Chances are you came here for a reason, and your looking for this sorta stuff. If for some reason you dont already know, the following story includes description of sexual acts between guys. If that shit turns you off, use your back button or close your browser. If not, your in the right place.
If you want to check out any of my other stuff, check for my name under the "Prolific Authors" section of the Nifty Archive. Any feedback, comments, suggestion can be sent onto me at wildstyle@iname.com
Oh yeah. The guys in this story might not be using rubbers, but they aint real. You are. Practice safe sex.
Keep it real.
Anfernee "Wildstyle" Williamson of da Undaground Click. 31st December, 1998
DIVIDED LOYALTIES (part 2) another Wildstyle joint
Jay-Ro seemed to notice everything in starker details when they finally returned to familiar territory. It brought back feelings like the morning after, waking from a bad dream into the still cold realities of the world. The ghetto seemed more obvious around him, concentrated, dusted off, given new perspective in light of events passed.
The big youth stepped a little up the broken sidewalk, waiting for that familiar to return. Keith at his side. The lanky youth turned his head from the leaving bus, shifting into beat beside his homeboy. The hip hop thumps of the urban jungle breathed last scratches of life into the youths, from on high above in the tenements. Heralding almost parental feelings of comfort. Familiar ground. Familiar feelings. Jay-Ro clung to what he found, still waiting for him there beyond the facts of life passed.
"What you wanna do?" Keith asked. Jay-Ro shrugged his big shoulder, tugging at his big sweatshirt to get comfortable.
"Get a shower and some clean clothes."
"Sure 'nuff," the lanky youth shot back a warm smile, beaming as always. "Wanna get some clothes thats mine. Probably best I got rid of that shirt. Probably still smelt like weed."
Jay-Ro ventured a shove back, finding spirits somewhere inside, familiar feelings of comradery. A slight snear passed his thick lips, his voice echoing back those smoky words. "You always smell like weed, kid."
"Shower will do you good, anyhow," Keith smiled back. Jay-Ro thought he felt unmentioned words just beyond grasp, words at his expense with humorous intent.
The pair hit the same paths travelled, taking them back through what passed for a playground. A poor haven for children in the urban landscape that was more warzone. One that had become more a playground and teacher in one than the aging swings and slides that still stood over worn, or overgrown grass. Usually more home to the gang youths, than the younger. A common hang out where those didnt feel the want to walk further to more hidden gang holdings. Empty, save one lone figure, swaying slightly on the swings.
"Hey, Jay."
Jay-Ro felt the light tap on his shoulder, glancing right, then forward at that pointed out to him. He felt his body seize, everything about him hold in a single heartbeat. The big youth stopped, opening his mouth to say whatever it was he needed to get himself out of common ground. He felt Keith's willingness to push on, like teeting on a cliff face, threatening to pull him forward. Jay-Ro dropped his head.
"Hey Jayson! Long time." She swung slightly as she sat.
"Uh ... yeah."
Jay-Ro forced himself to look up, feeling nerves crushing him from every direction. Working too quickly, like they always did. Holding him fast, stopping his ability to verbalise. Freezing his entire being until he was merely self trapped inside self. Seeing, but unable to control or see. To speak beyond stuttered thought. He stared briefly at her, mind searching a blank space for a reply.
"I was wondering when I was going to see you again," Ana replied. Jay-Ro melted on that merest suggestion of a smile, melting inside, still steeled outwardly. "Thought Keith had got you back in trouble again."
"Ah, nah ... we been cool."
"Just been taking care of bid'niss," Keith offered with a grin, motioning with his hands. "You know how it goes."
"Uh huh ... with you boys, I know how it goes."
Ana turned her smile back on Keith, chuckling with her reply. Jay-Ro felt his eyes dropping, partly in shame, partly as they caught on familiar features, bringing on his feelings. His speechless state. Words echoing on the inside, never reaching beyond the confides of his mind. The big youth glanced up slightly, taking quick look while Ana wasnt looking. Smooth features of an angel. Dreams come true in mind, body and spirit. Jay-Ro licked his lips slightly, fighting his silence, opening his mouth to utter words that would never come.
I love you.
His lazy eyes dropped again. Braided hair. Soft, delicate features on a body seemingly born elsewhere from the hardness of the ghettos. Every glance a look from heaven, glancing life into the darkness that sat in Jay-Ro's ghetto existance. Taken back again by his lack of words to express. His lack of ability to speak, from the fear. The shame. The million demons and whispering words and doubts that kept him.
If you gave me a chance, Id take you outta here.
Ana turned tender word back on Jay-Ro. Both boys saw the look, the intent, subtle, but true. Jay-Ro missed Keith's look in his stumbled attempt to look elsewhere. Make the obvious look unobvious again.
"You know I missed seeing you around."
"Yeah ..."
Jay-Ro cursed on the inside again. C'MON! Get your shit together. You know what to say! His mind struggled with his prone state. Stabbed at the fear, the doubt. Tried to pry words from places far too deep inside him as he crossed his big arms, offered back a slight smile. Coming across dumb. His mind panicked, compensated in his rising frustration.
"So. What have you been up--"
"Uh ... we got to be going," Jay-Ro stumbled. "We got to be somewhere ..."
FUCK! You dumb fuck! Tell her!
Jay-Ro's expression dropped slightly as he lowered his head again, stumbling with his spoken. He felt the same demons pushing him onwards, finding new words, pulling defensively with easier ways and words. A release came silently inside as he stepped slightly, motioning to Keith. A blackness inside, finding slight hope of light.
"Well, you'll be around wont you?" Ana steadied her swing slightly, putting her feet down.
"Yeah," Keith offered back, almost blunted. He smiled, Jay-Ro noticed, in that way that always seemed to fix things. "We'll catch up with you again soon. Maybe tomorrow morning?"
"Yeah. I should be around."
Jay-Ro gave another parting nod, his streetside pulling up quickly in defense, his inside calling back as Keith spoke words he couldnt speak. Hoping. Praying they be the right ones. Knowing they always were. He cussed silently, his face hardening slightly, big lips pouting as he glared murder on the dying grass below his boots.
"Well you know where I am! Catch you soon Jayson!"
Jay-Ro muttered something back, already too far taken in his frustration to manage a true reply. He knew he couldnt turn back, risk the expression of self anger, now that he was foolish enough to escape his chances. The big youth felt Keith's hand on his arm slightly, shrugging it off, doubling his pace. The emptiness drifted with words, replies, thoughts, feelings. All too late. Falling like rain over angry insides. Doing nothing to sooth.
"Fuck."
Jay-Ro took a deep breath, glancing upwards at the tenement, trying to clear his mind. Knowing Keith's reply, thankful at his silence. The big youth was already feeling tired again, disappointed in self, wanting to be anywhere else. His thoughts quickly turned to his small flat. Showers. Anything else. Trying to ignore wasted chances. Countless tries.
"Jay ..."
"Dont say shit, aiight?" Jay-Ro muttered. He shoved his fists into the pockets of his big shorts, already hitting the first steps of the tenement. "Just dont say it."
"I didnt say anything," Keith offered back. They both expected the hard silence that ensued.
Jay-Ro stripped his red sweatshirt practically the moment he got inside, dumping it on the kitchen table. He felt the familiar feelings of the one place he spent so much time in, his own tiny part of the world he could call his at times. A place to hide. Get drunk. High. Ignore the world for the times that seemed to hard. Jay-Ro glanced back over at Keith for a moment, muttering.
"Im having a shower."
"Nah its cool," Keith ventured further, doing his best to play to Jay-Ro's heated mood. "Im there after you, aiight?"
Jay-Ro hit the bathroom, gunning the shower, realising quickly his limitations in his disabled state. He managed to wrestle one boot off, one handed, letting it hit the back wall with a thud. The big youth steadied himself again the wall in an attempt at the remaining foot, cussing at his lace, already frustrated, hampering his already challanged efforts.
"I can give you hand in there, Jay." Keith was already at the door, like he always was. There. Ready to help.
"Nah its cool," Jay-Ro felt the boot give, slipping finally, meeting the ground with the same fate as the last. "I got it."
"I can help you if you need it ... I mean, with the shower and all ... cause of your hand."
Jay-Ro frowned slightly, waving Keith off slightly, fueled by anger still bottled inside him. His expression betrayed inner feelings, thick eyebrows arching in a mirror of hard frustration. The sexual conotations and possibilities flouded beyond the simple thoughts of a genuine want to help.
"I can shower myself, kid. I aint crippled."
"Nah, I just meant ..." Keith paused, regrouping his defense. "I owe you and all, Jay."
"What?" Jay-Ro stood up, pausing, not moving to take off his clothes in his homeboys presence. Part from shame. Part from fear. The shower hissed quietly in the silence. "You want to get naked with me and shower? Is that it?"
"Jay," the lanky youth took a deep breath. "Look man, I didnt mean it like that, you know ..."
"Do I?"
The words lashed out, Keith pulling back, raising his hands, forgetting reason with words. The lanky youth let it fall, closing the door over, thankful that he missed the last few muttered words his friend gave. Knowing by mood their vicious intent.
Jay-Ro shook his head, shoving the door completely closed with a bang. Only now did he even think of losing his baggy basketball singlet, slipping one arm, then another through it, shrugging it off. The heat of the water was already misting the small bathroom, caressing Jay-Ro's smooth curves with the flutatious stroke of an intimate lover. He tossed the singlet, catching his misted reflection.
The big youth could only think how he fucked up again, cursing his reflection. Big dumb fool. Disbeliving he couldnt even say the most simple of words. So what if she hated him forever? At the merest chance that the words would fall on right sentiments. She probably didnt like him like that anyway. Just being friendly to a ghetto boy.
Jay-Ro let his baggy shorts fall, pushed one handed at his boxers. His big dick fell free, his most private place exposed as his boxers puddled at his ankles, kicked aside. The big youth glanced himself over subconsiously, his eyes toying slightly with his flesh, that thick bush of black. Dancing slightly at his reflection, big, stocky but undefined in his youth. Dark, large. Those lazy eyes staring back. His look distrusted.
Jay-Ro climbed into the showerbox, raising his bandaged hand high above the waterhead. The water ran down over his body, causing release of tension, fear, triggered new thoughts and fears. He ran his hand, rubbing water on flesh, riding solid shoulders and chest, his arms, feeling the softness, remembering others in its place. Remembering the same touch, lingering, slow. Toying with broad nipples, downwards. Silent hands under the sheets, touching in the darkness. His own hands unmoving.
Jay-Ro paused, cock in left hand.
He longed for more, dreamed of touch. A closeness beyond those he had felt. One more right. The water caressed as he thought, dreamed of so simple a thing. His body close to Ana's, just there. No pretense or want. No lust or way. Just a silence and warmth, a closeness. An intimacy longed. A touch of skin on skin, of form and weight beside his. On his.
Jay-Ro felt the water running over his face as he looked down, drops like tears falling from his nose and thick lips. His frustration painted in tense expression, working lips as his hand worked. Tried. Struggled in its powerless left to stroke, feel, play. His heavy size lifted slightly from the crude, intimitant touch. Dropped by weak hand to rub at soft skin and balls.
The big youth cursed his right hand, unbelieving its absence in such a simple task. Disbelieving the struggle of his left to even cause the slightest of pleasure. His left wrapped, fisted, tried and failed as he felt the caress of water. Cursing his hand. His body. His ugly ways. Praying still, begging for simple touch. Wishing just the simple feel of his against anothers for just some moment. Wishing his body away.
Jay-Ro leaned heavily against the wall, jacking roughly, his thick lips parted, hips thrusting slightly in an attempt to increase the stimulation. His frustration climbed, his audible cuss lost to the rain of hot water. Fuck him. Fuck his hand. Jay-Ro cussed at the half feelings trickling through his still rubbery member. Fuck this. Fuck him. Fuck his body. Fuck this all!
Jay-Ro gave up finally, letting heavy cock flop unsatisfied. A unsatisfaction greater than the need to be satisfied. He shook his dreaded head, his curses meeting with the same curses of the many years before, intent still ultimately equal. He tried to stand defiant against thoughts. His shame. Self anger. Keith didnt know how lucky he was.
The big youth lay back in the shower, feeling the water pound off his chest, keeping his hand halfheartly aloft. His shoulders rose and fell with his breath, blended in frustration and want and dream. He wrapped his big hand back around his flesh, determined afresh, jacking with his left.
His mind thought back again to intimate thoughts. Alone. In the darkness with Ana. Just holding. Where this didnt matter. Where his body didnt matter. Wishing it was more like Keith's. Smooth. Soft. Strong. The gentle, firm curves. The tenderness it represented and held in athletic arms, those muscular shoulders. To have those strong, subtle curves and strokes, no longer big size, or heavy weight. No longer this. Stocky, size with no definition. Big, clumbsy, ugly.
Jay-Ro's breath climbed, his eyes closing into the darkess, the intimate of touch. Just Ana and him, alone. Loving forever. Eyes glancing over a more beautiful, liked sight, still fresh in mind, lost in context. So soft and smooth. Strong, holding. Pleasent. Thoughts triggering images, images triggering memories. Memories of soft, unfelt pleasure. His mind lost between the sight of light skinned muscle and the pleasure of his penis. Slow, loving, working at a common goal. That soft, caring sucking ...
Jay-Ro let his cock fall, his hand aching. The big youth pulled his skin back, washed, handled himself roughly almost in pretense of cleaning himself there rather than the want to get off. He put his hands against the wall, leaning, dousing his thick gold dreads in the water. Feeling the waterfall cascade from thick roots. Watching the thick silver chain, still around his neck, gently swinging. His big calves and feet.
Deal with it. His mind smoothed over troubled frustrations of longing, want, lust. Get over yourself. Do what you gotta do. It aint gonna happen, so get used to it. Jay-Ro closed his lazy eyes somewhat, drawing a deep breath, killing the water. Stepping out. Taking a long, final deep breath. Breathing away the thoughts and pain.
Jay-Ro rubbed himself off quickly, paying little attention to himself, or the mists of thought drifting through his head. One of the few quiet times. He grabbed up the towel, wrapped it around himself as best he could, tucked. Drapped another over his shoulders, scooped up his clothes and boots as best he could with one hand, ambling out of the bathroom.
"All yours," Jay-Ro commented, seemingly catching Keith in half thought at the kitchen table. The big youth gave his friends smooth black cut, and face a quick glance, seeming so rare from out under that floppy hat. He muttered his thanks, passing Jay-Ro briefly as he headed to the bedroom.
"Dont get comfortable," he called back. "We got shit to do when your out."
"Uh? Sure," Keith gave his big friend the briefest glance before heading into the bathroom proper.
Jay-Ro closed the bedroom door, dropped his clothes, and towel slightly in his search for clean clothes. Cleaner clothes than what he had, he thought. The room was still as cluttered and messed as it always was. The bed still unmade, signs of its use. A musty smell of maleness hung in the air, of a room well used and little ventilated. Jay-Ro spotted his jeans, scooping them up along with some boxers, feeling his last towel drop free, leaving him bare again. He stumbled to get his boxers on, baggy jeans ridiculously oversized on even him. Stuffed his red bandanna blunt obvious from a side pocket.
His mind had already begun to swing back into work mode, mantras of old siding away past feelings. Cleaning his mind for more comfortable thoughts and feelings of common ground. Production and patterns tested, a good feeling like a car doing the speeds it was made to do. Street instinct kicking in with natural talent to thought and intellect. Jay-Ro mopped off his chest, thick silver chain, rescuing a large black teeshirt emblazoned with the Def Squad logo and tantruming funk baby, sliding it on as he thought of ways to make things better. Deal with what he couldnt deal with personally in his own ways of self denial and hiding.
Possibilities thinkable and unthought of crossed his young mind, violent or otherwise, his street way of dealing with the day to day serving up a dozen alternatives. He scooped up a large plaid shirt and his boots on the way out to the lounge, entertaining solutions his world had bred him to use. Ways of dealing with the fact Keith was what he was. Making sure others didnt know. Ways to make things as right as he could.
Jay-Ro sat. Thought. Put things back in their place. Dwelt on ways to put right what wasnt. He pulled on his shirt over shirt, rubbing at his broad nose. Steeling his mind and resolve.
Keith finally emerged from the bathroom a short while later, Jay-Ro barely looking up. Still staring across the messed, bare lounge. The still open longue window on the ghettos below. The big youth barely noticed his friends presence until he was on his knees in front of him. His subconscious lept slightly, past thoughts and visions triggered of when he last saw this. Remembering with a jolt that he was sitting in exactly the same place. Keith grabbed one of the disgarded boots.
"Shut up and let me put them on you," Keith said. "You aint goin' no where if you cant do up your laces."
Jay-Ro grimaced slightly, agreeing, staying silent. His mind still drifting over the familiar scene. Subtle ironies of friend helping friend lost to him as Keith shoved his right boot on, laced it quickly, tied.
"I aint a kid you know," Jay-Ro ventured.
"Nah, but Im just doin' it cause I know you aint got the guts to ask. So just take it like a man, huh?"
Jay-Ro blew out a slight breath, his eyes falling down over Keiths form, still kneeling. Still in his grey sweatpants and red and white shirt, unbuttoned. The big youth caught slight glimpse of that smooth body below, worked on by years of the rigour of breakdancing. Twisting, turning, working his young body to its athletic conclusion. Jay-Ro's lazy eyes dropped back to the floor, the sight of Keith's smooth muscle bringing back mixed thoughts and emotions.
"I got it worked, kid."
"Yeah? Like what?" Keith looked up, lacing the final boot.
"Like I know how to deal with what John knows," Jay-Ro said. He kept his eye on Keith, avoided the obvious as he moved, sat on the couch. Same place.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Simple. We just let the 'breeds deal with it. No more problem," the big youth said. He caught Keith's look full on.
"Man, that aint always the way to deal with shit, Jay," Keith replied, his smoky voice protraying his concern of methods and solutions. "I mean they gonna find out if we go through them."
"Well we cant just let John walk round knowing the shit he does," Jay-Ro said. He added, "Im doing this for you, kid. So you can walk the streets without heads knowing."
"So just let it lie," Keith returned, his smoky tones slightly more urgent. "So John knows. Maybe Sen. Stephon." He paused slightly, shaking his head, replying. "Aint like its no thing, Jay. What they gonna do?"
"They going to tell is what."
"So what if they do? I dont care."
Jay-Ro glanced back, hard. "They crack that skull of yours. Then you'll care." Keith shook his head, seemingly grasping for words.
"I aint letting my boy go down, no matter what. I got your back, but they can still get to you if they know, kid," Jay-Ro explained.
"Jay ... man, aint nothing gonna happen."
"You stuffed up," Jay-Ro replied. "So what. You groped up some kid of Johns, and now they all know you fuck guys. They know I --" The big youth stopped dead, backtracked in an instant. "They know you screw guys, kid. And you know that aint how things work."
"Is this 'bout making sure Im safe or making sure they dont think you're gay too?" Keith ventured. Jay-Ro stuttered slightly, licking his lip slightly.
"What you think? Its about making sure my boy is safe," Jay-Ro paused slightly, drawing a deep breath. "Im just saying, you know ghetto aint safe for niggas who fuck niggas, kid. You can think its aiight to suck guys cocks, but you know the rest of world dont think its aiight."
Keith glared back slightly, his sparkling eyes dark, their full force not hampered by his floppy fishermans hat. Jay-Ro knew those eyes could cut. He watched his friend stare downward slightly, leveling his eyes back, seemingly fighting inner words, chosing, selecting. Doing what Jay-Ro never seemed to do.
"Straight up, Jay. I know your like the rest of the ghetto. I know you hate thinking 'bout guys getting it on," Keith retorted. He continued before Jay-Ro opened his mouth. "It happens, Jay. Deal wit' that shit, man. It aint like Im sucking your cock."
Keith fell silent, Jay-Ro feeling every replying word drained from him in an instant. He heard Keith cuss, losing that cool he always seemed to have about him for a moment.
"You wanna hear it? I aint never fucked with another guy," Keith replied in smoky tones, his sparkling eyes holding sharp. "In case you wondering, I aint never sucked cock, or got fucked or shit. I think 'bout it, but I aint never done it. I know I want it. But I aint never done it. Cept with a straight guy. I know I aint got a problem with it. I know it aint goin' no further."
Jay-Ro didnt bother looking back up. He knew the looks that were waiting for him there. He knew his hot headed, fast answers that fueled fires rather than soothed the sores. He knew the truths Keith always managed to spit back, calm, resolute. Mirroring and dousing his own words and thoughts. Speaking truths at him, inside him. Consciousness from without.
"You think I made you gay too cause I sucked your cock?"
"Your crazy! That aint got shit to do with anything," Jay-Ro blanched, shooting a dirty stare back at Keith. "Just let me deal with what I can deal with, aiight?"
"Its cool. I know where everythings at, Jay."
Keith seemed to fall silent, maybe finding what he was looking for. Maybe finding no way to change what always was. Jay-Ro felt the tinges of frustration kicking in, knowing his head on ways seemed to always fall strangely aside from Keith's ways, like bull to matador. It only steeled his resolve to do what he had to do. Deal with everything. Set it right.
Jay-Ro didnt have trouble finding what he needed to find. In the area of the ghettos he had grown up in, the heartland of the Purebreeds territory, pretty much anywhere was signs of the gangs power. Signs of the gangs members, squatting on the streetside, calling out passerbys. Sitting on tenement steps, laughing, bragging. Rhyming on the remains of a sacked car. Linked by red. Linked by blood. Linked by brotherhood.
Jay-Ro knew the patterns, the hang out, the areas of the ghetto. He knew where was right, where was wrong. Where was home. Where was Loco. Where was disputed. Even beyond the area he had grown up in, beyond to the stomping grounds he spent time in. Even into the no mans land of the inner city, street hiding alley to alley behind suits, knowing limits, and boundaries. Knowing when and where more legal gangs ruled street, word and life.
The big youth was checking the second place on his mental list when he heard the angelic tone lift to the heavens, calling out to those in a language of hope. Puncuated suddenly by thumping bass, calling to "Step Into A World", masters and gods of language and righteousness like KRS-1 overtoning, fueling and promising. Sermon in beats to the gathered dark youths, of black and red. Skeets sitting at the top of the stairs like a head priest.
"You back, Jay-Ro," Skeets smiled. Not many, but few caused him to get up. He was already halfway down the steps, greeting in rough shoulder slaps, punched fists. Clockwork emotion and sentiment. "Travelling ronin should stay down more often, nahmean?"
Jay-Ro nodded a reply, noticing Keith at side, rather than moving in greeting to the familiar youths lounged like sleeping lions on the steps. Skeets gave him a nod of notice, a brief greeting, turning back to the big youth. Those sharp eyes, taking in all.
"You been keeping out of trouble, though right?" A thought hit the gang youths features. "Ayo, John was looking for you a few days back."
"Yeah. John found me a few days back too," Jay-Ro replied, holding up his bandaged fist. Skeets groaned, frowning.
"Ah shit. What happened? Dont tell me homeboy got up on your ass," Skeets replied. His eyes stayed on the bandaged fist even as jay-Ro lowered it.
"Yeah, something like that."
"Im telling you nigga," Skeets pointed out. "I sent him your way, but I didnt know you two had beef. Thats news to me, nigga. He just ran into me after you and homeboy came our way a few days back."
Jay-Ro shrugged a little, nonchalont, taking a few steps back to the roadside. Skeets stayed close, Jay-Ro noticing his stern expression, Keith's hidden well under the rim of his hat.
"Well I spose we got beef."
"I swear nigga, if I had of known, Id have done something about it right then and there," Skeets raised his hands a little, the folds of his leather jacket pulling back on his muscular, dark chest. "He said he just wanted to find out where you were. I told him I saw you with homeboy, and pointed out where you went. Im sorry, nigga."
"Nah, its cool," Jay-Ro replied, playing it cool. Questions he wanted to ask, straight, blunt questions. Ones that he knew would be trouble to ask. Ones he knew were not worth asking if it hadnt already come up.
"So whats this beef?"
"No idea," Jay-Ro lied. He paused, glancing across the street a little. The big youth pulled his act. "Homeboy just been sweating me and Keith lately. Saying wild, crazy shit."
Skeets nodded, his eyes honest, intent. He listened as Jay-Ro continued, "You know I wouldnt listen to that crap if it was just about me." Jay-Ro tapped Keith slightly, motioning. "But he goes spreading crap about my boy, or the rest of the 'breeds, I got to take notice."
"Yeah, sure."
"I dont know what his beef is," Jay-Ro shrugged. "I just got to look out for mine."
"All 'breeds gotta look out for 'breeds. Ill take a talk with him," Skeets replied. The youth straightened himself, his face taking a slightly harder tone. "See what we can work out." Jay-Ro nodded, knowing what it ment, and what it didnt mean. He saw the words sinking into Keith, the lanky youth staying quiet, stoic.
"It shouldnt be a problem, anyway," Skeets clapped Jay-Ro's solid shoulder. "Whatever his problem is. I know the niggas friends. Nigga Stephon hangs with him all the time. We'll sort it out."
Jay-Ro's thick eyebrow arched slightly, catching the expression on Keith's face, seeing Skeets point back over at the tenement. Keith lit up, something more of surprise than anything Jay-Ro had expected from him at the mention of that name.
"What? Stephon?"
"Yeah, nigga Stephon hangs around with John a lot," Skeets replied. Jay-Ro catch eye with the young black, sitting near the top of the stairs, seeing Keith's eyes scanning quickly, taking in. His expression. "They friends or some shit from a while back. Him and that weedy nigga with the hair are friends with him."
Jay-Ro nodded, making out he understood, or cared, only knowing that he didnt want a scene, or show. He glanced back at Keith, seeing his lanky friend contain himself, barely. He was standing still, but seemed to be jumping up and down in the inside like a bottle of pop. Jay-Ro saw those sparkling eyes, urgent, the questions, and the urgency surfacing in seconds.
"I told you to come to me if you had a problem, Jay," Skeets stated. "I meant it, nigga. We 'breeds. I got your back."
Jay-Ro followed Keith's eyes forward, seeing Stephon stand up, seemingly making hasty farewells. He saw the dark glance back, catching dirty stare from the youth. The big blacks mind suddenly flouded with questions, thoughts, images. More surprise than anything else, all but forgetting his place, Skeets as he continued talking.
Stephon dropped down the steps, his eyes dead on Jay-Ro's, the big youth replying in kind, lazy, fixed. His eyes dropped slightly, taking in, returning with questions, seeing, but not believing. This was it? This was the kid Keith had groaped with back at Johns? The kid didnt even look gay, maybe Keith had been wrong, maybe the kid was too blitzed to know what was going on. That some ... gay kid was pulling on his dick. No way the kid was gay. It was a mistake, Jay-Ro convinced himself.
Stephon gave one last glance, heading off back down the street, the opposite direction Keith and Jay-Ro had come from. The big youth thought he looked like any ghetto kid. Dark tones, features and slightly curled locks hinting at a mixed and wrong heritage for a 'breed neighbourhood. Dressed in all black, smooth, like some big baller in a Bad Boy baseball shirt and silky sports pants. Jay-Ro glanced back at Keith, thoughts going through his head of the sexual, wondering if that was really what his boy thought was good looking. A ghetto nigga like that?
"You know 'breeds gotta have each others backs," Skeets said, Jay-Ro finally hearing the words. The big youth replied on the automatic.
"No doubt."
"Ill take care of it, nigga. Ill deal with John. You got my word," Skeets replied. Jay-Ro nodded, doing his best to focus his attention, noticing Keith's complete lack of, his bursting urgency.
"I knew I could count on you," Jay-Ro said, pounding fists. He illicited a sharp smile from Skeets, who shot back his words. Jay-Ro spoke up quickly, seeing the look from Keith, silencing him before he had a chance to voice himself.
"We'll catch up, aiight? I mean really catch up. Do dinner at grandmoms or something?"
Skeets beamed. "Hey, no doubt, nigga. You know your on."
Jay-Ro nodded, seeing Keith's slightly relieved, yet slightly urgent expression, watching as the youth returned Skeets farewell fist punch. The gang youth called after Jay-Ro, patting Keith on the shoulder.
"Nigga. I still mean it about watching your back. Bigger fish than John out there, nigga. Stay safe."
Jay-Ro nodded back, Keith already well at his side, leading with an almost urgent stride. He glanced back at Skeets, giving him another nod of farewells, glancing back to the object of Keith's complete attention, seeking him out. Stephon had since turned the corner, Jay-Ro's mind calculating, calling, working. Riding the same pathways he had since young youth. He all but stumbled after Keith, hampered by his low riding jeans, baggy to the extreme over big boots.
"Hey, Keith. You aint going pull no dumb shit on me are you?"
"What?" the lanky youth shot back. The pair were already at the corner, Keith glancing left, right, catching glimpse.
"I mean, you aint going to pull no shit," Jay-Ro repeated. He grabbed Keith's shoulder not entirely sure why, maybe to stop some sudden action.
"What shit can I pull, Jay?" Keith shot him an annoyed glance, still urgent. "This guys like my Ana! Hes my chance, Jay! What shit you think Im gonna pull?"
Jay-Ro fell silent, letting it ride. The allusion of Stephon being to Keith like Ana was to him struck him somewhere deep inside. He wanted to protest, say there was no way he could feel for that GUY anything like he felt for Ana. Was there? His mind clouded, thoughts and prejudices flouding back into his mind of man loving man, the passion of intimacy. The allusion seemed somehow to slowly transend the idea of just gay sex, Jay-Ro seeing those sparkling eyes again, struck slightly by the mirror. The want of simple intimacy.
"Over there."
Jay-Ro pointed across the street to an alley, already heading across the road, jeans noisy in his quick passage. Keith was quickly in tow, his eyes still urgently watching Stephon disappearing down the street, seeming not to be glancing back, noticing his silent followers. He heard Keith cuss quietly as they travelled up the dark, garbage strewn alley. Jay-Ro sucked in a quick breath, trying to repair with words.
"Its cool. He'll be coming back this street. Aint no where he can go."
Jay-Ro held a hand out, staying Keith at the end of the alley, peeping quick, ducking back. Again, slightly longer, old street style. He paused, leaning back against the wall, his mind quietly working on the seconds. Interfered by the questions of why he was doing what he was doing. Nervious at the exchange, moreso than the situation it felt so much like. Stalking. Gunfighting. Ducking alleys in alleys. He stepped out suddenly into the street, catching Keith off guard.
"Hey. Nigga. One sec."
Jay-Ro heard Keith call out, seeing Stephon further up the street. Not too far out, Jay-Ro thought, wondering if he had been getting sloppy. The latino-esque black paused, the thought crossing visibly over his face of turning, running. Jay-Ro increased his stride, thankful he wasnt about to put into practice another of his ghetto learnt skills of chasing cross urban. He stepped behind the shorter youth, seeing the dark glance, noticing how he missed even acknowledging Keith's presence.
"Whats yo damn problem?" Stephon glared back up at Jay-Ro, giving no signs of sudden flight.
"My boy here wants a word with you, whats what," Jay-Ro commented, nodding to Keith. He glanced up, a little surprised at the hestitation in Keith's light skinned face, the lack of words. It triggered in him common thoughts, feelings. Trying to talk where he couldnt. Trapped within himself.
"Yeah," Keith said, his smokey voice low. "I just wanted to talk ... 'bout what happened."
"WHAT happened?" Stephon shot back. Jay-Ro glanced down, catching the youths street attitude, his denial-of-eveything tone. The shorter youth shrugged. "I dont know what your talking about."
"Damn you know what went down," Keith said. His voice was quieter, Jay-Ro noticing the strain in his tone. "Those nights back. When we were gettin' blunted. I know what your about homes." Keith paused in his words, seemingly finding that most simplest thing the hardest to say. "You gay like me."
"Fuck you, faggot!" Stephon repled. Jay-Ro restrained him with a hand on his shoulder, glare insuing. The youths tone lowered back. "Fuck you."
"You gonna stand up in here saying that after what went down?" Keith whined back quietly, urgently. "I saw that look in your eye, homes. You gonna stand up in here saying that after what we woulda ended up doin'?"
Jay-Ro lowered his head slightly, starting to wish he was somewhere else in the slight silence. He felt the tension, ugly, hurtful. Denying. He saw the sea of emotions crossing Keith's light face, the tight glance back from Stephon. The rush of adrenaline, drawing tight breaths. He felt the rise and fall of Stephons shoulder under his hand. Starting to know that his feelings of wanting to be elsewhere werent only his own.
"So what, man," Stephon finally said, his voice an almost whispered hiss. "So what. I know what shit they do to faggots. I know what they do if they catch niggas messing with that shit. And that shit aint gonna happen to me."
"Shit aint gonna happen," replied Keith. Jay-Ro noticed the strain of a losing battle crossing his features. "I know you 'bout it."
"Shit aint WORTH it, man," the short youth shot back. "I aint even like that anyhow. I can change that shit. I was just horny for shit. Shit aint worth it."
"Fuck you, shits worth it. I know you 'bout it, homes!"
Stephon shifted, tugging his shoulder away from Jay-Ro, pulling away with a force that almost sent him off balance. He glanced back at Keith, a look that connected long and deep, dispite the briefest of seconds. Jay-Ro saw the basest of human emotion, swimming deep in those dark eyes. The big youth recognised it in an instant. Fear.
"You --"
"Fuck it, man. I dont know you," Stephon broke glance, stepped back, already backing down the street. He called out, obviously not to just Keith or Jay-Ro to hear. "I dont know you, so leave me the fuck alone."
Jay-Ro watched Keith, letting his arms fall to his sides, just watching, staying silent. Seeing the emotion, something almost like anger floud his expression, almost desperation. Opening his mouth, motioning, almost as if to call out, say something to Stephon to make him come back. Understand. Something. Anything. To make him stay. Jay-Ro felt strangely little, uncomfortable at Keith's presence as he stared after Stephon. Already halfway back up the street, but already miles too far away to call back.
The big youth didnt know what to say, fighting his own battles of emotion and thought where he could see Keith's. Scared of the mirrored emotions. Scared of the near tears, Keith's eyes, flashing back to the tears and emotion he had seen the night he had found out. Jay-Ro took deep breath, not knowing what was right. Wrong. Whether he should speak, or stay silent. A strange, disability of mind and body, a strange guilt of association and knowledge.
"Fuck it, Jay," Keith said. Jay-Ro shook slightly under the glance, eyes moving elsewhere. "Fuck man, I KNOW hes 'bout it. Why the fuck he saying he aint?"
Jay-Ro fought to open his mouth, knowing no word could make right, but wanting to find even the slightest. His mind and emotion saw himself in Keith, scared. Fearful of loss. Wanting deeply of things so simple. The pain of reality and struggle for what seemed so easy. His heart thumped, ached slightly as he remembered Keith's allusion back to Ana, his feelings there. His stark realisation that he saw the same feelings in Keith. Blinding, scaring frustration. Sadness within. Something worse, the reality of loss.
"Why, Jay?"
Jay-Ro raised his hands to take Keith into his embrace, not knowing why, feeling the sudden acceptance. He muttered, trying to ignore his choaked feeling. Trying to ignore the sudden feelings of Keith's closeness. The conotations. The knowledge of what was, all his demons and emotions. He felt himself.
"Its cool, man."
Keith's reply came finally, slowly. Something muttered quietly against Jay-Ro's chest. "I dont wanna be here, man. I wanna be back home."
"Its cool. We out."
Jay-Ro's mood was low the rest of the day, hanging out silently around the small, sparse flat. Keith had since hit the bedroom, somewhere the big youth didnt even want to try going. Hating what he thought he might find. Hoping to deal with Keith's pain by not seeing it. Hoping foolishly it would go away. Caring like a friend, but scared, unknowing what he could do. Scared of the own feelings he had surfacing in himself. Mirroring in Keith. Sentiments too common.
The big youth roamed the house in early evening, searching out hopeful bottles, finding them as expected, empty. A last drip. Taste of blissful forgottenness, a drip of nector on tongue. A peace beyond this, in a world calmed by the thought stealing liquid he so craved. A craving beyond of the mist of weed. Eyes falling vacant on the empty box he'd found that night he'd found Keith. Truely. He stared at the bottom of the small wooden box. Fingered slowly the grain, with blunt fingers. Stared dully, in emotion he didnt want to hear.
Tired, his mind wandered back to thoughts selfish. Of what he wanted. Night fell gradually, the sounds of the urban jungle coming back though the open window. The light drifting of the curtain on soft breeze. Calling to him of wants and desires of the past. Old fears and doubts. Memories, lost and twisted in the stress and tireness of the last few days. Jay-Ro's mind wandered, his mind craving the silence he wanted. His body and soul craving the companionship he needed.
Heavy eyed, Jay-Ro stared across the darkened room. His left fell back familiar and time travelled routes of his right. Appointed to chief in absence of the use of his right. Tugging at a baggy groin, companion to thoughts of intimacy and closeness. He quietly muttered her name, wishing, praying. Musing silently over loss and lack of. Wondering at whys and hows. His blunt fingers worked, driven like as if to drug, moved within, surrounded, pulled free. Secretly sharing of a body hidden well below the folds of baggy clothes.
Jay-Ro woke slightly more from slumber, trying to insite a new sleep, this time of warmth, pleasure, perchance to dream of sweet intimacy. The same thoughts, tried, tested. Born and riding on the sweet sensations of his sex. The big youth wrestled free his big cock, slipping his big plad shirt off, freeing himself. His large chest rose and fell with the anticipation. Jay-Ro weary, horny, eager for release finally. To clear away and release his stress like so much seed from his maleness.
Intent on his task, he began stroking, his cock rising quickly, partner to his hunger for pleasure. Of all things, this he could trust. Count on. Beyond the weed, the drugs, the drink. A drug of his own, always there. Smoked in smooth concert with his thoughts, wistful clouds of dreams. Inciting the sweet caress of eroticas sweet mistress. His hand wrapped easily around his heavy cock, began moving, releasing, caressing. Soft songs of pleasure insued, seduction complete.
Jay-Ro found his frustration quickly, his left still failing where his right had so well served him. He gazed down in the darkness at his big cock, blunt, mostly hard, broad head weeping slightly, almost as if in tears from shared frustration. He dropped his cock, giving up, gingerly sliding his right, still bandaged, hoping for smoother release. Painfully slow, he closed his hand, slow in pain, grimacing.
"Ah fuck!"
Jay-Ro pulled his right hand away, breath heavy in his frustration. Thick eyebrows arched in his pain, suffering from lack of pleasure, lack of release. He rubbed his left back down over hot flesh, stroking, sufficing the slight release it gave. Pitying himself in the darkness.
"Fuck this ..."
"You aiight, Jay?"
Jay-Ro froze, more no instinct, relaxing slightly, closing his fist around himself. He paused, taking a swallow, almost pondering. The big youth stayed still, slowly fisting himself, more holding than otherwise. Breathing slowly, aware of Keith's presence in the dark. Aware of his own.
"Yeah. Im cool."
Jay-Ro stayed as he was, hearing the silence. Caught trapped in the raptures of self touching, even slow, only the merest of touch, pleasure. Sensation. The sweet words of song drifted his big body, seduced Jay-Ro's mind, suggesting the unthinkable. Pausing on the chance that perhaps others would consider the options themselves, do where inhibition and prejudice would hold him against.
"Aiight ... I just ... I couldnt sleep ..." Keith's smokey voice cut the night air. "Heard you cuss ..."
"Im cool."
There was another long pause. Jay-Ro stared into the darkness. Something about him wished, prayed. Something about him opened his mouth to ask. Words incited by promise of pleasure, smooth symphonys yet to be written in the desires of need. A need deep inside, to filful where Jay-Ro couldnt. The possibility of closeness.
"Aiight, Jay. Im going back to sleep. Catch you in the morning."
"Yeah."
Jay-Ro thought again, mind drifting, thinking of what had passed, what he had entertained. What could have been. What still could. He felt realities cold hands press back over him, his cock limp again in his hand. Triggered he hoped by the leud suggestions his horny state had supplied. Almost, sickly, made him carry out. A horny state that still played distant song, just within the hearing of his sexual ears, promising still full release. A cresendo of semen and human extasy.
Jay-Ro struggled with laces, kicking free is boots. Put his feet up on the couch, lay back, finding himself content to touch silently. Sufficing with just his playing fingers, his perpectual state of itching pleasure. Sending him quietly into sleep, still dream of the simple things he dreamed for. Prayed. In the recluse of dreams, the land he could call truely his, where he prayed that his thoughts would materialize into realities. Where he could finally feel the simple presence of Ana with him. Soft, caring. Silent. Together. Just holding.
Tossing slightly, still subconsciously aware of his wounded hand, and doing his best to avoid sleeping on it, Jay-Ro slept badly. Finding himself shaking from half dream, half reality. Wondering where the borders of each ended, and the other started. Finding himself calling names, praying on dreams, and realities, not knowing of either. Lost in a state of both. His body arrosed, lost in pleasure, and the discomfort of poor sleep. Waking to play with a cock, sometimes half hard, sometimes rigid, thick and veined. Only to fall again into sleep, feeling aware of his state.
The same thoughts drifted in Jay-Ro's mind. Lost. Longing. Wishing. Praying. Of Ana. Cursing his own state and body. Playing on fears, demons, doubts. Needing. Wanting. Unable in all ways to filful even the most simple. Frustration. Horny. Relating. Occupying where reality came in strange doses, only part in part with truths, bias', false hopes and dreams. Possibilities.
Jay-Ro sat upright, his neck aching. Still drosy, his mind still lingering in a beautiful land of his thoughts, pure dreams. Entertaining possibilities unended. His needs and wants speaking in soft, crystal tones of filfulments, complete. Total. Showing ways. Turning dreams on head, speaking realities, and ways of attaining. Convincing his tired and high mind.
Go to Ana. Have your dreams and soft release. The pleasure of touch. Holding within the silence. Unending. Forever.
Jay-Ro let his resolve take control, his mind concentrated on the one outcome of dream. Soft, seductive, warm. The gentle hands of a lover in his minds eye. Beconing, touching. Releasing the pain and filling with undying silence and bliss.
The big youth stepped heavily in the darkness, undoing his belt with his free hand. His belt, and pants, far too loose, hit the ground with a thump. Jay-Ro breathed heavily, aware of what he was doing, still carried on dozy dreams and promises. Pulling back sheets in the darkness, dropping his boxers, sliding in beside Keith's warmth in just his Def Squad teeshirt. Jay-Ro licked his lips, gently putting his hand onto his friends, hearing his drousey awakening.
"You owe me ... so you going to do this for me nigga ... cause I cant fucking use my hand ..."
Jay-Ro felt that all to familiar touch consume him in a wildfire of pleasure and song. Slipping Keith's hand gently between his thick legs, feeling it grasp, move willingly. Thrilling at the willingness to please, awakening into dreams unknown, and realised. Thought not possible, but not caring about the hows or whys. Jay-Ro moved himself against Keith, feeling his friend return in kind, his right a familiar power of his own right. Finally, as if healed. Where he wanted and needed it.
Jay-Ro lay in the darkness, aware bluntly of the blinding pleasure coursing his body. Consuming him totally in celebration of extasy. His big cock, wet, slicked, played by expert hands in song too familiar, yet new, more intense. In a richer chorus of sensations, causing him to gasp in the dark, his mind exploding with pleasures as rich as those sung in his big body. Played in his rigid, sweaty cock.
The big youth put his hand down over Keith's finding his voice muttering in the dark, words lost, uncaring. His hand carrying the intention and meaning as adequitly, slowing Keith's eager hands. Drawing the pleasure. Encouraging a further exploration, against thick shaft and balls. Through his dense hair. Touching completely in his want to last, his need for more feeling. Jay-Ro groaned quietly, praising, thanking, moaning in his state, finding his hand wandering as student to his teachings began playing similar song.
Keith shifted slightly, letting Jay-Ro free him of his boxers. Finding the big youths resistance equally free, giving as he tugged at his baggy tshirt. Freed him gently of his clothes, leaving them bare under the sheets, basking in shared heat and pleasure. Jay-Ro pulled Keiths athletic form harder against his, finding his needs filfulling in a strange, unspoken way. Feeling a gentle satisfaction in the closeness of his friend. The shared warmth of their skin. He wrapped his big arms about Keith, moaning still as he stroked his cock gently between his legs.
Purpose and sensation gave free to way and how. Jay-Ro revelled only in the closeness as he closed his eyes, moaned like infant cradled at the soft lullaby in his member. Cooing quietly, victim to sweet slumber as he gently explored body and form. Lost in his admirations and wants, dreams and fantasies. Riding Keith's firm curves with his hand, feeling the strength and poise of muscle, so sought. Cupping hard pecs, feeling nipple under palm. The heat and fire of his muscles, his naked body, dreamed of others in his lazy sleep. Feeling still the gentle warmth in his own, fueled, tended to.
Jay-Ro sturred in his half sleeping state as he felt himself tighten, the pleasure subside, only to ride again. The soft strokes of another, gentle pleasure at his chest, back, arms. Down his thighs, like a million tiny hands, caressing, exploring. Again across his shoulders and head, his soft ass, toying with the soft and vunerable divide, tickling, toying in circles. His chest felt wet, his nipples blazing, joining the acute cresendo of symphony echoing in his cock.
"You fine Jay ..." muttered voices carrying sweet truths, somehow heard. "You so fine ... your body is so beautiful ... I wish I could do this forever ... made you feel what your body does for me ..."
Jay-Ro held tight the sentiment and pleasure, dream lost in slumber and warmth. Lost in the rising cries of peak, closeness, the final, blinding release. The big youth felt the warm seas of passion fall around him, like tropical warmth. Bathing in warmths so deep, so wet, so relaxing, in eternal bliss of existance. Jay-Ro moaned in final extasy, feeling a mirror to his own solid thickness, rubbing, stroking, mating his own. Suddenly urgent. Slipping so fluidly.
Strong arms of pleasure took him again, a softness at his neck, in a heat almost oppressive. Jay-Ro's tired moans met with called replies, his parted lips stroked, spoken to in quiet tones. His stomach rode with the heat of a poker, arrousing afresh his own excitement, rekindling in the urgency of need. Softness lingered again at his lips.
"I love you, Jay ..."
Jay-Ro echoed the sentiments on lost winds of desire, feeling his voice taken softly by new song. His lips pressing, surrendering, taken yet still his, given knew meaning, a life never felt. His passions erupted as his body sought final possession of that he needed, longed and loved. Jay-Ro's big arms surrounded the lover in his embrace, his lips laying claim to soft whispers of undying love.
Jay-Ro pulled closer what he desired so deeply, his mouth working in soft concert with his body. Tasting pleasures unfelt, feeling the ultimate of passion spoken in soft lips on his. The slow, rhymic stroke of his lovers body against his, as he aided, pulled hard, rubbed in return. Trapped within his big arms, lost within his mouth and lips. Jay-Ro felt the silent whimper, the tremble of release, as a new warmth took his body. He felt the urgency subside, like rain after storm. Lighter. Softer.
Moving slightly, aware yet uncaring, Jay-Ro tasted those sweet tastes again on his tongue. His arrousal again completely awoken. His weight lost, anothers given. Giving up to loves promises the object of his desire, as his head drifted back. Soft against the pillows, relaxed beyond dream. Eyes unseeing of action as his shaft became anothers to control. Placed, positioned, angled, so aware of such unending heat, hard resistance. Unaware of intent or purpose as long pause took silence. The big youth felt a slight give, as dreams reclaimed familiar form and intent. The softness again of lips on his. Body against his.
"Ah Jayson ..."
"... love you ..."
"I love you too much, Jay ... too much I wish I could do with you ..."
Jay-Ro moaned, feeling soft arms take him again into the warmth of dream. Kisses taking a soft rain after sun. Finally, a closeness, his alone. With the one that he loved. A sentiment and sensation that would last the eternity he had prayed, and simple wish that he had searched. Anothers with him, soft. Warm. Of pleasure in soul forever.
The big youth fell quietly into sleep.
Jay-Ro felt groggy when he finally woke, some early hour of the afternoon. He could feel the heat the small flat carried, the slight breeze that betrayed the otherwise silent darkness of the bedroom. The strong male smell, all too familiar, yet more powerful, obvious to the nose. Keith's body still close to his, his head rested against his big chest, arm comfortably over his torso. Jay-Ro paused a moment, feeling memories and images coming back to him, supplied by context. The big youth rested his head back, staring silently at the roof. Putting a light hand on Keith's shoulder.
Jay-Ro let his mind stay silent. Not wanting the complication or difficulties of thought. Content with what was, without question. Just for the while. He closed his eyes again, imagining at the closeness against his, the soft yet firm body. The gentle, soothing warmth, the filfulment of self that came with the simplicity.
"Jay?"
"Huh?" Jay-Ro glanced down, seeing Keith awake, rising slightly from his chest. "Yeah? Wuddup?"
Keith moaned slightly, stretching somewhat under Jay-Ro's arm. Looking over what wakings light bought to his eyes. Pulling up sheets slightly. Jay-Ro saw those eyes glance back up at his, his own giving no pretense to answer. The big youth content to just lie. He didnt know what to say, deciding to say nothing in absence of idea. Happy with what was. He looked down at Keith for a moment, the lanky youth rubbing at his still sleep eyes. A smile spread over his friends face.
"I think you need another shower, Jay," Keith said, finally. That smile played over his light features. "You smell sorta funky."
Jay-Ro shoved Keith as he propped himself up, tumbled backwards over the bed. Smiling slightly at the light, smokey words.
"Yeah well your ass smells pretty funky too, mahfucka ..." Jay-Ro warded off the pillow suddenly swung down on his body. Feeling it impact. Chuckling. "You been jacking off or some shit?"
Jay-Ro smiled, seeing Keith kneeling on what was usually his side of the bed, pillow still in hand. His lazy eyes moved slowly across his still naked body. Those smooth, gentle curves that he longed in himself. Athletic in youth, pleasent to the eye. Those dark nipples, echoing in small the dark patch of his pubes against light brown skin. His darker cock. Jay-Ro let his breath escape slow, looking away, sensing the same attentions from Keith.
Keith dropped the pillow back down where it belonged, swinging his feet up off bed, setting them down. Jay-Ro took his chance to look his friend over again, quietly thankful, yet unknowing of the words, the way to say what was in his mind and heart. A the chance for closeness. Beyond rhyme or reason. Beyond sexuality. Simple closeness. He let his eyes fall, watching that closeness, so sweet seduction, return to what it had always been.
"I got the shower first, Jay," Keith was standing, tracking down his boxers. Jay-Ro nodded back.
"No prob, nigga. Im gonna stay here a bit."
Keith gave him a parting nod. The big youth let his eyes connect deep, opening his mouth slightly to say his heart. His thanks. Words that played quiet over smooth sentiment, but never came. He watched Keith's long form, knowing that it would probably be the last time he would know his friend like he did. Like he had the night before. Jay-Ro felt thankful still. Unregretting. Knowing strangely that what had passed would probably never come up again, never mentioned, but forever felt between them.
It was late afternoon by the time Jay-Ro finally got up. Showered. Put himself back into his oversized clothes, returning to normal what once was. He managed to down what little crusts of pizza still lay around in boxes, until Keith pointed out with his usual smile how long ago it was since they had had pizza.
Both of them thought it was a good idea to stay low, maybe head out of the ghetto a while until things blew over. They made quiet plans to maybe visit Keith's aunt upstate a while, figuring to leave later under the cover of night. Figuring that the time away would do them both good.
Jay-Ro headed up to the tenement roof to pass the time, a place he usually went in solitary to clear his head. The air seemed fresher up there, life strangely less complicated with the view of the whole. Things most people missed down below. He sat back on the stack of packing boxes that had been left to one side. Staring back over the city. Ghetto. Industry. Harbour. Beyond at the inner city.
"Hey, Jay," Keith said. The lanky youth was leaning against the rail alongside the edge of the building. Jay-Ro glanced up. "Im gonna get you that weed back when we get back. When things blow over."
"Yeah," Jay-Ro replied. He took a breath, steeling his mind somewhat. "Im gonna talk to Ana when things blow over too."
"Nah, man. I really MEAN Im gonna get back that weed for you," Keith smiled back, leaning back against the rail, facing his friend.
"So what? I mean it too," the big youth returned. "Im going to talk to her."
"Shit. Word?"
"Yeah. Word," Jay-Ro glanced back over the ghettos again. His thoughts and dreams of taking her somewhere else came back on a breeze. "Somehow."
"You know I woulda told her for you, Jay," Keith's eyes were still on Jay-Ro huckered down, forearms on knees on the boxes. "If you'd let me."
"Nah, Im going do it. Just promise me that if I do, you wont let me back out, aiight?" the big youth glanced back up at Keith. The lanky black nodded.
"Yeah, sure, Jay. I got your back."
"Thanks."
"I AM gonna get you that weed back." Keith's smile cut through to him thought the slightly serious air.
"Yeah I KNOW you will," Jay-Ro smiled slightly, staring back at the ground as the conversation lost between them again.
The big youth chose his words carefully, knowing what he wanted to say. What needed to be said sooner or later. He licked his thick lips a little, rubbing his mouth and rough goatee. He envied the ease in which Keith had managed to part his information to him, lost in weed and drink. Thinking somehow that it would make it easier, cussing himself out silently, recounting how it would never change anything of its ease.
He glanced back up at his homeboy, staring back over the city again. Jay-Ro shook his head, praising slightly, thanking silently in his lack of words for having Keith around. Even through what they had been through, what they were likely to go through still in life. At least together, with each others backs. He wondered if Keith knew that, knew how much he needed him around. Dispite what had passed. Jay-Ro tried to settle his mind, concentrate on one thing at a time in his need for words.
"Hey, Keith," Jay-Ro kept his eyes low, glancing up every now and then at his friend, still looking back over the city.
"Yeah?" Keith replied, not turning. Jay-Ro wondered if that would make it easier, stumbling with thought and word, quieting his mind to otherwise outside thoughts.
"About what you said about if I thought you sucking my dick made me gay ..."
Keith turned around then, but the big youth wasnt so sure of the look in those sparkling eyes. He paused, stared back at the ground, forcing himself to look back up. Banishing what he could of demons he knew so intimately, feeling his eyes faulter, finding words slipping on nerve and fear.
"I mean ... about everything ... about how I kept beating you up about being how you are ..." Jay-Ro saw words come over Keith's face, the big youth hushing him with a look. "I mean ... I know you cant help how you are ... you should be cool with it, Keith ... cause I mean, I am ..."
Jay-Ro rubbed the back of his neck, cussing. When were words ever easy to say? He shook his head, thankful at the silence to regroup, reword lost words and thoughts. He did what he knew he had to do more often, ignoring all pretense, opening his mouth.
"My brother was gay."
"Oh."
Jay-Ro felt his senses throbbing, pushing on regardless, doing his best to convey in words what dark expression betrayed. A sea of confusing thought, a struggle of titans in emotion as he opened his mouth, finding what he needed to say.
"I mean, we never got on, thats why you aint heard about him. He used to do ..." Jay-Ro paused, trying to find the strength. He fell quickly apon easier words. "I didnt mean to take that shit out on you, Keith."
Jay-Ro couldnt look at the eyes, but felt the emotion back, finding Keith already at his side. Taking him into his arms. He put his arms around Keith's body, just holding him in the silence that had suddenly dropped between them. He stared across the top of the tenement, still lost for more words, not knowing if he had truely said what he wanted to. Still feeling as if he had said something.
"Its cool, Jay. We boys. I got your back."
Jay-Ro muttered back quietly, knowing strangely what new context old words carried. Speaking the same words back, hoping they carried back the same meaning he felt from Keith's. Words he wanted to speak. Words he couldnt speak as a man to man, without confusion of point or intent. Hoping one day they were words he could find the strength to say again.