This story is purely fictional and is based solely on the author's imagination. Any connection between real people or situations is purely coincidental. It depicts a love relationship between two men, both being of legal age, and their involvement with a teen boy.
This story is a sequel to the story CABIN IN PARADISE, which can be found in the "Beginnings" section of Nifty's Archives. The author recommends you read that story first. Otherwise, there may be parts in this one that just don't make sense!
The author reserves all copyright privileges. This work may not be reproduced, except for personal use, without permission of the author, and may not be linked to any pay sites.
Chapter 7
Maybe he didn't need a reason, but he had one nonetheless. The next day he'd call Peter and arrange to meet him. This time, he wouldn't be stupid.
Peter smiled as he came out of the gymnasium, his basketball shirt soaked with sweat.
"Wanna ride?" Timothy asked, rolling down the passenger window.
"Absolutely!" Peter answered gleefully.
Timothy sped off as soon as Peter had hopped in and closed the door.
For a moment or two, the boys seemed quiet, and somehow content on just being in each other's presence. Then, Peter broke the blissful silence. "You said you had something for me?"
Timothy felt his heart in his throat, so he swallowed hard. At the next street, he turned right and pulled off to the side.
He set the parking brake and shut off the engine.
Peter just smiled at him, remaining silent.
"I..." Timothy swallowed again. "Yesterday," Timothy started and paused again. "I wanted to say..."
Peter placed his hand on Timothy's leg, and Timothy could feel magic electricity run up his spine. If Peter meant to console him, the touch didn't help.
Timothy took a deep breath. "I had a great time," he said.
"Me too," Peter answered, leaving his hand on Timothy's leg.
"That's good. I mean...it's good we can have a great time together."
"Yeah, I think so too." Peter smiled again.
Timothy sank in his seat. He wanted to say it, but his mouth wouldn't let him. "I came home yesterday...and well," Timothy paused again.
"Yeah?"
Timothy reached in his pocket, pulling out the briefs.
Peter burst into laughter. "Oh man. I thought I was going crazy when I got home and realized I had YOUR shorts on! See?" Peter pulled the waistband of his gym shorts down, exposing the elastic band of Timothy's boxers.
"You're wearing `em?"
"Sure, why not? I did yesterday! Feel pretty good too...lots of ball room!" Peter started laughing again.
Timothy couldn't help himself and began to giggle. The giggle grew to a chuckle, and before long, the two boys were laughing until tears appeared in their eyes.
"Oh man, Peter," Timothy laughed. "I just love you..."
The words fled from his lips without so much as a single hesitation, and even Timothy hadn't realized what he said until the words hung in the air.
The laughter subsided and Peter looked Timothy directly in the eyes. "I love you, too, Tim!" Peter then leaned forward, until their faces were mere millimeters apart and he whispered, "I've loved you since the first time I saw you." Then, Peter closed his eyes, and pressed his lips to Timothy's.
At first, Timothy was stunned. And then, he gave in to his passion, and their kiss engaged stronger, until Peter parted his lips and darted his tongue against Timothy's soft upper lip.
Careless of any outside observers as they sat in his Jaguar, Timothy parted his lips, and allowed Peter to explore his hungry mouth.
"Russell! I'm running late! Don't forget about dinner at Luigi's tonight. We're meeting a new client and I want everything to be perfect!" Kenny picked up his briefcase and stepped out the door, not even waiting for me to respond.
My Kenny always wants a `first dinner meeting' to be perfect. And with the exception of the one time that the waiter spilled water on our client, every dinner HAS been perfect. "You fret too much, my love!" I answered, though I knew Kenny couldn't hear me.
I finished dressing and wrote a quick note for Timothy, taping it to his bedroom door. It read, "WILL BE HOME LATE. REBECCA LEFT SPAGHETTI IN THE OVEN. LOVE YOU, MA." Calling me "Ma" had become the joke of the house, and I was getting used to it. I knew it would bring a smile to his tender face, and I love doing that more than life itself.
I quickly grabbed the keys to the Mercedes and slammed the door as I got in. I just love the deep "thud" it makes as the door seals.
Though I had no idea what time Timothy would be home, I trusted him. Still, I kept peeking in my mirrors, to see if I recognized his car, as I drove away from the house toward downtown Birmingham.
"Damn, you could use a shower," Timothy joked, tasting the salty-sweat from Peter's neck.
"Is that an invitation?"
Timothy smiled and kissed Peter again. "I really do love you!" He started the car and headed for home.
"Uncle Russell? I'm home!" Timothy yelled up the stairs, shutting the front door behind him. "Huh. I guess nobody's home. Come on, you can use the shower upstairs." Timothy took Peter's hand, leading him up the grand staircase.
"Damn, you got a nice house!"
"Hee hee...thanks, but it belongs to my Uncle Kenny." When they got to Timothy's room, he saw the note. "Well, I was right. We've got the place all to ourselves!"
"Good...'cause I was hoping for a little play time again!" Peter said, pushing Timothy down onto the bed, and planting his lips hard against Timothy.
Timothy felt his heart and his body melt into Peter. He also felt something else...something hard and pressing against his crotch.
Timothy moved his hands down Peter's back, following the lines of his spine directly to the firm, young muscles of Peter's butt. Cupping each cheek, he squeezed them gently.
Peter moaned softly, forcing his tongue inside Timothy's mouth, teasing and darting at Timothy's tongue. Peter then pushed his pelvis forward, almost grinding his hard dick against Timothy's rising boyhood.
Timothy moved his hands back up Peter's back, pulling his shirt with it. The softness...baby softness...of Peter's skin felt wonderful to Timothy.
Peter raised himself and Timothy slipped the cotton shirt from Peter's skin.
Peter then looked down at Timothy and their eyes locked. Both knew what they wanted...hungered for it.
Peter smiled and whispered into Timothy's ear, "You can't get undressed if I'm lying on top of you, huh?"
Timothy giggled and Peter lifted himself from Timothy.
Timothy started to sit up.
"Wait!" Peter grabbed Timothy's shoulders, gently pushing him back down on the bed. "Let me," he whispered, gliding his hands down Timothy's chest and belly, and continuing to the bulge in Timothy's jeans.
Peter's eyes followed his hands, and as he reached Timothy's love package, he stroked the rectangular shape that had formed, pressing against Timothy's cock.
Timothy could feel a surge of precum escape his dick, lightly moistening his underwear.
"Mmmm," Peter moaned as he reached down and kissed Timothy's bulge.
Then, Peter reached up, pushing Timothy's t-shirt up his firmly packed belly.
Peter's fingers skating across each abdomen muscle as though it were an old-fashioned washboard. Further up the shirt was pushed, until Peter's thumbs were tweaking Timothy's nipples, causing them to jet firmly outward.
Peter reached down again, gently kissing each one, before rolling his tongue around and around each nipple.
"Ohhhh," Timothy softly moaned.
Peter then pulled the shirt from Timothy's head, and then pushed him back down on the bed. And then, just as gently, Peter's hands skated back down Timothy's teen boy belly until reaching his down-soft treasure trail. Peter stuck out his tongue and licked up the trail to his belly button, leaving the thin hairs darker than before.
Timothy closed his eyes, lost in the wonderful erotic feelings Peter was introducing him to. Unlike the way that Jake made love to Timothy, Peter's technique was all about Timothy's pleasure. And each move elicited more moans.
Before Timothy even realized it, his firm dick was exposed to the cool air, throbbing even more as a tiny tear of precum oozed from the tip and flowed down his shaft.
Peter moved down along Timothy's legs.
Timothy knew what would happen next, and yet, Peter looked up at him. "Can I?" he asked, licking his lips.
Timothy nodded nervously. He'd never been asked permission before, and wasn't sure what to say.
Peter smiled and whispered, "I've been thinking about your dick all day!" Then, he opened his mouth and engulfed the full length of Timothy's boy prick.
The mild taste of Timothy's precum soon coated Peter's tongue, and he used it with his saliva to soak Timothy's dick.
Peter slipped from his all-day-sucker, and softly moaned, "Mmmm, you taste so sweet."
Timothy looked down and smiled.
Peter resumed his oral pleasuring of Timothy's, which was just as satisfying to himself. The feel of Timothy's cock against his tongue made Peter's dick bounce. He could feel his passion growing. The enjoyment of sucking Timothy was getting himself off.
Timothy began to arch and buck as the electricity in his body built. His breathing became louder and haggard, and Peter knew his young balls would soon deliver their salty-sweet nectar.
"Oh, fuck yeah, Petey...I'm gonna shoot, Dude."
"Mm Hmm," Peter answered, squeezing tighter around Timothy's shaft. All the while, Peter had naturally begun a rhythm on his knees, rubbing his dick inside the underwear he had taken from Timothy.
"I'm serious, Peter...I'm gonna blow."
Peter ignored the warning, cupping Timothy's balls, milking its treat from them.
"Oh God...it's...it's cummmm..." Timothy arched upward again, pressing the tip of his pulsing dick against the back of Peter's throat.
Within mere seconds, it jumped and spewed jet and after wonderful jet of his cum down Peter's throat.
Peter swallowed hard, trying not to miss a single drop. His mouth filled quickly, and it seemed like Timothy was never going to stop cumming.
Peter was quickly caught in the moment, and the excitement of satisfying his lover sent him over the edge, his dick spraying its own fresh load inside his underwear, quickly soaking his erection in boy cream.
Peter swallowed hard again, still holding Timothy's cock against his tongue.
As Timothy descended from his peak, the stream of hot boy cum slowed, and Peter backed off a little, coating his tongue with the stronger essence of Timothy's orgasm.
Peter continued to lick and swallow, lick and swallow; milking the last drops from Timothy as though his mere life depended on it.
As it happens with young boys, it soon became too sensitive, and Timothy pulled his softening dick from Peter's lips.
"That was awesome!" Timothy exclaimed, collapsing back on the bed.
"Tasty," Peter said, licking his lips like a dog that had just finished a fine steak.
Peter stood up, and Timothy immediately noticed the large dark circle in the front of his jeans.
Timothy pulled Peter close to him, and pressing his nose to the wetness, inhaled deeply. "I guess I'm not the only who came."
Peter could feel his face redden.
"Well, you can't go home with wet pants. Let's get a shower and I'll give some of my stuff to wear." Timothy stood, and grabbing the waist of Peter's jeans, pulled them down his legs; the wet aroma instantly stronger in Timothy's nostrils.
Timothy couldn't resist being that close to Peter's uncovered cock, and, slipping his tongue along the shaft of Peter's dick, got a taste of Peter's cooling cum.
Then, he stood, took Peter's hand, and led him to the shower.
Luigi's is one of those Italian Restaurants you see in old movies. Red and White checkered table clothes; a selection of fine cheeses, salamis and wine in stacks along the counters; and an elderly woman at the hostess stand who looks like Momma Celeste or the grandmother of any Mafia Boss.
I'd only visited Luigi's once before, and was taken aback as I walked in.
"Ahhh, Russell, it's a been a long time-a! How come you don't-a come around here anymore-a?" The old woman took my hand before I could speak. "Master Kenny's-a waiting for you-a...right over here." She led me from the door to Kenny's table, all the while her cold, almost brittle, hand holding mine. "Have-a the La-zzzzzangna!" Then, she kissed her pinched fingers and left us.
"She remembered my name," I whispered to Kenny.
"She remembers everybody," he snickered, sipping his water.
We were only alone for a moment when our dinner guests arrived.
"Mr. Byron, I'm glad you could join us. This is Russell Tibbs, my partner and financial advisor. Russell, this is Mr. Tom Byron and his lovely wife, Virginia."
"Very nice to meet both of you," I said as I stood up and shook both their hands. "Please be seated," I pointed to the chairs.
Mr. Byron pulled out the chair and assisted his wife, in proper Southern style.
Kenny then ordered a nice Bordeaux wine, as he laid out the purpose for the dinner meeting. Then, Kenny continued, "Mr. Byron, you spoke on the phone of the importance that your meeting with me not take place in my office. May I ask, why?"
"It's quite simple really. I can't stand doctors, lawyers or judges. Frankly, you muckety-muck Harvard boys scare the shit out of me."
I could feel my jaw drop, but Kenny handled it like a pro.
"I don't blame you, Mr. Byron. There's certainly enough educated people in this world giving the rest of us a bad name." Kenny nodded at the waiter as the wine was poured.
"That's why I contacted you! You're not like those other bastards!" Mr. Byron sniffed the wine, as a connoisseur would. "I've been following you for a few years now, and I know I can trust you." Then he took a large gulp of the wine, swallowing hard.
Some connoisseur, I thought to myself.
"What exactly can I do for you, Mr. Byron?" Kenny pressed the question.
"I want you to kill someone," Mr. Byron answered, matter-of-factly.
My jaw fell again. Fortunately, all eyes were on Mr. Byron and not me.
Kenny, cool as can be, looked at Mr. Byron and said, "Well, homicide services aren't really my forte', Mr. Byron."
"I want his company killed, you buffoon!" Another large gulp of wine.
"What company? Perhaps you should tell me what this is all about." Kenny sat back in his chair, arms crossed, ready to listen to Mr. Byron's story.
Mr. Byron then spun a tale of two companies; his and his brother's. They had been feuding for years, and although neither were big names in Birmingham, they'd managed to become rather successful and wealthy. Their condominium and apartment housing purchases had never crossed the unwritten border line they had agreed to. That is, until now.
A fairly old complex had been recently destroyed by the city, and now the brothers were at arms about purchasing the land and rights to build a new complex. Where? Right on their unwritten border line.
Tempers flared, threats were made, family lines dropped...the battle had begun.
However, Mr. Byron, being the impatient sort of business man, chose the legal route and wanted Kenny to handle the case.
"Property disputes can be an ugly proceeding, Mr. Byron. There's never really one winner and one loser. Besides, litigation could quite literally go on for years...at a handsome cost to you, I might add."
"You think I can't afford to fight that jackass?"
"I'm not insinuating that at all, Mr. Byron. I'm only trying to present a realistic perspective for you." Kenny polished his salad fork before plunging it into his antipasto salad.
"I'm well aware of what you blood-suckers charge, but I also know that you're the only one who'll straight-away tell me like it is." Mr. Byron cracked a small smile...the only one of the evening.
The conversation continued and as the lasagna was served, a deal for services had been struck.
"Russell will do a financial analysis of the property first thing tomorrow morning. Let's see if this is really worth fighting for. Fair enough?" Kenny stuck out his hand.
"Fair enough," Mr. Byron shook his hand, and then wiped his mouth. "Thank you for meeting with me." With that, he stood up, despite the fact that he hadn't finished one quarter of his meal.
I was also surprised when his wife immediately rose as well. Clearly, she knew it was time to go. Years of training, I guessed.
"Call me at three tomorrow afternoon." Mr. Byron pulled out his wife's chair. "Mr. Schilte. Mr. Tibbs."
I nodded at both of them and said nothing, as my mouth was full of food. It all happened so fast, that by the time I swallowed, they were gone.
"Ahhh, another perfect client meeting," Kenny smiled.
"Something doesn't smell right," I commented.
"Yeah, the shrimp salad tasted a little funny."
"Kenny!" I eyed him sternly.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Just check out the property, Russell. We'll know more then."
The boys finished their shower and dried off under the warmth of the heat lamp.
This time, Peter took Timothy's hand as they waddled their naked butts back to Timothy's room.
"Let's not get dressed yet," Peter suggested.
Timothy felt his face redden. "Ummm, okay."
Peter lay down on Timothy's bed, and then patted the mattress. "Come cuddle with me, Tim."
Timothy smiled and lay down next to Peter, lying on his arm.
Peter hugged him tightly and began whispering in his ear. The words were barely audible, and Timothy strained to hear. "I love you, Timothy, and I never want this day to end."
Timothy's heart melted again, and his mind raced. "I'm sorry I waited so long to tell you, Peter. I...I love you, too."
Peter hugged him again, and began planting gentle kisses on him.
I followed Kenny's car home, the image of the wine-swilling Mr. Byron in my mind. "What's so important about THIS property?" I asked out loud.
As we pulled up, I saw the soft glow of light from Timothy's bedroom window.
My heart fluttered knowing my boy was home. However, as I entered the house, there was an almost eerie silence. "Timothy, I'm home!" I called out. No answer.
I walked up the stairs to Timothy's room. First, I leaned my ear closer to the door. Nothing. I turned the handle; unlocked.
As I opened the door softly, I saw the boys lying there, naked as the day they were born, asleep. The soft glow of the dimmed light reflected off their white skin, and I felt a knot in my throat. They were so peaceful and gentle, I didn't dare wake them.
The thought of them naked together seemed so natural and so innocent, I thought nothing more of it. I quietly closed the door and turned just as Kenny was bounding up the stairs.
"Shhhh! They're asleep!"
"They?" he asked, an inquisitive look on his face.
I hope you're enjoying my story of Russell, Russell, and Timothy. I welcome comments and questions, so email me at mycandlelight_dreams@yahoo.com
I also have other stories posted on Nifty. If you'd like the titles, just ask me.