Ahmed's Cub

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Ahmed's Cub

Ch.1 - The Hunter

By Emri

They cum so hard when I growl at them in Arabic. They don't even know what I'm saying and sometimes I'm just reviewing my chemistry notes for an exam coming up, but they don't know any different. I once explained the chemical breakdown of a tootsie pop and this guy shot all over himself before I could get to the center.

It's not that this one is bad looking. None of my clients are especially ugly, but they're all pretty much the same; older, rich, married business moguls from Beverly Hills looking for a hard-bodied Egyptian boy to slam their hole and treat them like shit. They drain my cock and guzzle my seed like filthy fuckers then I'm off before the wife and kids come back from wherever they've been sent.

I usually clear $600 a session plus gifts, but this client is a special arrangement. I visit him once a month and he pays for my membership at Beverly Palms.

It's the premiere A-list gym in LA and rife with the kinds of clients who will get me through college. Once you've worked out there, it's hard to go back to Gold's or 19 or 24 or whatever shitty club is in your neighborhood.

It's the best place to meet clients too and they always understand the score. There's no surprise of me expecting money. They know a chiseled god like me working out at the most exclusive club in LA is either a celebrity's kid or a boy who knows how to be discreet. These guys run empires and they get off on having the tables turned. They get off on worshiping a true alpha with dark eyes and a heavy accent.

I dumped a load in Austin Caldwell right as I caught a glimpse of his wife rolling up on the security screen in the side room he used for play. I buried my cock deep and pumped the last of it out just as the little chimes alerted us that the garage was opening.

Austin popped his head up to look at the monitor, but I wasn't done. I squeezed his neck and pushed his head back down against the weight bench. He smirked at me knowing I demanded his full attention. He knew I'd never blow his cover and fuck up what we had.

I leaned down over him and drove my cock in til my balls smacked against his full, white ass. He'd been hitting it hard with the personal trainer and his firm globes yielded begrudgingly to my thick, muscled thighs.

"What do you want, boy?" I growled at him and squeezed his neck. The pig loved that.

"Your seed, sir. Only yours. Please!" He whined like a bitch. I pistoned into him one last time and his velvety hole milked the last of what I had to offer.

"Fuck, yeah," I groaned. I held him there for a second as his wife came in on the floor below us. His kids must have been away for the night. They were punk ass teens I'd seen enough pictures of to piece together how their lives must have been. None of them respected Austin in the least. He was a paycheck and a distant roommate, but they pulled it together for some sweet family photos.

I waited til his wife called for him. I slid out of his hole and felt my seed squish out. I wiped my cock on the jockstrap he'd been wearing. I pulled up my boxers and shorts then pulled on my tank top. I could shower at home.

"Upstairs, honey! Finished my workout! Just about to hop in the shower!" Austin yelled. He had a little bathroom in the playroom gym. I waited for her to come up the stairs. She wouldn't come in here. She had no interest. He'd given her the kids and house she wanted. She'd go put away her purchases and I'd slip out. I had a key. I had lots of keys. They trusted me.

Austin tried for a kiss, but the fucker knew better. I pushed him hard in the center of his chest and he looked slightly dejected but quickly recovered.

"I almost forgot! I got you something!" He always tried to buy some affection. This fucker was starved for it.

"No gifts, just gym," I whispered as I tied my shoes.

"Please! Take it! It's your style and I know you'll look hot in it! You're already so hot! I could put you in a video I have coming up. Have you changed your mind about doing that? You know you could do so much more!" He tried to get a smile out of me.

He fished a small gray box out of the shorts he'd been wearing. He pushed it at me and I took it with a nod. He was hoping I'd agree to be in one of his films; hoping I'd owe him something. He was hoping he could pin me down. Most of the guys hoped for that, but I'm nobody's bitch and I like things as they are.

"Pay the gym, we are good," I said. I slipped the box into my pocket and crept to the door. I waited to hear his wife close their bedroom door then made a quick escape from the house.

I found my new sports car down the block. It's a lease. One of my clients gets me a fresh one every six months from his dealership. It's a short drive to the guest house I rent up on Mulholland. I could live for free in one of the client's condos, but fuck that. None of them will ever set foot in my home.

I rent from an older lady who lives in the big house. She has kids and family but they never visit. I check in on her and always take out the trash to help out. It's not the cheapest place but I can see the ocean from my patio above her garage and it's mine.

I had a message on my computer from my mom when I got in. It was morning in Cairo and she usually checks in with me while she makes coffee. I pull up the video chat and call her back.

"Morning, ya ommy!" I smile for her and feel the grey box in my pocket. I fish it out and set it on the table next to my laptop so she can't see it. She goes on about something my father did to annoy her. She brews coffee and adjusts her hair in the computer monitor.

"Yes! You have been married for forty years! Why do you still argue?" I ask and laugh. I open the box and see a new silver chain. It's thick like something a rapper would wear. It's authentic though, probably hundreds of dollars. Austin is a pig for affection. He'll do anything to earn my pleasure.

"And you? Have you met a nice girl there? Don't date American girls! I have nice ones picked out for you when you finish your studies and come home! You're nearly 24, my Ahmed. It is time for a family!" She admonishes me as always.

"No, Ommy. I am saving myself for the one you will choose," I laugh. She nods approvingly. I am her youngest and the last one she must marry off. She will never know how I afford my life here. They think I am a brilliant chemistry student with loads of grant money. What college grant pays for an expensive sports car and apartment in the hills?

"You get to bed now. Tomorrow is your new semester and you need your sleep!" She says and lets me go.

I have to be up in 8 hours, but I'm not tired. I make a health shake and watch the morning news from Cairo until I start to yawn.

+++

Summer semesters are the worst. The college fills up with high schoolers taking advanced placement courses and they muck everything up and act stupid in the classes. I get to my English course (Yes I'm still stuck taking remedial English) and of course there is a gob of them taking up seats at the back. The professor comes in and immediately disperses them and gives them a lecture about behaving in college.

I look at them with annoyance but then spot one of them off by himself. He is the perfect picture of a California boy and even has a skateboard under his desk.

He sits in the first row, but all the way against the wall as if guarded for an attack. He looks down at his notebook cover as if the color yellow has some deeper meaning. He's nervous, probably his first day on a campus. I'm drawn to him and slide into the seat directly behind him.

He looks up momentarily and turns his face half to the side. He has perfect milky skin and innocent blue eyes with soft pink lips. He looks fresh out of the box and not a day over 16. His light brown hair is messy on top and shaved close on the sides. It has flecks of red that catch the fluorescent light and make it seem less harsh.

He has a tight blue tank top that shows off his toned frame and budding muscles like he just picked up a dumbell once and then decided to stick with swimming.

I'm not usually drawn to boys. Believe it or not I have been through my fair share of girls and tasted the best this country has to offer. But there's just something about that all-american ideal boy that draws me in. My eyes meet his. He snaps his head back to the intimate study of the yellow notebook cover. I smile as I see a rosy blush settle in over his pale cheeks. He's scared, but interested.

The class is boring and I didn't catch his name when she called the roll, but he caught mine. When the teacher stumbles through Ahmed El-Ami the boy looks up and turns his head just enough to see me raise my hand. He turns back to his notebook and scribbles something, maybe my name with a heart around it. I feel a swell of pride in my chest at that. I made him look up.

That's the last time he looked at me though. He makes a point of staring straight ahead, even when she asks us to turn and talk to a neighbor. I poked him once on the shoulder to see if he'd neighbor with me, but he pretended not to notice and instead looked down.

I catch his eyes focusing on my shoes. I spread out in these small desks and my feet land on either side of him. I tap my feet whenever he looks away and watch his little head snap back to them. Shy boy likes my feet. It's a start.

I had on black vans, low tops with white socks pulled up to my bulging calves. The clients love them and always are specific in requesting them when they hire me to be worshiped. Some of them prefer dress shoes, black with laces. They lick them clean and then slide them off to dig their pig noses into my black dress socks.

Shy boy is an innocent though. He'd ogle the rest of me if he could, but today he only has nerves enough to study my shoes.

The class was only an hour since we go every day in the summer. As soon as she dismisses us, shy boy takes off. He stuffs his things in his backpack as he moves through the crowd. He rockets out of there like his world is on fire. He's taller than I'd expected and that tank top clings to an impossibly narrow waist that only youth can bring. His ass though. He fills out those shorts with something to be proud of, something most white boys his size lack. I unconsciously lick my lips as he walks away.

I find him in the courtyard and hang back behind a palm to watch him for a minute. He's not sitting with the gob of high schoolers. He's by himself, perched on a ledge working his way through a bag of celery sticks and fumbling with his phone. His skateboard is under his feet and he rolls back and forth in a careless rhythm.

In the sunlight his hair looks blonder and he squints under the harsh summer blaze. He is quite the pretty boy with symmetrical features and oversized eyes with long, light lashes. I wonder what he's looking at on his phone. I watch him for a minute then decide I should get to the gym before I check in to see if I have a client tonight.

I'm just about to leave him when I notice a few of the high school boys separate from the gob and move towards him. They look like assholes so I stop and stand guard. They stand in front of him and he looks up slowly from his phone.

I can't hear what they're saying, but shy boy's face turns red and I see those little pink lips start to quiver. I feel a protective tightening in my chest. Those lips should only quiver when preparing to please my cock. I start to see red as my shy boy trembles like a rabbit circled by jackals.

I should have walked away, but I'm invested in this. I feel my chest tighten harder but then tell myself to let it be. I stay out of the light in this country. I never cause trouble. I try to turn my head and walk on, but then I see shy boy get up. He shoves the celery sticks in his backpack and looks like he's about to fight... or cry. His fists ball up but he looks down as if not seeing them will make them disappear.

That was enough. Something inside me snaps and I can't walk away. I move in and shy boy freezes. My eyes catch his. His eyes cry out for help. I give him a nod of reassurance then plaster a smile across my lips. Nothing to fear, boy. Your knight is here. I turn towards the ringleader of the group bothering him and smile.

"You are in the class with me, no?" I ask with a light tone. I put my hand on his chest and shove him back. "Come! I have question! You can help!" I say it in a friendly tone but keep shoving him off to the side as his face turns a pale white of fear. I separate him from the safety of his friends and talk to him in a low, controlled voice. None of his friends move in to help. They back away. Cowards.

"Hey, what the fuck? I don't know you, man!" He suddenly gets flustered. The smug power he'd been building up dissipates and he shows what a scared little fucker he actually is.

"You go to high school with him?" I ask and nod back towards shy boy.

"Dylan? Yeah. He's a loser. He knows he's not supposed to eat near us. He's always lurking around," He sputters for an explanation. Shy boy has a name, Dylan.

"This is no high school and Dylan is good friend to me. I have lots of friends. I have big, scary friends who do not like high school boys who come here to make the rules. We have rules here and Dylan will eat where he like. You will not be bother to him. Not here, not anywhere. Do you understand?" I keep my voice low, but I use the same tone that strikes fear and lust in the powerful men I professionally humble. Just like they do, this kid cracks.

"Yes... yeah... cool... got it," the kid fumbles around for words to appease me.

"Sir, I am sir!" I add because he needs to learn respect.

"Sir! Yes, sir. I got it, sir," he says.

"Good, very good. We have nice campus here. I hope you enjoy! Go back to your friends and be peaceful," I tell him with a smile.

I pretend to straighten his collar, but it's just a reminder that I can squeeze the life out of him if I have to repeat this conversation at any time in the future. I give him a wink and he nearly pisses himself. He scurries off back to the safety of the gob and says something to them. They all look at me with fear and I give a happy nod. I turn to look, but shy boy... Dylan is gone.

+++

I hit the gym hard that afternoon. I tried to focus and throw myself into it, but that kid kept popping up in my thoughts; Dylan, not the fucker I had to correct.

I'm in the middle of a set when my phone goes off. The clients know better than to call so I hit ignore. It goes to voicemail. It's some new guy who says he got my info from Evan Aldrich. Evan is a record executive in Encino that just likes to blow me. I've never fucked him and I'm fine with that. He gets off on worshiping my feet then having me blow my load all over his suit.

"He told you my rate?" I text back to the number.

"Yes, sir. I'll have six in cash and I ordered from your Amazon wishlist. Let me know if you need more," he writes back immediately. I like a client who responds quickly. He's desperate.

I check my Amazon and see he not only got the shoes I'd put on there, but several of the jockstraps the clients add to my Client Fantasy wishlist.

They put all sorts of goofy shit on there and I cancel out a lot of it. I don't need a penis pump when Allah already blessed me with a fat 9 inch pipe. I don't get into tit clamps and harnesses. I cancel that shit out, but I try to allow them their fantasies within reason. I do like the meal delivery service one of them added for me. That was a nice touch and I fucked him extra long for that one. They look out for me.

"Time and address," I respond.

"7:30, 1416 Encino Canyon," he writes back. That's just a few miles down the hill from my place so I agree.

"Please wear the jock you worked out in today! I'll buy it from you if you don't mind. My name's Tim by the way," he writes.

"7:30," I respond. I'd charge him an extra hundred for the jock. Whatever gets me paid.

+++

The next day I spot Dylan sitting in the same seat. He has on a t-shirt with some pop band's logo splayed across his chest. He looks up at me when I come in but then quickly looks down. I slide in behind him again. My cute little shy boy is improving. He could have found another seat, one with no empties around it. He didn't.

He pretends to ignore me but keeps sneaking looks every few minutes. It's unbearably cute and the first time the professor makes us do a turn and talk with our neighbors, I make a move.

"Neighbor me," I say and tap his shoulder. He turns and gives me a frightened look like I'm holding a gun or something.

"I'm... she's beside me," he says and points to a girl who's already talking to the jock on the other side of her.

I grab the back of his desk and pull it to my left then drag it back until he's sandwiched in between me and another guy who had his back to us. He couldn't be much more than 100 pounds so it's an easy slide. Dylan looks horrified but keeps his composure. His skateboard slides away from the wall but I catch it and gently lean it on its side.

"Now I'm beside you! Neighbor me." I demand with a smirk that most people can't refuse. He smiles back then coughs to hide it.

"We're not supposed to move the desks. She told us that the first day," he whispers like police are going to bust in and lock us up. Dylan's a good boy. He follows the rules.

"Does that kid still bother to you?" I ignore his pleas.

His cheeks blush fire. He shakes his head to tell me no.

"Good. Let me know if he does. Why do they bully you?" I prod. He squirms.

"It's ok. We grew up together. They're just... it's cool," he excuses them. It breaks my heart. He's a sweet kid. Those ice blue eyes have me hooked.

I look unconvinced but he offers nothing more. I let him off the hook and we work through the exercises together. I let him slide his desk back to where it was and he starts turning towards me whenever she has us pair.

When she dismisses us, he starts to rocket off again, but I grab his arm.

"Walk with me. You have hunger to rush for your celery?" I smile.

"No... not today," he stumbles for words so I cut him off.

"Good. Do you go to the coffee place near the science building? I will show you," I said. I stuff my backpack and stand up. He follows me out.

+++

"You're Egyptian, right?" he asks quietly after finally warming up to me at the coffee shop. He'd argued with me when I'd bought him a protein smoothie, but he sure was chugging it down. Poor kid acted like he didn't get much to eat.

"Yes! I am! How do you know this? I look Pharoah?" I joked.

"My dad took me there on one of his last business trips. He worked for British Petroleum and took me to Port Said!" he says. I questioned him until he pulled out his phone and fished around for a picture.

"See? There! We were on the ferry halfway between Africa and Asia!" Dylan holds up his phone and shows a recent picture of him in the arms of an older, meatier version of him.

"Yes! I have cousins on the Asian side... He looks happy. Where does he work now?" I ask since Dylan said it was one of his last business trips.

"Huh? Oh... Um... nowhere," Dylan says and his face falls. There is tragedy in my shy boy. He carries trauma.

"Oh. I am sorry. He passed away... did he?" I ask. Dylan's face goes numb. He looks down, takes the last sip of his protein smoothie, then stares at the table top like it's his yellow notebook.

His phone interrupts and he takes it from his pocket. He forces a happy tone as he tells the person he is heading home soon.

"I gotta go. That's my aunt. I'm usually home by now," he says with relief. She was just the excuse he was looking for.

"I give you a ride? It is not safe to board without a helmet," I lecture him as he grabs his backpack.

"Nah. I'm just across Balboa. I stay on the side streets! See you tomorrow. Thanks for the shake!" He scrambles away from me before I can argue. I watch him leave the shop and toss his skateboard in front of him then jump on it and push off. I feel bad for invading his tragedy, reigniting his trauma. I need to find out more.

+++

"All I know is he is Dylan Kenton... probably 16... and a student at Valley. His father passes away recently," I tell Mike as I press in behind him. He isn't a regular client, but this was urgent.

"Uh huh... Let's see... This him?" Mike asks. I look over his shoulder and see my beautiful boy pop up on his screen. It's his school picture and says he was a Senior this past year.

"That's him!" I say excitedly and accidentally shove my cock all the way into Mike's gently used hole. Mike groans and I pull back and apologize.

Mike Anders is a top cybersecurity agent. He is former FBI and now works in securing some of the biggest firms in Los Angeles. He's nearly 50 but keeps himself in good shape. He agreed to track down the info I needed on Dylan in exchange for a reduced rate (I still have to charge these guys something. They get off on paying and need to know I will never owe them. My services are always worth more.).

I'd met up with him at a condo they used near the Hollywood/Highland center. I rarely reach out to my clients so he cleared his evening to see me. He was all goofy when I got there so I had to start with a harsh spanking because he forgot the rules and tried to grab me before I had given him orders. Why do they always do that? He quickly settled down and got to work as I pistoned his hole.

"Yes, his father died, mother too... six months ago," he says. He pulls up an article from the Times showing a picture of the happy couple posing near the Grand Canyon with their happy boy between them.

"I'll print it all for you, If I can just..." He wiggles his bottom and I take the hint. I slide my cock out of his hole and some of my juice leaks out onto the towel he has laid out.

"Thanks, Mike," I say with sincere gratitude. Normally I am a rough and harsh alpha with my clients. I catch myself and turn away to look less friendly.

I listen as a printer starts to whirr and I wipe myself down with a towel. I catch Mike looking longingly at my cock between sending off documents to the printer. He finishes up as I'm tying my shoes. He hands me a large blue envelope and a fold of bills.

+++

I grab a take-away of roasted chicken and rice on my way home. I race upstairs and flop down on the couch with my food in one hand and the envelope in the other.

I peruse his school records. Dylan is a good student according to his report cards, but he failed to graduate this year. He was taking the summer English course and would need a math course to finish his high school diploma. His grades dropped off a cliff after his parents' death.

He has only been reported to the principal once. The incident report says he punched and kicked his locker until the door came off... I notice the date is just after his parents passed. He has a driver's license, but chooses to skateboard to class?

The article!

"An Encino couple killed in Monday's fiery crash on the Hollywood Freeway has been identified as Samuel Kenton (38) and his wife Marybeth Kenton (37). Authorities are still searching for the driver who fled the scene after hitting them behind. Witnesses reported the car weaving through traffic at speeds exceeding 100 mph..."

His parents had been killed on impact and pronounced dead at the scene. They left my shy boy at home, but his spirit went with them.

I set down my food and read through the rest of the article then poured over pages of pictures Mike had printed from their cloud account. They were all the ones with Dylan tagged in them and went back years to when he was a little boy. He was cared for. He was wanted. He was loved. I felt a knot build in my stomach.

I found his birth certificate near the back of the file. I did a double take when I saw we shared a birthday! He would be turning 18 next month on the same day I turned 24. I'd thought he was 16, he was deceptively small. He'd probably wasted his muscle mass in the months of grief.

Next I found his current address. He'd left the big house his father owned. Mike noted the severe debt his parents had held. His aunt had a small apartment a few miles from me.

I put my food container in the fridge and decided to head there and check it out.

I drove over and found the building, an old LA fourplex that had probably replaced an old single family home. It was aging but decent. From the street I couldn't get a good look at the unit, so I decided to park down the street and sneak towards it.

From the sidewalk I could see a light on in the living room. A lady was watching tv and using an iPad while stretched out on the couch. That must have been his aunt. I crept around to the alley and saw a window with lights just behind the trash cans. The cans gave me cover as I moved in for a closer look. His window was open halfway with the blinds pulled up to take advantage of the cool evening breeze.

Dylan was splayed out on the bed. He laid on his stomach and was watching a show on his tablet with his earbuds in. I watched his firm ass wiggle and his back rise and fall as he breathed. He had his shirt off and was only wearing a small pair of running shorts that showed the lower part of his right ass cheek. His skin was flawless and his back had nice definition. His perfect little neck longed for my lips.

I don't even know how long I stood there. The alley was silent and even if a car drove by, the trash cans and a big work van provided good cover.

"Dyl!" his aunt yells from the other room. The boy stirs and takes out one earbud.

"Yeah?" he yells back and pushes off from his comforter. He sits up on his knees but keeps his back to me. He stretches lazily and scratches his cute little chest. I can see his budding pecs in the mirror. He has a little definition on his abs, but not enough to be taken seriously.

"You want more pizza before I put it away?" she yells back.

"No thank you," he says then lays back down. I think he's going to put his show back on, but he closes the cover on his tablet and rolls over onto his back. His eyes catch mine for just a second and then I turn and flatten myself against the wall. It's dark out here and he had his bedroom lights on so I know he won't be sure of what he saw. I silently slide along the wall away from his apartment and hear him moving in his room.

I don't go back the way I came. I avoid the front of his building in case he comes out to look. I creep around the other side of the adjacent apartments and then walk along the busy street and circle around another block to get back to my car.

One thing I've learned in my job is to escape without being noticed. This time it comes in handy.

+++

The next day I find that my shy boy has moved. Dylan decides to change things up for me by sitting in the seat where I had been and leaving the first row seat open for me. I smile when I see his skateboard saving the seat.

"You steal my spot," I say and a shy smile creeps across his lips. He leans forward and moves his skateboard so I can sit in front of him. I don't like this, but I play his game.

"I steal your spot," he says with a hint of confidence. I give him a fake glare but I take my seat in front of him. He's quiet for awhile even though the professor hasn't started yet.

"Your name is Ahmed, right? Ahmed El-Ami?" he asks. His voice is so soft that for a minute I don't register that he's addressing me. I turn and look at him then nod.

"I'm Dylan... Kenton... um... thanks for the smoothie yesterday," he says.

"Is my pleasure, Dylan Kenton." I turned forward when the class started. He started to open up to me the more we partnered and even asked to work with me when she announced team projects.

"Why will I partner with a spot stealer? Why shall I choose you for my team? A wise captain does not rush to decision," I joke.

"Please, coach! I'm the best! I'll be the best mvp your team's ever seen! Put me in, coach! Let me dream!" He begs with a wicked smile that lifts the cover from the quiet, shy boy to show the happy, playful spirit he was before the tragedy.

"Fine! We go to lunch and split work. No foolishness or I bench you!" I warn with a smile and a wink.

He lets me take him to lunch and doesn't argue when I insist on paying. He offers me a ten from his wallet, but looks relieved when I refuse it. We even exchange numbers and follow invites so we can keep up with each other. I felt my heart leap when he sent me a practice text. He signed it with a happy face tongue out emoji

We split up the first part of the research paper on Brazil's economy and decide he will look for articles on the history while I dig up articles on the present and future. He's a smart kid and he is eager to begin.

He collects his things and starts to leave but I offer him a ride. This time he accepts.

In the car I pretend not to know where he lives. He leads me a roundabout way as if he's expecting me to confess I know his address and then he'd accuse me of being the face in his window the night before. I don't bite though. I let him guide me as if blissfully unaware.

"I live up that street," I offer and point up towards the hills.

"I bet you have an awesome view!" He says.

"Let's see!" I say. I take a sharp right and he laughs. He trusts me now... just a little, but enough.

We drive up to my street and I show him the little park near my apartment. It's too soon to take him to my home.

"Shit! You can see everything! Santa Monica! Venice! Look at the airplanes landing at LAX!!" He glows excitedly. He settles in to the comfortable leather of my passenger seat. Black leather looks good around my shy boy.

"You get used to it!" I offer. We get quiet then I start to ask about his high school. He tells me he played baseball through middle school and right up to his senior year. He tells me he had to drop it because of his grades. I know it's because of his parents' death. I don't push.

"The boys who pick on you? They played too?" I ask.

"They... yeah. We played together up til I dropped. I dropped baseball... I dropped everyone. I just didn't show up or return calls... or anything. I got rude with them. I said some things... now they all hate me..." his voice trails off as his eyes mist up and turn red.

"I just... Everything sucks." his voice cracks and I put my arm around him. I pull him in to my chest.

"You are safe, boy. Let it out. I am here," I say in my deepest, most reassuring tone.

The dam breaks. His tears flow. He wails like a baby. I hold him closer, hug him tightly.

I open my shirt a little, unbutton a few. It's instinctual. He hasn't had his head on a man's chest in years. His wet, salty cheek rubs my hairy left pec and he cries until he goes silent against my heart beat. That's right, boy. Daddy has you.

"It's ok, boy. It's ok." I rub his back. He feels so good in my arms. I don't care who sees us. The world melts away. He feels so good in my arms.

I lean down and kiss his soft hair. He fills my nose with that new boy smell. I hold him for the longest time. I rock him gently. I want to pull him into my lap, but he's still so new.

"I'm sorry," he says as he awakens to embarrassment.

"No. You're ok. You go through things that are right for no one! No apologies. Is ok," I assure him. He sniffles then wiggles out of my hold. His face is red and wet. His cheeks hold the dry salt of his tears. I want to lick them. I don't.

"I should get home... thank you, Ahmed. Really. I haven't done that with anyone. I don't... cry like that." He wipes his face and sniffs.

In the car I offer him Taco Bell napkins. He laughs and blows his nose as he directs me to his apartment.

We pull up and he starts to get out. He stops and thanks me again then reaches over for a hug.

I hug him but then just as he pulls away... I press my lips to his. I can't resist them. I knew it was too fast and too much, but those soft pink lips begged for mine, the touch of a man who could keep heal him and make him safe again. I try to push my tongue through them but he clamps them shut and pushes me away.

His hand hits my chest and I let him go. It's just a nudge but it feels like a bullet. He backs up as far as he can and tries to reach behind himself for the door handle.

"No! Dude! I'm not! No! I didn't know you were..." he stumbles over words and looks at me in horror.

"I'm not! No! Not me... I thought you were!" I say the first thing that comes to my head. It was stupid but it throws him off.

"What? Really? No! I have a girl... or I had." He laughs then his face fills with sadness again.

"Oh." I have no words.

"She's gone too. Everyone is gone," he says this matter of factly. He raises his palms like it's a great mystery.

"Ok...," I sigh. I am speechless. I can picture the sweet girl who must have earned his heart.

"Umm yeah. Well let's get working on that paper. I'll send you what I find!" He bails from the car and hops up to his apartment like he's being chased by a monster... me.

-- My Stories: https://sites.google.com/view/emri/ My Blog: https://emriwrites.blogspot.com