--<<Clayton's Acquisition>>-- - Authoritarian, eventually.
Clayton Hendrix must have thought I was either a total dumbass or a disinterested punk; staring down shyly at the holes in my converse that matched the holes in my jeans and the hole in the gray t-shirt I'd someday grow in to. But here I was to receive his "mentoring." Something my tenth grade counselor made me go to after I'd been beat up for the third time this year. This time they were kind enough to spell out my problems using a marker on my cheeks. "Cocksucker" written across my face like an ad stunt by the time the gym coach made his way over to me to see what all the noise was about in the locker room.
Mr. Rorvik, the counselor, handed me a tub of baby wipes and turned to make some calls. It wouldn't have normally warranted such attention, but some gay on the northside who had been bullied brought a gun to school last month. So now we were all marked code red. Anyways, so now on Fridays, I got the afternoon off from school so long as I walked the three blocks to the blue line and headed downtown to meet with my new mentor, someone who was supposed to guide me past my troubled teen existence as a poverty stricken gay white kid trapped in a southside majority cholo high school.
So this afternoon I'd hiked it past the hookers on Whitney Pkwy. and down to the train then up 75 floors to Mr. Hendrix' firm. It had a big glass door with his name etched into it and expensive prints of happy looking people on the walls. I waited twenty minutes with his secretary who had brought me a cup of juice... really? juice? I knew this was going to suck, but an afternoon out of school was worth whatever loser Mr. Rorvik wanted to parade in to my life.
Finally he stepped out of his office. Clayton Hendrix, well over six feet, olive skin, black hair gelled for success, a suit that probably cost three times the rent my uncle usually avoided paying on the tiny efficiency we shared. Clayton Hendrix, the kind of masculinity and confidence you don't usually find outside tv action heroes.
He looked down at me and his soft pink lips curved up in to a smirk, electric green eyes appraising the disheveled young queerling he was supposed to spend his charity hours on. I felt like a soup kitchen, a second hand pile of donation items. I quickly looked down at my shoes until he called my name.
"You must be Tarrant, is that right? TARE-ent?" He smiled down at me, putting a heavy hand on my shoulder.
"Y-yes, um, yeah....sir.... Mr. ... Hendrix." I stammered as I got to my feet, almost a foot shorter than him.
"Clay, call me Clay…. for now," he said, "What do your friends call you?"
"Um...my dad called me Tare." I said softly, with the undertones that I certainly didn't have a friend to make that assessment.
"Right....Tare, Ok, let's go get you some lunch." He put his hand on my shoulder and softly pushed me towards the door.
And now here we were, a fancy sidewalk cafe on Ripley Square. I remembered this plaza because it was the last place my dad took me. I was six and we took the bus uptown to watch the bats fly out from under the Luna bridge at sunset to feed on mosquitos for the evening. A week later the gas station he worked at was robbed, he was never one to go down without a fight.
I must have looked distracted, Mr. Hendrix... Clay, stopped in mid sentence on some story of how different things were when he graduated high school twelve years ago.
"Look... Tare, I know you probably don't want to be here and I know it's really hard right now for you to see how you'll ever get through high school or find people who know what you're going through, but you can talk to me about anything. I know it sounds cliche, but it does get better," he said and then laughed, "Ok that wasn't meant to sound that cliche."
I smiled at that. I looked up, he stared so intently at me. I'd never seen that gaze. The look that went right through me, like a spotlight, like anything I would say right now would really be listened to and important.
"That smile," he paused, "you're going to break a lot of hearts with that smile," cheesy but effective. He leaned in to me, putting his arm across the back of my chair. I blushed, then took a sip of cherry coke to hide it.
And we talked, I'd never had anyone listen like that or care or ask questions that probed past the point of making sure I wasn't going to kill myself or take out a government class. We talked through lunch, then talked through a long walk around the Katterin district and made it back to his office as the last of the sun was going down. I don't think either of us realized the time. Every time I finished some long rant or story, he'd ask another question, soaking it all in like I was someone important; like I mattered.
His office had cleared out for the day and I found my backpack resting on a chair in his office. He gathered a few black leather notebooks and packed them along with a laptop into his case.
"Well, thanks Mr.... um Clay," I said, taking my backpack and heading for the door.
"Woah, hey, Tare" he started as I walked away. "I'll give you a ride home. The train's not safe this late. Especially not in...." he trailed off, not wanting to offend.
"Oh uh..." I suddenly remembered who I was and where I lived. I know it sounds stupid, I mean he was there to mentor a hood kid and all, but I suddenly thought that if he actually saw how poor I was he'd realize just how not special I really was. "I ahh, I'm good, not going far!"
"No!" he called with an authority that stopped me in my tracks. "You're in my care until you get home safely. Ellis, er... 'Mr. Rorvick' as you call him said I was supposed to send you home by 4 and it's 8:30. Your family must be worried."
Hmm, my family. If my uncle was home, he was drunk by now and sharing cigarettes with the neighbor talking about how badly life had treated them. He wasn't abusive or even mean, just kind of a whiner who'd never done much with his life. That was another sight I didn't want Clay to encounter.... But he put his hand on my shoulder, like a dad would do and guided me towards the elevator.
Clay tried to cover his apprehension as his Range Rover glided down the patchy roads of my neighborhood; sighing uneasily at each red light that stopped us. I sat happily in a warm leather seat, resting my arm next to his on the center console watching the hookers eye us jealously. He rolled to a stop outside the three unit building that had unlikely seen better days. The third door was ours. I'm pretty sure at some point it had been a garage, the whole building was dark and eerily silent.
I tried to quickly say goodbye and hop out, but he turned the engine off and grabbed my arm pulling me back into the car, insisting on joining me in my perilous walk to the door. I dug my keys out of my backpack and he followed me. The door was ajar to the dark apartment. Not like we had anything to take.
"How many people live here?" Clay asked with more than a hint of disgust as I flicked on the light to show an old couch, a mattress in the corner, a small kitchenette and a small bathroom just behind the card table we sometimes ate at. "No, Tare, this... no... and where is your family?"
"My Uncle probably got paid, must be down at the bar. He'll come back Sunday when he's broke. He's rarely here on weekends when he has a job... or unemployment," I dismissed with a laugh.
"No..." he exhaled, putting his fist up to his mouth with a pensive sigh. He thought for a minute and then shook his head again. "Get some clothes together and whatever you need. I'll leave him a note and he can call when he gets back. I can't leave a boy alone in.... this. This is bad."
A boy? I thought. Something inside me liked the sound of it.
I started to protest, to point out that we didn't have a phone, but his confidence returned and he found an old pizza box and a marker and began to write. I knew I should have told him no, but the thought of climbing back into his warm leather world where gay people had respect and privilege seemed a better alternative than hiding out waiting for my uncle to come home, pretending the gunshots were fireworks. I stuffed the few shirts and the sweatshirt and the stuffed turtle I'd hugged every night as my world had crumbled around me into my backpack just as Clay was attempting to find a clean spot on the couch to sit and wait.
Within the hour, we were in a new and beautiful world a few miles on the other side of the skyline. He drove confidently down familiar twisty roads up in the hills, through a security gate and up a steep road that ended in a small circle with a huge spreading oak in the middle of it. Three modern houses, separated by large, immaculate yards, clung to the hillside around the cul-de-sac. Clay pulled in to the last one and in to an oversized garage with an empty spot between a convertible and a large pick-up truck. The door slid down noiselessly behind us and Clay grabbed my backpack.
His house was beautiful, large, dark, masculine leather furniture. Not a single flower or shade of femininity in the place. The biggest tv I'd ever seen hung over a huge stone fireplace. The back of the house was all glass, giving a spectacular view of the millions of glittering lights of the city, all the way to the other side of the valley. My deceased mother's voice popped into my head saying, "Don't touch anything!"
I stopped too long to take everything in because Clay put his hand in the small of my back and guided me through the living room and past a twelve foot tall warrior statue down a staircase to the lower level. He opened a door to a small guest bedroom with a double bed, dresser, flat screen tv on the wall and another doorway to a bathroom. He flicked on the lights and pointed at the shower and toilet and pantry with towels; naming them as if I'd never seen such things. He set my backpack on the bed and said I could take a shower and get into my pajamas if i wanted.
"I'll go upstairs and make some cocoa while you get cleaned up," he said and then turned me to face him, his hands on my shoulders, eyes staring down at me with concern, "Don't worry Tare, I'm sure we'll get in touch with your uncle, we'll get this sorted."
I wasn't worried and I knew my uncle wouldn't be either. But this beautiful, powerful man had taken an interest in me and that was completely foreign to me. He left and I took a quick shower, sampling each and every name brand product in the tub. I toweled off and walked around the room naked, turning the lights off since the huge windows didn't leave much privacy. I fished some semi clean briefs out of my bag and a questionable shirt. I had clean gym shorts since I had gotten to skip gym this afternoon.
Back up the stairs found Clay stretched out on the couch. He'd changed too and his thin white tank top and small shorts exposed a beautifully sculpted physique. I caught a soft smatter of chest hair across his pecs as he sat up and stretched, smiling at me. He'd turned on the fireplace and had two cups of cocoa set on the coffee table as he flipped through the sports channels.
"You like baseball?" he asked.
"Oh yeah," I lied, never having watched a game, but I settled in next to him as he prattled on about what players were doing what and so on. I tried to keep up, but eventually a yawn betrayed me. He paused and laughed, the jig was up. He pulled a soft blanket from a drawer in the coffee table and whisked it over me. I slid over and leaned against a hard muscular arm and he lifted it up, pulling me in to his side, pushing my head against his chest. I yawned again as the game he was watching went in to overtime or over innings or something like that. He softly stroked my head, eliciting more yawns and soon my last blink as his warmth overtook me.
I woke up some time later as I felt his hands hook under my shoulders and he easily lifted me up into his chest. I settled my head into his shoulder.
"Tare?" he whispered to see if he'd awoken me. But I kept my mouth shut, except for a small sigh and settled into him. He carried me downstairs again and paused at the door of the guest room. "no no no," I screamed silently in my thoughts.
He pushed open the door and walked in but didn't set me down. Instead he balanced me on one arm and I heard my backpack unzip. He fished something out and then carried me back in to the hallway.
Clay carried me down to another door and opened it with his semi free hand. He laid me down against a soft comforter, slipped off my jeans, covered me under the warm comforter and then put the stuffed turtle I'd packed in-between my arms. I hugged it and rolled over as Clay went about getting himself ready for bed.
I peeked open one eye and saw him slide out of his shirt in the dim light of a lamp across the room. He slipped off his shorts and paused to fold them leaving him in only a pair of grey boxers with a sizable bulge in the front. He flicked off the lamp and crept back over to the bed, easing in next to me. He laid on his side, propped on an arm, staring down at me. I snapped my eye closed and felt a hand rest on top of my head, it slid down slowly, caressing my cheek with his thumb. "Beautiful," he whispered to himself.
He took his hand back and laid down next to me and inched a little closer. I rolled over towards him and my head came to rest on his chest, my arm slid across his abs. He slipped an arm around me and I felt his lips kiss my hair. For the first time, I really understood my attraction to guys. It wasn't just sneaking a look at a cock in the locker room (probably what had gotten me beat up the first time), but the warmth and protection another guy could offer. I felt safe in his bed.
Saturday*****
The morning crept up over the mountains and across the bed. I kept my eyes closed, feeling a soft heartbeat against my ear. I was afraid to move, afraid he'd disappear and the heartbeat was really my alarm clock sending me back to a Monday morning full of being invisible or targeted. But it was Saturday and the strong arm that held me tightly against a warm warrior wasn't letting me go. I was ok with this, delighted with this, for a few minutes until I realized I desperately needed to piss.
I tried to wiggle out from his embrace, but he snored lightly and held on firmly. This was not good.
"I... um... Mister... Clay," I whispered, trying to wake him just enough to let me up. I finally tried it again a little louder.
"Yeah Huh? What?" Clay awoke with a start.
"I um... have to um... restroom." I said weakly.
"Oh, heh, yeah." He let me go and rolled over.
I took care of needs and returned to find him on his side, hugging the pillow where I'd been; The stuffed turtle tucked against his chest. I decided to explore a little and went to get dressed, pulling on another worn tshirt and the jeans from yesterday.
I went further down the hall and discovered another downward staircase. This level was one big room. One side had an office and the other had every piece of gym equipment a man could want. There was a small bathroom and a closet of workout stuff and a few filing cabinets.
The large glass windows along one side had a sliding door in the middle that led out to a patio that wrapped around to a pool nestled into the hillside. On the other side was a big stone bar with a built in grill and a table with six chairs around it. A low metal railing separated the patio from the steep hillside that led down to the less fortunate people.
The wind had picked up and the temperatures had dropped over night casting gray clouds over the city below. I leaned against the railing and just stared down, trying for the longest time to find my neighborhood. Surely people up here wouldn't be bothered with such unsightly things. I shivered a little, and as if on queue, a warm pair of arms slipped around me, gripping the rail on either side of me. I felt soft lips against my ear and a nibble of teeth on my lobe. I shivered again, this time from his touch.
"Morning, Tare... how's my boy?" It was the first time he called me his boy and the last time he called me by my given name. I leaned back against his bare chest, closing my eyes as his touch became more important than the view. His arms slipped around my waist, a hand rubbed up my tummy, inside my shirt. "You're so thin, let's get some breakfast in my boy."
Clay put on some clothes and asked if I wanted to change before we went out for breakfast. I looked down, blushing, as I admitted this was all I had. "We'll get you some new things," he promised, hooking a finger under my chin and lifting it towards him. New things, that was something I'd never had.
He slipped on a leather jacket and then fished around in his closet for a minute, bringing out a sweatshirt that said "Reiken Park Rugby," a local prep school. It was too big for me, but he said it was the smallest he had and hadn't worn it since high school.
We climbed in to his pick up truck, another place with dark leather and a zillion gadgets. He coasted down through the hills and in to the city, down clean streets.
Three stores later, we'd filled the backseat of the truck with bags. I'd left my old jeans, tshirt and briefs in a trashcan outside store number two. He'd chosen the clothes with a little help from the store guys who knew him by name and seemed to have fun making me try on nearly half the inventory. I started to feel uncomfortable after the first store when he simply handed the sales guy his credit card without ever going to a register or seeing a price. In Store two, I left wearing a blue addidas jock with jeans (it's weird to feel your ass against denim) and a light blue long sleeve henley with a soft pair of red suede pumas.
Finally we ended the block at a small salon where another friend of his worked. The gayest man I'd ever met whisked me off to a chair while he and Clay debated what should be done with my hair. I realized I hadn't made a decision since taking a tshirt out of my backpack this morning. They settled on chopping off most of my light blonde hair and leaving enough on top to make some messy spikes. He said it brought out the blue of my eyes and gave "depth" to my pale skin, whatever the hell that meant.
At nearly lunchtime, we made it to the breakfast place. Clay ordered a bunch of food. I picked at the fruit plate but he kept insisting I try a little of the omelet and bacon he'd ordered. I normally ate the free cereal bars they gave out in the morning to kids walking in the door at my school and then the free PB&J sandwich the cafeteria gave out for kids who couldn't afford to buy lunch. My body wasn't used to real food or fat, but he wasn't really open for negotiation.
After brunch, we went to one more store where he bought me running shoes and workout clothes and a pair of flannel pants with some sports team logo on them. He never once mentioned checking to see if my uncle had called.
Back at the house, he carried most of the bags down to his bedroom, leaving me with the shoebox for my new trainers to follow him. He set the bags in the closet and started to organize the clothes into an empty corner of his cavernous closet. He pulled out the workout shorts and a sleeveless extra small muscle shirt. I didn't really have a chest to show off, but he thought it would look cute on me.
"Go ahead and put these on and we'll head down to the gym." he said without a hint of question. He handed them to me and stood back, waiting to see how they'd look. I fidgeted for a minute, I'd never really gotten naked in front of anyone. At school, I'd changed in a bathroom stall before and after gym, avoiding the showers.
"Oh," he laughed, "Ok, I'll go change too." he left me alone and went around the corner to get his own gym clothes. I quickly changed, then peeked around the corner, disappointed to find him already pulling on his shorts. He skipped the shirt and slid on his nikes and then looked around for me. I felt goofy in the form fitting sleeveless shirt; a thin, silky, white fabric. He nodded approvingly as I laced up my new shoes.
We went down to the gym and he put me on the treadmill, setting it at a light run and then he turned on some dancey music and went to his weights. I ran along, watching him huff and puff, flex and stretch. He obviously did this quite often. After he'd finished, he came over and stopped my treadmill and then led me to the weight bench.
"Oh uh I... I've," I started.
"Really? I couldn't tell," he joked, "Cmon, I got ya." he patted the bench and I laid down. He took all of the weights off the bar and stood over me, his shorts brushing against my forehead. He lowered it down to me and I put my hands up, trying to hold it. He eased it down against my chest and that's where it stayed, well, almost stayed. I couldn't quite hold on to it and it slipped off to the right. He grabbed it quickly and lifted it up on to the support frames. He thought for a minute and then went to a closet in the corner and brought back a smaller, lighter bar. This time I lifted it, not far but enough to bring an approving smile.
"There we go, baby, soon you'll get the regular one." He guided me through several lifts until my chest burned and my arms ached slightly. The rest of the weight machines were easier and could be adjusted for me. I was a sweaty red mess when we finished. Clay was his usual adonis form, with a mist of sweat across him.
We finished up and he saw how sore I was from my first adventure in health. We headed back up to his bedroom and into a large bathroom I hadn't seen yet. A bathtub that could easily hold a family of six was in one corner, next to a glass enclosed walk in shower area with four water heads mounted in different areas. He turned on three different water heads in the tub and slid his shorts down and stepped out of them. Clay apparently didn't use a jockstrap when he worked out. A large soft cock hung down between two golf ball sized nuts with a light dusting of hair. I stared. I couldn't help it. He wasn't embarrassed in the least.
"Cmon, the water will make your muscles feel better and heal stronger," he said gently.
"Um, huh," I squirmed. Clay came over to me and rubbed my arms gently. I winced at his touch. "It's ok baby," he whispered down to me. He kissed my forehead and then my cheek, his hand sliding down to the bottom of my shirt. He slid it up slowly and then up and off my arms.
I looked up at his intent stare. "I got you baby," he said and his hands slipped down to the waistband of my shorts, slipping them down a little. His hands found my ass and then slid down my legs, taking the shorts with them. They fell to my feet.
Clay leaned in and kissed me on the lips, soft but aggressive. His lips bit lightly at mine. A chill waved through me and I surrendered to him as his hands slipped the jockstrap down and off. He lifted me up in to him, our warm sweaty bodies rubbing together. He stepped over to the tub and sat down, positioning me between his legs, turning me around so my back was against his chest.
The warm water did its job on my achy body as Clay rubbed soap over my chest. He nibbled at my ears as he playfully soaped circles around my nipples. His teeth rubbed down the side of my neck and he bit softly on my shoulder. His hands worked their way down my tummy, I closed my eyes and relaxed but inhaled sharply as one hand gripped my cock. It was rock hard and poled proudly at it's full six inches. He must have thought it was tiny compared to what he had, but he massaged it with respect.
"Mmmm," I bit my lip softly, "I... yeah…. uh huh..."
"You like that boy?" a deep voice growled just below my ear.
"Y-yes sir," I said instinctively relaxing and laying back against his heart beat.
I felt the familiar sensation every teenage boy knows when he's about to cum well before fully enjoying the experience.
"I'm... gonna..." I said in between heavy breaths.
"Yeah, cum for daddy," Clay whispered encouragingly into my ear. "Come for me baby, come for daddy."
My chest tensed up, breathing stopped, back arched and I started to spray my chest with cum as my chest jerked tensely.
"Oh shit," Clay reared back as I shot him in the face, "Fuck yeah," he laughed as a second volley caught him on the ear. I laughed too, body still jerking in pleasure. That's a weird combination.
"Ahhh, fuhhhh!" I jerked out a few more spurts as his hands slid up and around my waist. We laid there, me breathing heavily as Clay gingerly rubbed the cum around my tummy.
"Oh um, mess." I said when I recovered. Clay laughed, "It was worth it." He kissed the side of my cheek and grabbed the soap, cleaning me all over again.
I leaned forward so he could soap up my back and that's when I felt the huge hard cock sandwiched between my ass.
"Woah," I said, scooting forward and turning around. His cock was rock hard and a good 9 or 10 inches (I'm not good at comparing sizes), but it was nearly twice the size and thickness of my own.
"Come here, let me finish cleaning you," Clayton pulled me back to him. He rubbed the soap down and around my cock, under my nuts and down towards my hole. I jumped a little when his finger brushed over it.
He held me firmly with one arm while his other went between my legs. He let go of the soap and began to trace a finger around my hole. I wiggled when it got too close. I'd never had anything in there. His finger began to probe gently at my hole, pushing it in and twisting his finger lightly.
"Damn, that's tight," he whispered, "you never play with it?"
"No... sir, never," I blushed at the topic.
"That's good, it's more fun that way," Clay whispered, kissing down my neck, distracting me from the soapy finger trying to work its way inside me. He got the tip in and then let it stay for a minute as his other hand turned my head to the side so our lips met.
His finger began to wiggle slowly, tracing the ring from the inside as his tongue worked its way past my lips. My cock was rock hard again. It bounced up to my tummy and flexed each time he worked his finger in a little deeper. His tongue wrestled mine inside my mouth. I felt completely defeated, but safe in his arms, reassured by his kiss.
And then he stopped, "Cmon, let's finish up in here." He quickly soaped me up and then cleaned himself. We finished up in the tub and then dried off with a big, soft towel. We padded across his room and he pulled me down onto the bed. He pulled me on top of him and then flipped me over so I was pinned beneath him. He leaned in and kissed me roughly, then gave a sweet peck to my nose.
"You're adorable, baby," he praised, "Now flip over."
I did as told and he pushed me up the bed, my head against a pillow. He parted my legs and then did something I'd never heard of, he buried his face between my cheeks and I felt his warm, wet tongue work its way into my hole. My first thought was, "Gross."
"Um... uh... Ohh!" It quickly hit me, I don't know what happened, but he hit the spot and my body responded. "Ohhhh UHHHH OHHMMM FUHHH DADDDDYYYYY!"
"Yeah that's my boy," Clay praised, raising his head momentarily. He quickly went back to work, tonguing slow deliberate circles around the spot that drove me wild. My cock poled up again at full mast, forgetting it had recently erupted, it slithered up between my tummy and the comforter.
He pulled his tongue out when I said I was about to cum again, flipped me over and pushed my legs up and over. I secured them behind my arms, giving him full exposure to the hole he was doing awesome work on. He stared up at me from between my legs. Clay was a pro at this new world. I stared down dopily at him, raggedly gasping for air, not caring how stupid I must have looked.
He kissed over to my thigh and then up and around my cock, then up my chest and nibbled playfully on my sensitive nipples. He kissed his way up to my shoulder, then up my neck, across my cheek and back to my lips. He pinned me down as he tongue wrestled me and I felt his hard shaft pressing against my hole.
Oh shit, was he planning on putting that inside me? He backed off me for a minute and stared down at my face, reading my concern.
He gripped his cock and put the tip against my hole and then pressed it a little. "Not today baby, You'll need a lot more work before we get to that," he laughed.
Clay pushed up onto his knees and arched his back in a stretch, his proud full cock falling between his legs. I reached up and took it, pumping his hard shaft a few times. He took my hand away and gripped his cock proudly, giving me a come and take it smile.
I crawled over on all fours and looked up at him with expectant eyes. He pushed up and touched the tip of his cock to my lips before tracing it around my mouth. I opened my lips and my tongue found his tip, the first cock I'd ever tasted. I felt a hand grab my hair and he pulled my head back gently so our eyes met. He traced a thumb down my face and then put it to my lips. His thumb pushed into my mouth and I sucked at it, bringing a smirk to his face.
Clay took his thumb out and rubbed a ring of spit around my lips. He wiped the rest along his shaft as he gave it a pump and put it back to my lips. I started to put my tongue out to suck it, but as soon as I opened my mouth, he shoved in the first three inches of his thick cock. I opened wide to accommodate it, feeling a little stuffed. Clay rubbed the back of my hair, encouraging me to take more. His thumb massaged my jaw, prodding it to open wider.
I took another inch or so before it hit my reflex, making me jerk back, but his hand held my head in place as he started to slowly slide in and out a bit.
"Breathe through your nose baby, go slow, you can take it," he encouraged. I nodded with my eyes, not having full control over my head.
"Yeah baby, take daddy's cock," he prodded, sliding more of his cock in and out of my mouth. I tongued around his shaft, feeling uncomfortable every time he got a little too far in. I wanted to make him proud, prove I was worth the money he'd spent, the attention he'd given.
It got a little easier. He barely got half his cock in my mouth, but I think I did ok for my first time because soon he pulled out of my mouth and shot across my chest. A few thick, hot white stripes sprayed across me as his body rocked and jerked, his breathing heavy as his proud eyes looked down over me. I smiled up at him, biting my lip and stretching my achy jaw.
"Fuck yeah, baby, ohhh yeah," he praised, exhaling sharply. He knelt in front of me, sitting back on his heels as he recovered his breath. He leaned in for a kiss and then swiped a finger across my chest to bring a sample of his seed to my lips. I sucked his finger into my mouth, quickly swallowing his offering.
"That's my boy," he smiled, then kissed my forehead proudly.
We took a quick shower and then I got to go through the clothes he had picked out. Clay was seriously in to jocks on boys. He'd bought me straps in every color; red, green, yellow, black, blue, gray, even two pink ones. He laughed when I held those up.
"Sometimes I just need a good pussyboy," he laughed, rubbing a warm hand over my bare ass. "You'll get there."
I thought about what that meant. How long was he planning on me being here? What would happen tomorrow when I had to go home? Or monday when I had to go to school? Would I get to keep the clothes? I shrugged it off. "Don't ruin this, Tare," I told myself, "Enjoy right now."
I pulled on the yellow one and then a long-sleeve warm shirt and the flannel sleep pants. I padded up to the kitchen to find Clay making salads and grilled chicken with some kind of sweet dressing on it. He made a smaller bowl for me and we spent the evening on the couch watching dumb comedies until I fell asleep against his chest.
By Sunday afternoon, I was worried. Clay left for a few hours to catch up on some work at his office. He left me to workout and then had a list of cleaning for me to do. He came back about 5 and sat me down to lay out rules of how our week would go.
"But, I... I'm going home today?" I asked cautiously.
"I don't think that environment is safe for you. You're here now," Clay said dismissively.
"But what about my uncle?" I pushed. Clay looked a little annoyed at that.
"I had a talk with him and we agreed you would be better off here. I gave him some money to help out and I'll give him more every few weeks and he signed a few simple guardianship forms." Clay sounded a little annoyed to have to explain this to me.
"Oh, but…" I started to ask about school but Clay held up a hand to silence me. He put his hand on the back of my head and rubbed my hair lightly.
"Do you really want to go back to that? That's no way for a boy to grow up. You're here for right now, but you can go back anytime you want. Just say the word," He softened; the first hint of insecurity I'd heard from him.
"I can stay here?" I said, the wonder of it all hitting me suddenly. Safety, clothes, no cold nights on a mattress or getting pushed around and beaten at school. I took a minute to soak it in.
"I knew when Ellis (Mr. Rorvik the counselor) told me about you that you needed a mentor. When I saw you, I knew what you needed. I can give that to you, baby. If you want to be my boy, I'll give you the daddy you need." Clay said with a little more authority.
I bit my lip for a minute and then nodded. Clay leaned in to me and kissed me softly, rubbing my back soothingly.
"Ok then. Well let's get to the rules," Clay began, standing up and pushing away from the table. He motioned for me to follow and then began to walk towards the downward stairs.
"You will live here and finish high school, then we'll decide on what kind of college is right for you. You'll take your classes on the computer down in the office while I'm out for the morning." He led me down to the lowest level with the office and gym set up.
"Everything you need while I'm out is down here. You'll stay down here until I return, doing your workout, schoolwork, cleaning up down here. There's water in the mini fridge and protein bars in the cabinet. You will not leave this area while I'm out of the house." Clay turned to where the stairs ended by the office and slid a panel out from the wall that covered the access to upstairs.
"This locks from the other side. If there's a fire or earthquake, you go out the sliding doors to the patio and there's a stone path down the hill to a safe area to wait for me. You will have five hours to do a full workout and all of your school work, mondays through fridays. I work here from home in the afternoons so you'll be finished with everything by then and ready to clean the upstairs while I work."
Woah, I thought, this seemed like a crazy set up. I'd never been locked in anywhere. He showed me a small bathroom down there that I'd use during the morning and then he slid the panel back into the wall and we went to the bedroom level.
"There's four bedrooms and three bathrooms here. You'll keep every last one of them looking spotless. I did have a cleaning gay who comes once a week, but I think it's something you can handle." He toured me around showing me how he liked things done and where to find cleaning supplies in the third bedroom closet.
When he'd finished with the last level, he checked his phone for the time, "Ok let's get you cleaned up."
I opened my mouth to ask why, but he put a finger to my lips, "My boy doesn't ask questions. Know you'll always be where I want you, doing what I say and you'll never have to worry."
I nodded and followed him to the shower.
He picked out a gray long-sleeve t-shirt with a pink polo over it and one of the nice pairs of jeans he'd gotten me. I gelled my blonde hair into "messy spikes" that the stylist guy had shown me how to do. Clay wore a nice pair of jeans with a white button up shirt and blue sport coat.
We ended up back in the city, a curbside valet stand in front of a big black gate that opened to an outdoor restaurant with no artificial lighting. The entire place was awash in torches, candles, lanterns. The waiter led us through a tightly packed area of small tables crowded with a mixed bag of the city's wealthiest young gays.
Clay walked just behind me, hand at my back guiding me through the crowd. We ended up near the center at a larger, less crowded table with six guys who looked to be around Clay's income and lifestyle group. They stopped their conversation when we approached.
Clay ignored their stares and pulled out a chair for me in a corner of the table, away from the appraising eyes.
"So I missed the adoption fair?" One of them joked.
"He's adorable! I want one!" laughed another.
"Nope, all mine," Clay laughed and slid his arm around me to show that things were ok. Eventually they stopped staring except for occasional looks that quickly turned when they caught my eye.
The conversation turned to other things. I didn't get their jokes or references. I did get Clay staring down at me, almost watching my every move. He'd smile when I looked up at him as I wondered what I'd done to deserve the vigilance.
I don't think I said a word the whole evening. I picked at the fancy salad of strange vegetables I couldn't name. All the while I processed how completely my world had changed in the last two days. Where would this go and how long would I keep his attention?
I didn't realize how cold it had turned as we'd sat through dinner until Clay nudged me, slipped his coat around me and pulled me back in to his chest.
"You're shivering baby, are you ok?"
"Yes sir," I nodded slowly, "I am..."
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