DAVID & TRISTAN-BOYS IN SCHOOL is a continuation of the story, Boys on the Farm, about two teen boys named David and Tristan. It is a story of discovery...what the boys learn about life, about themselves, and what it means to be gay. If sex between male teenagers is offensive to you or if you are underage then you should move on to something else.
DAVID & TRISTAN--BOYS IN SCHOOL is a work of pure fiction -- the characters and the events do not represent any person or situation. Copyright (c)2003 by D.Z., all rights reserved. You may contact me by emailing ndman72@yahoo.com.
PREFACE:
Let me begin by apologizing for making you wait so long for this chapter. I really had a writer's block during the early months of this year due to a number of factors. So thanks for putting up with the delay and for your continued support for this story about David and Tristan.
By now you've come to expect a preface to each chapter that features an email from a reader that has touched me. This time I want to put a new twist into the email thing and include one that I sent to Jason from South Africa. Do you remember me messaging him at the end of a previous chapter in an effort to reach him? Well, we were able to make the connection and he sent me some very thoughtful emails. Here's one email that I sent to him with my replies inserted into his paragraphs whereof he talked about chapter 18 and his thoughts about the gay condition.
(The paragraphs from Jason are labeled with his name.)
Hi again,
Your words in that email were so wise, Jason, did you know that? As I look over your email, I think I'm going to paste it in here and insert my comments into it so it makes it easier for me to respond, OK?
Jason--Chapter 18 was dramatic, sad, and really something to get our nerves running but it was too short, it feels like there should have been more added to it. However, the chapter was excellent, albeit sad and upsetting! I can imagine how Drew feels, sitting there, being powerless in the face of the situation. He has to prove himself now by the way he reacts.
Yeah, I know it was a sad chapter and with the time constraints I had, it was all I could get done. But it did take care of all the various plot lines I have going. Now I need to decide what to do with some of them. What happens with Sean and Brian? How soon will Anthony recover and what will Drew do? Does Jimmy keep David's secret? And what about Randy and Craig? All of these things are still hanging.
Jason--Being gay is such a bad thing when you come to think of it, and compare it to other situations. Especially for guys. Luckily I was never outed to people who hate me in my own town, but I know how scary it would have been. But gay is not only bad because of the way OTHERS hate your lifestyle, but the way you can come to hate yourself sometimes. I mean how many times haven't you heard someone who has accepted them self as being gay for a long time now that they wish they weren't gay. They hate being gay.
Right there you put your finger on a major, major problem for gay guys. How do you deal with the total lack of understanding and basic human respect that is generally given to gay people? It's very difficult to like yourself when you are constantly subjected to negative responses from an ignorant populace. It's not easy to be different, not at all. But I do think there are some distinct advantages in being gay too. Generally speaking, gay guys are more creative. They are more self-expressive in other ways. They can be more loving than the regular guy if they are allowed the freedom to express their inner feelings. Arriving at self-acceptance and then after liking yourself are two major hurdles for gay guys. If you don't clear those hurdles, gay guys are doomed to failed relationships and so the cycle of self-hatred repeats itself over and over. But for me, it makes finding guys like you out there terribly important. You are so special and deserve to be loved and to express the love you have inside yourself as much as anyone else. If you can dare to be different and move forward with your life from there, it makes an incredible change in your viewpoint of what being gay can be.
Jason--It's a cursed lifestyle because the majority of us just don't bother to work on being decent anymore. Our lives are ruled by lust and carelessness. You know as well as I do the story around clubs. Most guys are either drinking or on drugs, or both. Guys go out on a night, as boyfriends, and one drinks and gets so lustful to the hundreds of potentials on his fingertips that he forgets about the one who matters, and hurts them without regret.
This observation of yours is probably the best explanation I've ever heard of why gay guys pursue self-destructive behaviors. It has always been a nagging question in my mind and you are the first one to mention this to me. I think it comes down to that lack of basic happiness inside. Without it, they feel compelled to seek it in whatever form they can, be it sex, drugs, or booze....all the false happiness that can be found in clubs. I call it false happiness because it is all so fleeting and when the high is gone, the bad feelings come rushing back. If I could, I would surround you and so many others with the love and acceptance you deserve so you knew deep down inside just how wonderful you are and how great life can be.
Jason--This mission for love must end, and this constant thinking about gayness must end. We gays tend to think we are special because we are different. And that is wrong too. We also tend to blame everything or attribute everything we do because we are gay. It plays a role, but it's not the only thing, we must begin to realize that we do things because we are human, not because we are gay. He is not a musician because he is gay, he is one because he has talent. He is not good with other people's problems because he's gay, it's because he was born to be a good listener. The only reason why most straight guys aren't like gay guys is because they live to fit in society's mould, for instance big boys don't cry. Being gay is basically limited to a kind of love for another human and the bedroom. Not the other things we do in life. It influences our creative spirit, but it doesn't CREATE our creative spirit. We must realize that now. We are special, yes. But we are not better or worse than anyone else. And every straight guy or girl is special. Every lesbian is special. Every retarded or autistic or disabled or whatever person is special. We are ALL special, no matter what our sex or condition. Let's live and let live.
This paragraph above really illustrates the fundamental contradiction in what being gay is all about. A gay guy is a combination of typical male and female responses. In one way I see it as being the best of both. You have the male's form and musculature while at the same time there can be an extraordinary sensitivity and creativity. One of the young guys I know and admire greatly is this way. He loves football and plays it as aggressively as any straight guy you could find. But he has a hidden side to him that is supremely sensitive, nurturing, and creative. He is a tower of physical and emotional strength and he is the kind of friend whose love supports you every instant. Even at his age of 23 he has mentored and saved at least 3 young gay lives from despair and the self-hatred. He loves computer web page designing, dance, and dabbles in story writing. His biggest problem in life is being so attractive in looks and personality that he has to constantly fend off his female admirers.
To me, every young gay guy is special because all of them have the opportunity to build their lives into lives of fulfillment and love given the chance. And you have much more of a chance than I did at your age because you are able to use the internet as a tool of learning and exploration. Making your future better is my hope and my dream.
Hugs, Derek
OK, I know that got to be rather long, but once I got up on that soapbox I couldn't just stop. Here's what you've been waiting to read, Chapter 19 of the BIS story about my boys.
CHAPTER 19. A TIME OF TESTING.
Tristan and David followed Brad Mills out to his truck after seeing Drew apprehensively head deeper into the bowels of the hospital to see how his Anthony fared.
"Pinch me," Tristan said to David as they walked outside in the slight chill of the dusky fall evening.
David turned to look directly at Tristan as they crossed the street to the parking lot. "Are you nuts?" he asked incredulously. "Anthony just got himself bashed and now you want me to be touching on you out in public?"
Tristan stopped in the middle of the street to answer him with some irritation. "Jeez David, no need to have a cow over it. I just feel like this is a nightmare and I want someone to wake me up from it."
Ahead of them Brad heard the first peevish words he'd ever heard between the two boys he regarded as an example of a perfect couple. "Hey you guys, no fighting in the middle of the street."
David shot Tristan another pointed glance before striding over to Brad's truck leaving Tristan to follow. Wordlessly he climbed inside and took his customary position in the middle of the bench seat since he was the shorter of the two.
"What's with you David?" Tristan asked as he sat next to him. "Are you mad at me for saying that?"
"Look what happens to gay people, Tristan!" David said morosely as he stared down at his hands clenched in his lap. "Anthony is laying over there in the hospital after nearly getting himself kicked to death. I don't want to be hated like that or to have to worry about who's laying for us Tristan. I'm sick of hiding and being scared of people finding out."
"Not everyone hates us David," Tristan said in attempt to reassure him while reaching for his hand.
"Don't!" David jerked his hand away. "You have it easy Tristan, at least your dad doesn't hate you, so don't tell me that crap."
"Hey you guys," Brad broke in as he pulled out of the parking lot. "I never thought I'd hear you two get into it like this. David, Tristan is right. Not everyone hates gay people and you guys are practically brother-in-laws of mine. Don't do this."
"What the hell is 'brother-in-laws' supposed mean?" David demanded as he turned to look at Brad incredulously. "Are you and Ashley planning to get married on us all of a sudden?"
Brad stiffened and looked straight ahead as his Adam's apple bobbed in sudden nervousness. "Well yeah, someday we want to get married," he admitted without looking over at them.
"Some day like how soon?" David fired back. "This year, next year, when?"
"Oh, maybe this year," Brad said as he shrugged his shoulder in an attempt at nonchalance.
Tristan added up one and one to get three. "What's the rush? Is Ashley pregnant or something?"
That comment hit the bulls-eye and made Brad flash a glance over at them. And one look at Brad's suddenly drained white face gave them all the answer they needed to see.
"Oh shit, she is pregnant," David groaned. "My dad will go fucking bananas."
"Oh wow," Tristan breathed. "What a day this is turning into. Are you guys sure she's pregnant? Like how pregnant is she?"
Brad laughed a nervous laugh. "Hey Tristan, either she's all the way pregnant or she isn't. We're not sure yet but she's missed her period and she's puking in the mornings. What do you think?"
"I think she's pregnant. So you two are thinking of getting married huh?" Tristan asked. "She's keeping the baby then?"
"For God's sake," David exclaimed in disgust. "My sister wouldn't kill her baby." And then he turned over to Brad. "Don't you even fucking dare tell her to do that. And I thought I had problems. You two won't be able to hide it for much longer cuz sooner or later she'll start to show."
"Yeah, we know. So you think your dad will be pretty upset, huh?" Brad asked anxiously as they waited at a stoplight.
"I know he will. He expects us kids to be the perfect little angels and do what the church says. Now you got caught at having sex before getting married. So yeah, he's going to be really upset. I wouldn't be surprised if he sends her away even.
Just when David said that the light turned green and Brad punched the accelerator. The tires of his truck chirped as they shot into the intersection, the engine of the small truck straining to answer the sudden demands of its master. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Brad exclaimed bitterly in his frustration.
"Slow down Brad before you kill us!" Tristan yelled as they hurtled down the main drag of town.
"And yeah, that's what made that baby," David said wryly as Brad let up on the gas pedal.
"At least we don't have to worry about that," Tristan interjected.
"Yeah, but YOU will never have one either," David retorted.
"Don't you mean 'we'?" Tristan asked quietly.
"I don't know Tris," David sighed heavily. "Right now I really don't know."
"So just like that you've decided? Because of Anthony? Because you can't have kids of your own? Because of your dad? What?" Tristan demanded angrily and on the verge of tears.
"I told you Tris, I don't know about anything right now. Just leave me alone."
That last comment killed any further conversation, leaving all three boys stunned and heart sore. Tristan faced out the passenger window as the tears gathered in his eyes. Thankfully they pulled up in his driveway moments later and Tristan fled for the refuge of his house, slamming the door of the truck behind him without saying a word.
As Brad backed out of Tristan's driveway he looked over at David. "You really stabbed him in the guts there, you know that."
David didn't answer but only shrugged both shoulders. They rode the rest of the way over to David's silently, each absorbed with his own burdens.
Brad pulled up to David's house and as he braked to a halt he cleared his throat and said a bit nervously, "Um, David, you won't say anything about this, right? I mean I've kept your secret and now I hope you will let me and Ashley decide how and when to break the news?"
David sighed, then answered, "I guess. You don't even want me to let Ashley know that I know?"
"Not right now. I'm going to tell her to tell you first, OK? And then maybe you can help us get through this with your dad?"
David sighed heavily. "Yeah, my dad. He's a problem for all of us, isn't he?"
"Yeah, seems like it."
David opened the door to leave but hesitated before jumping out to lock eyes with Brad and said, "Brad, I'm in your corner all the way, just like you've been in mine."
He nodded and then looked pensive for a moment before saying, "Don't let this stuff get between you and Tristan, you hear me? Tristan is right, not everyone hates you guys. And you know I'm behind ya all the way David."
David bobbed his head up and down abruptly in acknowledgment. "Yeah, I hear ya. It just gets tough to put up with, the hate by all those ignorant people out there, you know? And my dad is one of them."
Brad tilted his head and smiled wryly. "Follow your heart David, just follow your heart."
"Yeah, whatever. Thanks for the ride. Bye Brad." David shut the truck door and trudged away a few steps before Brad pulled himself together and backed out of the driveway.
As Drew looked up and dashed the tears on his cheeks away he saw Anthony's mom looking at him. "You really do love him, don't you?" she asked softly.
Wordlessly he nodded. He swallowed and found his voice. "Yeah, he's the sunshine in my life." Drew paused briefly before adding, "I love him more than I have words for."
"Do you know who would do this to him? Who would hate him so much?" Grace asked brokenly as she looked over at the wan face of her son lying in the hospital bed.
"I have an idea," Drew said darkly. "There's this kid in school that got thrown off the football team for picking on Anthony and name calling. He's a no good piece of shit and picks on the littler guys. So I think it's Chuck Isaac who did it myself and he's gonna pay, I swear it."
"No Drew. We'll let the police handle this. We can't have you getting in trouble when Anthony needs you. Drew, like I said before, you have made him as happy as I've ever seen him, at least since his father and I divorced when he was 3 years old. So can you stay with him while I see if the police have been notified?"
"Yes ma'am, I sure will."
"My name is Grace, Drew."
"Yes ma'am, I mean Grace," Drew hastily amended.
Mrs. Miller then left after one more look at her son Anthony to see about what had been done so far with notifying the police.
Drew pulled the side chair close to the bed so he could sit and hold Anthony's hand, there being little else for him to do except watch the jagged line on the heart monitor as it beeped out Anthony's heartbeat. Idly he traced the outline of the fingers of Anthony's right hand over and over as he thought a myriad of thoughts that were the product of his jumbled emotions. His love for Anthony, worry over his condition, and anger at his attacker were an unending refrain in his mind. The minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness on the big clock visible outside Anthony's cubicle in ICU.
Grace reappeared after an absence of about half an hour and took in the sight of Drew holding her son's hand. "There is a police officer outside who would like to talk to you Drew," she said gently. "I'll stay here while you talk with him."
"I'd rather stay here," Drew objected. "Can't he come in here if he needs to talk to me?"
Grace shook her head. "I don't think it's a good idea, Drew. Right now you can help Anthony best by talking to the officer outside. If he wakes up I'll come and get you right away, OK?"
Drew sighed before reluctantly letting go of Anthony's hand and leaving the room. He didn't see Anthony's hand lift slightly from the bed before dropping down weakly. Grace saw it however and rushed over to hold it in Drew's place. "Momma is here now for you Anthony. You're going to be fine, the doctor's said so. And Drew will be back soon too so don't worry," was all she could say before the tears began leaking from her eyes and her throat closed up.
Drew walked out into the waiting area to find a uniformed police sergeant drinking some coffee and writing on a form at the reception counter. "You wanted to see me?" he asked the officer who looked to be in his late 20's or early 30's. Drew noticed that for an older guy, he still was a good looker.
"You're Drew Andrews?" the officer inquired.
"Yeah."
"Yes, then you're the guy I need to see. I have to ask you some questions about the attack on your friend. You aren't being considered a suspect here so maybe you can just tell me a few things, ok?"
"Sure. What do you want to know?" Drew asked as he stood with his hands in his pockets.
"Anthony Miller is a good friend of yours I'm told. How long have you known him?"
"Um, since school started so I'd say about two months."
"Do you know of anyone who might want to attack your friend?"
"Yes, I think maybe Chuck Isaac might. He got kicked off the football team for picking on Anthony on the second day of football practice. Chuck Isaac's the kinda kid who likes to pick on smaller kids cause he's got no dick--I mean he's got a small endowment."
The officer glanced up at Drew and unsuccessfully fought off a smile before stating, "His mother says Anthony might have been attacked because he is gay. Do you agree with that?"
Drew swallowed and broke eye contact with the officer before answering. "I guess so. Stubby, errr Chuck, said before he hates gays and since Anthony is a smaller guy and a cheerleader, Chuck has hated him from the beginning of school."
The handsome officer wrote the name of Chuck Isaac down on his notepad before peering up through his eyebrows at Drew. "Can you think of anyone else who might have a reason to attack Anthony?"
Drew thought of the boy he loved, remembering his intelligence and upbeat spirit, the memories bringing fresh tears to his eyes. Wiping away the evidence of his overflowing emotions, he spoke in renewed anger, "No, I can't think of any other asshole who would so something like this to a great kid like Anthony. Did they tell what they did to him? That whoever did it kicked him so hard it ruptured his spleen and gave him a concussion?" the outraged teen demanded.
The officer nodded. "Yes, I know the extent of Anthony's injuries."
"So what are you going to do about it then?"
Calmly the officer looked up and answered, "I will be interviewing everyone who may know something about this to learn whatever I can. And then we shall see where it leads me. Now, is there anyone else I can talk to that may know something? What about Anthony's other friends?"
Cupping his chin with his right hand Drew spoke his thoughts aloud, "He's new here so he doesn't have a lot of friends except for me and David and Tristan. He's on the cheerleading squad, but he's not really what you would call friends with the girls on it. He's the only boy on the squad, you know," Drew finished hastily.
"OK Drew, I need complete names for my investigation. First, what's your full name?
"Dalton Jamal Andrews the third."
Laboriously the cop wrote it down, his mouth twisting in suppressed mirth. "How do you spell Jamal?"
"J-A-M-A-L."
"OK, and the third you say? That's quite the handle you have there, son. So is your dad's name the same, only as Junior?"
Drew nodded once and then spoke, "Yes, and tell me about it. That's why I like to be called Drew," the self-assured teen replied with his hands propped on his waist.
The police sergeant looked up with a slight smile and then asked, "OK, and now how about your address?"
"It's 1025 Pleasant Avenue." Drew wasn't sure, but as he looked over at the man interviewing him, did his right ear have a piercing in it?
Now what about those other two friends? What are their names?"
"Tristan Cochran and David Brandt."
"Do you know their addresses?"
"Um, not exactly. David lives on 14th Street and Tristan lives on Stonewall Lane."
"And do you know their parent's names?"
"Yes, it's ah, Dan and Staci Brandt and Randall Cochran."
"OK, unless you can think of anything else that would help, I have enough to get started." He flipped his notepad shut and put his right hand on Drew's left shoulder to look directly into Drew's blue eyes. "Good luck to you and your friend," was all he said before he dropped his hand, and then he winked his right eye.
Astonished, all Drew could do was silently nod as he watched the officer turn and walk down the hallway. "Oh my god, he knows," Drew thought to himself. "And he has my parent's names. Would he tell them?" With a doubly heavy heart Drew turned around and trudged back into the ICU, seeing anew the heartrending sight of his boyfriend lying in a hospital bed. "Did I miss anything?" Drew asked, the anguish he felt reflected in his exceedingly sad visage.
"No, no, you didn't," came the answer followed with a heavy sigh. Grace looked up from her son at the tall, slouched teen standing there. "It's getting late and your parents probably are worrying about you. Don't you think you should be going?" she asked.
Drew shook his head slowly from side to side. "I'm not going. I left him alone at the school and now I'm not leaving him--not ever." He walked slowly towards the bed and touched the unconscious boy's foot. "I love him, Mrs. Miller and I need to be here when he wakes up."
David knew his dad was upset from the conversation they had on the phone but even so he wasn't expecting the reception that greeted him at the door. His hand barely touched the doorknob when it was jerked open by his dad on the other side.
"You're grounded David. I can't believe you were so inconsiderate of your mother and I to not call us sooner."
'His old man was mad as hell about tonight. But why should that have been a surprise?', David thought to himself. He steeled himself for the torrent of rebuke that he knew would follow.
"How many times have you been told that you are to call us immediately when you can't be home?" his father continued.
David stood silently, not daring to answer.
"Well answer me!"
"I don't know. Lots, I guess," David said cautiously.
"Lots. Lots. I'd say maybe a hundred times we've told you kids to pick up the phone. Now you've missed supper and made us worry. Then you call us from the hospital and scare us to death. Who was so important that you had to be at the hospital with them? Where was their family?" Dan Brandt sputtered.
"It was Anthony Miller, dad. He got beaten up really bad while we were in football practice."
"Anthony Miller? Is he that faggot cheerleader you had over here for your birthday?"
Those words brought a flush of shame and anger to David's face. "Yeah," was all he could choke out.
"Serves him right," Dan spat out in disgust. "Maybe if more queers got their asses kicked they wouldn't choose to walk in the ways of sin and depravity. The Lord hates sin, David, and you are in Satan's presence when you are with that boy."
A deep anger surged with David's chest, giving him the strength and the will to talk back to his father. "That's not true. Anthony is no more Satan than I am. He's a good kid who didn't deserve to be treated like that."
Immediately he was smacked on the side of his face with an open hand. "Don't you ever talk back to me like that. You will honor your parents and walk in the ways of the Lord."
Shocked beyond words David could only stand there, his lips quivering with suppressed anger and hurt.
Disgust evident in his voice, Dan mocked him. "Look at you, standing there wanting to cry. See what hanging around with those friends of yours has done to you?"
Something snapped inside of him and in his anger the words spewed out of their own volition. "What the fuck do you know?" David screamed at him. "Who made you God? You're just plain wrong...wrong about everything and everyone!"
For what seemed an eternity absolute silence reigned in the house. Everyone, including David, was aghast at his rebellious language.
Fury was written on his father's face as he lunged for David. With both hands his father bodily picked David from his feet and threw him towards his room. "Get in your room and stay there!" You are now grounded to your room for a month. Each night you will read a book of the New Testament and you will consider your sins," Dan thundered at him.
Feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders, David slowly picked himself up from the floor where he fell and silently went to his room, hiding the hot tears of rage and a sense of utter loneliness. Reaching his room, he closed the door and climbed into his bed, covering his head with his covers before sobbing out his despair and his losses that day. Finally, late in the night, it was only sleep that barred the path of his tears.
Tristan stumbled through the door of his house, hardly able to see because of the tears that filled his eyes and fell down his cheeks in silent rivers of pain. Deep sobs wrenched their way from his gut as he fled to the refuge of his bedroom. Banging his door closed he toppled onto his bed and buried his face in his pillows as the sobs turned themselves into wails of hurt from the stabbing rejection that David had driven into his heart. As Tristan replayed David's words in his head, spiteful thoughts seeped out along with his tears, his body convulsing as he gasped for air. Tristan could not remember ever crying as hard as he as he was.
Suddenly the door to his room burst open and his dad reached his bedside in long, swift strides. "What in the world is going on with you Tristan?" Randy asked in panicky voice. "Did your friend die?"
Tristan hiccupped as he tried to answer. "No, he didn't...at least when we left the doctor said he wouldn't."
"Then what has you so upset buddy?"
Tristan lifted his face out of the pillows to peer through his tear-filled eyes at his dad. "David doesn't love me anymore. He...he said he didn't want me touching on him and that he wants kids and that he doesn't want people to hate him." A fresh burst of sobs erupted from Tristan before he buried his face once more.
Gently Randy touched his son's ribcage in an effort to console his distraught boy. "Son, everyone can have second thoughts when the going gets rough. Finding acceptance has always been tougher for him, hasn't it?"
"Yeah, but why does it have to be that way, Dad?" Tristan sobbed. "Why can't the love we have be enough?"
Randy rubbed his son's back again before stating, "I find it hard to believe that David doesn't love you anymore. It sounds like you've both had a rough day so give him a little time to cope with his feelings. Why don't you come down to the kitchen Tris and have a little something to eat?"
Tristan answered bitterly, his voice muffled by the pillow, "Dad, he hates me now. It's over and done with. I'm not hungry and I don't want anything to eat."
"I made chocolate chip cookies this evening while I was waiting for you to come home. How about you come and have a couple with a glass of milk at least. It's late and you haven't eaten anything since lunch time."
Tristan's reddened face slowly emerged from the soft depths of the now damp pillow. "You...you made cookies?"
"Yup, and I have some out on the counter waiting for you."
"Well maybe I could eat a cookie or two," Tristan said hesitantly before pushing himself up.
Randy's amused smile was hidden in a brief cough before it fully emerged, "Good. Let's go have some cookies then."
"But Dad, what about David?" Tristan asked as they walked out to the kitchen.
Randy was silent and thoughtful until he set the plate of cookies and a glass of milk in front of Tristan. "I don't know Tristan. Maybe he just needs to deal with what happened today on his own. "
Tears dripped out of Tristan's eyes once more and he inhaled a large shuddery breath. His voice was thick and heavy with emotion as he spoke, "It feels like my heart is ripped out. I can't handle seeing him tomorrow Dad. I'm staying home."
Randy shot a piercing glance at his son, seeing the pall of grief that weighed so heavily upon him. "You might feel differently about it in the morning, Tristan. I'll wake you up and then we can decide in the morning."
"Whatever Dad. I know I won't." With those words Tristan got up and left the table, walking listlessly back to his room, the cookies entirely forgotten.
Drew was dozing in the chair by Anthony's bedside. Hours had passed and still no sign of consciousness in Anthony. The monotonous chirping and hissing of the life support systems never changed one iota. A touch on his shoulder startled him awake.
A nurse was standing there. "Young man, there's a police officer outside who wants to speak with you."
A glance over at Anthony assured him that nothing had changed there so he pushed himself up out of the chair, groaning a little at protesting muscles. "Did he say what he wanted?" Drew questioned.
"No, he just asked if you were still here and told me that he needed to see you right away."
"Oh, OK," he answered. Looking over at Mrs. Miller he noticed she too was awake on the other side of the bed, watching silently. "I'll be right back, I'm not leaving," he told her.
Soundlessly she answered by nodding, her eyes bloodshot and dark circles below making her look years older than she really was.
Drew strode out into the waiting area, hoping that it was the same the police officer and that he would tell him they caught Anthony's assailant. As he stepped through the doors in ICU, he was right about one thing. It was the same police sergeant. "Hey," he greeted the officer.
"Hello Drew," the handsome sergeant replied. "Have you maybe forgotten to do something tonight?" he asked the youth standing in front of him as an eyebrow lifted in query.
"Forgotten something?" Drew asked as he looked around, confused.
"Yes, like maybe telling your parents where you were?" the policeman said with a wry twisting of his mouth.
"Aw crap. I didn't even think of it," Drew sighed, looking at the ceiling as his shoulders slouched. "All I've been able to think about is Anthony," he confessed.
"Uh huh, well you have two very upset parents looking for you. Shortly before midnight they filed a missing person's report at the station and when an all units alert came over the radio, I told them I had talked to you here. So they are standing by while I came back to see if you were still here. Consequently, Mr. Dalton Jamal Andrews III, I am here to take you home to your parents."
"Officer, I can't go! I'm not going home. Just let me call them!" Drew stammered out, "please?"
"I'm supposed to take you home," came the even reply. "But if you have permission to stay, then I would say you are no longer a missing person, right?" and then the officer winked at him once again. "There's the pay phone over there. Do you have any change?"
Drew patted his pockets and pulled out a dollar bill. "Um, no. Maybe I can get some change from the receptionist."
"Don't bother. Here you go. Call 'em kid. And when you are done talking to them, I want to talk to them, got it?" and the cop handed over a quarter.
"Hey, thanks man," Drew said diffidently as he took the quarter from the handsome officer and then walked over to the pay phone, dropping in the coin and dialing. "Hey Pop? It's me... hey, yeah I'm sorry I didn't call before... No sir, I'm not coming home... because Anthony's here in the hospital and he's busted up bad! Come on Pop, I promised I would stay. I'm not coming home until he wakes up. You can't make me-I'm not coming... If you have him arrest me you better put me in jail cuz I'm coming straight back... Dad, I NEED to be here. I don't care about school tomorrow... Yes, Mrs. Miller said I could stay. We're waiting for Anthony to wake up. He got wrecked up by someone, Pop, really bad. They had to take out his spleen and I promised I would stay here... I'll tell you all about it later Dad... The officer said I could stay if you said it was OK... COME on Pop, you gotta let me!"
Drew turned around held out the phone. "Here, he said to put you on the phone."
"This is Sergeant Jensen speaking...Yes sir, those are the basic facts. Your son is fine but is very insistent that he needs to stay...OK sir, I'll cancel the missing person's report...Good bye sir." Hanging up the phone, the sergeant turned around with a small smile. "Your parents aren't' too happy with you, young man, but they didn't want me to arrest you I guess."
Drew's knees sagged with relief. "Thanks man, I owe ya bigtime."
"Yes, you do but you owe your parents a lot more. You go back to your friend now and I'll check on you in the morning, OK?"
"Sure, that's cool. Thanks for the help Officer Jensen," Drew held out his hand to shake.
Shaking Drew's hand the policeman said warmly, "That's SERGEANT Jensen and don't worry about it. I guess you could say I've taken a personal interest in this case. I'll see you in the morning after my shift ends."
"Alright. Well, I'd best be heading back. See you later." Drew smiled a little and then turned and broke into a half trot back to his Anthony.
Watching the built teen hurry back to his boyfriend, the officer only shook his head regretfully before striding out to hit the streets once more.
After tossing and turning all night David finally fell into an exhausted sleep at dawn. From far away he could hear his dad calling his name and telling him to get out of bed, but the lethargy in his heart and his limbs precluded a response. The next thing he knew was that his bedroom door banged open, the soothing bedcovers were ripped away, and he was being pulled out of his last sanctuary to land with a thump on the floor. His eyes flew open to look blearily upon his father standing over him while Jimmy peeked through the door.
"I've been telling you for five minutes to get out of bed David," his father's disgusted voice lashed over his oldest son's prone figure on the floor. "Look at you, still in your clothes from yesterday. You aren't the responsible son I used to have and ever since you've been with Tristan and his friends it's like you are a different person. Well no more David. Get yourself cleaned up and ready to ride to school with me. We're leaving," he paused as he checked his watch, "at 7:30 which gives you 25 minutes so get moving. And by the way, if you insist on continuing to lock your door I'll take it off, do you understand me?" he glared down at the disheveled boy.
David could only stare silently at the floor as he endured his father's tirade.
"Do you hear me, David?" he demanded angrily.
"Yeah, I hear you," David gritted out wearily, "twenty-five minutes and no locking the door."
"That's right. Now get moving." Only after David pushed himself up to a sitting position did his father wheel around and stalk out, taking Jimmy in tow with him, leaving the bedroom door wide open.
Slowly David picked himself up from the floor, his heart feeling like a lump of lead. His room, which had been his refuge, was now his prison and his father had become the warden. Tristan's words from yesterday came back to haunt him since now he also wanted someone to pinch him and wake him from this nightmare of his. His muscles complained as he moved to get fresh clothes and his feet shuffled tiredly to the bathroom where he had a modicum of privacy. In a haze of weariness and emotional pain he stripped and stepped into the shower. "Oh fuck," he complained bitterly as the water was only lukewarm. He was the last one to shower this morning and the hot water was nearly gone. And there would be no time spent with Tristan this morning--no kissing, no touching, and no sleepy smile on his love's face. He barely got his hair shampooed and rinsed before the water turned cold. "Shit, shit, shit!" he cussed as he spun the water handle to off. Shivering, he was awake now and moving quicker as he toweled himself off, his skin covered with goose bumps and his fine blond hairs on his arms and legs standing straight out. He threw on his clean clothes and hurriedly brushed his teeth. After depositing his dirty clothes and towel in the hamper, he grabbed his school bag out of his room and trudged reluctantly down the stairs.
"You have five minutes to eat something," Dan said as he glared up from his newspaper and coffee.
David wearily sat at the table to take the piece of toast and orange juice his mother handed him. She didn't look too pleased either. He washed the tasteless food down with his juice and as his empty glass hit the table his dad put the morning paper down.
"You might as well plan on riding to school with me every morning for the next month, David, so unless you want a repeat of this morning's wake up, you'd better get up earlier."
David just stared at his hands on the table as each word stabbed into his heart.
"Did you hear me?" Dan demanded as his hand slapped the table.
Everyone at the tabled jumped, David included before he shot out a quick "Yes".
"Listen to me good then, David, because if your behavior doesn't change and change quick, I'm sending you to Holy Trinity Academy. I will not stand by idly and let you sink into sin from being surrounded by depravity in a public school."
Stunned, David gasped and looked up with fear in his face, "You wouldn't."
"Oh yes I would. So don't push your luck." With that pronouncement made, Dan stood up and picked up his car keys from the counter. "It's time to go, get your stuff and come with me, David." It was an agonizingly long and silent ride to the school that morning and when they got there, David slid out without a word and walked away.
Almost in a daze he walked to his locker, smiling woodenly and saying 'hi' back to those who greeted him. In spite of all the people around him, he had never felt more alone, more needy of being loved than ever before. His only thought was to wait for Tristan so he could tell him how horrible things at home were. Standing there, David shifted positions impatiently while having desultory conversations with the students who were excitedly gossiping about yesterday's events.
"Hi David, what's up with than Anthony kid?" one boy on the team asked.
"I haven't heard today," David replied. "Last night he was in ICU after they took out his spleen."
"So where's the rest of your gang you always hang with? That Drew kid and Tristan?"
"I dunno. They aren't here." David replied dejectedly.
Another guy named Rick spoke up. "I heard that the Miller kid was bashed because he's gay."
David's temper was heating rapidly. "Because some asshole thinks he's gay he deserved to get beat up?" he asked his classmate. "How would you like to get the shit kicked out of you?"
"He is gay isn't he?" Rick taunted. "How's it feel to be friends with a little gay pussy? You like that kind of pussy, do you?"
David slammed the kid into the lockers so hard he heard the kid's breath go whooshing out. "Just because he's a cheerleader doesn't make him gay. And if I ever hear you say that about me again I'll show you who the pussy is, you got that Pussy?" David hissed in his face as he twisted the kid's shirt up under his neck.
The warning bell for classes sounded at that moment. Breathlessly Rick nodded once abruptly so David would back off and let him go to class. As soon as David let go of him he scurried away, leaving David breathing hard and fighting back tears. School was starting and still neither Tristan nor Drew were there for him to talk with. Tristan must have overslept since he wasn't there to get him going in the morning as usual. Dejectedly, David headed for his first class.
The morning passed slowly. Each break between classes David looked for Tristan. He was pretty sure Drew was probably staying at the hospital to be with Anthony so that much he understood, but he couldn't understand why Tristan wasn't there. Before the last morning class he went to the office. "Can I please use the phone to make a phone call?" he asked the school secretary.
"Is it important?" the older woman asked.
"Yes, yes it is," he replied anxiously.
Fixing him with a stare first, she took and placed the phone on the counter for him to use and then stood there, watching.
Nervously David's fingers flew over the buttons for Tristan's phone number and waited for the ringing tone. He turned his back to the woman and fidgeted as he waited for Tristan to answer. "Five rings, six rings, seven rings, eight rings, nine rings, ten rings," David counted off in his head before his shoulders slumped and he hung up. "Thanks," was all he said before he stumbled out, barely able to see where he was going. He was so worried about Tristan. "Where was he? Why wasn't he in school? Was he OK?" were the thoughts that tumbled repeatedly through David's head as the tardy bell rang.
The noisy chatter of the students and clatter of dishes greeted David as he joined the last of the lunch line. His teacher kept him five extra minutes after class for being late. Usually he could hardly wait for lunchtime so he could eat, but today his anxiousness was to see if he could find Tristan or Drew. Emotionally he was a wreck inside since every bastion that he relied upon for love and support had crumbled away on him in the last 24 hours. There was no one there for him to turn to, no one to reassure him that he was loved and worthy of being loved. Woodenly he moved through the lunch line and sat down apart from everyone. He just couldn't handle anymore talk about Anthony and the mundane chatter of his classmates. After eating half of his food and pushing the rest into a clumped mess, he stood up and headed out, discarding his uneaten food and placing his dishes in the dirty dish receptacle. He decided to go hang out by the lockers in case either Tristan or Drew came back to school for the afternoon.
After he snarled at the few people who tried to talk to him, the kids left him hunched over in his morose silence as he sat in the locker bay lounge. All during lunch recess David tried to figure out what to do with his life. His father was making it perfectly clear that he had to either choose his love for his family or his love for Tristan. There was no way he was able to have both. Was he strong enough to take the crap that went along with being gay-the rejection, the name-calling, or the threat of physical abuse like Anthony suffered? He just didn't know. Around and around his thoughts whirled as his emotions of fear and loneliness surged within. At long last the bell rang, calling David back into the world of school and classes for the rest of the afternoon. Tristan never came, nor did Drew.
Never had school felt more like a prison than the last period seemed to David on that exceedingly dreary day. Although the sun was shining brightly, it's light was diminished by the dark emotional cloud surrounding him. His heart was in his shoes by the time he pushed his way out of the classroom immediately upon hearing the dismissal bell.
Extremely worried and heartsick over Tristan's absence in a day when everything had gone awry, David was desperate. Hastily he threw his homework into his school bag and all but ran through the halls in his anxiousness to escape the school's confines and locate Tristan. Sprinting, he went as far as he could before the ache in his side had him hugging his arm close as he trotted the remaining distance to Tristan's house. A cold sweat poured from his body while he fearfully imagined what he might find.
Every shade on the windows was drawn, allowing no one to see inside. The sour taste of bile rose in David's throat as he rapped sharply on the door and tried the knob. The door was locked! There was no answer or footsteps within. David shook the door mightily, willing it to open. Fear ruled him and only in the last microsecond did he remember that there was a hidden key in the garage before he broke out the window of the door. Frantically he tore into the garage, retrieved the key and raced back to the house so he could fumble the key into the lock. Flinging the door open he burst inside and bellowed out, his voice bouncing off the walls and ceiling, "Tristan, are you here? Answer me!"
In the next breath he heard Tristan's feet hit the floor from within his bedroom. In scant seconds the marching sounds of bare feet brought a fuming Tristan into view. Of all the things he imagined, an incensed teen wasn't one of them. Consequently, he wasn't prepared in the slightest for Tristan's scathing words. "What the fuck are you doing breaking into my house? You here to tell me you don't want me again?"
David stood his ground despite his shock and dismay over Tristan's anger and rejection. "I was worried about you," he said quietly.
Angrily Tristan yelled back, "What the fuck do you care? In front of Brad yesterday you told me you didn't want anything to do with me. It's because you're afraid aren't you? You're afraid of being gay. If you want to be so fucking hetero, why don't you just tell me to go fuck myself and then go knock up some hetero girl so you can have a bunch of hetero children?" His hair stuck out in wild disarray and his wrinkled T-shirt and sleeping shorts clung to his frame as he stood there with his hands braced on his hips. His red-rimmed eyelids and bloodshot eyes told volumes about the content of his day.
Tristan's angry words made David's knees buckle. In slow motion he sank to his knees and folded over into a ball of abject desolation. Raw sobs tore their way from his throat as he realized how deeply he had hurt Tristan yesterday and how bereft he suddenly was with no one to turn to. "Oh God I just want to die," he wailed in utter misery. "I can't handle it any more God, let me die. Why did you make me this way? Why does everything have to be so hard?" David cried out as he rocked and keened out his inner agony. If there had been a gun nearby David would have turned it upon himself without a second thought.
The firm set in Tristan's jaw began to falter, his eyebrows knitting together in silent confusion. He scratched his chin, looking lost, but in three quick steps he was beside his lover when the loud sobs echoed off the ceiling, targeting the center of his heart. Tristan threw his arms about David. "No Babe, don't ever say that. I won't let you. If you did that to yourself you would be killing me too," Tristan forced out in a hoarse whisper of sound.
David stopped his wailing, his hiccupy sobs still shaking his frame. "You...you really mean that?" David asked shakily. "After what I did to you?"
"I can do anything as long as you still love me and want me David. And even if you don't want me, I will still always love you."
David twisted within Tristan's arms and stood on his knees, the tears streaming from his eyes. "Tris, I can't live without you. I've been like totally lost all day without you and if you won't love me, then I have no reason to live."
Tristan pulled David to him tightly saying, "Shhhhh, David. I will always love you. What's with you Babe? This isn't like the strong David I know."
David looked up through his streaming eyes. "Tris, I'm not nearly as strong as you. Your love never wavers like I let mine. I'm sooooo sorry for what I said yesterday...sooooo sorry," as his voice trailed off.
"Shush babe, it's OK now," Tristan said as he held his David and rubbed his back with both hands in an attempt to calm him.
"Nooo, Tris, it's not OK. Me and my dad had a huge fight last night and I'm totally grounded to my room for a month."
"Oh my god," Tristan breathed. "Why?"
"Because I told him off and told him that he was totally wrong about everyone and everything."
"You didn't."
David sucked in a shuddering breath. "Oh yeah, I sure did. You shoulda heard him and all the bad things he was saying about Anthony and stuff. I just couldn't take it anymore Tris, and I just screamed at him."
"Oh wow, David," Tristan said in disbelief and consternation. "What did your dad do then?"
"He picked me up and threw me toward my room and told me to stay there every night for a month to repent of my sins."
"Oh my fucking God. That long? Grounded to your room?" he breathed in utter dismay.
"Yeah, that fucking long," David said bitterly. "And then he drove me to school this morning. I skipped football practice today so I could come and see you, but I can't do that anymore or coach will kick me off the team. I had to see you today, Tris, and since Drew wasn't in school today, I figured I could skip out without getting in much more trouble."
"So what are you going to do David? You just going to sit at home and take that bullshit?" A crease formed in Tristan's brow, his eyes pooling with worry. "I don't want you to go away, David."
David smiled at his lover then, feeling the warmth and concern that poured out of Tristan and wafted over, surrounding and embracing him. His eyes drifted slowly from the scrubby mass that was the dark brown tufts of Tristan's hair, to the red and teary eyes, and down to his rumpled clothing. David's fingers found themselves lost in the curly locks, brushing the strands off his boyfriend's forehead as he moved himself closer. "Look at you," he mourned, frowning. "Did I really hurt you that much?"
Tristan looked away, not wanting to form another possible rift that could lodge its way between their two hearts. "I'm sorry," he whispered, tears falling again, and dying on the softness of David's sleeves.
Tenderly David used his thumbs to brush away the tears that lingered on Tristan's cheeks. "Don't cry Tris, please don't," he whispered brokenly, crumbling apart himself. "I'm the one who should be saying 'sorry'."
"I need you," Tristan choked out not looking at David and confessed further, "You're the center of my life."
"I need you too Babe. Just how much I didn't know until last night and today. It was like I was lost in the middle of the ocean with no idea of where to turn. You are my compass, Tris, and when you are with me I know where I am going. So will you forgive me, Tristan, and let me make up to you for my stupidity?"
His eyes streamed with fresh tears, only this time they were tears of relief and joy. He had his David back. With both arms Tristan pulled David on top of him and guided their lips together. Tenderly they kissed, tasting each other's love afresh. Their starvation for each other caused their bodies to burst into a roaring desire which in short order had them devouring each other's tongues and grinding their clothed bodies together. Tristan knew what he wanted and needed, and that was to feel David's hot, naked flesh against his. As they continued to kiss, Tristan's hands peeled away David's habitual t-shirt from his defined, golden-skinned torso and breaking their lip-lock, slipped it over his head.
"That's not fair," David muffled voice said as the shirt went over his head.
David's blonde hair took on a bright halo of light while the sunshine seemed to burst forth once more as Tristan flung the shirt to one side. "What's not fair," he giggled with abandon as his eyes feasted themselves on David's perfect pecs and abs.
"You have more clothes on than I do."
"So what are you going to do about it?" Tristan teased while his hands were busy unbuckling David's belt and unfastening his jeans while managing to squeeze David's throbbing hardness in the process.
David sucked in a gasp of air as a jolt of desire flashed up his spine from his aching dick. "Oh wow, Tristan, don't do that!" he panted. "It's your turn to lose some clothes now," he insisted as he knelt over Tristan's prone form. His fingers deftly hooked themselves in the waistband of Tristan's sleeping shorts and expertly tugged them down, lifting them over the massive bulge within. Tristan's knees were slightly raised and that's where David started kissing. He was determined to show Tristan how much he wanted to make things up to him. He nibbled and sucked his way up the muscular thigh, until his nose nudged against a soft brownish sack, whereupon he made his way down the other leg.
The room filled with the sounds of Tristan's pleasure. Threading his fingers through the short tendrils of David's hair, he sucked in his breath and whimpered, "David don't tease."
"Who's teasing Tris?" David looked up with love shining from his blue eyes. "I'm making love to my baby," he added. David ran his tongue upwards along the softness of Tristan's inner thigh, moving passed the needing flesh that throbbed against his cheek and pushed his T-shirt up. With the tip of his tongue he traced the fine dark hairs that made up his treasure trail. Moving further, his tongue circled the dark circles that graced the strong chest of the boy he loved, gently sucking and nipping.
Tristan mewed his pleasure as the delicious torment coursed through him. "I want you, David, quit teasing me now," he whined. "And take off your pants."
David didn't need to be told twice. In a flash he shucked off his remaining clothes and climbed into Tristan's uplifted arms. Their hot and leaking manflesh meshed together and they resumed their passionate kisses. A fierce longing to have Tristan inside of him took root as they tongue wrestled and slowly rocked against each other. David slid down Tristan's torso, licking and sucking once more but this time he moved slowly to the prize he sought. David almost reverently kissed the tip of the mighty manhood that he claimed as exclusively his to love. He licked and sucked the massive organ while his own pucker was spasming in anticipation. David knew what he needed and where he wanted it. Straddling Tristan's cock, he guided it to his hole until he felt the leaking tip press against him. Slowly and steadily he lowered himself until its entire length had penetrated him. Looking down, he could see the string of precum that had dribbled in a steady stream from his own engorged cock. "You ready Baby?" David grinned down at his lover from his vantage point. This was only the second time they had tried it this way.
"Oh God David," Tristan sighed in pure bliss. "I can feel you and see you and I'm sooooo ready."
Their eyes never leaving the other, David began to slowly rock up and down, feeling the impaling shaft send ripples of pleasure through him. They traded gasps and moans as they made sweet love. David was determined to last until Tristan gave up his seed and he pushed himself to concentrate on moving faster and faster as Tristan began to pant with his impending release. Now it was David riding Tristan's pole as Tristan began to thrust up from below.
A keening whine came from Tristan's throat while his hands and feet pressed flat against the floor. David felt like he was riding a bucking horse as Tristan reached his pinnacle and began to bury his cock to the hilt as he let loose with long shudders. "AAAAAAAH," he all but screamed out with each blast of cum.
That was all David needed and he succumbed to his held back desires. His sphincter convulsed as he trembled through his own incredible orgasm. Jets of his cum went flying everywhere, landing all over Tristan.
Slowly they came down from the heights of pleasure, trading post-orgasmic jolts repeatedly. David laid down on Tristan's chest, smearing the puddles of cooling, clear liquid between them as they tenderly kissed. "I love you Tristan and I can't be without you," David murmured. "Am I forgiven?"
"Yes, yes, you're forgiven David," Tristan sighed happily. "I think we need a shower though. Will you wash my hair like always?"
"Yes, always is right. Always is how I love you Baby."
Sean wearily trudged into his new home, his foster home with Craig. It wasn't all that great since Craig brought home that other kid, Brian. In the days since Brian stole his virginity, Sean grieved its loss and the lost opportunity for a boyfriend of his very own. He turned on the television and flopped on the couch, not really caring about it or anything else. He was just tired, tired of everything.
Half way through Hollywood Squares, Sean looked up to see Brian sauntering through the door. He flopped down beside him on the other end of the couch, stretching out his long legs and sighing softly as he relaxed into the cushions.
Sean gave fleeting glances, his lips curling in disgust. He felt ashamed that he had let that stupid punk touch him... he'd have to shower later. The memory of Brian emptying himself inside of his body sent a shudder coursing through him. Yeah, he'd scrub the memory off of him over and over again until he was raw.
Turning his attention away from the blaring TV, the confident, older boy caught the heat of Sean's glare. He was mildly surprised, yet kept his face in check. His eyebrow rose in question.
Sean wanted to punch that cocky stare right off his face. The entire sight of Brian sickened him, and he rose instantly, stalking out of the room. Reaching his bedroom, Sean went and stood by the window, just staring outdoors at nothing and huffing as the anger boiled within him. Unknowingly his hands squeezed the skin of his tightly crossed arms as he tensed repeatedly while reliving his shame.
A touch on his ass about sent him crashing through the window. He whirled around only to find Brian smirking at him. "Scared?"
"Don't touch me!" Sean threatened. "Just keep your fucking hands off me."
"What's with you?" Brian asked with surprise. "You liked the last time I touched you. In fact, I'd say you enjoyed it quite," he licked his lips, "thoroughly."
"You don't get it do you? I don't want to have a relationship with you if it's going to be based on your sexual releases. Or with anyone for that matter. I didn't know it was going to be like this, I didn't know you were going to just fuck me and then leave me...like some piece of fucking garbage."
"It's not that..." Brian began calmly.
"No, just shut up. My entire life I have been taught to think I was nothing more than useless and stupid and then you come along, and you take something from me that I will never get back, ever. And then you just tossed me off to the fucking side. I'm tired of feeling like nothing. I'm tired of being everyone's little toy. I'm tired of living. I'm tired of-" Sean's tirade faltered as Brian's hand reached up to cup the side of his face, the long fingers stroking his temple.
"Wa... what are you doing?"
"What do you think?" Brian said gently. "I'm trying to tell you something."
"No, don't touch me," Sean tried to pull away. But the touch was still something he hungered for and rather than pull away he found himself leaning forward instead. And to his shame, the tears started to leak from his eyes.
"It's OK Sean, it's OK," Brian whispered to him.
And then, given permission, Sean's floodgates opened. He sobbed his griefs into Brian's strong chest, soaking his shirt and holding him in a tight grasp.
Brian rubbed Sean's back as he cried himself out, silently waiting.
Finally the teary-eyed boy lifted his head.
"I didn't know," Brian said softly and then stopped.
Sean looked away out the window once more. "Well, now you do."
Abashed Brian attempted to explain, "I'm...I didn't..."
"You didn't WHAT?" Sean snapped.
Contrite for one of the few times in his life, the older boy hung his head. "I didn't mean to hurt you. So, I'm..I'm sorry."
After a moment of quiet Sean said brokenly, "I'll never get back what you took from me. I wanted it to be special, with someone who cared about me."
Brian looked away. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "It still can be special. I'll make it special. We'll do it over... it'll be your first time," he paused and took a nervous breath of air, "With someone...with someone who cares about you." He then looked down, waiting for an answer to something he'd never admitted before in his life.
"But," Sean objected quietly. "How could it possibly be special now?"
Brian looked up and grinned slightly with a glint in his eyes, "I'll make sure it is...we'll even have fucking scented candles."
Sean choked out a small laugh and then sniffed, the tears still wanting to escape.
Tenderly Brian leaned in and kissed the lingering tears from Sean's cheek, then pulled Sean close and held him to his chest.
The warmth and comfort of being in Brian's strong arms calmed the smaller boy. He could even hear the thudding of Brian's heart in his chest.
Brian buried his nose in the brown spiked hair, inhaling the scent of the innocent boy that had charmed him.
Pushing apart slightly, Brian's fingers found the buttons to Sean's shirt, and then paused, waiting for a reaction.
Sean looked up, his eyes full of quiet submission. His mouth quirked once and then he smiled as the older boy nodded and popped the first button through its hole.
Slowly Brian undressed Sean, taking his time with the buttons and slipping the outer clothes from the slender frame. Sean stood there in his gray boxer briefs, looking vulnerable, yet so incredibly alluring. Rather than hide what they contained, his briefs accentuated his male beauty. The curve of his buttocks was obvious as well as the bulge of his maleness in the front.
Brian shivered as he tore his eyes from Sean's enticing form to hastily strip away his own clothes until he too was standing in his boxers. "Come," Brian invited and pulled Sean over to the bed. He sunk unto the bed, pulling the smaller boy down on top of him, their warm skin gliding softly together. Brian kissed him, this time showing the Sean the feelings he hid from everyone else.
Sean's world was finally complete. Someone loved him. He returned the kiss softly, his tongue gliding over Brian's, while his heart beat with joy. Then he snuggled his head into the crook of his lover's shoulder, sighing contentedly.
Brian smiled at the thought of having this sweet boy in his arms, knowing they were going to be together. His eyelids drooped and soon both of them were sleeping in each other's arms.
The house was dead quiet when Craig arrived except for the background noise of the TV. "Boys?" he called out. "I'm home." Ominously, there was no answer. "Shit," he cussed to himself. "Now what?" Putting his briefcase down, he pried off his shoes, noting that both boys' shoes were there as well. He padded through the house, looking for either Sean or Brian. As he stuck his head in the door of Sean's bedroom, his eyes widened and his mouth dropped silently to see both boys sleeping together, Sean being held in Brian's arms. In an instant he took in the fact that both were nearly naked and sleeping soundly, both with a hint of a smile on their faces.
"Ah-hem," he cleared his throat.
Brian slitted his eyes open while Sean snuggled closer to him.
"I see you two patched up your differences from the other day."
"Yeah well, you know what they say," Brian sighed, delicately unfolding himself from the sleeping body that was wrapped around him. "Make love, not war."
"I don't think your situation was intended in the original context of the quote, but yet it appears that it fits the circumstances," Craig said dryly.
Brian rolled his eyes, stretching. "Thank you, Captain Obvious."
"I think it's time we all had a talk. Sean, wake up," Craig commanded as he snagged the desk chair away from the desk and sat down in it backwards, his forearms resting on the back.
Brian sat back on the bed with his legs crossed. He gave a light slap to Sean's butt, "Rise and shine, cupcake!"
Groggy and blinking, Sean sat up slowly and then started as he noticed Craig sitting in the chair at the foot of the bed. His glance flashed between the two of them, then his brow furrowed and he scowled. Grumpily he pulled the quilt over his body as he sat against the headboard, almost hiding behind Brian.
Craig plunged right in. "Although I'm glad that you two aren't fighting any longer, I still am concerned with what I find here. As your foster parent I have an obligation to make sure that this is a healthy relationship you are engaging in."
"What the fuck?" Brian almost snarled. "You think either of us has some kinda crud?"
Raising his eyebrows at Brian's vulgarity, their guardian responded, "No, that's not what I'm saying at all. Your blood tests indicated that neither of you have that problem, for which we can all be very thankful to have avoided that complication. What I am saying is that you, Brian, have a very strong personality and that Sean here is less assertive. Would you agree with me so far, Brian?"
"Yeah, so what else is new?" Brian said deprecatingly.
"Sean, do you agree with what I've said?" Craig looked over at the still form huddled against the headboard.
"I guess," was the quiet reply.
"Now, to answer your question Mr. Brian, is that we need to have some mutual understandings here before we go any further."
"Like what?" Brian's hands came out and out of his lap as he gestured in annoyance.
"Like this. If you do anything to deliberately hurt Sean, either emotionally or physically you will be gone from here instantly. I will not tolerate that kind of behavior here nor does Sean need to be subjected to it. Since you both are underage we don't have to worry about age of consent or other legalisms."
"Don't worry. It won't happen."
"Exactly what won't happen so I'm absolutely clear on this?" the determined man questioned.
"I won't hurt him. I didn't say I wouldn't fuck him," Brian flaunted right after his left hand reached back for Sean's in silent reassurance.
"OK, so we're crystal clear about that. Now Sean, is that what you want? Because without your consent, what Brian is talking about becomes rape. And yes, boys can rape boys and be prosecuted for it. So first is this the kind of relationship you want?"
"Yes," came the faint reply as Sean ducked his head down, his face flushing hotly while he maintained his grasp on Brian's left hand with his right.
"Are you sure?" Craig asked.
"I said yes," came the petulant reply.
"OK then, although I'm not sure this is the best thing for you I won't stand in your way, Sean. My goal is for both of you to be happy with yourselves and each other, so if this is what you both need and want, then you have my support."
"Thank you Father Craig, can we have your blessings too?" Brian joked rudely.
"You'll have them when I can see that you two are good for each other," Craig snapped back. "We'll eat dinner in 45 minutes so I suggest you come to the table with your clothes on."
"Sean, one more thing. I am hurt that you couldn't trust me to tell me what was wrong. Myself and many other people want to be of help you, but you have to let us for it to happen. Do you understand?"
"Yeah, sure. Whatever." Sean replied softly, not meeting Craig's eyes.
Craig stood up and pushed the chair back under the desk. "I'm not your jailer boys, just remember that I'm trying my best to keep both of you from being hurt." He looked at both, meeting Brian's eyes and then left.
"I'm not your jailer," Brian mimicked as he lazily waved his middle finger at the door.
Sean gasped and then giggled at Brian's defiance. "I never woulda dared to do that to my dad or anyone," his eyes dancing at the rebelliousness of his lover.
"Yeah, well that man's got his opinions totally fucked."
"How do you mean?" Sean scrunched his nose in confusion.
"Well, you know..." Brian waved a hand around to elaborate on the unfinished sentence.
Sean raised his eyebrows, obviously not grasping the same segment of thought Brian was attempting to establish.
The larger boy sighed, shifting around on the bed so that he turned slightly away from his lover. "I wouldn't ... you know, actually hurt you."
Brian wasn't prepared for the armful of jubilant teen that had him nearly toppling off the bed when Sean dove onto him.
"I knew you were different!" Sean said, laughing and crying in his relieved joy.
"Dear lord, he's gone insane," Brian muttered, his fingers easily finding the bony ribs of the giggling boy in his lap. "And if you dare tell anyone I said that, I'm going to rip your tonsils out after I kick your little ass."
Sean backed off, looking thoughtful. "It's quite a shame then... I had my tonsils removed when I was eight."
"Fuck, I'll just reach down and rip your balls off then."
Sean feigned the utmost of shock at Brian's vile words, and removed himself from the bed. "Well, I'll just be getting dressed now."
Brian stretched out a long arm, yanking the retreating ass back onto the bed by his underwear. "What are you talking about? The good doctor says we have forty-five whole minutes until dinner. What ever are we to do with all that spare time?"
A smile slowly crept its way onto Sean's face, meeting the blush that grew rapidly in his cheeks.
"Plenty of time to get dressed, I should think," he murmured, pulling the teen closer. "Or undressed," licking his lips as he dropped his hands to the teen's waistband. Tugging down the boy's boxer briefs, he freed the prize hidden within and lowered his head.
Well, that's it for this chapter. I should be able to get back into the writing habit so you don't have to wait another 4 months for the next one. Stay tuned dear readers for what will happen next in this tale of my boys.
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