The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons, of continents or islands, in countries, counties, cities, towns, villages, neighborhoods, streets, cul-de-sacs, nor governmental or non-governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if guy-to-guy sex stuff makes you barf or is going to screw up your mind, you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age in any state (21yo in Alabama, Mississippi, Wyoming, Nebraska), or in most countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such.
Following, pages of this story contain adult material', intended for an adult audience'. Bypass this warning at your own risk.
% Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection.
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A NiFTy LiTTLe TALe 18 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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Going with his gut reaction, or was it the pulsing of his loins, a tiny quake, which irked Jason on, to confront Professor Cohen, at the time he handed over the late pass, his lecturing had been done up on a platform. Standing on the same flooring, it wasn't much different, the tall man still looking down upon Jason, answering his question, wanting the late pass back, "I'll return it, but I'd like an explanation first?"
Professor Cohen was gorgeous, in Jason's estimation, over 6' tall, slender, nicely styled hair, closely cropped full beard surrounding his chops, and because it got hot in the class, could see why his math professor didn't wear an undershirt, a full scathing of bod hair seen easily through the fabric. Temperament, a deep, bass voice, he spoke sternly, which was enough to scare the hell out of a person, even if not in disagreement.
"Sure," Jason had no reason to hold back. "What's up?" he smiled.
Turning over the late pass and returning it to Jason, he inquires, "Why is it my boyfriend's phone number is on the back of this?"
His mouth immediately formed an `o', like he was in serious trouble, especially with this hot math-stud in front of him, with a demeanor more suited for a cop, handcuffed to a chair. Rather than be intimidated, Jason coolly snatches the late pass out of Cohen's fingertips, saying, "Don't know," he proceeds to head for the door, turning, "you'll have to ask him!"
Outside the door, Jason plastered his back against the wall, swallowed twice, probably because his heart beating ever so quickly! To himself he says, "I can't believe I pulled it off!"
Surprised he could do it, coupled with the ability to see all that dark brown moss through the shirt, he comments, "Shame," Jason giggles, "hot muscle-bear!"
He didn't back down, had retrieved the late pass, but now, with knowing what he knew about Denis Bioga, crumbled it, about to let it drop in the garbage, which Jeadi had just reported to for disposal.
Hesitating, Jeadi says, "Throw it in."
"Are you sure you can handle the extra weight, Jeadi?" Jason snaps.
"I work out. You remember?"
"Oh right. Yeah, I seem to recall?" Jason replies.
"I saw you running yesterday."
Jason replies, "Yeah, I'm a little out of practice."
"I could tell!"
"Oh-h! Hitting below the belt, Jeadi?"
"I could only hope," Jeadi smiles.
"Great," Jason jokes, "I've got a horny janitor stalking me!"
"You better get to class before the headmaster stalks you!"
"Thanks for your concern, Jeadi!"
Smiling at each other, Jason turning his head to do so, raises his hand in a friendly wave.
The man was overwhelming, according to Jason. He had it all, good looks, a pleasant personality, ability to snap back in an instant when cracking gay inferences, and as exhibited yesterday at Kevin's place, a built physique, aligned with some hot man-fur. Now, if only he were a little younger. Snapping back, Jason talks to himself, "Oh well... you can't have every hot man you lay eyes on!"
Walking to his next class, Jason whips out his paper, because inconsequential stuff, like reading a schedule, didn't pull weight in memorizing. With the ability to unfold the small sheet, Jason gets a little bent out of shape, "Chorus?!"
He had to smooth the paper out, erase every crease, asking himself, "How come I didn't see this before?" Scanning the rest of the schedule, he realizes, "What happened to my computer class?"
He had a burning desire, not that kind, to pay a little visit to Coach Leeds!
Though, being late to one class today, he didn't chance another. After all, he didn't have a handsome cub with a pack of late passes to excuse him for his infraction. Joking, because it was tough for Jason to hold a grudge, "Kevin, you're going down!" Joking, Jason didn't mean it in a malicious way, but more putting his `uncle' on his knees for a little tongue-tickling!
Walking towards the auditorium, scheduled place, Jason thinks on the man-cub incident, `Wait'll he gets home!' Thinking on it, in his own opinion, Professor Cohen and the Barcelona cub seemed a perfect match. Even though he at first drew up a picture as Denis ruling any man's roost, following Prof Cohen's actions, from entering, to closing of class, he was convinced, his professor the alpha half of the pair. Right in the middle of dreaming about Denis on his knees, right in front of Prof Cohen's big meat... Of course, being the alpha male, Jason had painted a loose portrait of his math instructor, so tall, a man on his knees would have to look up several feet to see the face, but panning down, as Jason could see through the shirt, would have plenty of fur to lick, which also made Jason lick his lips. His prof's nips, well they were perky, but not much of anything, but they could have had some man-fur cushioning. He giggled a minute,
thinking how Prof Cohen was so serious, Jason wondered what reprisal he could have faced, beeping' his math prof! Regardless, his mind raced ahead, ignoring the bellyhole swath and reporting to the pubic line, separating a man's upper from his lower'...
"Hey!"
"Oh-my-god, Mutt! You scared the hell outta me!" when in reality, it took Jason immediately out of his prof's bedroom, into the reality of standing before the theater doors!
"I didn't know you knew music, too! Man, you're amazing, Jason!"
While up on the pedestal, Jason decided to linger, "Sure. Why wouldn't I? I'm an avid Foster The People fan. How about you?"
Expecting maybe something a little more low key, like the Biebs, Mutt returns, holding the door for Jason, "I like early music."
Misunderstanding Mutt, a void left in his life of the fine art of `music', Jason replies, "I like early too, but any time of the day suits me."
`One track mind', Mutt thinks, the two on different pages, "Uh yeah, okay... sure, Jason."
Where Jason could excel at certain subjects, his first attempt at singing classical music, he totally bombed out.
Heading in, the usual get-to-know' period ensues, the professor of music introducing himself as Maestro' Ghislan Korkmaz. Not too stuffy, they learn a student may address him in a variety of ways.
Sorting out the tenors from the basses, the `I-don't-know' clan reports to the piano to gauge their range.
His profession, an adjunct prof, the maestro's `real' job had been coaching opera buffs, which made him totally amazed to look upon Jason's lack of training, "Young man, did you know a prerequisite of advanced chorus, a student is required to read music?"
Mutt mutters in Jason's ear, out of the corner of his mouth, "You're holding the music upside down?"
"Oh right!" Jason laughs it off, turning Faure's `Requiem' right side up, "I knew that! Gimme a minute. I'll get it."
Adamantly, Maestro Korkmaz, known by the others as a no-nonsense individual, surprised the lot of them, instead of kicking Jason out and banning him, "Right. I'm in need of a music librarian. How are your cataloging skills, Mr. Croft?"
In singsong, Mutt breaks from his basso voice, "He remembers your name." Then in a whiny, soprano voice, softly sings, "He likes you!"
"Get over it," Jason made excuse for his friend's absurd profiling. Speaking louder, over the top of heads, he renders, "I guess this means I don't need to know my fa's from my la, ti, dah's?"
Korkmaz moved on.
Yet, after the rehearsal, instead of uncaring of the guy who couldn't sing, the chorus conductor singles Jason out, "Mr. Croft, would you remain?"
`Sure I'll remain!' Jason thought, walking down the platforms from top tier to face the maestro at the podium, asking a casual, "What's up?"
A shorter distance, he was definitely cuter, in Jason's estimation, dark, almost jet-black hair, beard, like he forgot to shave, then... not much else other than cuter beyond words. Partial to bod hair, it did stir Jason's interest, the `tease', a few strands of chest hair escaping the neck of the maestro's sweater.
"Have you thought about the Music librarian position, Jason?"
Under his breath, Jason was thinking, Sure, if it got me out of singing!', agreeing, "I have and I think it would be cool. If you're worried about the skills, I got em!"
"Of course, this would not release you from you're involvement with the chorus?"
"Um, Professor Korkmaz..."
"You may address me as Ghislan."
"Oh yeah... Um, in case you haven't noticed," Jason swallows and then says, "Ghislan, I can't sing?"
As with Kevin Leeds, numbers counted. No signups for a team and you didn't have a team, which constituted the same recognition for a chorus. Strength in numbers, which without saying, Korkmaz has adopted.
"Nonsense! Everyone can sing. You just have not discovered your inner self Jason."
Maybe Mutt was right, Jason was thinking, going from Korkmaz remembering his name, then from the formal to the casual mention, "You have a lot of faith in someone you don't know, Ghislan," Jason was still a little reluctant to reduce Korkmaz from professor to `one of the guys'.
"I know for a fact, since you signed up for chorus and knowing you didn't have an aptitude, you have nothing against wanting to try. I wish I had more students with your gumption!"
Jason didn't know whether he was getting it or not, but loved how the scruffy face looked back at him. Not letting a perfectly good alibi escape him, "You have some great insight, professor..."
"Ghislan."
"`Ghislan'," Jason pronounces, "you saw right through me!"
Ignoring what he could take two ways, the 30-year old director responds, "I'm sure if we work at it, together, we can draw out the singing aspects of your voice, Jason."
He wasn't sure how the conductor meant it, but rather having a good lead-in go to waste, "Well, I really don't have a lot to do after school. I suppose I could come for extra help?"
Korkmaz didn't say anything, like he was mulling over the idea.
Right on course, the chorus conductor was doing just that. In reality, he thought Jason, coming to class and singing along, eventually he could find his range of singing, possibly more!
Giving in to the teen-hood charm, Ghislan replies, "After school will be fine, but not this afternoon."
"Oh," Jason, all revved up to chime in tune with the others, at least that's the false pretense his brain was telling him right now, he blurts out, "What about tomorrow?"
Aside from reading, writing and RAM, other courses, like chorus, only met twice a week.
"Tomorrow should work. Why don't you come see me during the day?"
"I thought chorus was only two days a week?"
The other three days, Jason divided between art classes and study hall on Friday. Chorus had represented the add-ins.
"That it is, but your singing group is not the only one here at Manfredi and Friday I have a small group of students interested in conducting," he left it all in Jason's hands.
Knowing his Fridays would be spent in a worthless study hall, only put there as filler, "Would conducting help with my singing?"
Probably not, but rather than shoot the enthusiasm Jason had, "Might. Certainly it could help with your rhythm?"
He had already zonked-out Dean Martin's whits on going against protocol, but after leaving a class, where he was putting Prof Cohen second on his list of `hot teacher', he wouldn't mind arranging, instead of 1, 2 suck'n'fuck sessions with Xeno!
With all that's happened in the past few days, Jason saw the turn in the tide. The past two years, he's chosen to become sexually active with adult men. Even though eighteen, he's had an array of experiences with the older set. Surrounded by guys his own age, or within a small circumference of guys around his age, given a more promiscuous environment, he surrenders his thoughts to guys in that grouping. Proven to himself, men like Kevin, Virgil or Jeadi, they were men out of his league, not to mention men he should not be chasing after. Thinking the words, chasing after', Jason laughs, thinking what the need was, looking down the hallway and spotting quite a few he would like to be chasing after'. Though, he wasn't discounting the fact regarding the maestro', having the classic case of being attracted to a hottie'.
"How did your morning go?"
Blanking out of his day dream, centered around the last man on his mind, Jason turns around swiftly, "Oh hi, Xeno. It went great. I thought you were transferring out?"
"Some technicality, I need to stay enrolled at Manfredi until they get things straightened out with paperwork, plus they need the okay from `my father'," Xeno answers, trailing off with attitude.
"I forgot. You two don't get along," Jason replies.
"However," Xeno casts on a happier note, "after having math class with Professor Cohen, I might change my mind!"
"Um, like didn't you have him last year?"
Xeno replies, in a melancholy tone, "And the year before that, but it's like, I come back to school and that suave attitude just calls me," it leaves him in a dreamy state.
"Yeah, well maybe you and Cohen get along, but I'm like his worst enemy!"
Walking the hallway, a half hour before lunch, the two toss the b.s., Xeno saying, "Really? I've never heard anyone say anything bad about Prof Cohen?
Knowing it was Cohen at the bottom of this little fray, Jason was about to let it go, change the subject, "Never mind. No biggie deal."
Too curious for his own good, Xeno badgers, "How can you do that to me?"
For a fact, Xeno, as well as others, slowly learned the truth about Professor Cohen. When he came to Manfredi about six years ago, he was in the closet. Slowly, `poked his head out', then after the new secretary arrived on the scene, seemed to be the catalyst for bringing Prof Cohen out into the hallway, forever slamming that closet door shut!
After mentioning the short story, Jason says, "Oh then now, you make it perfectly clear. In other words, Cohen was nicely', even though not nicely' in my opinion, was putting the squeeze on me to not associate with Denis Bioga."
"You made a play for Bioga?"
"Me make a play for him? Like, Denis was interested?"
"Regardless," Xeno says, "take my advice and stay away from him. He's trouble."
"Firsthand experience, Xeno?" Jason blows it back on him.
"It's how I got into this mess with our headmaster..."
"Oh, by the way," the mention of the highest position of Manfredi sets off an alarm, "did you hear Hawkins got into some scuffle with some stalker in the ravine?"
Many stories had circulated by this time, but no fact as vivid as, "With a baseball bat up his ass? Isn't that why he's in the hospital? They had to perform surgery to remove it?"
Jason replies, "I don't know how they got it out, Xeno, but the important news is, Hawkins isn't coming back to Manfredi. He gave in his resignation!"
Eyes perked up, Xeno says, "I'm off the hook!"
"Good. Now you don't have to run away, Xeno, which means you can still be around to do me a big, big favor!"
From happy as a pig in shit, Xeno's face crumbles into a serious pose, "What kind of favor?"
"Something small, which involves something," he glances down as Xeno's belt buckle, "big?" eyes surface to the Greek's face.
Rather than dismal, Xeno's face turns to the normality of seconds ago and with almost lust on the brain, "You've got some hottie to fuck?"
Instead of prolonging it, Jason reveals, "Depends on how you look at Dean Martin?"
"Ugh-h-h-h!" Xeno says, sticking his finger in his mouth, like trying to induce vomiting!
New to campus, Jason didn't know anyone else except... nah, Jeffy was big, but not as big as Xeno and he needed a `big' man to do the job, "You owe me, Xeno."
"I owe you? How does that go?"
"You had fun riding a bike, didn't you?"
"I suppose."
"And if I didn't make you, you wouldn't have met Kev Fitzgerald in his truck?" Jason tried building his case.
"You didn't make me. I did it on my own?"
"Right, Xeno, but if I didn't have you drive me over to Coach Leeds' place, none of this would have taken place and then you wouldn't have met Kev?"
Weighing the facts, figuring it was not a big, big deal, Xeno says, "I guess I could do it blindfolded."
"Better yet, I could be there to help coax you along?"
"And shoot off to some free porn?" Xeno smirks.
"Not that you've said it, Xeno, I might just do that," Jason laughs.
"Not a bad idea, actually."
"Really?" Jason says enthusiastically.
"Better yet, bring another guy along. You and him can make out in front of me and then while Dean Martin is faced down, so I don't have to look at his face, well... it'll all fall into place?"
It was all fine, but it wasn't like in his late teen years, up until the summer after graduating high school, raking in the few last bucks before the next phase of his life, Jason replying, "Um, like right now I'm not really `friends' with anyone I would feel comfortable making out with?"
Xeno went through a short list of guys he knew Jason fraternized with, both students and faculty.
Out them all, first to delete from the list of prospects, Jason said, even though he had had experience orally and anally with guys older, or much older, than himself, he was trying to keep his man to man contact centered around guys his own age.
For now, it was all up in the air, in limbo, both going their separate ways, Xeno skipping off campus to meet Kev for lunch.
Jason decides to play it like high school and join up with his click of friends, Mutt, Jeffy and Ian wandering over to their table, his new interest and room mate with him, Scott Maharis.
By the time dessert rolled around, Jason felt like the fifth wheel, both couples getting along well with each other. Several times during lunch, he allowed the theme of the conversation wander, paying more attention to the last hot man he met, Maestro Korkmaz. He was sitting in a circle of profs, among them one of the few women who taught at Manfredi, an art professor, whom Jason couldn't name.
Suddenly his cell phone started to ting, a low tone, because he knew the rules, all cells turned off during meals. Looking down into his pocket could easily be mistaken for checking his cock! However, no one caught on and with standing, grabbing his tray, Jason says, "Gotta go guys. Got a hot date!"
It wasn't a hot date, or any date, but the realtor Jason had contacted about the family bakery for sale. He really did not have too much of a working knowledge of real estate properties, but knew calling his father would both help not to make a mistake, but also draw them into a speaking relationship, something mostly void over the second half of his childhood years, into adulthood.
Little did Jason know, as he stood and left, Maestro Korkmaz was looking over the art professor's shoulder, making like he was paying attention to the lecture she was giving on Pre-Cambrian art!
^ o ^
Meanwhile, a taxi was enroute to the airport, Hawkins in the back seat with Evan Puttski. Not a word was spoken, Evan patting his side pocket, his insurance Hawkins would get on the plane. Pulling into the airport, Evan did open up, "Do yourself a favor, Samuele. You're being given a second chance. Don't screw it up for yourself!"
Not saying a word, he shut the whole scene out of his mind, looking out the passenger window.
"Your choice."
Something he left out, was his criminology buddy from college, Steve Hsui, running things a little off the books. He was hoping, if Samuele picked up on it, he could work himself into a partnership with Steve. Unknown to anyone in the states, Steve had gotten Evan out of some deep trouble and this would pay the debt, which is why he wished Samuele well.
Really, Samuele could take one of two turns in his life. One, turn rebel, act out on his own, refuse to get along and not take life as it comes.
In regards to Steve Hsui, this could spell bad news for Samuele. Instead of working himself into a position of right hand man, it could take his work from `above ground' to the basement of Steve's bdsm club.
He knew Samuele Hawkins-Jones to be a rough, tough guy, but also that Steve could be rougher and tougher.
They got along quite well in college, rooming together. Steve always bringing guys back to the room for not only clear-cut gay sex, but some fantasy and fetish remix. Much depended on the guy he brought back and how Steve could expand on what the other guy wanted to explore.
After seeing Samuele off, it was a relief, but instead of returning to the reality of small town life, Evan closed his eyes and thought about those college days.
He smiled right away, thinking of Steve, placing him in the environment of the college the two attended.
Wasting no time, that very first night the two room together, there he was, walking in the dorm with some guy neither of them had known....
"Putts," which Evan gave the thumbs down to right away, made Steve change his way of thinking, "Okay, let's try that again, why don't we... Evan, this is Brent. Brent, my room mate, now take your clothes off!"
It was one of many times Steve would make Evan laugh, blunt about some detail such as watching Brent take the order and proceed to drop his backpack on the bed.
"Uh," Steve says to Brent, "nothing goes on the bed, but you."
Evan and Brent exchanged looks, Evan gesturing, `I don't know!'
He didn't know, had no clue to what Steve had up his sleeve, upon mentioning he wasn't going to waste any time.
"This is the first time I've done this," Brent claims.
Apparently there was a worded foreplay before they hit the room, Evan, lying sideways on his bed, comfy, shirt stripped and eyeing up Steve's trick in the buff. Made him salivate, thinking what pleasure it would be to taste those perky nips, run a tongue down the hairy stripe and then, turn the tables and have the same thing done to him!
"Lay down on the bed. Don't worry," Steve, with rope in hand dictates, "I told you, the first time the rope'll be loose around your wrists and ankles."
Now, how can another guy `not' dig a hand into his pants, watching a guy, with another, tied eagle-spread to the bed, with a feather traveling over the dude's bod?
Brent giggled, all the way down to his pubes, but when the feather traveled up and down his shaft, then things got serious.
So serious, it ejected Evan from his bed, bored with the book he was looking through, saying, as he towered over the other bed, "I can't believe how fast you made him hard, Steve!"
"And dripping?" Steve lifted a little bead of gooey stuff from Brent's stiffy. "Hungry?"
"No thanks," Evan replies.
"I was hoping you'd say that," Steve replied, leaning up the length of the bed, crushing Brent's pubes with hand, as he put the salty stew on his captive's lips, barking, "Eat it or else, boy!"
"Damn, Steve," Evan says, "what is he your slave or something?"
"While it's tied down, it does whatever I ask it to do?"
"It?" Evan quizzes.
From this first time account of Steve tying a fellow college man to the bed, milking him like a cow, doing stuff which would make any guy wince, from having his cock or balls slapped, Evan knew he was in for 4 years of `weirdo stuff'!
From this firsthand incident, Evan wondered if Steve was planning the same treatment for Samuele. He had run down the itinerary with the former headmaster of Manfredi, but there was a lot he left out. If Hawkins knew the exact specifications of his incarceration, he probably would have hijacked the plane to a cooler climate.
Reverting back to college days with Steve, Evan wondered whatever became of Brent, a science major, who developed flavored condoms and made off like a bandit. Evan always thought of looking him up?
^ o ^
Jason had it in mind to try out the key to the door of the secluded cottage in the woods. Thinking no better time than now, he took off out of the cafeteria.
Following directions, it took him out of the perimeters of the whole of Manfredi, to where the path went from asphalt, to gravel, then a dirt path. Dirt, interspaced with grass, he found himself happening upon the building itself, more like a cabin, not that of a cottage, which he pictured something New Englandish.
Three steps up took him right onto a wooden planked porch and as he reach for the handle on the screen door, it flew open, "They told me to look for you. How did you luck out?"
Seeing one of the men of his dreams, only an hour ago and now, Jason happily says, "They didn't tell me I was sharing the cottage with you, Jeadi!"
"In case you wonder, a broom is for sweeping and dustpan for collecting dirt?" Jeadi replies.
"I can see that," Jason said with disappointment, though knew things couldn't be so rosy, showing any kind of real affection for the hot custodian!
Having already `lived' in a few places on Manfredi campus, Jason felt like a castaway. Partially his own fault, if he hadn't gone by his instincts, like, liking a guy for his hot, hairy bod and pistol-packing attributes, either he could land a guy4life or he didn't care if his room mate were straight. There were ways to get around things like that!
He knew things were missing, having arrived at Manfredi with not only a backpack, laptop satchel, suitcase and a goody-box', courtesy of Gerard, when he set foot on the small porch, at the cottage in the woods. It sent shivers up and down his spine, not the kind had by feeling a warm tongue sink into an ass crevice, but chilling', like a bigfoot lurked in the woods, watching. Of course, Jeadi wasn't built like the fabled `bear', but he loved cubs too and felt a longing for the custodian to stay, while watching him walkaway.
In the woods, it was easy to see something out of place, especially pastel colors amid shades of green and brown, reason why he wasn't reluctant to walk to the far end of the porch, scan the foliage and then call, "You can come out from hiding now!"
There wasn't any response, not a verbal one, nor visually seeing the dull pink top.
"I know you're out there." Jason had caught this phrase from some movie, escaping him for now, "I don't bite, unless you want me to!" he giggles to himself.
He gave up. Whomever was stalking him from behind the wall of forest had been surprised and gave up. No problem, Jason thought, walking back to the entrance to what he would not call a quaint cottage in the woods, though not a two-story mansion, saw a possibility, after surveying the `squares' to the right and left of the foyer, there had to be a minimum of four rooms.
Swinging the screen door open, he pulled it with such force, it bounced off the small side wall, comically remarking to himself, "I'm stronger than I thought I was!"
He stopped dead in his tracks, a hand ready to grab the knob, "Oh shugar!"
"What-the?" he follows up with, looking from the place where a key would be inserted in the knob, to one of the little glass panes in the door.
Turning around, quick this time, so his stalker could not allude him, Jason set eyes on the pink shirt, "Who are..." he was ready to face the stranger, "Rahul?"
"Hello."
"Why were you..."
"I came, but stopped. I did not know when I was to run an errand, I would find you here."
"Run an errand?"
"Yes. You have not been here long enough to know. Kitchen and dining room workers, if they are not occupied all day, have to run errands for the office secretary," Rahul reports.
Jason could almost taste' Denis Bioga's bossy authority, making him move his tongue around in mouth to savor the sour feeling, "Not that I'm glad to see you, but just what is' your errand?"
Even more than the outfit Rahul wore during servitude in the dining hall, decked out in something more casual, the v-neck of Rahul's shirt made the sour feeling go out of his mouth, his tastebuds turn sweet at the visual, the black, hairy matt of the kitchen-worker's chest.
"This?"
His hand was still on the knob. By association, seeing the key in Rahul's hand, he gives it a clockwise tug, reporting, "Oh, right. That would definitely help."
"Here. Let me get it for you."
`Like, oh my god!' Jason thought it, looking down the alley of Rahul's shirt!
"Excuse me," Rahul, having a tough time with the key, moves his back towards Jason to get at a better advantage.
"No problem!" Jason says, right after realizing his statement was more of an `invite'!
"There it goes. Right in," Rahul says, opening the door.
Standing behind Rahul, Jason wished the same thing, already high on the black fur!
He stepped inside.
Jason went in behind him.
Rahul walked back out and stood on the porch, handing him the key, "I think you will need this again."
Wishfully thinking, Jason replies, "Not unless you want to lock and unlock it whenever the occasion arises?"
Again that little giggle, his own joke, Jason leaves it in the balance.
It was apparent, Rahul didn't understand, saying, "I need to get back. Rohit says they need me in the kitchen."
Yeah, I bet they need you in the kitchen,' Jason thinks on it, more like Rohit needs you to stay away from me', which he really contemplated himself as a sole figure of being gay.
"I am sorry," Rahul says, but lingers a moment.
Then it came to Jason. Here they were way out here in no man's land, no one but themselves, especially `Rohit'! Allowing his laptop to drop carefully into a chair, he kept his backpack over one shoulder, but before Rahul decided to take off, did the unthinkable, grabbed him by the shirt, rolled the front of it up into a fist and pulls him inside.
It was Rahul's turn to curse, not expecting this, especially, if and when he reported back to his brother, "No! You don't understand!"
"What?" Jason asks, after forcing his lips on Rahul.
He would have continued, but there was resistance on Rahul's part, a `stop sign' hand to his own chest!
"I cannot do this."
There was something missing here and since he got the brush off from Rahul once, Jason simply says, "Okay. No problem. Sorry I forced myself on you. Just go."
Standing there for a moment, it seemed like he didn't want to go.
"Or," Jason got mixed vibes, "come back inside?" he smiled.
"I think I owe you an explanation."
"Oh, a whole lot more, but we'll start there?"
It was apparent, Rahul had been in this house before, picking up Jason's laptop, Jason picking up his backpack, which had slid off his shoulder when he tangled with Rahul and like a real estate agent showing the client a house, Rahul gives the royal tour.
It didn't go without some explaining, the first part of Rahul's verbal journey, "I live in this house a little time, off and on, until Rohit find out."
"Question? Was there another guy living here with you?"
"More," Rahul continues, after they end up in the study, "I live with him, but not like I live here. I live here sometimes."
The whole scenario comes to mind, like when Jason didn't return home some nights, staying at his father's business associate's penthouse, "Sure. I get it," eager to understand.
"You do?"
"Sure. Been there myself. Perfect arrangement to disguise having great man2man sex and no one would know the difference, because it's kept," Jason gestures, "under wraps?"
True to Jason saying it, away from the main complex of Manfredi Institute, the school grounds, the dining hall, kitchen and within sight and sound distance of his domineering brother, Rahul says, "You are right."
It was like a stalemate, the two standing there not making a move, one waiting for the other, until Jason whimsically asks, "Hey, mind if I see what you look like without the shirt?"
It show on Rahul's face, question, an absurd one at that, but he didn't flinch a muscle, nor voice an opinion, possibly contemplating Jason's remark.
However, Jason knew, to allow a great lead in to linger too long, meant if it did, kiss the moment goodbye, steps over to Rahul and like testing ice on a frozen lake, walks with caution.
Locked eyes meant something, making a connection, though Rahul didn't know exactly what it meant, other than when he stood at the doorway once before, "About a year ago, Enzo Tenaglia-Manfredi, the founder step-son lives in the cottage, while visiting the school. Maybe he like to come here to study." Unlike Jason's cool, calm, collective manner, gradually unbuttoning the pink shirt, Rahul says, "Italian, he has fast hands!"
"Oh, am I that slow?" Jason jokes, but doesn't make any effort to go wild.
"Enzo tell me it is his birthday and I am his present."
Getting the gist of it, Jason, since he undid all the buttons of Rahul's shirt, was licking his lips, getting a preview of one nip through the black mat, "Why don't you make like it's your birthday and start unwrapping me!"
It did break through the ice, make Rahul crack a half smile, saying, "You are a strange one."
"Nah," Jason bounces back, "it all comes with experience, something I get the picture you're lacking, Rahul?!"
Rahul show a sense of pride, Jason ending his judgement with pulling the sides of the shirt open, unveiling a total mass of black hair fanning out over Rahul's chest and stomach.
"Oh wow!" Jason exclaims.
Even though he allowed Jason, much less aggressive than Enzo Tenaglia, who never uses the hyphened surname, something about his personal relationship with his step-father, Rahul grabs his shirt and covers himself up.
"Sorry!" Jason feels at fault. "I guess I got a little too aggressive."
"No. It is not you. I should tell you before I think about coming into your house," Rahul says, self-condemning.
Learning to cope with disappointment through joking, a part of Jason, the comical approach to hide true feelings at times, he replies, "Mi casa y su casa!"
Rahul didn't know Spanish, had never heard the phrase, so stood there in wonder.
"Never mind. What's up?" Jason readjusts things, since he had started to get hard.
"It is Rohit. He..."
"I know. You are your brother's keeper, except he's your keeper," Jason tries to present it wisely.
Shockingly, Rahul says, "Rohit is not my brother. He is my lover."
Again, whether a nervous condition, or Jason is just good at one-liners, "Oh shit! Now he's going to be after me. I better watch my back!"
Shaking his head, "I thought you would be mad at me."
Still, Rahul kept his shirt shut, forcibly with both hands, Jason says, "Nah. I am a little disappointed, but hey, there's plenty of other hairy fish in the sea!"
"You never have one man you love?" Rahul asks.
Seeing the writing on the wall, a mural of Rahul's life, entwined with Rohit, Jason inquires, "How long have you two been `together'?"
"Since we were 12 years old."
"And you're still happy together?" Jason's reason for asking, Rahul ready to submit to him feeling up the large pelt of black fur?
"We are. Sometimes Rohit, he get jealous thoughts."
"When you speak to another man?" Jason says, this time with sincere thought.
"Sometime. It show he loves me."
"It could also mean, the guy you're talking to could be in for a back-lashing!"
"Rohit. He is not like that. He is not violent man. Rohit it smart. He will talk it out," Rahul replies.
Again, Jason reiterates, "Oh well. There goes my chance to get my hands on you!"
Contrary to all that has been discussed, Rahul opens his shirt, allows it to fall behind his shoulders, "If you want, you can touch me."
"I don't get it."
"I know this sound selfish, but Rohit know I want to be friends with you."
"Rahul, `friends' doesn't mean sex has to be involved," though Jason could kick himself, almost tasting the wiry fur on his tongue!
"Rohit say same thing."
"He did?" the plot thickens!
"I know this sound strange, but Rohit like you."
Again and again the comic relief kicks in, "Then why didn't he come with you? I can handle two!"
Seeing it Jason's stab at humor, Rahul smiles, "He like you. He would submit."
Picking up on it, Jason says, "Yeah, it's the impression I got," trying not to drool over the still open shirt, presenting the black fur from neck to navel and beyond, "Rohit, the alpha half of the relationship, even though I thought you were brothers, but being your lovers, well... That kind of clears up the whole picture."
"Rohit know I come to give you the key. He say okay if we do something, but I need to keep my pants on."
This time Rahul was smiling, Jason reckoning, "So, it's not necessarily a closed relationship?"
"Not if Rohit is okay with who I am with."
"And likewise, touche," Jason says it with the perfect French inflection, "you have a say in who Rohit takes to bed?"
He didn't say, instead, Rahul telling Jason, "I don't have a lot of time right now to explain."
Before it became overly cramped in his pants, and drooled down his own smooth chest, Jason made his advance, saying, like he was ready to beep some dude, "Here goes nothing!"
His hands were `right there', ready to touch all that lush cub-fur and then suddenly took to what looked like brushing breadcrumbs off his fingers, with hesitation.
"Change your mind?" Rahul says.
"Uh... yeah," Jason simply says, dropping his arms. Then, "I guess," he thinks it up as he goes along, "liking a guy just for his fur, is not a reason for..."
He couldn't exactly explain himself, but as Rahul takes leave, Jason, closing the door, walking away from it, walks over to leather sofa, looking like it can seat 5 or 6, plummets to the cushion, saying, "I can't believe I had it all there in front of me and woosed-out!"
Even picturing it in his mind, the pecs and stomach, right down to the bellyhole, all glazed with a thatch of black fur. Putting all of this aside, he lay with his head on the arm, trying to make any sense of Rahul's visit. Part of it, why would he want to get it on with a guy who couldn't take his pants off... Sure, Jason could have applied some force on the buckle, but at the same time he wanted to be respectful. He was in a quandary, strip or not to strip.
When he came to Manfredi, he was reluctant to get involved, though his heart and crotch were calling out to guys. He thought, for awhile, he might play around, but then find some guy to go solo with. Maybe it was the time to solo-out, years before the foreplay to the better things which were yet to come.
Sitting up, he reaches for his laptop case, taking it out. Setting it up, he starts to type in a variety of guys he's met over the past few days; Mutt, Jeffy, Xeno, Kev, Ian, including faculty; `Uncle' Kevin, Virgil and concluding with a guy he thought not only hot, hairy and handsome, but genuinely nice, Jeadi.
Of all of them, he dwell on Jeadi, first meeting him in the campus gym. As with that day, he pictured himself kissing, at a minimum, right down that trail, hitting paydirt.
However, as with all the other names he's typed on his laptop, erases everyone. Jason figures he has struck out with everyone of them. Though, he had some fun, which makes him smile. Then again, as he can see, the concentration of study here at Manfredi, there could be very little time for fooling around. Putting his laptop down, he sits back, deeply breathes, thinks about it all.
Unlike the regular high school atmosphere, because it was a cinch to carry the work load, he had a lot of time on his hands. Here was not the case, as he has heard from others, a student could always be furthered challenged, the reason for placing a senior high school class among a 2-year college campus. The transition from Manfredi's high school division was more of morphing into college, as opposed as proving yourself from another school with transcripts and other application processes.
As a last ditch effort, he forgot about the very last person he met at Manfredi, Gislan Korkmaz. Putting his laptop aside, he got comfy on the sofa.
A knock came at the door.
Opening the heavy wooden, inside door, he saw through the screen, "Denis? Professor Cohen?"
Gruffly, Prof Cohen says, "If you're not busy studying, Denis has something he would like to say to you."
Unlike back at the headmaster's office, Denis was not his bubbly self, Jason ushering them inside, asking, "So, what's up?"
Turning around, he was confronted by the same order, Denis standing in front of Prof Cohen and again the taller of the two speaking, "Denis got a little carried away this afternoon and has stopped by to make amends."
He could see, Prof Cohen giving Denis a little push, like it was his turn to speak, "Yes, I, um, seem to have written my phone number on the back of the hall pass, which was inappropriate for me and..."
In Jason's estimation, it was no big deal. Even though he had a short fantasy over Denis, especially after finding he was hooked up with Prof Cohen, but it was sheerly fiction, yet was entertained by the cub with his alpha mate!
"Shameful," Prof Cohen finally speaks up about the incident, "not only for Denis, but for myself."
The apology was fine, but something irked Jason the wrong way just now. Whether Prof Cohen meant it or not, it seemed like his concern lay more on himself. He was good at coming up with spontaneous remarks, "Oh really?" Folding arms across the middle, Jason says, "I don't see where anything Denis said or did is a reflection on you?"
Instead of on Jason, Denis cast his attention to his mate.
"Well, of course," Prof Cohen tries getting himself off the hook, "I take as much responsibility for it as he does."
It didn't work out quite as well as intended, Jason coming back with witty response, "Well okay, then how about both or you down on your knees," he cackles.
Denis sunk to his knees.
Cohen stood there, saying, "Up, Denis, dear? Aren't you in enough trouble?"
"Oh right. Sorry, lamb-chop!" he gets up.
Lamb-chop?', Jason questioned in his mind. Lean beef, maybe, but lamb-chops?'.
"You seem like a nice, level-headed young man," to Jason, sounded like Prof Cohen was loosening up, not the straight-laced professor back in math class this morning, "and with all due respect, speaking on Denis' behalf, I hope we can negotiate dropping this matter?"
"Sure! No problem! I've forgotten about it already," laughing it off, "Late pass? What late pass?" he laughs.
"Thank you," Prof Cohen says, mellowing out.
"Cool. Hey, want a beer?"
Denis looked to his other half for direction.
"Sure. One would be okay," Cohen replies.
However, one little detail, as he approached the fridge, Jason knew what the outcome would be, since this was the first time he would be prying the door open. True to his psychic ability, "No beer. How about water?" Opening and closing the door, "No water. In fact, the fridge is one great void!"
The two leaving, Jason thought it something totally weird. He picture their life at home, Denis stripped naked, wearing a collar with a dog's leash attached.
Denis was a hot guy, but his tall, handsome, and because he was `casual', the lightly haired chest mat made something more than his tongue feel sensitive to the subject.
Then he was freaked out of his whits, hearing the dinner bell ringing. He had hoped to get a little settled in, enough to shower and rest a little. Homework was a breeze, so tonight he wouldn't have to bother studying, research, nor writing.
He did think on the fridge, at least changing into a fresh, white dinner shirt, filling the box with all the necessities; beer, beer and more beer!
Then it happened again, that big brass knocker on the door pounding, Jason prematurely responding, "What's it this time, Jehovah Witnesses?!"
Laughing, his face suddenly turns to surprise, exclaiming, "Maestro Korkmaz?"
"Hello," he helped himself to opening the screen door, "you know it's my first day in a cottage, which happens to be adjacent to yours and about a half mile down the road..."
Jason quietly stood there, listening to what he knew was a phony excuse for having to stop by.
"And... Have you noticed.... Have you anything in your fridge?"
"No. But did you notice they rang the dinner bell?"
It's then, the big, long excuse the chorus professor drummed up, was totally ludicrous, going overboard in explanation, "You are going to think I am so farcical, so risible, preposterous, foolish, idiotic, in..."
"Yeah, I know you're insane."
A second after, Korkmaz is correcting him, "I was going to say `inane'."
"I knew that!" Jason laughs.
Then, totally serious, Korkmaz says, "Why? Do you think I'm insane?"
"No," Jason gives his gut feelings, "but cute?!"
It was going the way Maestro Korkmaz had hoped. Between chorus and finding his way to the last cottage on the lane, he had made some progress finding himself there. He had it in mind to pay a visit to the gymnasium.
In explaining, back in New York City, a guy he dated, Ghislan says, "He had gotten me into running. From there, we go out to his friend's place and run around Lake Garrison and you can probably guess where it ends up?"
Instead of a short explanation, this was turning into a short novel, but Jason didn't mind at all, except, when the second bell rings, significant, because if you didn't have your ass parked in a seat by the time it dinged, you were in serious trouble, which Jason had just told Ghislan, concluding, "Especially if the `late person' is a greener?"
Placing a hand to Jason's lily white shirt, he stops him, "No need to worry. I have you covered."
"You do?" Jason questions his validity.
"I've wandered off topic. What I'm trying to say is, I stopped over at the gym and saw the faculty member in charge of triathlon," unparking his hand from pressure on Jason's chest, turning it so his knuckles face him, then slides it down, "and signed up, offering my expertise, upon which Coach Leeds volunteered my services as one of the few coaches he has already signed on."
He wasn't sure, but Jason kind of was under the impression, "Did he mention anything else?"
"Are you talking about your name on the roster?"
It was, but also, "Uh, yeah, but anything else?"
"Yes, matter of fact," Ghislan made it like he was fixing Jason's black, thin tie, "he happened to mention he is your uncle?"
"Uh, yeah," Jason gulped, still getting used to the instant adoption, "he is. Good ole Uncle Kevin!"
"Which is the reason you don't have worry about being late to dinner."
"Oh cool!" It comes to Jason, "He's covering for me!"
"Yes and no."
"Okay, like you got me wondering, Maestro Korkmaz?"
Korkmaz follows up with, "Did you forget to call me Ghislan?"
"Okay, so like you got me wondering, Ghislan?" Jason repeats himself.
"Well, you may not know it, but it is optional for professors to be at meals and your uncle invited me out with him and some of the others and said bring a date."
He kind of sensed something here, "Uh, like who's your date?"
Covering all bases, Ghislan replies, "Your uncle thought it not a problem if he took you out to dinner with them."
"Hmm, then how come Kevi... I mean Uncle Kevin isn't here himself?"
He hated `going against' Ghislan, like it was wrong, because right now all Jason could think of was fitting his lips in the middle of that late afternoon scruff and taste!
"No. I volunteered to come get you, since Kevin had to go fill out a paper, get it authorized and signed."
"Just to take me off campus for one night?" Jason exclaims.
"In this day and age? Everything is very formal. Everyone needs to have their ass covered!" Ghislan states.
Jason knew how it sounded and kind of feeling frisky, asks, "And what do I have to do to get it uncovered?"
Ghislan smiles, stating, "Your's or mine?"
"Doesn't matter. If something is going somewhere, they both should be naked. How else are you going to find out?"
Cocking his head, Ghislan says, "Am I reading you right?"
He was joking, Jason gullible to believe, "What?"
"Are you saying you want to get into bed with me?"
Now, seeing right through this whole charade, Jason plays it for what it's worth, "Okay. Timeout," he makes the T', "what happens a few years from now, when it comes out you' propositioned chorusers in your class and then you have ten guys up your ass with lawsuits?"
"Never happen," Ghislan says assuringly.
"How can you say that. Look what happened to Jerry Sundursky?"
Ghislan giggles out a laugh, "Sandusky."
"Whatever. I'm not into tennis. What happens when they're knocking on your door, with sworn confessions from ten chorusers?"
Ghislan just smiles.
"I'm being serious."
All Ghislan can do is stare at that cute, serious expression as he replies. "Chorusers. It's not even a word!"
"Why not? If they're in the chorus, they're chorusers. Who screwed up when they wrote the music dictionary?" Jason differs.
Stepping a little closer, Ghislan says, "Maybe you should rewrite and update it?"
"Did you notice you stepped two inches closer to me?" Jason detects.
"I did, but also noticed you made no effort to back up?"
With a frowny look of acknowledgement, Jason says, "Yeah, I didn't, did I? I wonder how come?"
"We have a minute or two for you to think."
Rather than think about such stoopid stuff, Jason says, "You look different in a tee shirt, Maestro?"
"And the place we are going, you would too!"
"I guess that's a hint?" Jason replies.
"Kevin and Virgil are waiting for us?" Ghislan says, watching Jason grab his backpack and head into the room to the left.
"Virgie? And Uncle Kevin? Hmm... he scurries off to change. "Oops!" Jason comes back, "That's the library. Bedrooms are this way!"
It was on the tip of his tongue, Ghislan thinking, `Let me know if you need help?' looking to the empty void.
Much was running through Jason's mind, other than missing dinner at Manfredi. But tied to the thought, was `Uncle' Kevin, allowing him to skip out of dinner? He must've thought of Ghislan as being hot, but did he know the chorus conductor was flirting? If he did, he had to know that flirting could lead to disaster. Other things began to surface, like how many other schooling dudes in Ghislan's careers did he shack up with? Was he number 25, 50 or 100? With all those things kicking in at once, it caused Jason to slow way down in taking off his tie, dress shirt, hanging it up, picking out a tee shirt, which he had only one which looked decent enough to wear out.
"How do I look?"
"Perfect," Ghislan replies, after standing from the leather sofa.
"Before we go, I have a question."
"Only one?" Ghislan says.
"No. About fifty!"
"You want to know why I singled `you' out of a chorus of eighteen. Then you will want to know, in the past, how many I have done the same with?"
"Wh-h-ell," Jason starts into the second time.
"Then," Ghislan cuts him off, "you will want to know, in my whole career, how many lovers I had and if they developed into relationships?"
This brought Ghislan all the way around to the back of the sofa, Jason reacting, "And you're pretty light on your feet!"
"Now I have a question for you?"
"Not fair! I didn't get any answers to mine!" Jason replies.
"Makes for good conversation over dinner. By the way, your uncle said something to me, which I did not understand."
"What'd he say?"
"Something about `watch out for the beeps'?"
Suddenly, an evil look comes over Jason, however instead of allowing his uncle's words inspire, he prolongs his actions, "Maybe later."
Whatever it was, Ghislan was ready to compromise, thinking `over dinner' might also be the case, but then, since they were alone... With second thoughts, "Y'know, we could call out and eat in?"
Right now, it wasn't only Ghislan's hands around his waist, binding him up in a spell of melancholy, but his words as well, Jason responding with reckless abandon, "Cool. You had no problem finding me, why not the pizza guy!"
"Hey," Jason suddenly felt a poke in his left shoulder.
Not one, but two, three and four, a half-bent bod, arm extended, try waking Jason up out of his deep sleep.
"Huh? Wha?" Jason stir awake. Realizing it wasn't Ghislan, and fully aware he had been dreaming, woken up at very important stage of his dream, says, "At least you could have waited until the pizza guy showed up?"
"Pizza guy?" Kevin questions, then lightens up, realizing, "Must've been a sweet dream?"
Stretching his arms up overhead, Jason's shirt took a little hike, just enough to `show', putting his treasure trail on exhibition, before parking hands behind head, remarking with a quaint smile, "Yeah, it was."
Sitting on the sofa, with plenty of room on the custom made piece of furniture and looking through Jason's knees to talk, "You missed dinner. It's why I'm here."
"`Family' caring about family?" Jason asks.
Avoiding the issue, Kevin says, "By the way, your chorus teacher `dropped' your name this afternoon?"
"Ghislan?" Jason replies, his half hour of napping, woven a tale of sweet deception almost as fresh in his mind as if it really happened, "He really did come by the gym?"
"What are you talking about?" Then, "Ghislan? Aren't you getting a little personal there, `nephew'?"
Biting his lip, Jason thought about it. Right now he had to be on the alert, separating sleeping time from his awakened state, "Okay, so what did Maestro Korkmaz have to say about me?"
"Nothing much, other than, after seeing your name on the roster, told me you were in his advanced chorus, saying he was going to work with you on your singing. Frankly, and don't pin this on the Maestro, but I was under the impression you can't carry a tune?"
Probably a stoopid thing to do, Jason interrogates, "Did Ghislan... I mean Maestro Korkmaz, did you tell him you're my `uncle'?"
"No, but if you don't know about it, news travels fast around here, especially news like, if you're a friend of Jason Croft, it could be to your advantage? Just warning you!"
"I'll be on my guard. Did he ask you anything about dinner?"
Smiling, Kevin replies, "No, but I did have an inkling to invite him over to my place for cocktails... Dinner, and a midnight swim!" He laughs.
At least Jason had a semblance of separating fiction from reality, "Did he mention anything else?"
"Matter of fact, he did. I was quite surprised to learn he's a runner and quite adequate a swimmer."
"Why would you be surprised, Kevin? He's got a nice shape to him?"
"Chorus is for singing, not checking out the Maestro!"
Kevin laughs. Jason, incited by the laughter, turns his embarrassing smile into a toothy grin, "Yeah, that's what I hear. So, did you `sign him up' for the triathlon team?"
"Coaching, like Jeadi and the other professors, only there's one thing he's not at all proficient with."
"Sucking cock?" Jason guesses.
"Dinner didn't happen," Kevin replies. "Ghislan is not at all very good on the bike, he informs me, but I told him not to worry, that I have someone else in his same situation."
Jason just knew, "Me?"
"Yeah," facetiously, Kevin says, "sorry to drop the wrecking ball on you!"
That smile made Jason smile, and then in fake response, "Like I'm really `crushed'!"
"I knew you would be, especially after I tell you, him and you are going to have to do a lot of biking in order to catch up to the rest or us?"
"Hmm, biking and singing. I bet that could work!" Then, something he hadn't noticed before, Jason straightens out the bends in his legs, sock-covered toes touching Kevin's thighs, "What's that hiding your massive erection?"
"Massive erection," Kevin gives it back to him, "honey, if I was hard, this plate of food would be on the floor!"
Teasing, Jason says, "Show me!"
"You're not doing it for me. Maybe if you take your clothes off and stroke yourself?" Kevin replies.
Doing a sit up, Jason reaches right over his toes and grabs the china plate by the edges. Purposely, his knuckles touch whatever the plate rests on.
"Now `that' could force my hand!"
"I love `dinner-theater'. Whip it out, Uncle!"
Instead, Kevin stood, reached for the plate, saying, "Might be better to eat in the kitchen. Meatballs have a tendency to roll off the plate and into the lap?"
"What's the problem with that?" Jason follows Kevin into the kitchen, "You could be my spotter and catch it before it does?"
"What fun would that be?" Kevin retorts.
Reaching into the fridge, Jason says, "Want a warm water?"
"Warm?" Kevin looks into, from the open fridge door.
"I guess it isn't plugged in."
Still with his mind on the 18yo, Kevin says, "The fridge or..."
"Usually it's warm between my legs. However, if you think I'm lying, you can check?"
"I'm sure that would not look good in court!"
It opened up for something more private and personal, Jason seriously saying, as Kevin looked for the place to plug in the fridge on the wall, "I would never do anything like that. I mean, with what my life has been for the past couple of years, the guys I've met up with, either of us could have a court case against the other."
The fridge humming, Kevin turns back around, "Oh really? Anything good to jerk off to?"
"Plenty," socking the bottle of Voss into Kevin's bread basket, "here's your water!"
Holding the bottle where Jason placed it, right over the buttons of his shirt, Jason asks, "What are you doing now?"
"Measuring."
"I'm sure this is leading to something?" Jason sits, uncovering the napkin-lidded plate.
Looking over himself, towards the bottom of the bottle, the science prof says, "Just seeing how close you came to..."
"Just sit down and drink it?"
They had a nice little chat while Jason ate the lukewarm meatballs, spaghetti and sauce, accompanied by cold garlic bread, which by now had a cardboard taste to it.
His lead out question, since his loins were burning, stirred up interest, "Anything I should know, as your uncle, in case we should get into conversation with some one regarding our relationship?"
"Oh, I'm sure some guys, like Xeno will always be curious," Jason replies.
"Should we lie or tell the truth?" Kevin replies.
"Do you mean we should lie and tell them we've made out or tell the truth that we've only thought about it?"
"Well," Kevin makes like he's setting the stage, loosens his tie all the way to pulling it through the collar, placing it over the back of an unused chair and because the top button of his shirt is already unfastened, does the second one, "we could make out now and keep them guessing?"
"You would risk tarnishing your record? That would like be worse than Lance lying about doping!"
"You said you wouldn't tell, but nah, I was only `just saying'."
Reading right through him, Jason says as he swallow down a particle of meat, "Learn any new languages lately?"
Right away Kevin knew, talking about Jason, affairs, blow jobs and anything else which pertained to his `nephew', was dust in the wind, "Only expanded... on the language of love?!"
Wearing a smile, Jason, no different than any other curious teen, "What did you do after everyone left?"
"Talked."
"And?"
"Took a dip."
Jason replies, "He in you or you in him?"
"In the pool, stoopid!"
"Oh! I knew that!" Jason laughs.
"Seriously?" Kevin asks.
"I'm ready," Jason says, holding his fork, stabbing a meatball, specifically in a manner which would make his other hand standout.
Curious himself, Kevin had to bend over the side of the table to look, then uprighting himself, "Just checking."
"Hey," Jason says, "if it's going to get steamy," meaning his hand on his crotch, "maybe we both should whip it out?!"
After sticking his tongue out, Kevin asks, "You want to hear what happened or not?"
"I'm ready," Jason reiterates.
Making it long, drawn out, as steamy as possible, Kevin weaves a tale of deception, "Well, from the pool we almost dried off, but so driven by our hormones, we leapt up the stairs and jumped into bed. After an hour of sucking up to each other..."
Leaving it to Jason's imagination, he guesses, "You had Ghislan on all fours, fucking the living daylights out of him?"
Kevin noticed the `first name' usage, but lets it sail, saying, "Not quite. We've reached a stalemate, though I think over time I'll be able to wear him down?"
"What kind of a stalemate?" Jason finishes up, leans back, rest an arm on the table, the other hand still trying to find something worth keeping hard over.
"Does all oral and no anal tell you something?"
"Of course. That's why you're the prof and I'm the student!"
"Speaking of which," Kevin places his hands on the table, pushing himself up, "I have to get ready for my date?" he smiles.
"Great," Jason says, standing, "leave me like a rock in a hard place!"
Looking down, Kevin says of Jason's `tent', "Hmm, too bad you don't have chorus practice!"
"Is there something you didn't tell me, Uncle?"
"Don't read into it too much, but your chorus teacher told me he thinks you're cute?"
"You're family. You're supposed to be protecting me?"
"I am," Kevin replies, "I brought you dinner. I'm making sure you keep up building strong muscles?"
Still rubbing his crotch, Jason replies, "I could think of other ways of building muscle?"
"Yeah, well, get some rest. Tomorrow at the sound of the last bell, you have bike-riding with your new coach."
After `getting rid of' his uncle, Jason goes back to checking out his bedroom further. Unlike the state of the fridge, the bed was made with fresh linens, which after peeling off the comforter, he took off his shirt, shucked his shoes, dropped his pants, peeled briefs off his ass and dove into the bed, pulling the sheet up to his knees. It was still early evening, but he couldn't wait till later. Not while he was in the mood, his mind wandering over hill and dale.
Closing his eyes, it was like he was finishing up the dream. Picking up where they left off, he had the Maestro stripped naked, in bed, when the knocker on the door sounds.
"I'll get it," Jason watches that hairy ass leave the room, to the tune of stroking his 9c, top of the circle made by thumb joining pointer finger, making a nice loop to massage the sides of his moderately thick shaft, up to where the finger and thumb catch under the head and pounce down to the base. Hitting wiry pubes, slowly Jason strokes up his fabricated jerkoff, saying, "Fuckin' hot!" when not only his hairy chorus prof reappears in the buff, but also the pizza delivery guy, dressed in nothing but the pizza box he's holding.
"I hope you like meatballs," the pizza guy, who Jason envisions as being uncle's `boyfriend', such is the power of suggestion, sets the pizza down, asking as he approaches the bed with the Maestro, "Are you top or bottom?"
From their earlier conversation, he and Kevin shooting the bull, Jason replies, behind his eyes, "Same as you."
It `had' to turn out that way, like with Kevin, Jason and Jordan incompatible, even if only in a makeshift way of keeping himself hard. After all, this wasn't about himself and Jordan, but with Ghislan as the main character, the pizza guy a supporting cast member.
"I know what I am!" Ghislan says, passing by Jordan, sweeping him out of the way, back of the hand to Kevin's boyfriend's chest.
"Hey," Jason calls out, like he's looking Jordan in the eyes, "don't have an identity crisis or anything!"
His makeshift dream, all for the fruition of stroking his mighty sword up into full potential worked beautiful, turning off the fantasy for now, uttering those ritually feel good' words, "Unh! Unh! Unh-h-h," changing over to "Gr-r-r-r-r-r!" at the intensity of his hand forcing all that white goo out, with such maximum drive, his sweet teen cream lands first on his midchest, lower... Lower... Lower... Less deposited alongside his treasure trail and with last words of how good it feels, "Oh ma-a-a-an..." his 9c slowly retracts, though can boast with a 5-soft. Strangely, last man on his mind was Uncle'!
^ o ^
Copyright 2013 T. Chase McPhee
`A NiFTy LiTTLe TALe', and developing segments of this story, may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.