Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people or events is coincidental. No part of this story may be reprinted without permission. Copyright by Metredose, 2022, and all rights reserved. Comments and criticism welcome. Metredose@gmail.com
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The Haunting of Bellsy Home 3
The gym was hung with twisted crepe streamers, orange and black, hanging down from the walls and crisscrossing the room every which way from above. There were jack-o'-lanterns placed about, and dried stalks of corn, and straw on the floor, and a witch's cauldron, bubbling with dry ice, and a cut out fraidy cat with yellow eyes and its fur standing on end. There was a photo booth set up and the big room was packed. Most of the high school students were there, some dancing to the tune of 'Monster Mash' and some just standing around and snacking and watching.
When Tuck burst into the room, all eyes turned to him, and few of those eyes were friendly, least of all Carlene's eyes. She, a pretty brunette, had waited in vain for Tuck to pick her up, for Tuck had never shown, and then she suffered the indignity of being dropped off by her daddy, which everyone saw, and going in to the dance alone, without a date. Mary Ellen's eyes weren't any warmer, for she suspected it was Tuck who kept Duke from coming to pick her up.
But there were many other eyes, many other people who had been burned by Tuck in one way or another. There were the ex-girlfriends he had cheated on and treated shabbily, there were the meeker students he had bullied, and there were the teachers he had defied. A few of Tuck's old friends were there, and just as astonished, for Tuck looked a wreck. His Braves costume was dirty all over, but almost black on the back side, for Tuck seemed to have picked up decades worth of grime when he was at the old haunted house, as he'd spent considerable time there on his back. The keenest eyes of all noticed the large, wet stain growing at the back of his pants, right in the middle of his butt, and a few folks thought he'd shit himself.
His hat had fallen when he'd broken into a run to get away from Duke, and his blonde hair was free and wild. But it was more than that. There was something about Tuck's manner, something shifty and frightened, that told his enemies that he was vulnerable, and set them out for his blood. He stood in the middle of this crowd, for a few moments, before Carlene went up to him and slapped him across his cheek before he could say anything. No one laughed. The music stopped.
It was a fortified Leroy who accosted him next, for the boy always kept his cell phone handy, and had called his mother to pick him up after the trick Tuck had played on him. It was she who deduced the truth of what had happened and clued Leroy in on the ruse. That did it for Leroy, who had no intentions on wasting his opportunity with Jeannie, and arrived just on time to pick her up in his mama's car. The boy remained hurt and angry, though. He strode up to Tuck, who was now red faced from the slap, and laid into him.
"You're mean!" he shouted, in his little squeaky voice. "You tricked me into coming with you just to scare me! What did I ever do to you?"
Well, there were many that didn't care much for Leroy in that room, but his voice sounded like courage, and they admired his pluck, and it hardened their hearts even further towards Tuck. Mary Ellen was next, and she strode forward and laid into him, too, because she had much to hate him for. She was a big gal, broad and big boned, and Tuck never let her forget it. He called her a 'biggin' to her face and was often heard saying Duke would always be comfortable with her around, because she would keep him warm in the winter and shaded in the summer. But worse, to Mary Ellen, was the way he manipulated and mistreated Duke, who was only ever kind to him.
"You really are a piece of shit!" she screamed, forgetting her Christian virtue in the heat of anger. "Where's Duke? I know you done something to make him not show up."
Tuck only shivered. His head hung down, and there were tears coming down his cheeks, but no one there felt sorry for him, least of all those Tuck considered friends, who were now laughing at his weakness. A chant started in the room, first just one tiny voice, a girl that Tuck had done wrong many years before, and then that little voice was joined by others and then still more voices, until they came from everywhere and roared at him.
"Pu- See," came the chant, then louder and louder. "Puh- See! Puh- See! PUH-SEE!"
And Tuck could do nothing but hang his head, and cry and shiver, for he was surrounded and there was no escape and he couldn't go home to his daddy with red eyes and streaks down his cheeks, and no teacher nor dance monitor intervened, and Tuck was melting into a puddle before all those scornful eyes, and then Duke burst into the room and a deep, commanding voice issued from his lungs and was carried forth on the air, and broke the sadistic spell.
"Stop! Let him alone!"
Duke shoved several people aside and moved into the circle, and the crowd was surprised by his appearance, for he looked like he never had before, in his costume, like some romantic aristocrat of old, with his pale face and wild hair and dark, searing eyes, and the old fashioned jacket that made plain the powerful build beneath. Mary Ellen, in the heat of anger, turned her wrath on Duke.
"Why do you always defend him?" she demanded.
Duke glowered at her, and she took in a sharp breath and stepped back. He was angry and stormy and stared round at all of them with intense, challenging eyes. Tuck was trembling and Duke took him in his arms, and then there were audible gasps in the room, for it was a moment more tender than any there had witnessed between them, and Duke lifted up Tucks face and wiped away his tears, then stared into his eyes, and the moment held for a long time, and the air was alive with an energy none of them understood, and then, quite suddenly, Duke bowed his head and gave Tuck a deep, sensual kiss, and shock replaced their anger, but they couldn't look away.
Duke pulled back, and looked into Tuck's eyes, then their lips met again for a longer, sloppier kiss, and his arms were around Tuck's waist, and his big paws were feeling and squeezing Tucks tight little butt with eager roughness, and then some in the crowd understood that Tuck had not shit himself but was leaking back there because Duke had put his seed inside of Tuck, and all the eyes in the crowd were wide, as if bedazzled, and their mouths hung open. The kiss went on for a long time, but when it was over, Duke wrapped an arm around Tuck's waist and led him out, the crowd parting before them as if they carried the plague, and none could abide being touched by them even in passing. And then the party was over, all but the gossip, and jackets and purses were grabbed, and phones pulled out of pockets, and then the tongues really started to wag, and soon the whole town would know the shocking thing that happened between the two unlikeliest of young men.
Outside, Duke held Tuck in his arms, but he couldn't stop him from trembling. He bent his head down again, went in for another kiss, but Tuck turned his face aside, and then disentangled himself from Duke's arms.
"We've got to stop," he said.
He started walking away.
"Where will you go?" Duke called after him, but Tuck didn't answer.
With every fiber of his being, Duke wanted to run after him, to take him back into his arms, to comfort him. He needed to know Tuck was alright, but he was aware that his behavior was becoming obsessive. So he left it and hoped Tuck, once he had time to think things over, would come back to him. In a few hours, in a few days, it didn't matter, so long as Tuck came back.
At home, he thundered when he saw his mother and father. They were sitting at the kitchen table, and their hands were joined together in prayer.
"I suppose you heard what happened," Duke said. "Word sure gets around quick in this town."
His mother's tearful face told him that she had heard. His father's face was set in a grim expression.
"Well, say something!" Duke said.
"Son, we're concerned," his father said.
"Yes, you have a right to be," Duke said, calming a little.
"When did this start? This thing with Tuck?"
"Tonight. It came over both of us suddenly."
Duke expected his mother to say something about Halloween and demons, but she stayed silent.
"What does this mean for Mary Ellen?"
Duke stopped. He hadn't thought that deeply about it. Action seemed more imperative than words since the possession.
"I have a lot going on," Duke said.
"You are struggling. That's obvious. Your mother and I would like to know if we can help."
"You can help by letting me know where I stand. Be honest. Do you want me out of this house? If you want me out then please tell me and I'll go."
His mother whimpered, then started blubbering. Duke felt pangs of guilt trying to reach him, but he easily pushed them away.
"Son, I think you oughta go to bed. Maybe in the morning things will be clearer."
"Could be," Duke said. "But I don't think I'm going to ever go back to how I was. Shit, I think I need to get out of here."
His mother sobbed again. Not since he was a child had she heard Duke utter a curse word in her presence. But Duke was already moving up the stairs and was soon in his bedroom. He started stuffing clothes into a pillow case, and had moved to the bathroom to snatch up some toiletries when his mother entered. She was calmer, but her face still looked stricken. She was upset, deeply upset, by what she'd heard about her son and Tuck Blanchard, but below that was a terror of seeing him go, seeing him possibly hurt out in the great big world.
"Please stay," she said, in a tremulous voice. "I couldn't stand it if you left. I need to know you are safe."
Surprised, Duke set the pillowcase down. Emotion suddenly seized him, and he went over to his mother and hugged her, and found she trembled even more than had Tuck not long before.
"I'm sorry, Mama," he said. "I don't want to hurt you. That's why I think I should leave."
"Listen to me, boy," she said, pushing him back so she could look him in the eye. "Whatever happened, whatever happens going forward, you're still my son. I don't know what to make of everything, but I love you."
Duke hugged her again, harder than before, and then they broke apart.
"Just get some rest now," she said. "Your father was right. Maybe in the morning you'll get some clarity."
But Duke couldn't rest. He tossed and turned in bed, and felt hot and bothered, and his cock drew up when he thought about Tuck, and it wasn't feeling like it would ever go down again. And so he did what he'd gone to great pains to avoid for many years. He laced his fingers together and formed a wide tube with his hands, and then he fucked up into it until he sent his semen flying way up into the air, and it came down with a series of splats on his chest, and then finally he was able to get some rest.
Tuck got home and didn't know what to expect. He was still confused, still an emotional wreck, but he forced himself to think of what to do. He was pretty sure his father wouldn't have heard yet what happened at the school dance. The old man had few friends, no relatives, and who would call him just for that, anyway? Tuck thought he was in the clear, at least for the night, so he went in. His daddy was was watching TV and drinking beer, as always at night, and he was pretty deep in his cups by the look of his glazed eyes in the reflected light.
"Yer home early," he said. "How was it?"
"Fine," Tuck said. "Just another dance, nothin' big."
"Get any pussy?"
"No," Tuck said.
He was glad the lights were low because he felt heat rise to his cheeks and knew he was blushing.
"That's a shame, boy," his daddy said, then went to the refrigerator for another beer.
Tuck took the opportunity to slip away, and went into his room. He was glad to be out of the Braves uniform when he was naked, and wadded it up and tossed it into the trash, for he was done with the dirty, caked
thing. Then he got in bed, but couldn't quite doze off. The events of the past few hours were heavy on his mind. Part of him couldn't believe what had happened, but that part seemed to be fading. He thought of Duke, and a pang hit his heart, and his penis stiffened, and it was an intense arousal that had to be placated immediately. Tuck spit into his hand like it was nothing, for he'd done it hundreds of times before, then jerked himself off in a frenzy, and his hips bolted up hard when he spent, and he fired all over himself, thinking of Duke and what they'd done together and picturing Duke's huge cock in his mind. Then he slept, a deep, grateful sleep, and no thoughts nor dreams came to him and all was comforting darkness.
Out of the blackness, creeping fingers, then a burning pain. Tuck jolted into consciousness and tried to suck in air, but he couldn't. A pair of hands were wrapped tightly around his throat, and they kept squeezing tighter and tighter. Tuck struggled uselessly in the darkness. His arms shot out and his fists shot up at the figure straddling his body, choking his life out, but the figure was immovable.
"Die, you fucking faggot," came the hard, gravelly voice, and with it the reek of alcohol.
And then Tuck knew it was his daddy. He heaved his body upward as hard as he could, struck with flailing legs and arms, again and again. Nothing happened. It was like beating against an ancient tree trunk. Useless. He felt himself fading away. It was like sinking in deep water, suddenly, and almost peaceful, and he was ready to let go and embrace death, but then something flashed in his mind. He focused. He balled a fist and remembered his mother, and then struck with all the power he had left. Then the fingers came loose, and Tuck sucked in air, but the fingers found him again, at the base of his neck, and were feeling their way up, and Tuck lashed out again, with all his strength, and his father fell sideways, right off the bed.
Tuck didn't hesitate. There was no time for that. He felt around his nightstand, grabbed his phone and keys, then sprung up, onto the floor. Hands clawed at him there, tried to pull him down, and he kicked at them and sprung over where he thought his father lay on the ground. He got to the door, pulled it open, then ran to the door of the house and flung that one open, too, and burst out into the night, stark naked but feeling no cold nor anything else, for he was not even aware of his own nudity, but only felt panic and terror. He locked his truck once he got inside it, and then went like the wind once he got it fired up. There was no thought of where he would go. He just went, and when he pulled up to Duke's house it was almost a surprise, because he'd had no idea of going there in his conscious mind.
The muffled jingle jangle of Duke's phone, slung into a corner in his jacket pocket, would have awoken none but the hyper-vigilant, but it was just enough to bring Duke out of his light but troubled sleep. He went right for the phone, and saw that it was Tuck calling, and a jolt of adrenaline surged through him because he knew something was wrong. When he answered, Tuck was choking in sobs, and could barely explain that he was outside, in his truck, but once Duke knew he raced down the stairs and out the door. He found Tuck quaking with fear and cold, and embraced him. Then his rage stirred, and he would have vengeance on Tom Blanchard, the father, for hurting Tuck, and now being a threat to his safety.
But first there was Tuck himself to attend to. Duke ran back inside, back up the stairs, and gathered clothing for him to wear. Pants, a shirt, a jacket, and socks were already in the pillowcase Duke had stuffed earlier when he was in flight mode, and now it came in handy. He added a pair of shoes, then exited his room, only to run into his father and mother, who had slept as light as Duke and were alerted by all the noise of Duke stomping up and down the staircase.
"What's going on, son?" his father said.
Duke stopped. Neither his father nor his mother looked sleepy. She looked scared, and his father looked like he was ready for trouble, for his expression was again set in a grim attitude.
"It's Tuck," Duke said. "He's outside in his truck. Tom Blanchard tried to strangle him."
"Dear Lord!" his mother said.
But his father was suspicious.
"What are the clothes and shoes for?" he said. "You thinking of running away again?"
"No, Sir. Tuck was in bed when it happened. He didn't have time to put any clothes on, but just ran to his truck. He's naked."
"Well, see that he's dressed, and then bring him in here."
Duke bounded down the stairs. Tuck was still breaking down when he got to the truck, sobbing and breathing through gasps, all in a panic, for he was reliving the terrible events from before. Duke helped him to dress, very gentle like, then helped him get the shoes on, which was no easy task. Everything was too big on Tuck, but he was covered, and Duke brought him inside and they set down on the old couch in the family room, and Duke's parents came and saw, and the pitiful sight was enough to bring tears to the mother's eyes.
"Let me see where he hurt you," Duke's father said to Tuck.
The young man stood in the light, and moved his shirt down, and there on his neck were the clear impressions of fingers, white etched in red, and there would be bruising in the morning, bad bruising, and Duke's daddy judged that the boy was lucky to be alive. And then Tuck told the whole story of what happened after he got home, and though Mr. and Mrs. Latimer had some misgivings about Tuck as a companion for their son, they knew he was telling the truth, and that meant the law had to be called and prevailed upon to intervene. But Tuck's eyes grew wild with fear and he begged them not to, for he knew that his father would surely kill him if they did that. The old man would pretend to be surprised, would express regret if he was brought into the police station or jail, but underneath his heart would be the same, hardened against Tuck and bent on his destruction. And the old man didn't have much to lose. Against their better judgment, they agreed not to call the police, but Duke was not satisfied.
"I'm going over there," he said.
"Leave it, son," Duke's father said.
Tuck begged Duke not to go, and it was the terrified look in his eyes that convinced. Duke wanted to wrap his arms around Tuck again, wanted to comfort him, but he dared not do it with his parents in attendance. But there was no sleeping that night, for any of them. They were too rattled, and just sat in uncomfortable silence for hours. Duke's eyes never drifted far from Tuck.
In the morning, Sarah, Duke's mother, made coffee and cooked breakfast, but her husband said he had to be in to work early, and left. The boys ate well enough, but they rarely took their eyes from each other. She still felt confused, but when she looked at them, she took some comfort. In spite of the circumstances, she was glad they were all safe, and she couldn't help but be touched by Duke and Tuck's manners toward each other. It was clear that there was love between them. Never before had she seen her son look like that, or regard another person with such care. She had always taken a dim view about homosexuality because of her religion, but there was just something about the two that wouldn't let her shut down toward them.
She knew about Duke. The youngest of her three sons, and the youngest of all her five children, he was not so secretly her favorite. His chestnut colored hair was the same shade as hers, and he had her dark eyes, alone of all her children, and his temperament was hers, too. She adored him. A gentler, kinder soul never lived, in her opinion, and that's why his recent storminess surprised her. She felt bad for Mary Ellen, but there was no denying that Duke had never looked at that girl with half as much tenderness as he now looked at Tucker Blanchard.
And her son was wise. She knew that much. He had never fallen into the pitfalls that had beset her other children, never wavered from his faith and following it to the best of his abilities. But where was that faith now? It seemed Duke's ideas had changed. Did he still believe? Would he still follow the bible? She thought, no, never again so strictly as he did before. And that was a change she would have to deal with, if she wanted to remain close to him. She knew it in her heart, and her heart, she knew, too, would never let him go. She couldn't bear to shun him, as other families she knew would have done. She couldn't even bear to scold him. She guessed that might change when the shock of it all wore off, but she didn't know.
And then there was the other one, so different now from the cunning, nasty young man he'd become in recent years. But she knew there was more to him. She was friends with his mother in high school, close friends, and she knew the woman, Monica, to be good. Their friendship only really cooled when Monica took up with Tom Blanchard, who everyone knew was no good, everyone but Monica. And she'd gone downhill after marrying the brutal man, and Sarah had watched her slowly sink, and had guessed why she wore dark glasses so often, and she couldn't bear to watch her friend's misery, and so cut her off.
That was a failing. That was her own private shame. And then Monica had died, and left behind a young boy, but Sarah had been too wrapped up in her own large family to take much notice. But wasn't her feeling for her past with Monica the reason she had never forbade Duke from being around the boy? It was. She felt guilty and wanted to honor her friend's memory through her son, but she'd watched Tuck over the years and saw him become hardened and cruel, just like his no account father. Yet here he was, with the most sensitive, earnest blue eyes, just like his mother's, and they were looking into her son's eyes with the sweetest look of love in them that she'd ever seen.
There was nothing for it. She had no choice but to go forward. She would put her faith, as always, in God, and let Him lead the way.
Tom Blanchard awoke with a splitting pain in his head, and realized with a shock that he'd slept on the floor in his son's room. Before the thought 'what the hell am I doing here?' could complete itself in his mind, he remembered. A spike of rage washed through him, and then he was sick and ran to the bathroom, making it barely in time before his gorge rose up and exploded. Then he felt sicker than ever for the dehydration, and went and cracked open a beer. He was vaguely plotting his next move, as best his befuddled mind could, when there was a sharp rap at the door. Thinking it was Tuck, maybe, he went to answer it, and there was Mason Latimer, and he did not look happy.
"Get the fuck off my property!" Tom shouted.
The man didn't move nor give any other reaction. The stern look in Mason's eye made Tom quail.
"You tried to kill your boy last night," Mason said.
"What business is it of yours? Your son and my son-- shit, I'm gonna be sick again."
"I know what happened," Mason said. "It doesn't excuse killing. I'm here to tell you that Tuck will be staying with us for a while."
"You're gonna allow that faggotry under your own roof?"
"I'm gonna protect my son and Tuck. That's all I came to say. Just so you know, it's Tuck that kept me from calling the police. You're lucky you're not in jail."
"Well, he needn't have bothered 'cuz I'm still gonna kill that faggot."
"He's your son." Mason said. "Have some respect."
"Respect? What kinda respect are you talking about? What respect did he show? What kinda respect did your son show you?"
"They're men now and can make their own choices. You and me don't have to like it."
"What kinda bullshit is that? Why, if my daddy heard uh me doing something like that, I'd uh been skinned alive!"
"Times have changed. I'm just here to let you know about Tuck. And to give you a warning. I know you got guns in this house, lots of 'em, but remember that I do, too, and there isn't one member of my family that's got bad aim. You stay away until you calm down and get some perspective. Understand?"''
Mason fiddled with something concealed under his long jacket for a brief moment, and Tom Blanchard, with a gulp, understood the only way he knew how, and then Mason walked off and went to work.
Neither Duke nor Tuck were fit for school after breakfast, so they skipped and went to Value Village again, and got Tuck some clothes that fit better, and then went to a store and bought some fresh underwear, socks and shoes. Duke was happy to pay for all of it, and it wasn't much, because they were frugal with the purchases. They went down to the licensing place, and Tuck got a new copy of his driver's license, and then he went down to the bank and got himself a new ATM card, and the only thing left was getting Tuck a new Social Security card, but the red tape was more than they wanted to tackle that day.
They stopped and ate burgers and fries and cokes, and then they started to yawning, because of lack of sleep, and Duke didn't take Tuck home but instead took him to a motel on the outskirts of town, known by many as the 'no-tell motel.' The lazy eyed clerk asked no questions, and handed back a key once the ATM transaction went through, and then Duke and Tuck were alone again
Duke went and turned on the shower to its highest setting, and left Tuck to clean himself, as no one had thought of it at Duke's and Tuck was smelling pretty ripe. He closed the door to the bathroom so Tuck could shower in peace. Well, the young man was shivering when he came out, even when he was dry, and Duke told him to get in bed, and wrap himself up in the blankets. The towel dropped and then Tuck went under the covers. In the meantime, Duke stripped off everything but his drawers, and then he laid down next to Tuck, under the covers, but not touching, not yet, because Tuck still seemed to be in a state, and Duke didn't want to press him.
"Let's get some sleep," Duke said.
He got up and turned off the light, then got into the bed again. A few moments passed, and then Tuck moved next to him, and their bodies were pressed tight, and Tuck sniffled against his shoulder. No other word passed between them, for Tuck was soon asleep, and Duke stayed up and thought for a bit before dozing off himself. But he slept lightly, and he slept with a huge, unflagging erection that nearly drove him mad.
Sometime in the evening, Duke awoke to a heat on his thigh. Tuck's arm was draped over him, and he was pushing and rubbing his slender erection against Duke's body. In less time than it takes to tell, Duke flipped him onto his back and threw his legs over his broad shoulders. He spat into his hand and quickly coated himself, then took aim in the darkness, guided to the small spot by its heat, and shoved himself inside. Tuck moaned, and Duke shifted around a bit until the blonde was deeply mounted, then started to ride into the tight passage as a desperate pace, for it felt like an eternity since he'd been inside there, and his passion was fierce.
It was rough and it was quick. Tuck gasped in orgasm, and Duke rode him right on through until he was ready to spill himself, which he did in the very deepest recesses of Tuck's innards, and it was a veritable deluge. Tuck was drenched inside, and like the night before, Duke had no intentions on letting the boy loose. And in a very few minutes, Duke started to rut again, like a bull covering a heifer, and Tuck was being spiked hard on that huge cock, and he was a'moaning and a'groaning, and the bed was rocking and wheezing so hard it was fit to break, and Tuck cried out a second time as another ejaculation hit him like thunder, and his snake spit all over his belly, and then Duke grunted and froze and filled him up with seed again.
Duke got up and turned on the light, then went back and threw the blankets off of Tuck. In all the times they'd copulated in the past few hours, Duke had been longing to see Tuck's body, and now he got the chance. It was slim, but lightly muscled all over, with nary a hair in sight, save for the neat bush of blonde hairs. The stomach was taut and rippling, the hips cut narrow, but Tuck's shoulder were wider, and altogether it made for a well proportioned body, just right for a young buck like Tuck, and Duke was well pleased, as he knew he would be.
He told Tuck to stand, said he wanted to see all of him, and then he watched the muscles play on Tuck's body as the young man stood up. Tuck's penis was still very hard, and it strained and delicately curved upward. It was of average length, Duke judged, but quite narrow, quite thin, and this gave its pinkness a lovely, tender quality. Below, Tuck's nuts were two perfect ovals, held tight to his body with arousal. Tuck turned and Duke's eyes took in his backside, and that way the best part, in his view. The waist looked even narrower there, and it tapered up dramatically to muscles that made a 'V' shape at his back, and it was a perfect symmetry. But it was Tuck's pert, rounded little rear end that excited Duke the most.
"Lean forward," Duke said, in a husky voice, and just like that, Tuck did.
Duke jockeyed into position behind, and guided himself into the portal between the small, pale cakes, and then he rode Tuck like a bronco buster, rode him hard, and Tuck moaned and moaned. The riding built up in speed, built up in force, and Tuck, in his bent position, had to hold on and brace himself to the bed to keep from falling over, and then he felt the muscles in his asshole seize, and at the same moment his cock seized too, and then it started spitting again, right onto the old no-tell carpet. Duke rode right past the convulsing passage, slammed in again and again, and Tuck screamed in ecstasy and Duke rammed home a final time and let loose up Tuck's bowels again, and when they came apart they were covered in sweat and moved back to the bed and collapsed there.
It took a while for them to get their breath back, to get their equilibrium. They just lay there and relaxed, and felt the heat slowly flow out of their bodies, and the sweat dry up, and then they were back down again, back on the earth, and Duke knew they had to talk before they were carried away by passion again. For there was much left unspoken between them, and it was beginning to nag at his mind.
"What all do you remember from last night?" Duke asked.
Tuck just looked at him for a moment. A confused look came to his eyes, and then a look of fear.
"They were inside us," Tuck said.
"Yes."
"I blacked out. She came at me, and when she hit, I was out like a light and fell to the floor."
"Yeah. What else?"
"It was like someone playing with my mind, touching me inside of there. It was like she was pressing buttons in my brain."
"That's how it was with me," Duke said. "He was in control and making me move. And I knew what he wanted to do and I tried to fight him."
"Me too," Tuck said. "I kinda knew where it was going after a while. I fought her real hard and almost got control. But then you came along. Or he came along. And then she got stronger. There was nothing I could do."
"Me neither," Duke said. "I couldn't stop it. But I hope you know I tried. I didn't want to hurt you."
"I know that," Tuck said. "Good Christian boy like you? Hell, nothing but being possessed would make you do that."
"Well, I got to liking it. I could have stopped it the second time. And the third time. They were gone then. I just didn't want to."
"I didn't try to stop you," Tuck said. "I don't know what happened. It was like I was suddenly a new person. And it's still like that."
"Maybe they left some of themselves behind in us," Duke said.
"Maybe. I don't know. I was so scared when I left that place. I just ran and ran. Then at the dance, when you came back, I was so relieved."
"They were pretty hard on you."
"Nothing I didn't deserve," Tuck said.
"You didn't deserve to be ganged up on like that."
"I did," Tuck said. "I've been bad to a lot of people. And I regret it. But it's like all that was a long time ago, just a memory. I don't feel angry any more, at anyone. It's just all gone."
"Do you reckon it will all come back? Sometimes I think we're in a dream. You know how the longer you go after waking up from a dream, the more you forget? 'Til it's almost all gone?"
"I don't know what will happen," Tuck said. "I just know I feel better right now. With you."
"It's crazy," Duke said. "I feel like I'm a world away from who I was yesterday. All those years of trying to be perfect, doing what my parents and the Church told me, all that wasted time with Mary Ellen, all that worry about sex and keeping my hands off of myself. I just ask myself, why? None of it makes sense any more."
"For me, either," said Tuck. "But what are we gonna do now? We can't stay holed up in the no-tell motel forever."
"You're right about that," Duke said. "I guess we just see how it plays out with my parents. If that doesn't work out, we'll find another way."
"I feel ashamed when they look at me," Tuck said.
"No reason to. I told them last night I would go, to spare them, but they kept me back. And they kept you over, too. Maybe it can work out there, at least 'til we're out of school. Isn't it worth trying?"
"Yeah," Tuck said. "I beats staying with my dad."
Duke's brow darkened.
"You're not to go there again," he said. "Promise me."
"I may have no choice. I'm still seventeen, not legal to be on my own. He could bring in the law."
"The law won't listen to him," Duke said.
Tuck considered for a moment.
"They might," he said. "My dad may be a nasty drunk, but I think most of this town hates us more. For being together. We're in for a rough time."
"Anyone troubles you, even a little bit, you come to me."
"I will," Tuck said. "But it might not be enough. I just feel like we're on our own now."
"We'll see," Duke said.
His mind wandered away from such things, and his fingers, large but surprisingly gentle, played over Tuck's body, touched his tiny pink nipples, then ran down to his slender, rising penis. He stroked it a few times, and then Tuck pulled him onto his body, and they got down to it again, and Tuck's legs were lifted and his butt was mounted and they moved together as one body, and brought each other over the pinnacles of ecstasy again and again, and the room reeked of sweat and semen by the time they were through with each other. They took a shower together and then finally headed home.