=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= This story is a work of FICTION. While actual people and/or events may inspire some characters and situations, no implications are intended or should be drawn. Any similarities to actual events or persons are strictly coincidental.
THIS STORY CONTAINS GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF CONSENSUAL SEXUAL ACTS BETWEEN TWO ADULT MALES. IT IS INTENDED FOR A MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY! IF YOU FIND THIS TYPE OF MATERIAL OFFENSIVE, IF YOU ARE UNDER 18, OR UNDER THE LEGAL AGE TO VIEW SUCH MATERIAL THEN PLEASE READ NO FURTHER.
Copyright 2007-2008 All original material contained here within is copyrighted by the author, Cameron Maxx, and may not be reproduced in any form without express written consent. The Nifty Archive is granted a non-exclusive, worldwide, royalty-free, perpetual, and non-cancelable license to display this work.
PLEASE NOTE: Feedback, both positive and negative, is welcomed and greatly appreciated. Abusive correspondence or flames of any kind will, of course, be strictly ignored - cameron.maxx@gmail.com =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
INTRODUCTION
Well, ladies and gents ... here it is. Just a few months late. Thanks for all the many kind words you've sent me. This year has proven to be a bit of a curve ball for me. Time has been short I just haven't been able to commit the hours I would like to the story. Some distractions have been good, some have been bad. Since we last spoke, I met someone. That's right; I have a kinda-sorta-boyfriend. Needless to say he takes up some time that might otherwise be devoted to writing. So, blame him and his cute ass!
But, please believe me when I say that I'm more committed to this story and to the characters of Josh and Alex than ever before. I have a clear vision of where their paths lead and what happens on the journey. It is my goal to have the story completed and posted before year's end over what will probably be about 10 chapters in total.
I hope you enjoy it and thanks, again for your patience and support!
-Cameron
CHAPTER 5
It had been an hour since Joshua had turned in and I was still sitting on the couch. I nursed the now tepid bottle of beer and stared blankly at nothing in particular. My mind wondered. Branching off down one path only to double back on themselves and head down another, my thoughts here fragmented, both exciting and troubling. It had been years since I'd spoken about Ryan. Years even since I'd given all that had happened any great deal of thought. It was an ancient wound, a scar, just another cross to bear. Perhaps not. Perhaps it was still much more raw than I had ever imagined. How can one person, one bad ending, do so much damage?
And then there was Josh. Exactly what the fuck was going on? I repeated several things he said over and over in my head. Was I reading into it? Was it the beer? Had I begun the slow, eventual slide towards having the mind of a dirty old man? This was Josh for Christ's sake! He was like my little brother. He liked girls. I know he did. He was straight. He was Abbey's kid. Think of Abbey. She'd kick my ass if she could read my thoughts right now. She should kick my ass.
With that troubling image, I finally rose from the sofa and turned off the lights, stumbled up the stairs to the hall and hung a left into my bedroom. My head hurt. I pulled the shirt over my head and dropped it on the floor. I stood beside the bed and fiddled with my jeans; fucking button fly. After a moment I got the top three undone and slid the pants down over my ass, past my knees, and then to the floor. In nothing but some humble Gap boxers I all but fell into bed, barely managing to pull the covers back before doing so.
Laying half covered from the waste down one thing Josh had said replayed again and again, like an audio tape looping endlessly, "You'll get over it. We'll figure out how." I tried to stop the tape, but it kept playing. We'll? Who the fuck are we?
"I'm too old for this shit," I mumbled to no one before falling into a restless slumber.
When I woke, a hazy light was beginning to filter in through the high window above my bed. I laid still a moment. I blinked my eyes a few times and yawned. My head still hurt. As my senses awakened I became aware of a presence in bed next to me. At first it was nothing, just a bit of warmth against my left shoulder where there should be none. Then a realized I could hear a low, steady breathing that wasn't mine. A moment of panic passed before my brain could catch up and tell me who might be sleeping in my bed with me.
I turned my head to look and there he was. Josh was laying partly on his back and partly on his right side, facing me. He was wearing a tight, white V-neck tee that rose and fell gently with his chest as he drew each breath and then exhaled. I could see four or five inches of his smooth, honey chest before the skin lightened softly in the fold of his neck and chin. I could see a shadow of stubble on his neck and jawline. There was more there then yesterday, but not by much. His pink, puffy lips were parted slightly. His shaggy hair lay in a halo around him on the pillow; a good deal of it had fallen into his face, partially covering his eyes and forehead. A few pieces had fallen around his nose and mouth. His right hand laid along his torso, partially tucked under him. His left arm was extended out towards me, propping him up on his side. I realized his wrist and a few fingers were pressed against the upper part of my left arm and shoulder.
The first question to hit my still foggy brain was 'what is he doing in my bed?' That seemed like a reasonable thought and didn't surprise me at all. The second thought caught me totally off guard -- I realized I didn't care. I didn't care what last night meant. I didn't care why he was in my bed. All I cared about was he was there. He was there and it felt right.
I looked at his face and listened to his breathing. I felt a warm, sort of glowing pulse in my chest and my breath caught. It was like my heart might explode; like looking at him laying there was just all too much. It was such an odd sensation seeing the boy I'd known as a child reflected in the face of the man now sleeping next to me. My contentment strayed towards confusion as I again doubted myself and my feelings. Ultimately the truth of the realization that I adored him, that I would do anything for him, was the only truth that mattered. He was beautiful to me and I felt more complete with him laying there next to me then I had in years. I couldn't worry about the possible ramifications of what that meant at this moment.
Overpowered by a need to touch him, I reached my arm out and gently swept the hair off his face, tucking it behind his ear. It was soft and my fingers tingled with the thrill of touching his hair again as I had last night when he kissed me. I used the back of my fingers to sweep a few more wisps of hair off his forehead, feeling his cool, smooth skin as I did. He didn't stir so I continued to stroke his hair, barely touching it, running my fingertips across the surface, sweeping it back and up. I finally just cupped his hair and the back of his head in my palm while running my thumb back and forth across his cheek as lightly as I could.
After a moment, I felt his head move ever so slightly and then he took a deep breath and opened his eyes. They were the same, vivid, ocean green that I knew so well and they were looking into mine. His lips parted then broke into a huge smile; it lit up his face. If I'd ever seen a more perfect smile I couldn't recall.
"Good morning," he said and yawned.
"Morning," I whispered.
"You're here," he said blearily, smiled again, and lifted his hand that had been touching my left arm and placed it on top of mine that was still holding his head. I felt him gently squeeze my hand before letting it rest on top of mine.
"Yeah, I'm here. Where else would I be? It is my bed, you know."
He chuckled. "No, I mean, you're here, with me and I'm here with you, in California, in your house."
"You've been here for 18 hours."
"I know, I know. It's just, I kept thinking it wasn't real, that I'd wake up and I'd be back in Austin."
"Well, buddy ... you're not in Austin," I assured him. "You're in California, right here with me."
He looked at me and smiled then gently patted my hand that was on his face, as if he needed to make sure it was real, that I was real. I stroked his cheek once more before removing my hand.
"So, if you don't mind me asking, any reason why you're in my bed?"
He grinned and rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I have a hard time going to sleep in a new place, you know, until I get used to it. All the sounds are different and, I don't know, I just can't fall asleep. Plus, last night I think I was afraid to go to sleep and then wake up to discover none of it was real."
"What time did you come in?"
"I don't know. About 2:00 or so, I think. You were totally out, so I didn't worry too much about waking you."
"Well, you didn't wake me, that's for sure. I think I had one too many beers last night."
"Me, too. My head's a little groggy this morning."
"Yeah, tell me about it. So, were you able to fall asleep once you came in here?"
"Yup, right away. As soon as I laid down, everything felt right. I could smell you and that fixed it."
"You could, uhhmmm ... smell me?"
"I mean, yeah. I could smell you. In a good way. It made me feel comfortable and safe. You smell like home."
"I smell like home?"
"Well, you smell like something familiar. How's that?"
"Okay, I guess."
"You're a safe zone, you know. Your my comfort zone, I guess. Like, remember that time that I had the messed up eye and mom brought me to the office and you snuck out so we could go get breakfast?"
I thought about it for a second and then I did remember the day he was talking about. It was years ago. He had been maybe 12 or 13 at the time and Alley had to bring him to the office because he had pink eye or something. His eye had looked awful and was swollen almost completely shut. We'd snuck out of the office when so one was paying attention and headed to McDonald's to get some breakfast. After we'd gotten our food and were pulling away from the drive-thru window he'd said some smartass something or another to me. I'd told him he was lucky his eye was fucked up or I'd punch him in the face. He'd turned to me, serious and collected, and said that I wouldn't because he knew I'd never hurt him, even on accident. It was another example of Josh catching me off guard and making me feel off balance and off guard.
"You told me you knew I'd never hurt you, even if it was by accident," I said.
"That's right. I knew it then and I know it now. I've always known it. So, that's why I came in here last night. I knew I'd be able to go to sleep if you were here."
I just looked at him for a moment. He didn't look away, meeting my gaze with his own. "You know, sometimes you were a weird kid," I finally said.
He laughed, I don't think it was the comment he was expecting. "What does that mean?"
"I mean, like you were, what ... 12 or 13 when you said that? That's pretty fucking perceptive for a kid. Plus, even if they'd thought it, most teens would have kept it to themselves."
He considered that for a second, then said, "I guess I just didn't see any reason to keep it to myself if we both knew it was true."
"You just really caught me off guard sometimes, Josh. That's all I'm saying. Sometimes I didn't know how to take you."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, there were times, like that day in my car, when you made me feel like the kid and you were the mature, grounded one. It was just a little unnerving, that's all I'm saying."
"Are you saying I was a creepy kid?" he chided.
"No, no. I mean you were no Damien or REDRUM or anything like that. It was just, okay ... you know, it was like most of the time you were this perfectly normal kid or teenager or whatever. You'd talk about music and your iPod and girls. You'd obsess over sports and play video games for hours at a time. You'd be all moody and pissy and, you'd be a typical teen. Then, out of nowhere, you'd make these incredibly insightful, and sometime emotionally charged, observations then -- bam! Back to normal, dumb kid."
He laughed and slugged my shoulder. "I was never just a normal, dumb kid."
I hesitantly agreed. "Okay, I guess you were never really dumb."
"Thank you very much," he said. Then, "besides that's why you love me. If I'd been a normal, dumb kid you'd have been bored with me in no time."
"I don't know about that. It kind of makes me sound like a dick."
He laughed. "You are kind of a dick."
"Fuck off," I said sullenly.
He laughed again and extended his arms above his head, rolling fully onto his back. I could see his feet reaching towards the foot of the bed under the covers. He stretched then rolled over on his side and propped his head up on his hand and looked down at me, still laying flat on my back.
"So, what are we doing today?"
"Well, your mom told me you needed to go to UCLA and do a few more things before classes start. Is that right?"
"Yeah, there's some paperwork and I think I need to get my student I.D. made, too. I might stop by a bookstore while I'm there."
"Okay, then let's do this, uhhmmm ... what time is it?"
He looked over my head to the side table behind me where the clock was. "It's about 9:30 or so."
"Shit. No wonder my head hurts. I was up much too late last night and had far too many beers to be awake this early."
"Oh, come on," he laughed.
"Fine, fine. I'm not sure about you but I need to shower, that's for sure. I'll feel better afterwards."
"You'll smell better, too."
"Fuck off. I thought you liked how I smelled. Remember, it made you feel all safe and shit."
He rolled his eyes and grinned. "I knew I shouldn't have told you that."
"Too late, you did." Any way, why don't you head down the hall to the other bathroom and hit the shower and I'll do the same in here. When we're both cleaned and dressed, we'll go get some food. Are you hungry?"
"I'm always hungry. You should know that."
"I know you always used to be hungry, but I thought maybe that had changed now that you're all done with puberty."
"Nope. Still hungry."
"Okay, then we'll get some food. Afterwards, why don't I give you a driving tour of L.A. and the surrounding area. I'll show you all the tourist stuff plus some of the basics you'll need for getting around. Then, we can head over to the UCLA campus later this afternoon and take care of your stuff there."
"Sounds good," he said cheerily and threw back the covers, hopping out of bed.
He was wearing white Calvin Klein boxer briefs that rode low on his waist. Several inches of his lower stomach was exposed in the gap between the bottom of his shirt and the top of his briefs. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it up and over his head, revealing his entire chest and torso. I blinked, trying not to stare as Josh stood in my bedroom, wearing nothing more than his underwear while his wadded up tee shirt hung from his right hand.
"Are there towels for me in the other bathroom?" he asked.
"Yeah. They're in the vertical cabinet next to the sink. They're all white and as long as they're all folded in there, they should be clean. Those are all yours so knock yourself out."
"Awesome. See you in a few minutes then," he said and turned, walked towards the door then disappeared around the corner into the hall.
Having watched him standing beside my bed and then walking away I felt my dick twitch and start to harden. Seeing him almost naked reminded me of a conversation I'd had with Abbey years ago about Josh and how much his body looked like his father's. She had laughed about his "bubble butt" and the fact that he'd never have to shave more than a couple times a week. His chest was smooth, absolutely devoid of hair. In fact, there was no hair on his torso at all except for a thin, dusting of soft, fine blondish-brown wisps that started just below his belly button and formed a line heading down towards his waist. The trail had widened and darkened slightly before disappearing into his low slung briefs. His body was slim and, in my mind, perfectly formed. The light musculature was visible under his golden brown skin, but never bulged. He reminded me of a swimmer or soccer player who didn't spend too much time in the gym. His chest was formed by two pectorals that gave him shape but never strained a shirt. His waist and hips formed that delicious V that plunged down his flat stomach which itself showed a hint of the 6-pack muscles underneath. He looked exactly like a healthy 20 year old should look; Michelangelo would have found Joshua an excellent model for his David, I couldn't help but think. And having watched him on his way out, I saw the bubble butt that Abbey had laughed about, too. It was still there in all its pert, perky glory. Large and perfectly formed, the globes were almost too big for his body but not quite. He had a beautiful ass.
My lecherous thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the water starting in the guest shower. "Get a grip, you creepy old man," I told myself and tryed to ignore my still semi-stiff dick.
I rolled out of bed and headed into my bathroom. I stripped, hopped into a cold shower, and tried to think about baseball, museums, vaginas ... most anything other than Josh!
Time passed quickly as days became weeks and then weeks turned into months. Joshua and I settled into a comfortable routine and it was hard to imagine my life without him there. It was like he'd been living with me forever.
My fall classes got off to a good start. I was teaching a new course I'd never taught so I had a lot of reading and research to do early in the semester. Most nights Josh, once his own work was complete, would show up in the study where I was with a couple of cold beers and pull a chair up to the desk. We'd sit and work together for an hour or two, laughing as we did. He made an excellent assistant which I, of course, teased him about to no end. Though he often threatened to never help me again thanks to my snide comments, he always did. He'd usually type while I dictated lecture notes from various books and other academics journals.
We'd talk about other things, too. We'd discuss our days, movies, music and all the other stuff we'd always talked about. We'd argue and laugh and try to convince the other that our own musical taste was far superior to theirs. By 11:00 or midnight we'd have had three or four beers each and be ready to turn in.
Most nights I'd awaken to Josh crawling into my bed a couple of hours after we'd parted ways. Nothing was ever said; I'd just roll towards him and drape on arm over his stomach. He'd take my hand and squeeze it for a moment before letting it go and then fall almost immediately to sleep. As soon as I heard his low, steady breathing, I'd withdraw my arm and roll back to my side of the bed knowing I'd done my part and he'd slid safely into slumber.
Tuesdays and Thursday were my favorite days of the week. Those were the days his classes finished early and he'd always be at home waiting for me to arrive. Dressed casually, usually in some baggy shorts, a white undershirt, and sandals, he looked the part of the Southern California boy in every way. His hair had gotten a little longer since he'd moved in with me. I'd insisted on taking him to one of those wonderfully talented but woefully overpriced stylist found only in places like L.A. They'd cut a few subtle layers in, giving the back and bangs more shape in addition to taking out some of the weight underneath. His already amazing hair now looked better than ever and sometimes it would literally take my breath away.
We'd gotten into the habit of Josh choosing what he wanted to do on those days about dinner. He'd either have picked out something from one of my cooking books that he wanted to try or he was tired and had settled on going out for dinner. Either way, I'd change clothes and then we'd head to the grocery store or restaurant. Dinner out with him was great as he was always in a good mood and seemed happy just to be sitting there, talking to me. But it was the trips to the grocery store and the misadventures in the kitchen that followed that were really cherished. We had more fun buying and then preparing our dinner than two people ever should. Neither of us were gourmet cooks but we both enjoyed trying even the most complicated dishes. If we fucked up, oh well! We'd just have a few more beers and wait for the pizza to be delivered.
It was one night, after a kitchen disaster that lead to pizza and entirely too many beers that I found myself in the study with Josh. I was sitting in my chair and he was resting against the desk looking down at me. It was early October and the California nights were getting cooler. I'd had more than my fair share of beers and before my brain could catch up to my mouth I found myself asking him a question.
"So, have you met any girls here?"
He took a moment like I'd ask him something totally unexpected before saying, "What do you mean?"
"I mean, like a girlfriend or whatever. As far as I know you haven't gone on any dates or anything."
"No. No, I haven't met a girl," he said solemnly.
"Oh," I said. I had no idea where I was going with the conversation.
"Do you think I should be trying to meet someone?" he asked.
"I don't know. I mean, I thought maybe you were lonely, or ... just might want to get laid, or something."
"I'm not lonely. You're with me, aren't you?"
"Well, yeah. But ..."
"Alex, look at me," he said cutting me off in mid sentence.
I looked up at him. He moved quickly; his left hand went behind my neck and held my head. He leaned down, closed his eyes, and pushed his mouth against mine. I had barely registered what was happening when I felt him open his mouth and the tip of his tongue licked and pushed at my lips. My mind was still reeling but my body took over and my mouth opened, allowing him in. I felt his tongue rub against mine and it was electric. A current charged through my body and my heart raced. Without thinking my hand moved to the back of his head, grabbing a handful of that beautiful hair and pulling lightly. When I did, I felt him shudder as though by doing so I'd ignited something inside him and he pushed harder against me, his tongue moving deeper into my mouth. I could taste him. His breathing became fast and shallow and he exhaled into my mouth. I breathed him in. I was vaguely aware that with him over me as he was, I could sense a bit of his saliva flowing into my mouth and that provided me with a deeply erotic sensation. Every nerve ending in my body opened up and I felt raw and overloaded. My mind raced through my history, through every kiss, and nothing compared to this. At once both romantic and primal, it lit me up and I burned for him.
Finally I released his head and I felt his hand move away from my neck. I waited before opening my eyes. He was still leaning over towards me, his face close to mine. I could feel his breath on my cheeks. His eyes peered into mine. His lips were wet and puffy, his face a little flush, but there was a hint of a grin playing at the corners of his mouth.
"I'm not lonely," he said. "You're here."
Between the beer and the kiss I thought I might pass out and tumble, head over feet, out of the chair. "Josh, I ..."
My voice trailed off, I didn't know how to finish the sentence. "What's going on here?" I finally asked, hearing the confusion in my own voice.
"I kissed you," he said without any sense of irony.
"Yeah, I know that. I ... you know, I'm gay."
"I know."
"So what are you doing here with me? Kissing me?"
"I don't know. I just wanted to, so I did. Did you mind?"
"No." I hesitated, "I don't know. I ... I'm not sure what's going on here with you and me, and for that matter, I'm not even sure it should be happening."
"I'm 20 years old. I can make my own decisions. You didn't kiss me. I kissed you."
"I don't mean it's illegal, I mean it might now be appropriate. I mean, you're straight, right? You dates girls. So, it's not fair to either of us to ..." I trailed off again.
"Look, here's the thing," he took a deep breath before looking away and then back into my eyes. "I've been with girls and guys before. I've dated both. I like them both, I guess. Granted, I've been in more relationships with girls, but I don't think any of that applies here. You're you and I'm me. We have a lot of history and this is where I want to be right now. Here with you. So, I kissed you."
I took a moment, trying to let all he'd said sink in. "You've been with guys before?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you ever tell me."
"I don't know," he said and shrugged his shoulders. "I guess you never asked."
"No, no ... hold on. I never asked about the girls but you told me about them."
"That's true, I guess. Although you did ask sometimes."
"I may have asked about a girlfriend, but only after you told me you had one. I just asked about what I assumed was, I don't know, normal for you. You sort of established the norm and any further questions I asked were based on that."
"Fair enough."
"So, are you bisexual or what?" I found myself asking before I could shut my stupid mouth.
I knew that was a mistake. His body language shifted and he rolled his eyes. After all these years, I should have known better. Josh didn't like too many questions. I expected him to get angry or, at the very least, sullen and then excuse himself to go to bed. Instead he sat there on my desk and took a couple of deep breaths. I could tell by the look on his face that his brain was processing everything that had just been said and turning it over and over again. He finally looked back down at me.
"I'm not sure. I mean, I'm just not sure what I am. The only thing I know right now is that I'm here with you and I want us to walk across the hall to your room and I want to get into bed with you and then fall asleep next to you, okay? That's all I know right now, so please just let it be enough."
My heart ached for him and I stood up so I was now looking down at him, into his eyes. "Okay," I said softly. "That's more than enough for now."
He sighed then looked down at his feet. "Thank you," he said quietly.
I put my hands around his face, my palms on his cheeks, and gently kissed his bowed forehead. I took his hand in mine. "C'mon. Let's go to bed, Joshua."
He looked up at me and smiled gratefully. I felt his grip on my hand tighten as he stood and we walked, hand in hand, out of the study and into my bedroom.
We undressed quietly and crawled under the sheets together. He curled against me, his smooth, bare torso pressed against my side, his head resting on my shoulder. We laid there a moment in silence. Then, I smiled to myself.
"Josh?" I said.
"Yeah?"
"Can I kiss you?"
He laughed. "Yes, you can."
I rolled slightly onto my side and our lips touched again. Soon my tongue was in his mouth and he sucked gently on my lower lip. It was slow and sweet. We kissed for a long time. I held him in the crook of my arm, pulling his body closer to mine. I could feel his hardness pressing against my thigh through his briefs. My own dick had gotten hard, too. Our mouths finally parted, but I continued to kiss his face. Just quick, soft pecks on his lips, nose, cheeks, eyelids, and forehead. I was consumed by a need to touch him; to let him know what he meant to me. He fell asleep soon thereafter and I followed him into that slumber moments later.
The phone started ringing. It was a banging in my head that was painful and it pulled my eyes open slowly. My head throbbed and I was too hot. Under the covers with Josh still pressed firmly against me, I'd gotten warm during the night and was sweating when I awoke.
There was only the palest of light filtering in through the windows. It was too early for the sun to have even fully broken over the eastern horizon. The phone was still ringing.
I finally managed to pull my arm out from under Josh and roll to the side of the bed, reaching for the phone as I did. "Hello?" I said, my voice sounding rough and scratchy.
It was my mom.
I listened, my mind still trying to wake up, trying to absorb what I was hearing. "Okay," I said.
Josh was now sitting up on his side of the bed looking at me.
"Okay," I said again. "Are you okay?"
We spoke a while longer before I said goodbye and hung up. As I sat the phone down on the side table I felt numb. I stared at the wall on the other side of the room.
"Alex," Josh whispered.
I jerked slightly, his voice shocking me in the still dark room. I turned and looked at him.
"Alex, what is it?"
"My dad," I said. "My dad is dead."