to get warm,” Gina said.

Nina bounded out of the room with the carton. Derek was pretty sure the girl would start eavesdropping, now.

“I know death is a possibility, Ruben.” Derek sighed. “And won’t that just cinch the FBI case? I will do whatever it takes to get Rye out of there now. He was fragile when I had him. This might break him completely. Even if I die in the process, I expect you to take care of him and then send him out to Seth and Curtis’s place. What if they had Gina? You’d expect the same from me.”

That finally shut Ruben up. Gina stuck the giant needle in Derek’s foot, and he tried not to think of what was squeezing under his skin. When she was done, a little red circle and a faint bump that blended in with the rest were all the evidence of his new tracker.

“Take the cell phone, too. We’ll have you on speakerphone. Call me before you try and get into the building, and I’ll find Ruben’s dad so he can listen in to whatever happens. When you hang up or stop talking, we’ll know you’re in trouble.” Gina tossed him a black brick of a phone, and Derek pocketed it obediently.

“Dad’s going to have a fucking hernia,” Ruben said, looking mutinous.

“Little ears.” Gina smacked his shoulder.

Derek left the apartment without a backwards glance.


Pagely lived in a painstakingly restored building, complete with retro elevators and intricate hand-closed grates. The doorman called up to Pagely and gave the man Derek’s name. Pagely told him to let Derek up. That, in itself, was a mindfuck. Derek had kind of assumed that he’d have to sneak or force his way in. He hadn’t expected the open invitation.

“He’s here, and he’s letting me up,” he whispered to Gina before stepping into the beautiful elevator.

“Keep the phone pointed his direction, if you can swing it,” she replied. “I’ll go silent until everything goes down.”

“Good luck,” Ruben chimed in.

“You’re an idiot,” Ruben’s dad said. Derek had gotten lectured on his stupidity all the way in, thanks to Mr. Carfi.

At least someone in the FBI was listening.

Derek used the ride up to collect his thoughts. He was walking into the lion’s den, and he knew it. He just wanted to see Rye, to make sure his boy was still living. That was his primary goal. Once he found Rye, he’d try to get the boy out. If he couldn’t, surely the FBI would get enough evidence from the body in the apartment and the phone conversation for a warrant. Derek just had to make sure Rye lived long enough for the rescue.

Oh yeah. This was a poorly thought out plan, but it was all he could do on short notice.

Derek stepped off the elevator onto the private landing and took a deep breath. He could feel Pagely’s aura, like grease that didn’t want to wash off. He didn’t feel Rye, and that scared him. Even in Rye’s sleep, there would be a little prickle of fear dancing along Derek’s arms. Derek didn’t want to be wrong about Rye’s presence. He couldn’t afford to be wrong.

He knocked. The door opened a moment later, and Pagely stood there with a handgun pointed at Derek’s chest. Half his face was covered in blisters and burns, and his hair had been shaved down to nothing. Derek mentally congratulated Rye on his aim with oil lamps. From the neck down, Pagely looked like a model. His silk shirt was partially unbuttoned, revealing a sleek, hairless chest, and his pants were tight enough to emphasize his partial erection.

“What an interesting surprise,” he said with a wicked grin.

“I’m sure you knew I would show up eventually,” Derek replied. “Where’s Rye? His aim is spot on. Nice burns.”

“Silly man,” Pagely said cheerfully. “Come inside, I insist. Your little stray—Isn’t that what you and Mr. Carfi call him? Your stray? Well, he’s back where he belongs, punished and collared and caged, and no longer your concern.”

If Pagely knew what they had taken to calling Rye, he’d been doing quite a bit of digging in the few weeks since he’d last knocked on Derek’s door. Derek moved inside, and Pagely kept the gun trained on his chest.

“Rye will always be my concern,” Derek said as Pagely herded him down the hall. He let himself be directed. The farther into the apartment he got, the better chance he had of sensing Rye. “You will never be rid of me, until you let Rye go. You might keep him prisoner, but he’ll never be yours again.”

“Then I’ll just have to kill you,” Pagely said with a delighted laugh. “It’s that easy, Mr. Calbraith.”

“Not quite,” Derek said softly, holding up the still-connected cell phone. “Say hello.”

He didn’t have time to dodge as Pagely lashed out with the butt of the gun.


Rye was here. It was the first thing Derek could feel when he regained consciousness, but the headache was close behind. He tried to move his arms, but he discovered, rather unsurprisingly, that he was tied to a table. It wasn’t the most unpleasant way he could have imagined waking up, but the restraints were a little disappointing.

“What will it be, slave?” Pagely’s voice burst through the headache. “Will you lick his wounds and be punished for it, or will you stay in your corner like a good pet?”

Derek tried to say something, but when he tried, he discovered that his mouth was full of something rubbery. He jabbed at it with his tongue, but it didn’t move. He cracked an eye, trying to get a faint glimpse of his surroundings through thick eyelashes, but all he could see was a bright light overhead and shadows everywhere else.

Rye was silent, but his aura was clear. Fear stabbed at Derek’s skin, taking a little of the focus from his head wound. Concern flowed from Rye and rippled over Derek’s skin like water, and Derek hoped desperately that Rye did the safe thing, the thing that wouldn’t get him injured. He raised one finger, hoping Rye would get the message.

Rye didn’t. His close-cropped copper hair glowed in the light, and his face was shadowed as he leaned over Derek’s head. Bloodied fingers reached out to touch Derek’s wound, and Derek opened his eyes a little wider so the boy would know he was okay. Rye’s look of absolute relief made Derek’s heart lurch.

“I’m sorry about the house,” he whispered.

Apparently, Pagely wasn’t thrilled with Rye’s sentiments. A swish and a snap sounded, and Rye flinched away and skittered back to his corner like a kicked puppy. Pagely leaned over to take a look at his newest captive.

“Now who’s in control?” the man asked, cackling. “It isn’t my pet, I’ll tell you that. It isn’t your friend Carfi, and it isn’t you. You thought so much of yourself, that first time we met, didn’t you? You had to act like you were king of the office, when all you did was sit there silently during the meeting. What purpose do you serve, Calbraith? Why are you under Carfi’s thumb?”

Derek couldn’t answer with the gag in, but he was pretty sure the sarcastic eyebrow was enough to get his message across. Pagely flicked the catch on the gag and pulled it free roughly, nearly taking Derek’s teeth with it. Derek just stretched out his jaw and smiled prettily.

“Should we move on to more painful methods?” Pagely asked, cracking his knuckles. “As curious as I am, I don’t actually care what your answers are. You’ll be dead shortly, and I’ll try to sell the slave to the highest bidder. With the marks my pet keeps accumulating, I don’t know if I’d be able to find a buyer. What would we do with you then, slave?” Pagely glared down at the corner Rye had retreated to. Derek couldn’t see Rye, but he could feel the terror.

“It’ll be okay, Rye,” he whispered. Pagely lashed out, backhanding Derek hard enough to slam his head against the wood. Derek grit his teeth. If Seth could live through their father’s torment, if Rye could survive this bastard for a year and a half, he could keep them both alive until help showed up. Surely Pagely had done something with the damned cell phone and the FBI was on the way.

“Get in your cage,” Pagely said, moving away from the table. Rye’s aura moved away, and Derek could hear the clank of a metal door. Rye’s harsh breathing had muffled, but the boy’s emotions grew painfully wild.

When Pagely returned, he was holding a surgical scalpel in one hand.

“Now. I want to know what you know.”

“About what? That’s an incredibly vague question,” Derek said, and the knife began to slice through his t-shirt, cotton splitting in sharp bursts of sound. “Let’s make this easy. You’ve been digging into my background. What do you know? I don’t know which blanks you want me to fill.”

“Who are you, Calbraith?” The inch-long blade came to rest over his sternum.

“You obviously know my name. Jobwise, I guess I’m a part-time business consultant and part-time hermit.” He tried to regulate his breathing, tried not to show signs of duress. Pagely pressed the point down hard enough to draw up a bead of blood, and Derek’s heart lurched. He had to somehow master this crazy situation. Pagely wanted to wrest control away, wanted to break Derek before he killed him.

“What sort of consulting do you do with Ruben Carfi, Calbraith?”

“The kind you won’t believe me about,” Derek said. Pagely jerked his arm down hard, and the knife sank down to the bone. A tiny rivulet of blood streaked down around his collarbone and tickled his neck.

Pagely snorted and began to pull the scalpel down in an agonizingly slow crawl toward Derek’s navel. The pain washed over him, sharp and screaming, until his brain finally kicked in and flooded his system with endorphins. He could hear Rye whimpering from the corner. What the hell had he been thinking? Stupid, stupid thoughts. Now Rye was going to have to watch him die, on top of everything else.

“So, Mr. Unbelievable Consultant, what sorts of things do you tell Carfi about his potential business associates? What sort of dirt do you dig up on us? What did you tell him about me?”

Pagely halted the knife’s journey, but the blood was running faster, pooling under Derek’s neck.

“You’re psychotic,” Derek said, pain crackling in his voice.

“Psychotic? Me?” Pagely lifted the scalpel and smashed it down into Derek’s abdomen. A fresh burst of pain lanced through him. In the background, Rye screamed in terror. Derek wanted to calm him down, wanted to hug him and tell him it was okay, but he was fading into the darkness as his blood seeped down his sides.


When he woke up again, he was upright, naked, and bound to an uncomfortable wooden chair. His chest and stomach burned fiercely, but a quick glance down showed that he’d been sloppily bandaged. A rank smell was coming from the lower wound, and he tried not to think about what it meant.

He was in the same room, but the table had been pushed to one side. Pagely was sitting in a leather arm chair on the other side of the room, and Rye was kneeling to one side, head down and golden eyes fixed on the bloody floor. His back was covered in welts and scabs, his hands and feet were tied behind his back, and a long piece of twine had been tied around his neck. Pagely held the other end tightly in one hand.

“Awake at last, Mr. Calbraith? My pet thinks I played a little too rough with you.” Pagely said, hand caressing Rye’s cropped hair before yanking roughly on the rope. Rye didn’t even flinch as the rough yellow twine cut into his skin. He glanced up at Derek, but his eyes were glossy and distant, as though his brain couldn’t bear to see any more.

“Let him go,” Derek said, heart breaking just a little.

“I don’t think so. I have a feeling you’ll break faster if my slave takes your punishments. Watch. So far, you’ve been arrogant.” The rope tightened on Rye’s neck, and he began to struggle for breath. “Untruthful.” Another vicious yank, and Rye was sprawling at Pagely’s feet. “Rather rude, too.” Pagely rested his foot on the side of Rye’s face and began to push.

“What the fuck do you want from me?” Derek asked, panicking. Rye was gasping like a fish, eyes half-open and glassy.

“I want you to submit, Calbraith. I want you to answer my questions, put yourself at my mercy, and admit that you will do anything for me.”

“Ask your questions,” Derek spat. “You won’t like my answers.”

“Disrespect.” Pagely raised his foot briefly before bringing his heel down into Rye’s nose. The boy gave a short scream, and blood ran down his face and onto the floor to mix with Derek’s. The sound gave Pagely an instant erection, and his pants made the bulge look absolutely obscene.

“Shit. Fine. Ask.”

“What kind of consultation do you provide for Mr. Carfi?”

Derek closed his eyes for a moment, terrified of what Pagely would do to Rye if he told the truth.

“I’m there to judge the emotional state and stability of potential and current business associates,” Derek said, the words coming out in gasps. His gut was cramping and burning, and the pain coming from Rye was almost as sharp. He wanted to curl into a ball and pass out again.

“And how do you do that?” Pagely asked sweetly.

“I’m very talented at reading people.”

“So, what did you tell him about me?”

“You were power hungry and wanted to manipulate him.”

“I suppose that was true enough,” Pagely said, kicking a silently crying Rye to one side and standing up. “Does he listen to you all the time? Does he always do what you suggest?”

“No,” Derek said weakly. “He has quite a few other advisors. He’ll ask me for my observations, and I give them. I’m not nearly as important as you think I am.”

“Yet you’ve infiltrated my side business and stole away one of my favorite pets. Repeatedly.”

Pagely’s aura was giving off a distinctly suspicious rasp, and Derek decided to wing it. If Pagely believed he’d orchestrated Rye’s initial escape, he might believe Derek had more information available to him, and might take more time trying to get that information out. More time was good. More time was necessary. Where the fuck was the FBI?

“If he was a favorite, why did you leave him to starve to death? I saw the other boy’s body, Pagely. You were planning to let Rye die, too.”

“That was unfortunate,” Pagely said, sighing. “I was called away on business for longer than I’d expected. It’s not like I could have had the neighbor kids feeding and watering my pets. I may have a few of New York’s finest in my back pocket, but only if I don’t flaunt what I do. Slave,” Pagely said sharply, pulling roughly on the end of Rye’s leash. “Come.

Rye slowly crawled over, head hanging low.

“Let’s give him a show while I ask him questions. If he doesn’t answer, I can choke you to death on my cock.”

Both Rye and Derek made noises of protest. Pagely looked rather amusedly between the two of them.

“Shall I fuck him, instead?”

Derek went silent. Rye, already unnaturally pale, went white. His bound arms tensed behind him.

“Your choice, Mr. Calbraith. I want my slave to pleasure me. How should he do it? Mouth or ass?”

“No,” Derek whispered.

“Mouth, master.” Rye’s voice was rough and strangled, and a short jerk of the twine silenced him immediately.

“You have no voice here, slave, or have you forgotten?”

“Please,” Rye said again, and this time the word was barely louder than a breath. His golden eyes flashing up at Derek before landing back on the ground in front of him.

“Mr. Calbraith? Do you agree with the slave’s choice?”

Derek could only nod. Rye’s pleading glance had effectively silenced him. Pagely sat down in the leather armchair once again, legs spread wide.

“Take me out, slave. Watch, Mr. Calbraith. This is how he stays alive. Perhaps you could pick up a lesson or two, if you want to survive.”

Rye crawled between Pagely’s legs and pushed his bloody face into the man’s crotch without hesitation. Derek could hear the rasp of the zipper as Rye pulled it down with his teeth. Despite his instant obedience, his aura radiated pain and disgust.

“Who was on the other end of that cell phone, Calbraith?”

“Ruben Carfi.” And his wife. And the FBI.

“Well isn’t that interesting.”

Derek let his head fall forward, wishing his hair was longer so he could curtain himself from the tableau occurring across the room. He didn’t want to see how Rye had to live for so long. He didn’t want to watch Rye manipulate the swollen cock until it sprang from Pagely’s tight pants, and he definitely did not want to watch his lover immediately swallow it to the root. He writhed in his chair, struggling against the bonds as Rye’s head bobbed. Pagely’s eyes had closed to enjoy the feel of his slave’s skilled blowjob, and Derek took the opportunity to try as hard as he could to get out of his bonds. Twine dug into his wrists, upper arms, and chest as he thrashed. Pagely’s eyes flew open as Derek’s struggles tipped the chair backward, and he found himself flat on his back with a pulsing pain in his head and a renewed sharpness to the burning in his stomach.

Pagely pushed Rye off forcefully enough to send the smaller man flying, but the anger Derek expected to feel scraping along his skin was faint.

“You had to go and be a nuisance, again, didn’t you?” Pagely said, hovering over Derek with a frown Derek couldn’t quite take seriously when the man’s cock was bobbing there, sticking straight out of his pants.

“FBI. Get down,” a voice barked from the doorway. An officer came through, gun pointed steadily at Pagely. Three more officers were behind him, checking the corners and shadows.

Rye crawled over to Derek, bodily shielding him from the guns and giving the men frightened, angry glances.

One of the officers knelt down next to them, knife out. Derek could see Rye’s fear, but the sharp sensation that should have come with it was barely there. He tried to feel the auras of the officers, but they were faint and nearly indistinguishable. Even the emotions of the officer kneeling next to them were faint. No wonder he hadn’t noticed when the rescuers were coming.

“Easy, Rye. It’s okay. He’s just going to cut us free, that’s all.”

The officer cut through Derek’s ropes with a few neat flicks of the wrist, and Derek stroked Rye’s back to calm him when the knife moved to his twine collar. Rye held still, shaking, as the rope around his neck was snapped off.

“Sorry it took so long,” Ruben’s dad said as he walked into the room. “You’re a couple floors below Pagely’s apartment, and we had to go through that monstrosity, first.”

“We’re still alive,” Derek said with a weary smile. “That’s all that matters right now. Thanks.”

Rye wrapped his arms around Derek, and they huddled together silently until the EMTs came.



Derek sat in the back of a large SUV in the parking lot of an Iowa rest area less than ten miles away from Seth and Curtis’s rambling ranch house. Fritter paced her cage in the cargo area, the litter rustling with each hop. They both waited impatiently for Ruben, Gina, and Nina to get back from the bathroom. They were going to meet his brother here shortly, since the rest of the drive was off the highway and Ruben didn’t trust his GPS not to take them through mud pits and minimum-maintenance roads.

Pagely had managed to perforate Derek’s large intestines with his scalpel, and a nasty infection had sent Derek into septic shock. He’d been sent immediately to the intensive care unit, and had been hospitalized for far too long. He’d been lucky, though, and had pulled through nicely.

Rye’s vocal cords had been damaged and would take months to heal properly, but he had been released in February with instructions to rest. It had taken a lot of sweet talking on Derek’s part to get Rye to leave his side. For weeks, Rye had freaked out if anyone touched him unless Derek was close by. The hospital put them in the same room just so they could keep Rye calm. Rye wouldn’t speak, but Derek could see how uncomfortable he was in the middle of so much humanity. The stress from all the people kept Rye from healing the way he should, and Derek pleaded and begged him to go stay with Seth and Curtis just so he’d have a little isolation from the insanity of the NewYork-Presbyterian hospital. Despite his heavily muted aura reading ability, he could tell how badly even the sweetest of nurses scared Rye. Seth and Curtis were the only people Derek knew of who might be able to calm Rye down and introduce him back to freedom, so he made the call. Seth and Curtis had flown to New York as soon as they heard the news, and had agreed to take Rye home to Iowa with them.

The fact that Rye had gone with minimal argument was not lost on Derek.

The city hadn’t been quite as painful for Derek, now that his empathic abilities had diminished to nearly nonexistent levels. He still didn’t like it, though, and being separated from Rye for so long was making him a terrible crank. The doctor still hadn’t okayed him for flying, thus Ruben and Gina’s ready agreement to drive him to Iowa—all eleven hundred miles.

He looked ridiculous in his flannel shirt, pajama pants, tennis shoes, and thick, downy coat, but at least they were comfortable. He shifted around on his pile of pillows. Despite his recovery and his pajama-themed ensemble, he still felt like he’d been hit by a semi. He was ready to be finished with the trip. He was ready to see Rye. He was ready to be done with the insanity that was Malcolm Pagely and his slave trade.

Derek had spent the day before he left with the persecution’s lawyer, recording his testimony. Poor Rye had done same thing while he was still in the hospital. He still hadn’t had the use of his voice, then, and had to write everything down, but even after two months of healing, he hadn’t spoken to a soul. Everyone had tried, but he wasn’t exactly communicating. At all. To anyone. Not even in writing. Seth kept putting him on the phone with Derek, just to try and coax words out, but according to Seth, all Rye would do was sit there and clutch the receiver to his ear as though it were the last time he’d ever hear Derek’s voice.

“It’s been rough, little brother,” Seth reported a few days before. “Yesterday was the first time he didn’t cringe every time we accidentally touch him. He still won’t see professional help, so I’ve bribed him. He has to help Curtis around the yard and he has to start studying for his GED instead of moping inside all the time. I keep giving him lectures about how I dealt with things, how I made it through hell and managed to recover, and he seems to take them to heart. I’m also trying to keep him positive about himself, about how you’ll greet him when you come home. I think he’s terrified you’ll reject him, since you’ve seen him at his worst.”

It was yet another reason Derek needed to be with Rye as soon as possible.

He stared at his hands, still bruised from the IVs, and pictured Rye’s face. When the door next to him opened and a burst of chill wind swept through the vehicle, he realized that Rye’s hair had grown. The thick copper locks, cut so short over Christmas, were starting to curl at the ends. Rye stood there in jeans and that gray winter coat, uncertainty tangible in his body language, golden eyes fixed on the concrete.

“Rye,” Derek whispered, lifting a hand toward that smooth cheek. Rye didn’t react to the touch. “Oh, baby. I missed you. I missed you so much.”

Rye slowly raised his gaze, studying Derek silently, taking in every little detail. Derek knew he’d gotten thin, but he hadn’t really considered what Rye would think about his sickly look. He hoped it wasn’t going to be an issue. Rye, on the other hand, had thrived. He’d put on muscle, since he’d moved out here. It showed nicely, even under his winter coat. It was a weird change. Strong Rye, weak Derek.

Rye lifted his hand and brushed Derek’s cheek in response, a soft, tentative touch that Derek leaned into in relief. Rye smiled and hoisted himself up into the back seat of the large SUV, nudging pillows out of his way as he went. His arms wrapped around Derek’s shoulders, and they clung to each other like drowning men clung to driftwood.

After a moment, Rye drew back and pointed over at Seth and Curtis’s jeep. Ruben and Gina were chatting with Curtis, looking over a map and pointing. Nina was talking to Seth. Seth saw him and waved, grinning. Derek just smiled back, his arms too filled with Rye to let go.

This was home. It didn’t matter that he didn’t have the house in New Hampshire to go back to. As long as he had Rye, he would be fine. They’d stay a few weeks with Seth and Curtis while he finished healing, and then they’d make plans for the rest of their lives.

He desperately hoped that Rye would stay with him.

Rye’s lips pressed down over the faint mark on Derek’s temple, and Derek melted into the touch. He could feel the tears coming. He hadn’t let himself think about what had happened to them, about what might have changed over the last month. He’d held himself together and in top form while getting prodded and tested and talked to by doctors and psychologists. He’d kept himself functioning and alert and on his best game the whole time. Holding Rye again completely destroyed his steel mask, and he buried his face in the strong, muscled shoulder.

Ruben and Gina didn’t say a word about the wet patch on Rye’s coat when they got back in the vehicle and proceeded to follow Seth and Curtis to what was going to be their home for a short while. Nina just gave the two of them long, assessing stares.

Rye helped Derek into the house and down the hall to the guest bedroom. The first thing Derek noticed was the art. Giant pieces of paper had been taped up over one white wall, and Rye had attacked it with his pencils, sketching Derek’s face and body from all angles. Once he got past the strangeness of seeing himself on the wall, he noticed the desk. A pile of high school textbooks had been stacked there, from English to Algebra.

“How is studying for the GED?”

Rye shrugged and nodded before biting his lip and pointing to the bed, questions in his eyes.

“Yeah. I’m tired,” Derek said. “I’m always tired, these days. I feel like an old man, Rye, and I’m kind of worried you won’t want me after seeing me laid flat like that.”

Rye rolled his eyes.

“Do you really want me, Rye? I need to know you aren’t just putting up with me. You don’t owe me that.” The words came out before Derek could stop them. He felt far more uncertain, now that the auras of the people around him were so muted.

Rye pointed to the bed.

Derek slid his coat from his shoulders, sat down, and hoisted one leg up so he could get at his shoe. Rye knelt before him, fingers picking the laces loose with quick, sure movements before Derek could even contemplate the knot. Derek almost complained, but one look at Rye’s quietly determined face kept his argument to himself.

Rye set the shoes aside and slipped off the socks. His hands slid reverently over the tops of Derek’s feet, and his thumb brushed the little bump of the GPS tracker. Ruben had made Derek promise to keep it in until Pagely was safely behind bars for good, and he hadn’t had the heart to say no. His best friend had looked so terrified, seeing Derek laid flat in the ICU with more cords plugged into him than a computer server.

Rye’s hands brushed up to the front of Derek’s plaid flannel shirt, and as he slipped each little red button through its hole, he’d lean in and brush a kiss along some part of Derek’s face. Forehead. Eyelid. Nose. Cheek. Jaw. Chin. Lips. The kisses were light and fluttering, completely undemanding, and when the shirt slid from Derek’s shoulders, Rye backed away. Derek scooted farther onto the bed, his pajama pants riding low enough to reveal the surgery scar situated just above one bony hip.

Rye tossed the winter coat Derek had bought all those months ago into the corner, and then stripped his shoes and socks off. His t-shirt went next, and then the jeans. When he was down to his blue plaid boxers, he toyed with the elastic band and grinned cheekily at Derek.

Oh, that was a relief. Rye could still smile, at least.

Rye pushed the waistband low enough to show off the top of tightly-curled copper hair.

“Rye,” Derek groaned. There was no way in hell he had the energy to do anything, but Rye was tempting him to get off the bed and drop to his knees. It had been too long since their two weeks of desperate blowjobs and intense, all-consuming kisses. He’d expected Rye to crawl back into his asexual shell after his latest imprisonment under Pagely’s control.

Apparently, a sexual setback wasn’t going to be the case, and Derek thanked every deity he could think of for that. Derek piled pillows behind him, propping him up enough to watch Rye’s little show.

Rye stripped out of his boxers slowly, sensually, exposing a half-hard cock. He pivoted slowly, inviting Derek to get a good look at him from all directions. His back had healed completely, leaving more faint red and white lines on the pale skin. The marks from his neck, wrists, and ankles had faded, too. His arms and chest had new definition, and he flexed a little to show his new muscles off.

“You’re so beautiful,” Derek said softly. Rye grinned impishly and crawled up onto the bed. He draped himself across the foot and took his cock in hand.

Derek groaned as Rye began to stroke himself in quick, light, playful tugs. His stray had been practicing. Rye shook silently as Derek’s eyes widened.

Rye was laughing. Derek growled softly, drinking in the sight of his lover’s mirth. Perhaps soon he’d be able to hear the sound that went with the expressions.

Rye’s cock jerked sharply beneath his hand, and Derek moved to chase after the enticing piece of flesh. He wanted some of that in his mouth. Badly.

Rye put a hand out to stop Derek’s movement.

“Hell, Rye. Come here. I want to suck it.”

Rye just shook his head and kept stroking. Well, if demands didn’t work, surely begging would. Derek wasn’t sure he’d ever tried that particular tactic in bed before.

“Please?” Derek said, trying to be as sweet as honey.

Rye just grinned and stroked harder. Tighter. Faster. He took a hissing breath and closed his eyes as the stimulation grew.

“Fuck, Rye,” Derek moaned, pushing his pajama bottoms down and grabbing his own stiff cock in a weak grip. “The things you do to me.”

Rye watched Derek through narrowed eyes, following his hand’s progress up and down the long shaft. Rye’s own stroking intensified, keeping pace with Derek’s timing, and his voice cried out roughly as his hips pushed up off the mattress in one final thrust. Streaks of white flew, spattering the sheets and Rye’s stomach.

Derek’s orgasm followed a few moments later, and Rye watched intently from his blissed-out sprawl as Derek’s come trickled down over his hand.

“You are so fucking hot doing that,” Derek said when he caught his breath. Sleep was closing in him quickly, and he looked down at his messy, scarred stomach in regret. He needed to clean up, but he didn’t think he’d be able to push himself farther upright, much less get all the way to the bathroom.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and opened them with an indignant grunt when the shock of cold swiped over his dick. Rye leaned over him with a wet washcloth, bottom lip clenched tightly between his teeth as he cleaned Derek off. He was trying not to laugh at Derek’s fidgeting, but his lips kept twitching dangerously.

It was a good sight for Derek, calming most of his fears and apprehensions about his lover. If Rye could laugh, could touch himself, could touch Derek so shortly after his abuse, he was moving forward, at least in one area. They still had to work on the speech. And the going out in public. And talking to strangers. And trust. There would be a million little things they’d have to discover and work through.

At least they’d do it together.

Rye disappeared again, padding off to the bathroom with the washcloth in hand. Derek could hear the shower turn on as he slowly drifted to sleep. He woke briefly when Rye climbed into bed with him, spooning up behind him and pulling their bodies tightly together.

“Love you,” Rye said softly, his injured voice hoarse and scratchy with disuse.

“Love you too,” Derek said, and drifted off in the warmth of Rye’s naked body.


He woke to wet heat surrounding his already-stiff cock. The sun was streaming in, and Rye’s bedhead hovering over his midsection was enough to let Derek know he’d slept longer and harder than he had since their last day in New Hampshire.

Rye bobbed down on his cock again, cheeks hollowed with suction and eyes fixed on Derek’s face. He was ridiculously good at what he was doing, and Derek’s head flew back down on his pillow as a result of a particularly masterful swallow. It was the first time Rye had ever sucked him, and Derek wanted to give back somehow.

“Rye, I want you to fuck me,” Derek said. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, an offer Derek hadn’t considered extending to anyone before. Once the words were out, though, he knew it was exactly what both of them needed. Rye needed to know he was able to be in control of a sexual situation, and Derek needed to be sure he could take it.

Rye popped off of him with wide eyes.

“I… can’t,” Rye said in that rough, raspy voice. “I’ve never.”

“Neither have I. You’ll be gentle, though,” Derek said, smiling. “You’re perfect, Rye, and I want you.”

Rye crawled up and bent down for a long, lingering kiss.

“Your brother stores lube in the drawer, and my second test came back a few days ago. I’m clean. Do you want to see the results?” Rye looked away, blushing.

“Don’t need to. I trust you. Get the lube,” Derek instructed as he turned himself over on his stomach.

“Are you sure you’re up to this?” Rye bit his lip as he studied Derek’s naked body.

“I’m fine,” Derek reassured him. Six weeks past a minor bowel surgery, and his doctor had more or less okayed him for sex. He didn’t think he’d have the energy to properly top quite yet, but that wasn’t going to happen for a while with Rye, anyway.

“If you’re sure,” Rye said softly, but Derek could feel his muted excitement. Yeah. This was a good step. He stretched out and relaxed as Rye set the bottle of lube on the bed.

“I have an idea,” Rye murmured, and Derek could hear a cap snap open somewhere behind him. The lube was still sitting on the mattress in plain sight, and he twisted around to see what Rye was doing.

Two slick hands pushed him flat against the mattress.

“Your brother was nice enough to provide massage oil, too,” Rye said. “Thoughtful. Apparently, he’s been taking your suggestions for Curtis and writing them down for when you find your—” He stopped, cleared his throat.

“My love,” Derek finished for him, relaxing under Rye’s skillful hands.

“You really, truly love me?” Rye asked, fingers digging into Derek’s shoulders. “Even after everything?”

“Yeah, Rye. I really, truly love you.”

Rye kneaded his muscles in silence for a while, spending time on his neck, his arms, his thighs, and finally, his feet. When he began to work Derek’s thighs, Derek was ready for something more than a massage. He arched up into Rye’s firm grip, enticing those fingers to put themselves to a more pleasurable use.

Rye chuckled. The sound was turbulent, like churning water, but Derek had never heard anything sweeter.

The laugh ended too soon, but Rye’s hands moved to Derek’s ass, kneading and spreading the cheeks with fascinated concentration.

“God, Rye, hurry,” Derek begged. He pushed his ass up into his lover’s hands, trying hard to convey his urgency.

“Let me enjoy this,” Rye chastised him, brushing his thumbs up along Derek’s crease. They rubbed along either side of the knotted entrance, massaging the muscle in slow, steady strokes. Derek could feel his pucker relaxing, opening itself to Rye’s curious eyes.

Both hands left his body, and he waited anxiously as Rye snatched the lube from the bed.

Rye fumbled behind him a little bit, and then those thumbs were back and covered in lube. Derek did his best to relax as Rye slid the tip of one into his relaxed ass.

“You’re pulling me in as if you want me here,” Rye whispered. “I can feel your insides, all hot and soft and silky, just pulling my thumb in deeper. I never thought it would feel so soft.”

Derek couldn’t speak. He was too busy feeling.

The second thumb pushed its way in, and Rye’s breath misted over the skin of his ass as he bent in to get a good look.

“God, you’re tiny,” Rye said. “I’m not large, but I don’t know if I’ll fit.”

“You’re perfect, and you’ll fit,” Derek gasped. “Do it.”

“Okay,” Rye breathed. He slid his thumbs out slowly, until just the tips were left, and then pushed them back in.

“That isn’t your cock, Rye.” Derek groaned.

“No, it isn’t. I haven’t stretched you yet. Let me.” His tone of voice brooked no argument, and Derek stifled a smile as he accepted Rye’s order.

Those slick thumbs thrust in and out, loosening the muscle open in slow pulls, and then, when Derek thought Rye would spend the rest of the day fucking him with his thumbs, the digits were gently removed. Something larger took their place, and Derek let out a long-held breath as Rye finally slid into him. He bit down on the pillow and let the burn wash through him as Rye worked himself inside.

“Are you okay?” Rye asked as his hips came to rest against Rye’s ass. He pressed his chest against Derek’s back, the touch of skin enough to make Derek clutch the sheets. Rye’s hands slid up and over his sides, and Derek wanted to be able to bottle everything he was feeling right then. It was better than the addicting positive sensations in other people’s auras, better than anything he’d ever felt on his own. Rye was deep inside, in control, and Derek was at his mercy. If Rye ever decided to leave him, he knew he’d be completely undone.

“This is incredible,” Derek gasped. “Move.”

Rye began to move, slow and easy, keeping as much of their bodies touching as possible. His breath landed hot against Derek’s shoulder blade, and he punctuated his thrusts with little kisses.

“I’m not going to last long,” he whispered.

“Me either,” Derek admitted. “Faster. Harder. It feels amazing, Rye.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

Rye pushed in just a little harder, and Derek realized that his lover wasn’t ready to let go of himself this time.

Words were sparse after that, the physical communication more than eloquent enough for them both. Even Rye’s gentle pace became nearly unbearable after a few minutes, and Derek felt his orgasm build as his cock rubbed against the bedding beneath him. His fingers clenched in the sheets, agonizingly tight for a moment, and then release came, swift and terrifying, leaving him panting and clawing at everything around him to keep him grounded.

When the rest of the world came back into focus, Rye was keening behind him, and his thrusts had become rough and erratic. He pushed in and held himself there, body quaking under the force of his climax. Then he collapsed down on top of Derek’s back.

“I’m sorry,” Rye whispered frantically when he finally caught his breath. He carefully pulled out from Derek’s body and retreated to the other side of the bed. “You tensed up. I hurt you. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me at all, Rye. I loved it,” Derek said, reaching out to catch his lover before Rye managed to make his escape. “So help me, Rye, if you start feeling guilty over something so amazing, I’ll be forced to go sleep on the couch tonight.”

“But I—you—you tensed.” Rye bit his lip and stopped, but he curled his knees up to his chest in a defensive maneuver.

“Here.” Derek found the energy to roll to one side. “See?”

“See what?”

Derek pointed to the sloppy mess he’d created. “That’s why I tensed.”

“Oh.” Rye’s eyes widened, and he reached out to touch the sticky, cooling puddle, as if he needed tactile proof.

“If you two are finished, I’ve got breakfast ready,” Seth’s voice called from the hallway. “Ruben and Gina and the kid will be here in an hour, so you might want to put clothes on, too.”

Rye and Derek found their way to the kitchen with heavy blushes staining their cheeks. Curtis was on his way out the door, briefcase in hand, but he had time to give them both a salacious wink.

“I’ll see if the chemistry teacher will give me a good textbook suggestion,” he told Rye as he accepted a travel mug of steaming coffee and a peck on the cheek from Seth. Rye rasped a thank-you. The words were enough to make Curtis practically glow as he left.

“He talks!” Seth cheered, swooping around to hug Rye. “Now we just have to get you to speak to the shrink.”

Rye slipped from Seth’s arms and edged behind Derek at that proclamation, head shaking frantically.

“Nope. You aren’t going to be able to avoid it, Rye. The only way you’ll be able to deal with everything you just went through is to face it head-on, and talking to a psychologist is an ongoing part of dealing with all the shit life throws at you. I would know. I still have to go.”

Seth’s hands landed on his hips, and the determined expression on his face made him look like Mama gearing up for a lecture. When those intense eyes turned on Derek, it made him want to turn tail and run.

Confusion really doesn’t even begin to cover it. How I was feeling, that is.

I really, really didn’t want Keith to go, but I couldn’t imagine any way to get him to stay. He was uncomfortable, I was uncomfortable; I thought I was giving him an easy out, but instead I felt like a giant asshole. I’ll be honest with myself, though, and admit that Keith’s reaction hurt. First, him coming out dressed. We had always had lazy mornings. He would wear my robe, and we’d eat together, and we’d talk. He marched out with his shirt tucked in – like maybe he was ashamed of what we were doing? I couldn’t really figure it out.

Really, I thought there was something between us. Relationship-like, not just fuck buddy. I know I didn’t handle Eric well, but I couldn’t stand the thought of telling Eric it was something if it turned out to be nothing. It was stupid, really, but I felt like Keith and I should have a conversation about what we were doing before Eric and I had that conversation. Yeah, real stupid. Thanks, Eric.

I also realize that I’m projecting my anger at myself onto Eric. Yeah, I should have talked to Keith, but I expected to have more time.

But did I want something with Keith? Funny, I had never really consciously wanted a romantic relationship with him, but I couldn’t stop thinking about him. My thoughts ran in circles all day, but I didn’t call him, and he didn’t call me. Kyle called to wish me a merry Christmas and to say that Eric didn’t speak for the both of them. He supports whatever Keith and I decide, and he’s not judging us. It was actually pretty nice, but it also made me suspect that perhaps he and Eric had argued about it when Eric got home.

The next day I had a nice dinner with my parents, and my brother and sister and their families. I had a nice time, and when my sister, Jenna, asked if I was dating anybody, I gave her a glossy, family-friendly version about Keith. Really, I thought I was being honest, but Jenna disagreed.

“Cut the shit.”

Her exact words. I love my sister, but she’s no-nonsense, and has been known to talk like a trucker. Or a sailor.

“No, seriously, cut the shit. You’re not confused; you’re just being a little pussy.”

Did I say no-nonsense? I meant bitch.

“Go get him! Honestly, I don’t know what you’re waiting for. And really, you had no idea? He’s had a hard-on for you since you were, like, 22. Of course he wants more than a screw!”

“Your kids hear you talk like this?” I asked innocently. She had a five and an eight year old, girl and boy, plus another on the way. She just glared and sighed in a very exasperated way.

“She busting on you again?” her husband, Roger, asked, coming over to rub her shoulders.

“Hey! Who says it’s me doing the busting?” she asked, turning to look at him. Instead of shrinking under Jenna’s glare, he raised his eyebrows and gave her a lopsided smile.

“Because it’s always you, honey,” he said as he leaned down to kiss her brow. She smiled.

I was watching my nieces and nephews – I had two of each – play with their gifts when I realized Jenna was right. I was being a chicken-shit. I should just go see Keith and tell him how I felt. If I had messed up our friendship, well, I’d just have a deal with that, but if he wanted more, well… I wanted more. It was weird to admit it, but I really did. I wasn’t going to tell him to move in, but waking up next to him… it was nice. And it wasn’t nice because I was waking up next to someone again, something I had been used to doing with Mark, but it was nice because I was waking up next to Keith. I *liked* waking up next to Keith. And talking to him… I loved talking to Keith, and I always had. We could talk for hours, or we could just hang out. It didn’t matter. We meshed.

After I got home from my parents house, I called Keith. No answer. I wondered if he was just avoiding my call or if he really wasn’t home. His family did stuff earlier than mine did, though, so unless he went somewhere else he should probably be home. I kicked myself for not just going over to his place to talk to him. Really, I don’t know what my rush was – we both had over a week off from school, and there would be other opportunities to talk. Still, I called again and left another message. A long message. It was descriptive. Not quite sure what I was thinking – maybe it was because I wasn’t thinking. I just couldn’t wait to tell him what I thought, that I didn’t want this to just be casual sex. That I wanted to *date*. Or something. Whatever, I’m not good with words. That’s Keith’s department.

I sat on my couch and stared at the little tree Keith had helped me pick out almost three weeks previous. We had gone to a farm and cut it down, something I had never done with Mark because he was allergic to them. My family had sometimes had a real tree, but Keith’s were die-hard cut-it-down-yourself type of people. So, Keith helped me out.

Insert big sigh. Keith again. How had I never noticed how much he was involved in my life? Actually, that wasn’t true. After I read Mark’s journal, I knew how empty my life was without my friends, but I was so messed up… then to have him back in it again. I really had taken Keith for granted; I realized it quite clearly. No, I wouldn’t mess it up, not if there was a chance that he was interested.

I had apparently drifted off on the couch. When I woke up, “A Christmas Story” was playing on TV for the umpteenth time. I was confused, before I heard the knock again. It was hesitant, and I barely heard it over the TV. It was actually amazing that I had even woken up. I rolled off the couch and practically stumbled the short distance to the door. I opened it without looking, and found Keith on the doorstep.

“Merry Christmas,” he said as he walked in.

“You, too,” I answered quietly. I was happy to see him, but I was surprised, and still half asleep.

“You look tired,” Keith said, but he didn’t wait for me to answer, “So, I’ll make this quick. Look, I chickened out yesterday. I love you.”

Oh. Not exactly what I was expecting. I hadn’t thought about that; I wasn’t quite there. He loved me? Holy shit. Holy SHIT. This wasn’t bad, though. No. Just surprising. Holy shit.

“Oh. Okay, I didn’t mean to tell you that,” Keith said, sounding as surprised as I felt. His face was beat red. When he continued, he was very quiet. “I meant it, but I wasn’t going to say that. I just… don’t want this to just be sex, and I don’t want this to end,” he finished slowly.

“Oh,” I said. My mouth had finally decided to work, though my mind was still a bit mushy. I gave a small shrug. “Well, yeah, I agree.”

Keith just stared at me like I had three heads.

“Sorry, I just woke up,” I admitted, smiling a little. “I mean, I agree that I don’t want this to just be sex, and I don’t want this to end. I want to… you know, date, see each other, whatever. That kind of thing. Why are you still looking at me like that? Can you say something?”

He stared for what felt like forever, but then he laughed, and he hugged me. I hugged him back.

“I’ve been driving around for hours, psyching myself up to come over here and tell you that,” Keith admitted. “I almost can’t believe this… it’s like it’s too good to be true.”

“So you obviously didn’t get my message,” I said with a chuckle. He shook his head. That would explain the big production. I gave him a quick grin at him. “It would have saved you some gas.”

“Oh,” Keith said with a sigh. “That’s –”

“Shh,” I told him as I pulled his mouth down to mine. After pushing his coat off of his shoulders, I pushed Keith backward against the front door, still kissing him, and ran my hands down his sides. I rubbed my pelvis against him, which put his cock against my lower stomach. Then I slipped his sweater over his head, and worked on unbuttoning his shirt. After each button I kissed at the exposed flesh, until I was at the top of his chinos. I sucked on and played with his nipple for a bit, before I unbuttoned his pants and started to slip his shirt off of his shoulders, but he stopped me.

“Don’t you want to see if Ralphie gets the BB gun?” he whispered, low and sensual, in my ear. I burst out laughing; I couldn’t help it. He laughed and kissed my neck. He slipped off his shoes and pulled me toward the bedroom, but I pushed him up against a wall again and pushed at his pants. I knew he liked to be teased, so I teased him to the best of my ability. I licked at his head, wetting it, and then ignored it to suck on his balls, something else he seemed to love. One hand held his hip; the other reached behind his balls to rub at his taint and around his hole. Keith loved that, too. His hands lightly touched my head, grasping at my hair. Finally, I licked my way up his shaft and around his head, before slowly sliding him into my mouth. I continued to tease him, though; I wouldn’t take the whole thing in. He groaned and rolled his hips, his way of begging me for more, but I shifted so as to continue my tease. His hands clenched in my hair and I took almost all of him in my mouth – he was long, probably eight inches and thick, but I did the best I could. Moving against his hips, I sucked him off, and actually managed to get my nose to brush his pubes. Keith kept groaning and murmuring, and I kept sucking. He held my head but didn’t push it, even as his hips started moving faster. I barely tasted the precum oozing from his cock, his was fucking my mouth so fast and deep. His stomach muscles tensed, my first sign that he was about to cum. I tightened my lips and got him as deep as I could. His cock spurted into my mouth, his hips thrusting his cock into my mouth even after he was finished. I had swallowed as he came, not spilling a drop even when he was furiously pumping himself into my mouth.

Reluctantly, I freed his cock from my mouth, but slowly, and I licked around his head before releasing it. He sighed, deeply, and pulled me into a deep kiss. Our tongues danced around each other and it was my turn to sigh. I pushed my hard cock into his thigh, not because I thought he needed reminding, but because I was so hard that I needed the contact.

“Bedroom?” Keith murmured as he nipped at my neck. He knew I loved that. I nodded furiously and let myself be led. He undressed me, ignoring my cock, instead sucking on my nipples. It was his revenge, the brat… I told him as much.

“I’m not a brat,” he laughed, then thought for a moment. “Well, maybe a little. But you like it.”

“I do,” I growled, thrusting myself into his hand, which he finally decided to cup my cock with.

“I think you had something in mind…?” he asked.

“Can I… well, I know you’re not big on it, but I really want to fuck you,” I managed. Really, it was unfair making me talk in my state.

“Yeah?” Keith asked, breathless.

“Yeah,” I affirmed. True, I mostly preferred to take it, but tonight… all I wanted was to take him. If I was reading gay porn there would be some crap about me wanted to claim him, make him mine, something along those lines – but maybe that was true. Maybe it was the sudden realization that he was *mine* that made me want him. Who knows?

“I’d love that,” Keith whispered, his voice low and raspy. My cock twitched.


“Yeah. I’d love your cock in my ass, Travis,” he whispered as he gave my neck and hard nip. Christ, I could love this man.

And then it hit me. Keith loved *me*. He really did. He loved me. Keith loved me.

I don’t know why, but thinking about that made me really, really happy. It also made me want to fuck him even more.

I grabbed the lube and pushed him back. I kissed his thighs and sucked on his balls as I worked my fingers inside of him for the first time. He was so tight on my fingers, my cock twitched again at the thought of being inside of him. I sucked on his semi-hard cock as I stretched him. Truthfully, I was as eager as a 16-year-old virgin and all I really wanted to do was jump him, but I didn’t want to hurt him.

“Travis,” he whispered, and then giggled a little. “I’m not a virgin. I’m ready.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling bashful. “I didn’t want to rush you… I didn’t know. I’ve only ever done this with…”

I stopped. I didn’t want to talk about Mark. Keith understood – or else he really didn’t want to either, and who wants their bed partner to talk about an ex IN BED? Really, though, I was almost 30, and it occurred to me I was kind of inexperienced. That thought didn’t last long, not with Keith lying down before me, his legs spread and his cock hard. He grabbed my ass and pulled me toward him, something I had done to him a few times.

My cock head pushed against his hole, and I felt his whole body relax beneath me. I grabbed his cock and slowly fisted it as I pushed in. We both gasped as my head popped in, and I continued fisting him until my balls hit his ass.

I tried to go slow, but I didn’t really succeed. I thrust my tongue into his mouth as I fucked him, and we went from dancing to dueling. Keith grabbed my ass as I thrust into him, and we groaned into each other’s mouths – it was hot, and passionate, and maybe a little wild. I don’t normally do this, but with Keith – wow. Wow.

Keith came at the same time I did, which had never happened to me before. Having his ass clench down on my cock as I came – wow. Again, wow. Maybe it bears repeating – wow.

I collapsed on top of him, and we held each other until my cock was soft enough to slip out of him. All I wanted to do was pass out in his arms, but I had to get up to turn off the lights and TV. As I was looking at my tree Keith came up behind me. He wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on my shoulder. I covered his hands with mine, and leaned back against him. Then, we stood there in the soft glow of Christmas lights, looking at the tree and watching the snow fall outside. And I realized, again, that Keith was really mine.

Definitely the best Christmas ever.

(this is the second part of the ‘A Different Kind of Fairytale’ story)

Prince Charming sighed as Princess Clarissa started fondling his cock through his satin pajamas. The woman was insatiable. Three month after getting married she was not yet pregnant and she was getting desperate.

Already her family had started casting aspersions on Prince Charming’s ability to perform, but that was not the problem. He had been obediently servicing her these three long months since the wedding and he wished nothing more than for her to get pregnant and leave him the hell alone. The Prince had made a pact with his father; up until now he had kept to his side of the bargain and as soon as his wife got pregnant the King would have to activate his promise. And that promise was that he would send his horsemen out with his most trusted servant and they were to find Frederick and bring him back to the palace. Poor broken-hearted Frederick had fled on the day of Prince Charming’s wedding. The sight of that old bossy boot of a Princess at his man’s side was too much to bear.

As his wife stroked his cock Prince Charming thought about the lovely Fred and the warmth of his silken ass. How he would love to have him in bed right now and roger him senseless. He wished there was something he could do to his little swimmers to help them along. Suddenly an idea leapt into his brain and once there would not be dislodged.

‘Give me a minute.’ He told his wife.

He leapt out of bed and pulled on his velvet dressing gown. Rummaging through his jewelry box he found his least favorite trinket, which was still worth a year’s wages to most of the servants. He ran down stairs and took a small jar from the kitchen. A gormless, spotty lad was in there peeling potatoes and Prince Charming decided that he would do. He fished the ring out of his pocket and held it in front of the lad’s face and watched as his sleepy eyes widened in surprise.

‘How would you like this ring?’ Prince Charming asked.

‘Are you serious, sir?’ the lad asked,

‘Absolutely. You do what I want and this ring is yours.’ he said. ‘You have to agree to my conditions though. You are to ask no questions, just do as I instruct; it will only take a few minutes. And, most importantly, you are to keep this to yourself. You are not to breathe a word of this to anyone.’

‘I understand sire.’ the lad answered.

How difficult could it be, he wondered. He had heard rumors about Prince Charming. Perhaps the horny bugger wanted to suck him off, thought the lad.

Prince Charming took the jar out of his pocket and told the lad to jerk off and shoot his cum into the jar.

‘Go on lad.’ Prince Charming chided. ‘Remember, if you want the ring you’ve got to do exactly as I say.’

The poor lad was dumbstruck. His thought processes were not very quick and he had just about reconciled himself to getting sucked off, but this request was most odd. Still, with the proceeds from the sale of the ring he could buy his own farm. He whipped his cheesy cock out and quickly worked it into a hard on.

‘That’s it, lad. Shoot that spunk!’ Prince Charming voice broke with excitement.

How he wished that he had had more time to extract the precious nectar from this gormless lad. He would have loved to have stroked and kissed that cock and get it to the point of explosion. The lad’s fingers flew over his thin cock and fear of getting caught mingled with the excitement of jerking off for a prince, and the satisfaction of being rewarded so handsomely.

‘Hurry lad, get that fuckin’ spunk right into the jar.’ Prince Charming whispered.

It was all too much for the kitchen lad. His knees buckled as thick ropes of spunk blasted out of his cock. The first one landed on Prince Charming’s hand while the rest hit the target.

‘Sorry sir, I didn’t mean to soil your hand.’ The lad said.

To his astonishment the Prince licked the spunk off his hand and then handed the lad the ring.

‘Is this really mine sir?’

‘Absolutely. Just remember to keep to your side of the bargain. In fact, why don’t you pack your bags? Come and see me just before lunch. I’ll give you money enough to make a new start, and a glowing reference.’

Wow. This just got better and better. And Prince Charming, having decided to pay the lad off, decided to get his money’s worth. He took the kitchen lad’s spent cock into his mouth and cleaned it off.

The prince hurried back to the bedroom and put the jar on the floor close to the bed. Once more Prince Clarissa tried to arouse him and this time it worked a treat. Memories of spotty lad’s thin cock and his tasty spunk got him throbbing in no time. Now he quickly reached down and poured the spunk into his hand and then coated his hard cock with it and entered his wife. He was so turned on by his devious deed that he fucked really, really well. So good, in fact, that for once she was satisfied and walked around all day with this incredible glow on her face. And looking at her, the prince knew; he just knew that the goofy lad’s potent spunk had knocked her up.

When the lad came to see him Prince Charming could not resist increasing his offer.

He took three gold coins and put them on the table and watched the lad’s eyes come alive with greed. Looking at the coins the lad realized that not only could he buy a farm but cows, sheep, ducks and geese too. He was rich beyond his wildest dreams. But now the prince took another three gold coins and put them on the other side of the table.

‘These three coins are what I promised you.’ The prince told him. ‘And these other three coins are yours if you do something for me.’

‘Yes, sir?’ the lad asked expectantly.

‘I want you to fuck me in the arse.’ Prince Charming told him.

‘But what about the Princess?’ asked the lad.

‘She is occupied elsewhere in the castle. It will only take up ten minutes of your time, judging by how quickly you blow.’

The lad grinned.

‘I accept the challenge sire.’ he said.

Prince Charming locked the door and dropped his breeches. The lad quickly did the same and thinking about his fiancée back home he quickly popped a boner and stepped up to the royal bumhole. He was surprised at how quickly and easily his cock slid into the royal arse but he realized that the prince had already lubricated himself. Grabbing hold of the prince’s hips the kitchen lad pumped for all he was worth. And that hot little hole, that gripped his cock so tight, was like nothing he had ever experienced before. With one eye on the gold on the table he set about giving the prince a right royal bonking. He huffed and puffed and he thrust and stuffed and he knew he was doing something right because the sounds that emanated from Prince Charming’s throat were driven by lust and he could tell that he was jerking off. And together they reached the pinnacle and were flung into the exquisitely empty space of orgasm.

The well pleased lad just about sprinted away from the castle. One minute he had been peeling a mountain of potatoes and now here he was with a fabulous ring and six cold coins in his pocket. And a glowing reference signed by the prince himself, the very prince whose arse he had pumped full of spunk. Oh, it was a crazy world! That simple country lad decided he was very glad that a spot of craziness had touched his life. It was enough to last a lifetime but it would set him up for life too. He almost wished that the prince had offered him extra gold coins to be fucked; judging by the way the prince was jerking that cock of his, and the sounds he was making, the royal arse was experiencing a whole heap of pleasure.

Meantime in his family’s hovel Frederick was struggling to survive. He cursed that fact that he had been so hasty in giving up his job at the palace but his jealousy had been unbearable. One night of passion with Prince Charming had been enough for him to fall completely and utterly in love. Since returning to his homeland he had found a few lads who didn’t mind a romp in the hay. To these lusty lads a hole was a hole and as few girls ever put out before their wedding night lads like Frederick had their uses. But it was love that Frederick wanted: sweet, tender love; oh, and being fed chocolates by a prince wasn’t half bad either.

Suddenly there was a commotion outside. He could hear voices and dogs barking and then the sound of his father’s booming voice.

‘The king! The King!’ his father shouted as he flung open the door. ‘The King has sent for you!’

‘Are you sure?’ Frederick asked.

‘Come see for yourself.’ His father said. ‘Oh, we shall have wages again and beer enough to wash down a poor man’s bread.’

Ignoring his father’s greed Frederick hurried outside to see that these were indeed members of the King’s household staff. The King’s learned servant read him a decree that Frederick should be found and returned to the royal palace where he was to employed as Prince Charming’s personal servant. Frederick’ asshole twitched. His prince had sent for him! Fred quickly tied up his few meager belongings and set off with the King’s servants. He was sitting behind one of the beefy horsemen and holding on tight and decided there and then that if Prince Charming could have two lovers so could he.

That evening the party stopped at an inn where they had a meal the likes of which Fred had not seen for close on six months. Oh, how he had missed it. He listened to all the palace gossip, the most important of which was that the princess was pregnant. Fred felt a little downhearted when he heard that but the horseman, to whom he had been clinging all afternoon, patted his knee and he felt a lot better. He felt light headed with beer and was pleased when the party decided to call it a night. He had hardly settled in his bed when there was a light knock on the door. Fred opened it to reveal the horseman clad only in his nightshirt!

‘Tell me if I’m wrong,’ the handsome horseman said ‘but I think I’ve got something that you want.’

Fred reached out and fondled the man’s heavy equipment through the thin cotton.

‘You had better come in.’ he said.

As soon as they were back in bed the big man wrapped his arms around Fred and kissed the back of his neck. The young man shivered in anticipation as his large cock sprang up underneath his nightshirt.

‘What a good day this has been,’ the horseman said ‘having a pretty lad clutching onto me all afternoon long and now here you are in my arms at last.’

‘Mmmm the luck is all mine, having you big broad back to lean against all day, and I like the feel of that thick cock rubbing against me. now’ Fred told him.

‘You do know, don’t you, that this will be our first and only fuck?’ the horseman said.

‘Why so?’ Frederick asked.

‘Oh come now, lad.’ The big guy chuckled. ‘We all know what being Prince Charming’s personal servant means, don’t we. You are to become his private bum boy. And I have a very stout, and jealous, wife so I don’t think it would be worth my life trying to have you again.’

‘That’s a shame.’ Fred said as he turned to face his handsome conquest.’ You will have to make it up to me by giving me your very best fuck.’

‘Oh me lusty lad, I will, I will.’

And now their lips met for the first time and all thoughts of Prince Charming flew out of the window as Fred surrendered to a man’s needs. Those big, strong hands lifted his nightshirt and caressed his firm butt cheeks. Fred’s needs grew ever stronger and he reached down a lifted the horseman’s nightshirt too and quickly found the object of his desiring. His right hand closed around that thick, warm cock. It felt rock solid under very loose skin and Fred realized that the head was still fully enclosed in foreskin even though the big buy had a massive throbber. He needed this cock, had to have it, and now he reluctantly broke off the kiss and slid down the bed.

The scent of a man’s crotch filled his nostrils and almost triggered his orgasm. It was unlike anything on earth and all the bath oils and perfumes in the world could not compete with the pure, unadulterated scent of sex. Fred threw back the covers and whipped off his nightshirt and made his lover divest his too. Now Fred buried his nose in his hunk’s fat, furry balls and inhaled once more his heady scent before taking each one, in turn, into mouth and licking them like they were the most delicious morsel on earth.

‘Oh fuck…’ the big man moaned ‘nobody has ever done that to me before.’

Hearing the hunger and pleasure in his lover’s voice made Fred want to do even better. He licked up the fat shaft until he came to the guarded jewel and slowly forced the foreskin back with his tongue. He was rewarded with the tangy juices of a fully skinned man; this was beyond ambrosia and for a moment Fred even forgot his own name as he nursed on that fat, juicy cockhead. And as he licked and slobbered his hands alternated playing over the hunk’s flat, furry stomach and teasing his fully laden balls. Fred just knew that there was a massive load stored up in those orbs and he was determined to milk every last drop out of them.

But the young lad was too good; never had the hunky horseman been taken care of this way and he was dangerously close to exploding. He pulled Fred up for another kiss and felt the pleasure of their two hard cocks crushed up against each other and their chest hair intermingling. As he kissed the horseman stroked Fred’s back, feeling the muscles dance under the smooth skin. And now he dipped lower, onto those firm globes of fuckflesh. There was something about this young man that really turned him on; he was so masculine to look at and yet so accommodating, so needy, that he was almost feminine in his appeal. The big guy wanted to hold him, and protect him and to pleasure him until he trembled and switched back into masculine mode: he wanted to hear that horny groan and see that thick pool of creamy spunk. Damn, there was something about young Fred that almost made the horseman want to turn over onto his belly!

Fortunately Fred’s need was greater than his own and once more he slid down the horseman’s body and fastened his mouth to his rigid cock and coated it with the only lubrication he had available to him. Unless…unless… it was worth a try. Getting off the horseman Fred turned to face his feet and lowered his mouth onto that juicy cock again. Almost instantly the horseman’s hot tongue darted into Fred’s hungry bumhole. Fred knew then that this was going to be one special night. The minutes flew by with each pleasuring the other in the most intimate way and now Fred was ready. He turned around once more and impaled himself on that fat cock, gritting his teeth against the pain as he did so.

‘Oh lad, you’re so tight!’ the horseman groaned.

Fred squirmed around on that rigid pole, trying to adjust to its massive girth. And then, at last, the pain eased as his lover started to gently stroke. They soon found their rhythm, working in perfect harmony for the ultimate goal. In the warm candle lit glow the handsome horseman looked like someone straight out of a fairytale; this was the dashing prince or the valiant hero, only instead of getting his girl he was filling Fred to perfection. The hunk’s eyes were closed and the look on his face told Fred that he was in ecstasy; Fred’s arsehole was very relaxed now and he was starting to feel the pleasure that he knew would be his if only he endured. The feel of the big man’s hands on his hips made him feel really special somehow and the gentleness of his stroking touched a tender spot in Fred’s heart. If life was fair he would have a man like this all to himself.

On and on the horseman fucked. And now Fred’s body was totally consumed by their mating. Each stroke triggered another mini wave of ecstasy that rushed through him, crashing against the previous wave. His own cock had reawakened and Fred stroked it now, feeling the delicious tingle in his precum slicked cockhead as he drew the foreskin back and forth. Oh to be fucked like this forever! It felt as if the big man’s cock had somehow travelled up inside his own, intensifying its responses and whipping it up into a state of frenzy. He was close, so desperately close and as he looked down he could tell by the horseman’s furrowed brow that he was close too. And when a low rumble gurgled out of the big guy’s throat Fred knew it was safe to let go.

He bucked like a frisky colt on that pounding, spit-slick cock and felt the full intensity of his orgasm grip him as his eyes screwed shut and his balls exploded sending out a spew of hot spunk onto the big man’s furry chest. As the hot cum splattered on his chest, and the smell of fresh jizz filled his nostrils, the horseman cried out and plunged in deep. His cry turned first to a groan, and then a whimper as his fat balls released their heavy load deep into Fred’s happy assguts.

‘Will you stay the night with me?’ asked Fred.

‘There is no way I’m going to leave this bed until morning, even if you wanted me to.’ The horseman replied.

Daniel Blue

September 2018
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