You guys make me laugh. My thanks to Tre, George, and Doug for the encouraging messages, and to Bill, who gave me a good chuckle, and Kent, who helps carry the torch. Because of these friends, I am no longer soliciting feedback as to the direction of this story, and may never do it again. However, please feel free to send me your thoughts. I absolutely thrive on the tons of email I get. I'm sorry I can't answer them all, but I get as many as I can.
For the usual stuff, if you are under eighteen, not only are your parents pissed off that you're reading this, now you have the government mad, too. Way to go! If you're not into the gay thing, you are still so far lost; you need a guide for your computer, okay?
Thanks again, everybody,
Dan
rimshotsplanet@hotmail.com
Southern Knights 4:
Despite pulling the covers over his head and ignoring the world as long as possible, despite dragging his ass in the shower and while getting dressed, and despite refusing to eat and stalling over a small cup of juice until almost 11 am, Bryce now stood in the foyer of the Riverbend Memorial Hospital.
With his hands jammed in his pants pockets, and his eyes locked on the ground, he followed Lorna into the reception area, trying to figure a way to leave while his adoptive mother located his so called mother.
He was angry, and he was unapologetic about it. Every time the subject of her or her illness came up, Bryce's pulse sky rocketed, and his eyes went blood shot. He wanted absolutely nothing to do with it, or her.
Then there was Lorna, who was filling a void so deep in Bryce's life, even if he had no idea she was doing it. It would be over a year before he realized how much she meant to him, but for right this minute, he could cheerfully see her torched like the Salem Witches, and laugh while eating popcorn and watching the event.
"Honey, your mom is in the Solarium, right down that hall through the glass doors." Lorna pointed, turning from the volunteer's desk. "I'll wait for you in the cafeteria and have some coffee, okay?"
As much as he could, Bryce tried to ignore her and show his displeasure, but at the last second he turned quickly and hugged her fiercely. She patted his head and kissed his cheek, and then stood and watched him head down the hall alone. Her eyes were red, but she refused to cry. Bryce needed her to be strong.
Bryce stopped at the doors with his hand on the bar and sighed, at war with conflicting emotions. He sighed deeply, ran his hand through his short brown hair, and pushed through the door. Several patients on foot and in wheelchairs were scattered through the glass enclosed garden, and he scanned them quickly looking for his mother.
He almost passed right by her, not recognizing her. Bryce stopped and stared in shock at the frail gaunt woman that sat in a wheelchair with I.V.s running into her arms. The truth was that even when he was home with her, he didn't see her much, and then she was usually curled up on the couch. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her face directly, but she didn't look like this.
His heart hammered as he slowly approached her. He knew that tears had begun rolling down his cheeks, but they were a distant thought. His heart broke as the wasted sallow skeleton he called Momma looked up and smiled.
"Oh, baby," She said, reaching up to him, "Don't cry."
Bryce sank to his knees and put his head in her lap and sobbed. Bernadette stoked his head and soothed him. "Bryce, baby, please don't cry."
"I can't help it." He choked on his own words. "Oh, Jesus, Momma."
She patiently waited until he got it out of his system. At last, he sniffed and sat back, crossing his legs and sitting on the sidewalk. "I didn't want to believe it." He said quietly, swiping at his eyes. "I didn't want to come here."
"I know." She answered. To Bryce it looked like it took all her effort to hold her head up, or lift her hand. "It's good to see you. I like your haircut. You look real handsome." Her smile made her look skeletal.
"Thanks." He blushed and looked at his knees. "Tate thought I needed a change."
"He was right. You look real mature."
They were silent for a long moment, and Bryce decided to be direct, something he was very new at. "Momma, how did this happen? Where did you...?"
"Where'd I get AIDS?" She looked away, seeming to drift into her own thoughts. "There's a lot of things I never told you, Bryce." She refocused and looked down at her lap. "I did it to protect you, baby, and I think that was a big mistake."
"Like what?" He prodded gently.
"Like who your daddy was, and why you never met him." She met his eyes and smiled fondly. "He was so beautiful, Bryce. Absolute perfection. You're an exact duplicate of him, every detail."
She shifted in her seat slowly and with effort. Bryce was about to hop up and help when she held out her hand, stopping him. "I'm fine, baby. Just listen, okay?" He nodded, and she continued. "Your daddy's name was Jeremy Bryce Walker, from Nashville. He was 21 and I was 16 when we met. God, he was so great to look at, and to hold."
"We had a whole bunch of one-niters, Bryce, and he did marry me, but your daddy had a secret." She looked into Bryce's eyes, searching. "Baby, Jeremy was into guys, too. I didn't know until he got sick about nine years ago. He died."
Bryce wiped his eyes and looked away. The final brick crumbled, and his wall was falling down. His dad was gay, his mom got AIDS from him, and now Bryce was gay, in love with Tate. He shook his head and mentally spat at God.
"Any way, I caught it when you were six according to the doctors." She chuckled without humor. "How the hell they can guess that, I don't know."
"Momma," Bryce swallowed hard and looked up at her, almost defiantly, but guarded. "I'm gay, too. I'm in love with Tate Corbridge."
"Well, I guess that figures." She shook her head, then noticed Bryce's face fall. "Oh, baby, I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I ain't judging you. I'd never do that." She reached out towards him.
"But you're disappointed, aren't you?" Bryce pulled back, embarrassed and angry.
"No!" Her sunken eyes flared briefly at him. "I meant that you look so much like your father that there's got to be a lot of him in your head, too." She took his hand in her and patted it with the other. "I want you to be happy, and if that boy makes you happy, then it's okay with me."
"I wasn't asking permission." He snapped, then softened. "I'm sorry, Momma. I don't mean that." He stood up and paced on the sidewalk. "I didn't want this, you know. I fought it a long time. But Tate just kinda showed up, you know? And then you gave me to the Corbridge's, and I can't stay away from him."
"Come here." She said softly, but commanding him like every parent does their child. Bryce turned to her and hesitated, then slowly walked back to her, taking her outstretched hand, feeling the bones through her thin skin. "The only thing worth having, Bryce, is love. You don't very often get to choose where it comes from, but if you throw it back, you'll regret it until you die. I know."
Bryce looked into her eyes, and it was easy to see her like she was again for just a moment. He bent over and kissed her lightly on the lips. "Thanks, Momma."
"You make me so proud, Bryce. Me and your daddy are in you. You're a good man. Follow your heart."
Bryce had been up in his room for hours when Pat Corbridge went to get his jacket and head for Tate's game. He wandered to the foot of the stairs and leaned on the wall, fastening the snaps of his official Riverbend Badgers windbreaker. "Bryce," he called, "Are you going to the game?"
"Coming!" A door opened and slammed upstairs, and Bryce pounded down the steps. His hair was blue, and his face was half blue, half silver, the colors of the Badgers. Pat was shocked, and started laughing.
"I like that, boy. That's the spirit!" He wrapped his arm around Bryce's shoulders and called out to his wife. "Lorna, we're headed for the game. I got me a real football maniac that needs to let off some steam."
She stuck her head out of the washroom and put her hand to her mouth. "My God, Bryce, you look wonderful!" It was hard to believe that he had been so quiet on the way back from the hospital, and so withdrawn. Bryce was beaming under Pat's attention.
"We'll be home about 10, honey." Pat kissed his wife and headed into the garage. On the way to the school, Bryce asked a thousand questions, seeming to memorize every word. After they parked, Bryce carried the blankets to the stands and helped make a perfect place to sit. Several kids came up to them, shaking Bryce's hand and joking with him. He appeared to be quite popular. Pat was pleased to be introduced to them as 'Bryce's Step Father."
When the team came onto the field, the crowd went wild, and Bryce was on his feet cheering as number 23 (Tate), 18 (Joziah), and 04 (Brad), took the field. The game was off to a fast start, and Riverbend was up 7 points at the half. Bryce was nearly horse, and Pat had tears in his eyes from laughing.
The second half saw a much closer game. The score was tied at the end of the third quarter. Tate seemed to be getting tired, and Brad had taken some serious hits. Tate took the snap and stepped back, looking for his receivers, and took a massive hit from the defense.
"Throw the goddamn ball, Tate!" Bryce bellowed. Pat laughed out loud and pulled Bryce back to his seat. "He spends so much time lookin' for Brad, he forgets Joziah!"
"It ain't that easy, kiddo." Pat pointed at the field, reconstructing the play. "There was two guys right there on Joze, and he wasn't open. The could've turned over the ball."
"This is stupid!" Bryce gritted his teeth. "All it does is piss me off!"
"That's the great thing about football, son." Pat chuckled. "You understand it perfectly." As they watched, Tate took the snap and stepped back. Joziah sidestepped and was open, and Tate let fly with a long bomb. The crowd erupted, and Bryce jumped up with Pat, screaming.
Joziah caught the ball and spun around, dodged left around his only opponent, and raced at break-neck speed for the end zone. The stadium went wild. The defensive end dived for Joziah, his hands trailing down Joziah's leg and closing on his Ankle.
Joziah fell forward, planting the ball firmly in the end zone. 14 to 20, Riverbend. Bryce wrapped his arms around Pat and nearly broke his neck jumping up and down. After a few seconds, Joziah rolled onto his back, pulled his helmet off, and pulled his leg up to his chest in a grimace of pain.
"Oh, shit!" Bryce shouted, watching as Tate, Brad and the coaches pelted down the field towards a fallen comrade. "What happened?"
"Looks like something happened to his ankle." Pat stood up and looked more closely. An ambulance was backed up to the gates, and Joze was put on a stretcher. His dad materialized out of the crowd and boarded the ambulance with his son. A huge round of applause went up from both sides as the ambulance pulled off.
Before long, the game resumed, and Riverbend missed the extra point. The rival school, Bardenmont High, took possession, and ran an easy touchdown on the stunned home team. Tate could be seen talking to the couch several times throughout the fourth quarter, with the score tied. Each team took two possessions, and finally, with 2 minutes left in the game, Tate lead the offense onto the field.
The first three downs were a war in the dirt, with no ground gained. Tate called a huddle, and Bryce could see him talking to each of the team members. He grabbed Brad's facemask and shook it, and they broke, taking the line.
The ball snapped, and the crowd was on its feet. Tate stepped back and threw a sixty-one yard bomber, aimed where no one was, seeming to throw their hopes away. Brad broke free of his guard and hauled ass, a straight out flight down the field at top speed. He stopped on the ten-yard line suddenly, causing his guard to over shoot, turned around, caught the ball, nearly lost it, then ground into the end zone. The buzzer went off.
God, how they screamed. Bryce later imagined that all off Wilson County heard the end of that game. The team lifted Tate and Brad to their shoulders. The crowd roared. Bryce finally figured out why anyone played football. Tate looked towards the stands, spotted his dad and Bryce, and touched his fist to his chest. Both choked back their emotions, because everyone knows men don't cry.
While they waited for Tate, Pat talked outside the locker room with Lyle Wadman, Brad's dad, laughing and reliving the game. Bryce sat on the steps and listened to them, just enjoying hearing them.
Tate walked out and Bryce jumped up, launching himself into the air. Tate caught him and staggered back. "YOU ARE A GOD!" Bryce screamed, then pulled Brad in to the hug. "You guys were fantastic!"
"Went pretty good, didn't it?" Tate laughed and set Bryce down, then gave his dad a bear hug.
"Boys, I am humbled by your achievement." Lyle said, putting his arm around Brad's neck. "I swear I saw the angel Gabriele's fingers on your head, Tate. That was a war to remember."
"Thank you, sir." Tate grinned, then sobered. "Anything on Joziah?"
"I called his dad." Pat said. "He's okay, but his ankle's broke, Tate. He's done for the year."
"I gotta go see him." Brad said quietly.
Tate held out his arm and put it around Brad's shoulders. "You boys go check on your buddy." Lyle said, patting Brad's arm. "I'll tell your mom where you're at."
Bryce hugged Pat, then followed the other two towards Tate's car. As soon as they were inside, Brad put his face in his hands. Bryce patted his back from the back seat. "He's okay, Brad. Don't worry." Tate said, steering into traffic.
They jogged into the hospital and were met by Joziah's little sister, Rianne. "He's in room 223." She smiled. "He was sure happy when you won the game for him." She followed them into the elevator.
A tall, muscular black man, Levondel Jackson, waited in the hall as they walked up. Brad threw his arms around the mountain of a man. "Sorry I'm late, sir."
"He's fine, Bradley." Mr. Jackson's deep voice resonated through the hallway. "Go in a minute, then he needs rest, okay?"
"Yes sir." They all said, and Mr. Jackson shook his head and chuckled as he looked at Bryce's painted face.
Joze was obviously doped to the gills and feeling no pain. He gave them a lopsided grin and raised his arm, his hand flopping hello. "Hey, guys!" He slurred. Brad leaned over the bed, and Joziah flopped his arms around his other half.
"Asshole." Brad whispered. "I needed you, and you took off on vacation."
"You okay?" Tate asked, grasping Joziah's free hand.
"I am so past cool, dude. Don't worry, 'kay?"
Bryce watched the two warriors and their general, touched to be included. They joked for a few minutes, mostly about Joziah's inability to stay on his feet, then described the last few minutes of the game to him.
Mr. Jackson finally ran them off, and on the way home, they dropped Brad off at home. It was a quiet drive, and after a few minutes Bryce reached over and took Tate's hand. Tate smiled, and then went back to watching the road.
At the house, they said they're goodnights and headed up to bed. For appearance sake, Bryce went in through his door, intent on a shower. He pulled his clothes off and turned on the water, good and hot, and grabbed the soap the lady at the store had promised would remove blue makeup.
He scrubbed his hair and face and watched blue water swirl into the drain. It got in his eyes, stinging, and he washed them again. He blinked several times into the stream of water. A cold draft of air sailed up his spine, and strong arms wrapped around his chest, startling him.
"I kinda liked the blue." Tate whispered into Bryce's ear, nuzzling his neck. Bryce leaned back, melting into the strength of Tate's chest and torso. "It meant a lot to me to have you there."
"I wouldn't miss it for anything." Bryce closed his eyes as Tate's hands roamed his body. It felt so good, like nothing he ever knew. He could stand like that forever. "Mmmmn."
"Like that?"
"Mmmhmm."
"Wanna try some of those things you read?" Tate whispered, running his tongue around the outside of Bryce's ear.
"Mmmmmm." Bryce felt one of Tate's hands slide gently down his stomach, coming to rest with his fingers split to lightly massage each side of Bryce's cock.
"Mom and dad will be asleep pretty soon." Tate breathed.
With a major effort, Bryce pulled away and turned to look at Tate's chiseled body. Their eyes met, and Bryce pulled Tate down into a long deep kiss. They parted, and Tate opened the shower door. Bryce sighed and watched him go, finally going back to washing his hair again.
Tate glanced out his door and watched the light at the far end of the house go out. With a smirk, he put a towel across the bottom of his door to block the light and any sounds. That was funny, and he snickered as he walked into the closet and pulled on a pair of yellow satin bikini briefs. Everything was perfect.
Bryce wandered into his room from the bathroom and found a pair of his new underwear laid out on the bed. A bright red pair of velour boxers, split up the sides. He shook his head and pulled them on, then went back to toweling his hair dry.
He tossed the towel on the bed and went to the French doors, opening one slowly. Tate's room glowed in the light of a dozen candles. Bryce grinned and stepped in, finding Tate lying on the bed holding his arms out. He couldn't help it. Bryce launched himself at the bed, landing with a bounce that put him right in Tate's arms.
"Oh, that was nice." Tate laughed and scooped Bryce up. Their mouths met instantly, and Tate opened as wide as he could and let Bryce explore while his hands roamed. Bryce shivered, and Tate ran his hands under the waistband and over Bryce's ass.
"Holy shit." Bryce gasped, coming up for air. "You got no idea what that does to me."
"I do now." Tate went back to the kiss and slid Bryce's boxers down, reaching under to lightly graze his rising stiffness. Bryce moaned, and Tate rolled to the side, putting Bryce on his back and flipping the underwear onto the floor.
"Why'd I put those on?" Bryce asked, returning the favor to Tate.
"So I'd want to take them off, knuckle head." Tate laughed and raised his hips so Bryce could finish his mission. Soon both pairs of shorts were on the floor, and they lay in an embrace on the bed, slowly moving their hands.
"I wanna try something, Tate, but I need your help." Bryce rolled onto his back.
"What, baby?"
Bryce sighed slightly, and put his hands on Tate's face. "I want you to fuck me." His pulse quickened as he waited for Tate to respond, his heart pounding in his chest.
Tate swallowed hard, touched. He couldn't explain how he felt at that moment. The one thing in the universe that meant the most to him just offered him self without a second thought. Tate's eyes got watery. He swallowed a lump in his throat. "You are so beautiful. If you're sure, tell me how."
With Bryce's help, Tate used the lubricant that Bryce had hidden in the nightstand to slick up his fingers. Bryce wriggled and settled into the mattress, exhaled hard, and spread his legs wide. He nodded, and Tate hesitantly touched Bryce's ass, then gently inserted his finger.
Bryce closed his eyes. There was no way to describe the electrical patterns of his nerves as Tate's finger went in and out slowly. He grunted when after a few minutes Tate inserted a second finger, then a third. Oh, man, it was good. Without being touched, his cock hardened, and a warmth spread through his abdomen.
Finally, Bryce caught Tate's wrist and stopped him, then pulled the muscular quarterback forward on to him. He smiled dreamily and nodded, and Tate carefully lined up and slowly moved forward, gently pushing into Bryce.
Bryce caught his breath, pushing back like the web page said. There was a sharp pain and he grimaced. Tate began to pull back, and Bryce wrapped his legs around Tate's ass. "No!" He breathed, motioning Tate forward again.
Tate swallowed, and began to push again, meeting resistance. After two attempts, he set himself, looked into Bryce's eyes, and shoved. He popped in, and Bryce winced, a tear rolling down one cheek.
"Are you okay?" Tate leaned on his elbows and stroked Bryce's face.
Bryce nodded and smiled. "It hurts, but not bad. It's a good pain. I can't describe it."
Tate smiled slightly and began a very slow deliberate in and out stroke. Bryce smiled and sighed, a look of peace coming over his face. Tate felt a natural rhythm build, and he leaned down and kissed Bryce's throat.
Bryce felt carried away by the intensity of pleasure he was feeling. Like having every nerve on fire and frozen at the same time. His stomach tightened up, and Tate began to grunt each time he moved forward. He wrapped his arms around Tate and stopped the thrusts, giving them time to rest.
"There's no hurry, Tate." Bryce smiled almost sleepily.
Tate nodded and lowered himself onto Bryce, occasionally making a short movement to keep things alive. He became aware of Bryce's member throbbing against his stomach, and he reached over and grabbed the lube, then lifted up and squeezed some on to it. He curled his fingers around it and slowly stroked it.
"Tate." Bryce struggled to whisper. He pulled on Tate's ass with his feet, restarting the fuck of a lifetime, feeling himself getting so close. Tate picked up the rhythm, getting longer and faster. Bryce's eyes rolled up into his head, and he stiffened involuntarily.
Tate gasped, his insides knotting up almost painfully. He nipped Bryce's chest and neck, nuzzling, then scrunched his eyes shut. It became automatic and out of his control. He slammed into Bryce harder and harder, finally erupting, spasming into oblivion.
Bryce felt Tate let loose inside of him, and he let go, sending torrents onto their stomachs, moving his hips to take each bump from Tate. It was like loosing consciousness. He floated as his body clenched over and over. Tate collapsed onto him, his breathing ragged.
It was a long time before either of them could talk, and then neither wanted to. Still inside Bryce, Tate kissed him, much more slowly than he ever had before. Something had changed between them, something that affected what they were to each other. They were inseparable now, one.
Bryce didn't have nightmares that night. He slept like a rock, cradled up to a warm hard body, Tate not pulling out until Bryce moved to his own bed at about 4am. Tate had to carry him, which suited Bryce just fine. He was never happier than he was when Tate had his arms around him. It was supposed to be that way.
It always would be.