Here's the next chapter of Southern Knights. I didn't really wait like I usually do for email comments, so I hope everyone likes it so far. As usual, if you're not 18, and don't want to read sex stuff, go elsewhere.
Again, I've had trouble accessing Planetaccess. Please use only the email address below, or I can't get your messages.
Thanks, Dan
Rimshotsplanet@hotmail.com
Southern Knights 2:
Tate startled awake at the sound of the kitchen door opening. He yawned hugely, and carefully slid his arm out from under Bryce, who was sleeping heavily. When they had arrived at the house, Tate had put Bryce on the bed and turned on the television. That was the last thing he remembered.
As he got off the bed, Tate stopped and pulled the blankets up over Bryce's shoulders. He stood for a moment and just looked, feeling so strange inside, and so relieved that Bryce was here with him, safe. He scratched his head and turned to go out the door.
Downstairs, he found his father putting coats away and stepped up behind him, encircling the elder Corbridge from the back in a hug. Pat turned around and smiled at his son. "Hey, boy, did you get that carburetor pulled apart?"
"Yes, sir. It's in the boxes on the work bench." Tate smiled and sat down at the table. "How was the trip, Dad?"
"Well, that Sinclair house in Austin is gonna cost a bunch more than the owner thought, but the Wadsworth Mansion is gonna make up for it. How's school?" Pat opened the fridge and pulled out a coke for Tate and tossed it, then a beer for himself.
"It's good. Did you get the manuals for me?"
Pat smiled and picked up a bag that sat on the floor. "Wiring diagrams, number matching series, and do it yourself painting." He handed the books to Tate.
"You're the best, Dad!" Tate grinned and stood up, carrying the books in his arm. "Is Mom in your room?"
"Yeah." Pat waved and smiled. "Goodnight, Son."
"'night, Pop." Tate waved back and went up the stairs. His mother was hanging clothes in the closet when Tate came in. "Oh, hi, honey. Did you tell your Daddy hello?"
"Yes ma'am, I did." Tate sat on the end of the bed. "Momma, I need to tell you somethin'. It's really serious." Tate thought about the events earlier in the evening, and about the emotions it had caused, and a lump caught in his throat.
"What, Tate?" Lorna sat down next to him, surprised by the look on his face.
Tate told her the story in detail, ending with Bryce sleeping on his bed. He looked into her eyes and sighed, feeling like crying again but holding it in. She put her arms around him and pulled him to her.
"Thank god you got there in time. Did you call the police?" She asked.
"Bryce asked me not to. He didn't want anyone to know. You know, it's humiliating to him." Tate leaned back from his mother. "His mom ain't home, so I brought him here. He called and said he was staying over. I hope that's okay."
"Of course it is, Son. You go get in bed now, honey. I'll talk to Bryce in the morning. I still think we should call the police." She kissed Tate on the forehead. "Those two little perverts should be shot."
"Goodnight, Momma. Thanks." Tate smiled and left the room, heading to the other end of the house where his room was. When he entered, he noticed that Bryce was still tangled up in his letterman's jacket, and he carefully pulled it away and adjusted the sheet and blankets.
After brushing his teeth, he turned out the lights and pulled his clothes off to get in bed. As he pulled the covers over himself, he realized that he probably should've left his boxers on. He usually slept in the nude, but he didn't want to upset Bryce. Oh well, fuck it, he thought, tucking the blanket down between them. As he neared the drop off point, feeling sleep coming over him, Bryce rolled over, and his arms wrapped around Tate's neck again.
Tate blinked in the darkness, not sure what to do. In the shadows, he could see the peaceful look on Bryce's face, and he relaxed, warmed. He draped his arm over Bryce and pulled him close, settling in for the night.
Tate had a lot of dreams, most of them about Bryce. Dreams like he'd never had before. They were erotic at times, and made his chest feel tight. He dreamed about Mann and Renthrow, only this time it was him terrified and naked, the tape biting into his skin.
He woke with a gasp. His chest and stomach were against Bryce's back, and his arm circled Bryce's stomach. Tate sighed and dropped his head on the pillow, confused. He knew that he should move away, that he should be repulsed, but he wasn't. It felt good to hold Bryce, to feel the other's warmth.
It was so wrong, though, and he knew it. His dad would be furious if he saw them like this, and his mother would be upset. So why didn't he move away? It wasn't like there was anything sexual involved, was there? How did Bryce feel?
Almost on cue, Bryce sort of snorted a quiet snore and rolled over, working his face up under Tate's jaw. His small thin arm snaked up under Tate's, coming to rest with his finger's on Tate's right hip. It had a surprise effect on Tate. His face suddenly burned in embarrassment, and struggled to think of disgusting things, praying that he wouldn't get a physical reaction.
"Why are you breathing funny?" Bryce whispered, causing Tate to jump.
"I'm sorry if I woke you up. I didn't mean to." Tate whispered back, trying to back up a little bit. Bryce breathed deeply and snuggled closer. "Uh, Bryce? If I don't move a little, I'm gonna get real embarrassed.
Bryce chuckled. "I think you're to late." He could feel the tit of Tate's penis moving on his leg.
"I'm sorry." Tate tried to pull away, humiliated, but Bryce pulled him back.
"I'm not." Bryce looked up at Tate's face, visible in the light from outside. "I think I kinda like it."
"You do?" Tate was shocked. Bryce nodded. "But, that's gay, Bryce. It ain't right."
"You're the only person that ever cared about me, Tate. I meant it when I said I loved you. I ain't afraid of this." Bryce leaned back. "I don't want to upset you. I'm sorry."
"Wait!" Tate said out loud. "Bryce, do you know what we're saying? I can't describe how I feel about you. I never felt it before. It makes my chest hurt, and my stomach tight. When I look at you, I forget what I'm doin' sometimes."
"Me too." Bryce whispered, hesitantly reaching up to touch Tate's cheek.
"That feels good." Tate sighed, closing his eyes. Bryce caressed his cheek lightly, and then slid down onto his chest. It was electric.
"We can stop when we want too, right?" Bryce studied Tate's lips, moving his hand up and touching them. "It ain't like we have to do anything we don't want."
"Right." Tate whispered. He looked down at Bryce, slowly moving until their noses nearly touched. "We can stop any old time." He made the final move, and their lips touched. Bryce responded immediately, like a hungry animal, and soon their tongues met and roamed.
Tate slid his hand down and gently touched Bryce's balls and dick, allowing his fingertips to explore. He felt Bryce touching him, and the doubts of a few minutes ago washed away. He rolled onto his back and pulled Bryce on top of him, resuming the kissing lesson.
Bryce was in heaven. The one person he worshiped in the whole world loved him, and he loved Tate back. It was like an act of homage, moving his hands over those hard muscles, and to feel that incredible pair of lips on his. He was so happy he had to try real hard not to cry, although it was close at any given time.
Tate's hands felt so good. They came down across Bryce's back and rested on his ass while their genitals rubbed together. Bryce broke their kiss and nibbled at Tate's ear lobe, careful not to pull on the earrings, chuckling when Tate hissed and arched his back.
"Holy shit, Bryce, that's fuckin' awesome!" Tate breathed, feeling chills race over his skin and hairs stand up all over his legs and arms. He finally couldn't take it, and he rolled onto his side, dropping Bryce back onto the bed. "Goddamn, little buddy, I never felt that before."
"It was fun." Bryce's eyes twinkled, and he closed them as Tate bent down over him. But he didn't get the kiss he thought was coming. Tate's lips and tongue locked onto his left nipple, and it was Bryce's turn to squirm. "Oh, wow, Tate. Oh shit." He mumbled.
Tate worked on one, then the other, and then slowly trailed down Bryce's firm stomach, taking time to lick and kiss every few inches. He felt the head of Bryce's cock poke him under the jaw, causing Bryce to jump. Tate looked down at it, making up his mind, and closed his mouth over it.
Bryce yelped and clapped his hands over his mouth. He tried to raise his legs, but Tate gently pushed them back down as he started to slowly move his head up and down. Bryce began to pant as warm shock like sensations suddenly moved up across his stomach. "Oh, Tate!" He gasped, arching his back. He tried to warn Tate about what was going to happen, but all that came out was a sort of gurgle.
Tate felt Bryce's balls contract, and the muscles begin to spasm. Just as he was going to pull off, Bryce let loose in his mouth, nearly choking him, and hitting him in the face and on his chest.
"I'm so sorry." Bryce whispered breathlessly. "I tried.." He gasped for breath again, and Tate chuckled, using the sheet to wipe his face. The thick fluid had a tangy flavor, and smelled like Bryce, only a lot stronger.
"It's okay, baby." Tate said, sliding up and kissing Bryce on the mouth. "You did just fine."
"That was unbelievable." Bryce whispered. After a second, he pushed Tate over with a gleam in his eye. "My turn!" He chirped.
Tate felt Bryce on him, and he stretched back with a moan. "Damn, Bryce. I really like that." The other started going up and down, with occasional tongue flicks, and in a few minutes Tate was clawing at the sheets and thrashing his head.
"Now, baby." Was all he had time to gasp when the orgasm hit. He bucked up with his hips with every spasm, and Bryce clamped down, determined to hang on. Tate had too much cum, though, and it leaked out as Bryce tried to swallow.
When he was done. Tate dropped onto the pillow, pulling Bryce up to cradle in his arm. Bryce licked his lips, reminding Tate of a cat, and he laughed.
"I'd walk through hell for you, Bryce. I just want you to know that, okay?"
"Me too." Bryce smiled and kissed Tate. He glanced over at Tate's alarm clock. "You realize it's only three in the morning?"
Tate glanced at it, and then settled back in, running his hand up and down Bryce's back. "Sure do. Know what that means?"
Huh uh, what?"
Tate lowered his head to meet Bryce's eyes. "We got time for me to snag us a bag of Doritos, drink a coke, do it again, and be asleep by four thirty."
Bryce snorted, then doubled over laughing. Tate snickered, then kissed Bryce on the forehead and bounded out of bed. "Stay put. I'll go get the snacks." Tate pulled on his boxers and headed for the door.
"Tate." Bryce whispered loudly, sitting on his knees in the middle of the bed. Tate stopped and looked back. "Hurry, 'kay?"
"I will, baby." Tate whispered and opened the door. He padded quickly down into the kitchen, his thoughts replaying visions of Bryce in his mind. As he reached for the cabinet door, he stopped. A thought that he had stuffed down in his mind bubbled up, and for a second he felt sick inside.
He and Bryce had just had sex. He could smell it on himself, feel it on his skin, and taste it. A wave of revulsion went through him, and he leaned against the cabinets. Was he gay now? Was he a fag? Sissies didn't last long at the school, and the god damn sure didn't play quarterback.
Tate sighed and pulled the cabinet open, snagging the bag of chips. It was pretty obvious that he'd just destroyed his life, now that he had time to think about it. He grabbed two cans of soda and headed back up the stairs.
Bryce looked up as Tate walked in and knew immediately that something had changed. Of course he had known it would happen. He was just glad that it lasted this long this time. He felt his heart slowly sink as Tate handed him a coke, stepped up onto the bed, and walked to the center before sinking down, sitting cross legged.
"Tate, what's the matter?" Bryce asked quietly, already afraid he knew the answer.
Tate set the chips down and looked down. After a long pause, he asked, "Are we gay now, Bryce?"
"I don't know. Why?"
"I, uh, was down getting this shit, and it hit me, you know? We had sex." Tate couldn't look at Bryce, and it made him feel disloyal. Cheep.
Bryce pulled the blankets up around himself, suddenly acutely aware that he was still naked. "I want to tell you something, even if it means we ain't friends no more. I think I am gay, Tate." Bryce glanced up at Tate's eyes.
"I was always kinda ..., well, I don't know. I just liked to look at guys more than girls."
"Girls always pissed me off." Tate whispered. "I'd date 'em, then get mad when they'd want to fuck, you know? But I never looked at guys."
"What did you think about when you, you know...?" Bryce trailed off, embarrassed.
Tate chuckled and looked up briefly. "You mean when I jacked off?" He was embarrassed to talk about masturbating out loud with another guy, but also amused by the look on Bryce's face. It tugged at his heart. Bryce's face held his eyes. He was so beautiful. "I don't remember. I know that sounds cheep, but I don't. What about you."
Bryce's eyes took on a defiance. "Guys like you." He stated.
Tate nodded and looked down at his knees. "I always thought about other guys making it with their girl friends, you know? Like in detail."
"Tate, I can't lie to you. You're the best thing that ever happened to me." Bryce began to rock gently. "See, uh, I never had a friend before. I never even had a family, not like yours. It's always been me and Momma, and she always had to work."
"She used to bring these guys home, you know, and she'd tell me to call them 'Daddy'. I believed her for the first couple of times, but I never even met my dad." Bryce shivered. "Anyway, I was always a runt, and I was usually the one that got pounded and picked on. I used to pretend that it didn't bother me, but it did."
Bryce looked up at Tate, and a single tear rolled down his cheek. "I had this fantasy that a big strong guy would come and save me. I always thought that I'd love him, you know? And that he'd love me. Dumb, huh?"
Tate made his decision. An incredible warmth filled his chest, and he reached out and touched the track the tear had made. "I don't think it was dumb." Bryce looked up, and Tate pulled him into an embrace. "I'm sorry I was such a shit, little buddy."
"I was afraid that you were gonna hate me." Bryce said quietly, lightly stroking Tate's chest. Fine little hairs trailed under his fingers, and he reveled at the smoothness of Tate's skin.
Tate slid back from Bryce and rolled onto his back. In on quick motion, he brought his legs up, slid his boxers off, and tossed them on the floor. When he rolled back up, he snuggled up to Bryce's back and pulled the blanket down and kissed him between the shoulder blades.
Bryce giggled and pulled away. "Stop it, ya big jerk." He said, not meaning it. He breathed out through his nose and smiled up at Tate. "Do you mind if we just get some sleep? I'm kinda tired."
Tate nodded and pulled the covers back up. "Whatever you want." He reached over and turned out the side lamp and turned back to settle in. Halfway there, he met Bryce's lips, and the kissed. "I'm really getting used to that." He said when they parted.
"Me too." Bryce touched Tate's check in a soft caress. "Goodnight, Lancelot."
"Lancelot?"
"Yeah, my knight in shining armor."
Bryce woke up at a little after 7 am, and wandered into the bathroom to shower. He found the sweats he'd inherited from Tate in the closet and pilled them on, uncomfortable without underwear, but content that he'd get used to it for now. He headed down stairs to see if there was a glass of juice or something.
Lorna had made it clear to him that when he was in this house, he was to help himself to anything he wanted, food or otherwise, and that family did not ask if they could get something to drink. She had a way of making him feel good, like he belonged.
It made his morning to find her in the kitchen when he got there. "Well good morning, sunshine. How are you today?" Lorna set down her coffee cup and paper and stood up from the table.
"Great, thanks." Bryce smiled warmly and moved to the coffee pot for a cup. "How 'bout you?"
"Fine, thanks. Would you like some breakfast, Bryce? I'm making bacon, eggs, and grits for Pat."
"I don't want to be a bother." Bryce said honestly, sitting at the table.
"Honey, you're a teenager. You can't help it." Lorna smiled, letting him in on the joke as she pulled out the pans to start the meal.
"Lorna," Bryce asked as he watched her work, "Can I ask you something dumb?"
"If you like, but I would rather field an intelligent question." She smiled up at him again.
"Can I help you clean something today? At home I do the cleaning, and I like it. I heard you tell Tate you were doing windows or something. Can I help?" Bryce looked at her eagerly.
"My god, I found the one teenager that likes to clean. I can't believe it.
I'll have to phone the news." They laughed together, and Lorna leaned her hip on the counter. "Bryce, you can clean anything in this house you like, including Tate's disaster area, anytime you want to."
"Thanks." He said relieved.
Tate woke up at nine, his eyes puffy from sleeping hard, and the most disgusting taste in his mouth. He rolled slowly out of bed, blinking into the sun, and stumbled over his boxers. Something in the room stank bad, and he wrinkled his nose and sniffed.
It was him. He looked down at the whitish material dried to his stomach and pubic hair, and a faint smile came to his lips with the memories of last night. It was the remains of he and Bryce he smelled, which seemed to make the fragrance that much nicer to take. He ambled the rest of the way into the bathroom, careening off the door jam as he went.
It was Sunday, which meant football, and Tate dressed in Tennessee Titans sweats and a ball cap, with sneakers. He took the stairs in one jump, landing with a boom near the doorway to the kitchen, and laughed as his mother and Bryce jumped.
"Oh, you little monster!" Lorna put her latex gloved hands on her hips and pointed a scrub brush at him. "Patrick Tate Corbridge, I warned you last time about those leaps, and I will back my car into yours at full speed if you don't knock it off!"
"Yeah!" Bryce laughed, setting his wipe cloth aside. They had been cleaning the pots and pans cupboard. He was in heaven.
"What's for breakfast?" Tate asked, searching the counters.
"Breakfast was two hours ago." Lorna responded, going back to work. "Wasn't it, Bryce?"
"Yes ma'am."
Tate stopped and looked at both of them, this time putting his hands on his hips. "You fed that little creep, but you aren't gonna feed me?"
"Your father needs some things in town. Maybe he'll give you money for McDonald's." This seemed to close the discussion, and she winked at Bryce, then pointed at the cabinet he was to crawl into. "If you work hard, you get fed regularly."
"I don't believe this." Tate shook his head. Bryce looked up at him and made a kissing motion, then smiled broadly. Tate shook his head and went out into the garage.
"That was fun." Lorna started to chuckle.
"I couldn't believe his face." Bryce joined in. She stroked the top of his head, and Bryce felt a warm shiver run through his stomach. This was what it should be like.
"Mornin' Tate." Pat Corbridge lifted up from under the hood of Tate's car with the carburetor in his hands. "Thought we might get this damned thing tuned today, for the games start." He glanced at his son and cocked his head to the side. "Somethin' the matter?"
"Mom wouldn't make me breakfast." Tate tried not to pout and failed.
"I don't wonder. We ate at 7:30."
"I wasn't up yet." Tate groused, leaning against the workbench.
"I hadn't noticed." Pat said dryly. "If you're that starved, I guess you can go in and get the kit I need for your car, and stop at one of those burger joints."
"Yeah, that's fine." Tate pulled up the sleeves on his sweatshirt, and then thought about Bryce. He'd seen his newfound lover wearing his old ones in the kitchen, and suddenly remembered that Bryce's new clothes were ruined. "Dad, I have a favor to ask."
"Hmmm?"
He thought about phrasing his question carefully, so that his dad would buy into it. "Uh, you know how we have plenty of money?"
Pat's eyebrows went up and he smiled. "We do?"
"What I mean is, we have more than some others do." Tate tried to make up ground.
"That's true. What do you want, Tate?"
Tate sighed and met his father's eyes. "Dad, Bryce's mom hasn't got two dimes to rub together. I was wondering if I could use some of my savings to get him some decent clothes, instead of those rags he wears."
Pat was silent for a moment. "Tate, your heart's in the right place, but be careful you don't mess with Bryce's pride. You boys have a lot of respect between you, and that could change if he thinks he's getting' a hand out."
"I don't want it to be a hand out, sir. I just don't want the guys at school to make fun of him anymore." Tate rubbed his eyes. "I couldn't take the ridicule he has."
Pat nodded and put his hand on Tate's shoulder. "You a good man, son. I'm proud of you."
Tate blushed, unaccustomed to that type of compliment from his dad. "Thanks, Pop."
"Go get what you think is right. Tell him it's a pay advance from him cleaning my offices with Angelique. Use your Visa, the emergency one." Pat said, and then turned back to the car, dismissing the topic. He was shocked when his son's arms wrapped around him and nearly crushed his chest.