Hey, White Boy!

Hey, White-Boy!

or
How Alex Met Jack

A story (C) 2002 by ZUSTARA ORUR. Contact address: [zustara@hotmail.com](mailto:zustara@hotmail.com?subject=HowAlex Met Jack). Not intended for redistribution, commercial use prohibited!

This is my first attempt at writing something like this, and I would very much appreciate any kind of feedback (to above address), hearing from you would mean a lot to me. Thanks.

It features an unlikely cast perhaps, but who cares? It's just a story, and is meant to be taken exactly like that. Also, English is a second language to me, so please excuse any goofs present herein regarding grammar, spelling. I try to do the best I can!

Legal mumbo jumbo BS: this story features explicit descriptions of sexual acts between consenting male minors, and some crude language. All of the story (and its locations) are all completely made up, ie: none of these events ever took place, and no cute, furry little animals were harmed in any way in the process of writing this story either. If this sort of thing bothers you; you are under-age (and anybody cares about it); reading this story happens to be illegal wherever you may be right now; etc, please STOP READING. I won't get in trouble, but you might, who knows. If all is hunky-dory, feel free to continue, if that is your wish.

Special note: please be patient when reading, this story builds itself slowly, and takes intermissions between periods of action at times. I don't rush things! {VBG} It is a story with sex in it, not the other way around...

EIGHT - JACK:

We went to the back entrance, a set of double doors made of many small panes of glass set in a common wooden frame, and when Jack opened them, he called out, "Mom?! Dad?! I'm home!"

"Don't you speak French with your folks?", I asked him quietly.

He nodded. "Yeah, usually. My dad's English isn't too good. Anyway, I want to tell them I have a guest with me."

"Just come in boys, it's all right", I heard a female voice coming from somewhere inside the house. I recognized it as belonging to the woman that had spoken at that awful conference room meeting. "But take off your skates outside okay, because I don't want any stains or smears on the carpets."

"Sure, mom!"

"You'll have to entertain your guest by yourself, Jaques, your father and I are quite busy."

Jack grinned at me. "Yes, we'll manage!"

I strapped my 'blades off, glad to be rid of them at that stage. Damn, I do consider myself a good skater, but right then I was just about spent! And my feet were almost killing me! Sure, I hadn't been wearing my skates for a while, but one would think they'd still hold their shape! Damn cheap things, I'd have to buy something better, and soon, if me and Jack were going to keep visiting each other.

I left the rollerblades on the outside and cautiously followed Jack. The big room we had entered had parquet flooring covered with thick Iranian and Pakistani rugs, so his mother's warning had been quite proper. The room was densely furnished with English Victorian-style heavy wood furniture, and there were oil paintings all over the walls, little porcelain cups, silver and crystal decorations everywhere, potted palm trees, fancy colorful silk pillows on the sofas etc. It was too over the top for my taste, yet quite impressive nonetheless in a way.

"You guys can't have brought all this crap from France!", I heard myself saying, my eyes big as saucers. "It would have taken up a whole airplane for just this room!"

Jack grinned at me. "No, we're renting the house furnished, it belongs to a colleague of my father. He's away, working in South Africa right now. But let's go to my rooms, shall we?"

His ROOMS. Dear mother Mary, was the kid always used to this standard of living? As I passed through the house, it was clear that whomever owned it had spent a whole lot more money on the inside, than on the outside. Sure, the house looked fairly posh from the street, but that wasn't anything in comparison to the view I had now. Pretty smart actually, I must say. Why pay big bucks for an address in a fancy neighborhood, when you can spend it on piling your home full of antique junk instead?

I never saw either of his parents as we walked through the house to the big, oval stairs leading to the upper floors. Opposite of the stairs was the front door, and coming down from the ceiling two stories up through the stairwell was a big chandelier. On the other side of the front hall was the wide entrance to the library. I couldn't call it anything else than that, and from where I was standing it looked like another big room, this time not full of furniture, but books. Mahogany bookcases reaching from wall to ceiling, filled with volumes upon volumes. There was NO WAY anyone could have had time to read them all even in a whole lifetime, I was sure of it!

The curved walls around the stairs held more paintings, smaller this time, and brass candle holders that looked as old and expensive as everything else in that place. The walls, as mostly everywhere else it seemed, were painted shiny white if they were not dark wood, and every corner and intersection had dark, wooden support beams as well with a deep, rich grain in it. I had no idea which kind of trees they had come from, but they must have been beautiful!

We went up to the top floor, and I found there wasn't such an abundance of things spread out all over the place, it looked more like a normal home in my opinion. Probably, whomever owned the house didn't spend much time on that floor, or else simply hadn't scraped together enough cash yet to fill up the entire house with the same kind of pointless trappings as on the two floors below.

We continued down a short corridor and turned to the left. A fair-sized room opened up, one that I immediately recognized as belonging to a boy. Directly in front of me was a wall with three big windows in it, letting in a lot of sunlight, and giving me a view of the pool area if I was to look down. A modern-style black leather couch with a frame of chromed steel rods was placed on a rumpled rag-rug, right in the middle of the room. In front of the sofa was a small, empty coffee table with coke rings plainly visible on it in the sunlight reflected off its surface, and in front of that, a big TV set. I saw a pair of jeans tossed in a corner, and there were bookshelves along the empty walls with worn pocket books, more DVDs, a lot of CDs and comics, and a HiFi stereo/video system as well. Not an extremely fancy audio setup, but still far better than anything I would have been able to afford with the money I'd made during the summer. It had four-speaker Digital AC-3 surround, and a decent-sized sub too standing in a corner. I was fairly impressed!

While I admired his stuff, Jack dumped his rollerblades near the jeans, then merely stood there and studied me as I continued to tour his abode.

Two more doors were present, one leading to Jack's bedroom, the other to his private bathroom I noticed (since neither door was closed properly). The bedroom was located in a corner of the house and thus had windows in two walls. It wasn't nearly as big as the room I was standing in, and had a fairly small bed in it. I got the feeling that his bedroom actually was meant to be a closet, dressing room or something like that for the REAL bedroom, the one I was standing in.

At the far end of Jack's bedroom was a desk with an elaborate computer setup on it, and the remaining wall was covered by yet another bookcase, this time filled with what I would have called tomes. Thick heavy books on complicated subjects for the most part, even those that were fairly thin seemed thick and heavy to me.

I could not help myself asking. "Why me, Jack? Why me of all people?"

He knew what I meant, of course. It seemed he always did. "Perhaps you pinged extra strongly on my gaydar", he said simply. I was sure it was a joke.

"Hey, watch it kid!", I said with a grin and pointed an accusing finger at him. "I'm not a homosexual, alright?"

He simply shrugged, a very faint trace of a smile on his face. "Whatever", was all he said. "Maybe it was fate."

I shrugged too, and to cover the strange silence that followed, I picked up the DVD box which Jack had casually tossed in the couch when we entered.

'RONIN', it proclaimed in bold, red letters. I had never heard of it, and I said so.

"Oh, really? Well, it is a couple years old now. You were probably too young when it came out, probably more into Disney Club stuff back then I guess."

I didn't comment that, I merely glared at him. He was just giving me a friendly jibe, but I decided not to play along on purpose in order to try and ruin his fun. Haha, my little revenge. I recognized the word of the title at least. "This is Japanese, right? It means dead samurais or something, right?"

Jack giggled. "Not quite! It is the word for a disgraced samurai without a master."

"Oh." I decided to try out the couch. It looked thin, somehow, hard and maybe uncomfortable, but as soon as I sat down in it, I sank down into it and found out it actually was rather pleasant.

Jack continued. "Anyway, it is an European movie one could say, even if it was made by Hollywood. It takes place in France, Jean Reno is in it too by the way. I think you'll like it." Jean Reno? That guy from that kooky 'Leon' movie? I didn't want to ask.

European movie. French? It had to be a weird flick, even if DeNiro was on the cover holding a gun. I said that too, and Jack grinned at me. Not sure if it meant I was being ignorant again or not, I just thought he looked cute. I considered stealing a kiss off of those pretty lips, but it would be too much of a bother to get out of the couch again.

"I think there is a car chase in there somewhere at least. As I said, I think you'll like it."

"A car chase huh? What, in a French movie? That'll be the day..." That showed how much I knew about foreign film... Jack on the other hand didn't say anything, I guess he didn't want to spoil the surprise for me. Meanwhile, I took a closer look at the cover. "Jack, this movie isn't even rated PG-13, it's rated R. Do your parents really let you WATCH this stuff?"

He shrugged. "Sure. It's just a movie, it's not for real."

Well, if it was rated R, it couldn't be half bad I figured, even if it was French. Probably had some Can-Can chicks in it or something, flashing their boobs.

Jack went over to the windows and lowered a set of chromed blinds over each in turn, reducing the room to dusk. After closing all doors, it was almost night-time. Holding his magic wand (no, not THAT magic wand, silly), Jack pointed at the TV and stereo setup, and woke it all up from sleep mode with a few clicks. The disk tray rolled out and gaped open, ready to accept its meal. Jack plopped down the disk, and then dove down into the couch, almost landing straight on top of me.

"Easy, fella, easy!"

He giggled again and pressed the Play button.

As the movie started, we snuggled up close together. I put my arm around his shoulders in the dark, letting it creep in under his tank-top to caress his bare skin. He sighed softly, and contentedly rested his head against my shoulder. I had expected the movie to be a poor excuse to make out and maybe more in the dark for a while, but as the action started I got so hooked I almost forgot about the sexy boy sitting right next to me!

"Hey!", I complained loudly. "This isn't a French movie, they're all speaking fuckin' English!"

"I never said it was. I said it takes place in France, there's a difference", Jack replied coyly. Well, he got me there...

One car chase in there, he'd said. Right... Gunfights, detective work, skulking around, car chase upon car chase, explosions, spectacular crashes and plain blood and guts. Ronin had it all. I was totally hooked. It was slick like a Hollywood production, but different somehow. Maybe it was like Jack had said, that it was like an European movie, I wasn't sure. I had never seen any. Maybe it just was the fact it didn't take place in the US, but on narrow and winding city streets in the Old World, and on narrow and winding country roads too for that matter. And nobody was driving Ford, or GM. It was all Euro brands. That probably helped too.

I still had time to caress Jack though despite the thick action going on on the TV screen, and as the movie went on, he managed to creep up into my lap so I could feel his nice thighs. He put one arm around my neck this time, giving me both my hands free to explore him.

I was wearing a pair of jeans that day, so if I wanted him to fool around with my wang it was going to be a bit complicated. Jack however only had his Adidas shorts covering his private parts, and not even a G-string underneath them. His erection was easily noticeable early on, making the flimsy fabric tent upright. I relentlessly toyed with his sex, bringing Jack to the point of orgasm several times during the course of the movie. I was a total ass in that way, leaving my friend shuddering and blinking, sanity returning to his pleasure-maddened brain when he himself had expected to ejaculate violently any second. I could tell he liked it, his dick head and foreskin had become completely covered in slimy pre-cum, lubricating his loverod nicely. It did not bother me, the stickiness, quite the opposite. I was literally feeling HIM upon me, and that feeling was intensely exciting.

In between, he would tense his buttcheeks and move around a bit on my lap, giving my dick some stimulation too. It wasn't nearly enough to really get me off I'm afraid, but still the best the situation could offer. He often kissed me on the cheek, or on the neck, slowly and tenderly. I too urged to touch his lips again with my own, but I could not tear my eyes off the TV screen, the movie really was that good. Strange, but true!

'Yeh stupid shite! Yer a dead man!', Seamus uttered just moments before he got what was coming to him. What a totally cool thing to say. There was now only minutes left of the flick, and my attention began to wander. Not able to stop myself, I sought out Jack's mouth. Finally! Two hours of pining - even if I had been watching a very interesting story - was finally over! Slowly, I let my lips lightly brush against his. His tongue zipped out, touching me for an instant. It brought a smile to us both, and I finally let us join properly, just as the credits started rolling up the screen. That electrifying feeling was back, just as strong as it had been the other day. The difference was, I now knew what that feeling really was: it wasn't excitement over doing something I wasn't supposed to like I had first thought. It was, quite plain and simply, love. At that point, I closed my eyes.

Jack, I love you. And I kissed him.

Jack, I LOVE you. And I kissed him again, a little longer this time.

Jack, I LOVE YOU. I kissed him for a third time, more tenderly and passionately than ever. I held his head with both hands, seeking to transfer as much of my feelings into him as I possibly could. Oh God how I loved him!

"Third time's the charm, right?", he asked me. I opened my eyes again and looked upon him in the darkness. First, I thought he meant the kisses I had planted upon him, but I had kissed him a total of four times now, so that didn't make any sense. He was smiling though and I could just barely see it. There was silent communication between us yet again, and I understood. "Yes, I know you love me", his smile said.

I had no idea I had been speaking out loud. I was once again surprised, which made his smile deepen. I did not have to ask for confirmation what he felt for me, it was all there, plain to see on his lovely face.

A storm swelled within me, a wind that threatened to bodily carry me away. Suddenly, the tank-top was gone - I don't know how, or where it went - and I once again touched his fantastic bare skin completely unhindered. He sat straddled on my lap, his legs folded on either side of me, his hard dick poking me in my stomach beneath that thin layer of Adidas synthetics as I pressed him as close to me as he'd possibly go.

Oh Jack. I won't ever stop loving you. I'm not certain I said the words aloud or not, but I think I did.

I felt him twitch. First I thought he was peaking again, but then when he twitched once more and when I heard him sniffle, I understood.

Jack was weeping. It all was very quiet, very dignified in a way. Much like himself. I loosened my arms around him a little, still holding his body securely, but pulled myself away from him just enough so I could take a look at him. His tear-filled eyes were downcast, while small sobs wracked him periodically. Traces of wet saltiness down his pretty, rounded cheeks were plainly visible in the dim light, now that my eyes had fully adjusted. The TV, while still on, was displaying nothing but blackness, the credits and music having ended since a while ago.

"Do you really mean that?", he asked so very quietly.

My love for him surged. I had gone completely flaccid, so I was dead sure I wasn't confusing anything with lust here. Jack still poked me in my belly, but I ignored it. I took his pointed chin in my hand and lifted his face up towards me.

Of course I mean it, I silently sent him. You are my one and everything... Then I started to lightly kiss all his tears away.

Getting confirmation of that which we most intensely desire, can often reduce us to our weakest. I should know. Yes, none of us are as strong as others believe, and that was perhaps especially true of Jack the Wonder Boy. However, I was not yet aware indeed HOW true that was.

NINE - SCHOOL:

I continued to hold him for what felt like a very long time after that. His body had become so calm and utterly relaxed as it rested against mine, his head on my left shoulder, he was almost just a bag of bones. (Even if it was a very nicely muscled bag at that...) His breathing was so amazingly deep and regular that I was almost certain he had fallen asleep on me. I held him steady so he wouldn't fall or slip away from me, feeling my love for him grow ever stronger, firmer. As I held Jack, it evolved from something wild and immature to something as immovable as an ancient oak tree, alive with a strength I cannot describe. The tree was full of green leaves as it stood there, basking in the sun, happy just at being alive.

I dared not move even a finger for fear of ending that one perfect moment.

In the end, it was Jack that moved.

"I have to pee", he told me quietly.

I loosened my grip on him just a little, again so I could see his face. He was still a bit red and puffy around the eyes, and he seemed very somber. I smiled just a little at him, to tell him all was just as it should, gently touching his forehead with my own. "If you gotta go, then you gotta go...", I said and patted him softly on the bum. Slowly, Jack slowly wriggled out of my grip, as if he was reluctant to leave my warm embrace, and trotted off to the bathroom, his naked feet making small sucking noises against the bare floor. He closed the door behind him, but did not lock it.

I didn't feel like sitting there doing nothing while he took care of his bodily needs, so I got up out of the couch and flicked on the ceiling lights, wincing at the sudden brightness. When I could see properly again, I started looking through his comic collection to try and see if there was anything I recognized. There was the usual DC and Marvel superhero stuff on one hand which almost all male kids loved, and then a more mature and, shall we say, darker selection too. Frank Miller's Sin City, Neil Gaiman's Sandman, Garth Ennis' Preacher and Katsuhiro Otomo's Akira, amongst others. Yeah, Jack's parents sure didn't seem to think much about enforcing age restrictions with their son... Then there was a whole section of Gary Larson's The Far Side Gallery as well, which put things in stark contrast.

As I stood there browsing, there was a faint knock on the door. I waited a moment to see if anyone would enter, but nobody did. Apparently, Jack had very considerate parents that did not want to simply barge in on him (unlike my own folks, who absolutely NEVER mistook a closed door for a stop-sign, sigh!).

When I opened, Jack's father was there on the other side.

"Ah, Monsieur Ross!", he said in a friendly manner. "Pleased to meet you. I am Guillaume" His accent was very thick, but melodious and pleasant somehow at the same time. He offered his hand, and I shook it. Guillaume Legrand was quite a bit taller than me, six feet five was probably not to exaggerate. He had a fairly normal build considering his height I would say, not too wide over the shoulders, and not thin and willowy either.

I blushed. "Yeah, pleased to meet you too, Sir", I said. "Please call me Alex, I'm not... Ah, very comfortable with..." I stopped, feeling a bit lost and overwhelmed.

"I understand", he said. "My name would in English be William, yes?" He pronounced it more like 'Ouijaam', I think. I still understood what he meant though. "Please, please. Come with me."

He beckoned, and I followed, a bit uncertain what he wanted. We went down the stairs to the ground floor again, and took a different route through the many rooms there. We ended up in the kitchen, another fairly large area. There was several work spaces around the walls, and a big gas stove with a copper funnel overhead in the middle of the room. Surfaces - those that weren't metal or ceramic - and cupboards were made of a fairly light-colored wood, teak, maybe? Copper and cast iron pans and pots hung on hooks coming down from the ceiling around the stove, everything was very clean, very shiny. I wondered if anyone had ever cooked a meal in that kitchen, or if it was only used as an exhibition center. It certainly didn't look used at all.

Guillaume sat down on a tall bar stool. "Please forgive my bad language", he started. "I will try to speak as best I can." I waved my hand, showing it was all right, but at times I had trouble struggling through his heavy accent. "I want to speak a few things to you alone, not where my wife or son hear it..."

I wasn't sure what he was getting at, so I started becoming nervous, my face blushing a faint red.

"Oh, please please. Sit down", the man continued and signed for me to hop up on another of the stools. I decided to agree. "Please, do not be offended by what I will say. I will not speak about you, in..." He seemed to be searching for the word, 'particular', but didn't manage to find it. "More about anyone in general", he rephrased himself. I nodded, still uncertain.

"As you know, my son Jaques is a special boy, yes? Very smart, knows a lot. I don't know... Maybe we did wrong, Michelle and I, teaching him so much so quick. He became like little grownup so fast, yes?" His questions seemed mostly rhetorical in nature, so I just nodded in response. Yeah, I think I understood. "It is hard to...love...a child that knows so much properly, like we should. And he has special needs, you know that. You called him that yourself, 'faggot'." It sounded strange to hear, coming from a Frenchman like that.

I blushed deeply. "Sir, I am very sorry about that, and-"

"It is all right. I was not accusing. My son has accepted you a friend. What I am saying, trying to, is that he needs more than friend. There is...vide...in his life? Vacuum you say?" Void, he meant. A void in Jack's life. "My son is flamboyant outside, but sensitive inside, and we...parents...cannot help him, he is almost not our son anymore. He has grown up to us. My wife, she has not quite accepted our son's needs, silently she hopes still for petits-enfants. Grand-children, yes? But, I know there will not be any." He seemed sad when he said that last thing. Sad, but pragmatic about it somehow.

I sat there listening, and it seemed more pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. Was he actually ASKING me what I thought he was asking? He said, he was speaking in general, like he was telling me not to hurt his kid by mistake. Or was he asking me to fill his son's void? I did not know what to believe, I was just sixteen years old after all.

Guillaume suddenly turned away from me, towards the doorway. I turned too, and saw Jack standing there. He seemed so small, and so pale.

"Ah, so there you are", Jack said quietly, without much emotion. Much as if he'd found a newspaper he'd been half-heartedly looking for or something. My heart ached for him.

"Just having a friendly talk", his father replied. "Sorry about stealing your friend." If Jack suspected what his father had actually been talking about, or even if he'd overheard us, at least he didn't show any signs of it. He did seem more normal now than he had a few minutes ago when I last had seen him though. He had the tank-top back on again so at least I knew it hadn't disappeared into thin air. "Would you like to stay for dinner?", Guillaume added.

"Goddammit!", I yelped. "What time is it?" My own watch was at home, lying on the desk in my room. I had been in such a hurry to leave earlier that I'd completely forgotten about it.

"It's four thirty-five P.M.", Jack's father said after a quick look at his wrist.

"Sorry, Mr. Legrand", I said and tried to pronounce the name as properly I could. "I have to wing it. If I'm not home in half an hour at the latest, I'm a dead man."

He nodded. "Some other time perhaps."

I got help finding my way to the back exit again, I would have managed on my own, but maybe Jack wanted to be there when I left, I'm not sure. He still seemed pale, and didn't talk. I strapped on my rollerblades again, going through the motions like I had done so many times before. I did not want to leave.

"Sorry about dashing off like this, but if I'm not home in time my folks really will have my head on a plate. See you 'round", I said to Jack. "Remember what I told you up there, eh?" I felt like patting him on his cheek just to accentuate I really had meant what I'd said, but couldn't. Not with his father standing there, even despite what he'd told me about Jack's 'needs'.

He smiled weakly, uncertainly, back at me.

As it was, I just barely made it in time. My dad looked at me funny when I came home, but I didn't think much of it, I was too relieved about not being late to give such things much thought. After dinner, he took me aside.

"Alex, do I need to worry?", he asked.

I had a feeling what he meant. He must have seen me touch Jack earlier in the day when we had skated off together. I was calm however, the thought did not upset me. "No, there's no problem", I said honestly. I felt I was telling the truth.

He nodded. "Fine. Now go finish your homework, I know you've been dragging your legs." I wasn't sure if he was entirely satisfied with my answer, but I didn't care.

Monday morning. Jack slowly skated across the almost completely empty school parking lot. He was watching the world through the blue filter of his Discman glasses, and it was such a cold, cloudy, dark world. 'Adagio for Strings' by Barber was playing through the headphones, and it set a perfect mood for him as cool, almost chilly erratic winds tossed and tugged at his hair and flimsy clothes. He speeded up at times, slowed down at others, but never went very fast in the first five minutes of the piece. He turned sharply or softly left or right, making invisible spirals across the hard ground. Jack transitioned expertly from forwards to backwards motion and back again, a small pirouette, or a precise hop or a jump here and there where it fit in with the slow, soulful, sad tones of the piece.

He was an ice figure skater following an unwritten routine that was flowing from his own body and the music. The wheels of his rollerblades scraped harshly across the asphalt even though his motions were smooth, unheard by his ears; music was all that filled them. His speed increased, his movements became more energetic, his breath came faster, as the music started building itself up for the intense, drawn-out crescendo that started its long peak at about the 5:32 mark. At 5:53, the hurting, frightfully beautiful strings abruptly fell silent, so he stopped dead in his tracks. Painfully holding a stiff unnatural pose, a hot, burning tear squeezed itself out of each of his eyes. It was so magnificent! He didn't twitch, he didn't flinch. He did not lose his balance even despite the wind. He was one with the moment as he held the pose. Again the strings started playing, very slowly, very softly. Equally slowly, softly, Jack moved forwards once more in a circling, wavy pattern, his arms co-ordinating perfectly with the rest of his body's motions.

Like a figure skater.

After 7:47 minutes, the music ended. It was over. Jack came to a halt, and took his bows. His long, flowing hair came down across his eyes, blinding him momentarily. He shook it out of his vision, and raised the glasses up on his smooth forehead to look around and gather himself again. He had never intended to lose himself in the music and the movement like that, but there had been so many things on his mind lately...

He hadn't noticed that a small crowd had gathered around the parking lot where he had been performing as it turned out. They looked around, at themselves and at him, surprised at finding themselves standing there, but pleased all the same. One guy slowly started clapping his hands, and soon they all joined in and were applauding him with enthusiasm. Jack felt more tears welling up again, and he tried to swallow down a large lump in his throat. He bowed once more, deeply, silently thanking them all before he began skating off, going faster and faster until he was like a streak of lightning disappearing behind the school.

I think he was frightened, scared by it all, but I did not try to stop him leaving. He had to come to terms with this himself, just like me. I was just glad I had been there that morning, early as I was, so I could share that moment with him even if he hadn't seen me. I felt a strange, throbbing warmness inside me, and knew it was my love for him reaching out, trying to comfort him even though he wasn't even near me.

I had no idea he could skate like that... Jesus, what a sight it had been!

I made the day pass as usual until lunch. I wasn't too distracted, except for worrying about Jack. Was he OK? He had seen so...emotional, that morning. Emotional, yet introspective at the same time. After having gulped down a quick bite to eat in the school restaurant (which actually was rather decent), I hurried off to the park where I hoped to find Jennifer. I did, she was already there like most times when we joined there.

"Let me get this straight... You watched a movie together, you jacked him off, kissed, told each other you loved the other, then cried a bit together, is that it?"

She made it sound so mechanical, so sterile. It bothered me. "Yeah, well. Basically yeah. Except that he was the one crying", I said tersely.

"Uh-huh."

I didn't know how to interpret her silence. "Uh, so, does that constitute infidelity too?", I asked.

She frowned, not angrily or annoyed. It was an indecisive frown. "I was just thinking about that. ...But, no. No, I don't think so. Dunno why I'd even say such a thing, but there you have it. Happy now?"

I didn't know if I was or not. "He's so upset", I said instead. "So confused. And I thought I was the uncertain one of us two..."

"Why do you say that?", Jennifer asked, intrigued.

I had to cough a bit to clear my throat. It was still difficult to talk about this sort of thing, even with Jennifer, the one person in the world I could trust to understand what it all was about. "Well, everybody treats him like he's a grownup, you know, even his parents. But he's not. He's just a kid wise beyond his years, you understand what I'm saying?"

"You dummy! Of course he's just a kid! I could have told you had you but ASKED." She whacked me on the shoulder again like she usually did when she thought me a fool. "I actually expected you to be able to think for yourself!"

I usually tried to retort with some sort of more or less witty remark when she did that, but this time I couldn't. She was right, I hadn't seen Jack for what he really, truly was either at first. It's true he kind of swept me off my feet that Thursday last week, but shouldn't I have reacted to it then? Was that normal behavior of a person his age (if there is such a thing as 'normal behavior')?

"Well, I got around to it eventually at least, didn't I?", I mumbled, downcast. "I just wish he's all right, you know? Do you have any idea what it's like to love someone with all your heart, and see that person suffer?" I let more emotion show in my words than I intended. She knew I loved Jack, but I didn't want her to think I wanted him more than I did her! My worries were unnecessary however...

She relented. cracked apart almost even. "Oh God, Alex. I am such an idiot too at times... Go, Alex. Go find him. Now. Be with him, he needs you."

I was torn. I wanted to rush off right then and there, and I wanted to stay too! "But...! What about you then...?!"

She smiled a quick, sad smile at me. "I'll be all right meanwhile", she said weakly. "I'll just wait here until you come back. If not today, then tomorrow or the day after." She tried to give me a brave look, but she was so close so close to tears. As was I for that matter. "Jaques needs you more right now. Don't worry about me."

I left her. It pains me to say so, but I left her there. I looked back once, but she was sitting against that tree with her face hidden in her hands and I couldn't bear it watching her like that any longer. I simply hurried away.

I looked everywhere for him. All over. I ran through the corridors of the school like a fucking madman in the odd hope of catching a glimpse of him. I knew his schedule was loosely defined to say the least, he was more or less allowed to come and go as he pleased, so I really had no idea where to look for him.

Eventually, I had to stop my search. I was totally exhausted from all the running around and I was more than twenty minutes late for my next class. I must have gone through every hall and passageway at least twice. I had looked through every open door, hoping he'd be there. All I saw was empty rooms or the faces of strangers wondering who I was and what the heck I was doing looking into their classroom like that.

I was utterly distraught and found it impossible to listen to what my teachers were saying. I really couldn't afford to get any more negative feedback, but even that was beyond me now. ALL my thoughts were with Jack, and what he was doing, what he was thinking.

We had P.E. class at the end of the day. The weather was still chilly, the sky full of gray clouds that looked like they could start spraying the ground with rain at any moment, but nothing happened. The clouds merely glowered down at the Earth, ever threatening. We were to play baseball outdoors on the gravel field next to the school's gymnasium. The large outer doors to the huge hall were open wide for whatever reason. I think they had run the floor over with a polishing machine earlier, but wasn't certain. I saw him in there, standing on his toes on a balance beam, arms reaching straight out at his sides. Yes, it HAD to be him, my Jack.

I broke off from the group. I heard Teach calling out for me. "Ross! Hey, ROSS! Where the hell do you think YOU'RE going?!", he shouted with that powerful, commanding voice of his. "Come back here NOW!" Thompson really isn't the kind of guy you'd ordinarily want to turn your back on. Ex-football player, he had the chest of a barrel, arms like tree-trunks and a real short temper.

I ignored him. For a second I thought he was going to chase after me, but with an angry look he simply decided not to give a damn. He turned back to the rest of the guys standing there around him and started explaining and pointing how he wanted things done that day.

TEN - FATE:

He was so beautiful up on that beam, so graceful. I had seen gymnasts performing before of course, the school even had a team of itself, and they were certainly better at it than Jack. But their grace came from the careful repetition of a move over and over under the watchful gaze of a hawkeyed trainer. Jack was different, he was a natural it seemed to me. He did each move like he'd thought it out himself how best to do it, not from how everybody else wanted it done from decades - maybe centuries - of dusty, rigid tradition.

Jack was unaware I was there. I kept well away so I wouldn't interrupt or distract his exercises. He wore a black leotard sort of thing that covered just about his entire body, even the neck. It was very tight, making each muscle and sinew stand out in stark contrast while the sweat off his body dulled down it's inherent shininess.

All I could hear was the faint sounds of Jack's naked feet hitting the thick, lacquered wooden beam, and his labored breathing. The noise from the kids outdoors playing baseball had all faded away somehow. I saw him raise himself up in a handstand, then smoothly roll down on his back and rise back up on his feet, only to turn around, run two quick steps and flip through the air in a high forwards somersault, landing heavily back on the beam again.

He must have been going at it for a very long time, because Jack was almost on the brink of collapse. Not only was he soaked in sweat; his usually well-ordered hair was matted and stringy now. That grace he had, it was also slipping away fast, that I could see with my very eyes. Yet, he continued anyway, pushing himself further and further, and I felt I understood why. It took his mind off other things. Things he did not want to think about.

Of course, it was bound to happen sooner or later, him going at it like that in the condition he was. As his right foot landed back on the beam after a flip, the heel slipped off the beam. It could have been my imagination, but I thought I could hear an awful crunching, snapping sound as his entire bodyweight and more came down on the front portion of the foot. With a pained, frightened yell he crashed to the floor some four feet below.

I ran up to his side, all he could do was lie straight on his back with his left leg pulled up, right leg sticking out at an angle, and moan in pain with his eyes squeezed shut real tight. I took his injured leg in my hands and looked at the joint. It was already starting to puff up, I knew I had to cool it down right away.

"Don't touch it! Aaah!", Jack groaned.

"Shut up!", I snarled. "You've broken your fucking ankle, you need treatment."

He opened his eyes and saw me. "Alex? What-" The rest of whatever he was going to say was lost in another gasp of pain as I dropped his leg down again a little less carefully than I perhaps could have managed.

"Get up! Get up!", I urged him as I grabbed him under his left arm and heaved, supporting his right side like a human crutch. "Christ, what the hell were you trying to do up there? Don't you understand you could have hurt yourself a lot worse?!"

Jack bit his lower lip to keep himself from calling out in pain again, but I could see on his grimacing face it hurt one hell of a lot. He hobbled and I dragged him over to where I knew there was a medicine cabinet with some chemical cold-packs in it. Slowly lowering Jack down on a bench, I then opened up the cabinet and got out what I needed; several packs, gauze, tape. I'd done this sort of thing a couple of times before when someone had sprained something during hockey, in training or a match. I wasn't no nurse by any means, but I could manage. I squeezed the packs to break the inner seals and let the chemicals mix, shaking them vigorously to ensure it was done properly. Then I carefully applied them around the ankle joint in turn and fixed them in place with the tape, then wrapped it all up tightly with the gauze. I think I managed to do an OK job.

"We gotta get you to a hospital, man, get you X-rayed", I said, thinking about where the nearest accessible phone was. I'd probably have to run out to get P.E. teacher Thompson and have him call on his cellular, but I didn't care. I took a look down at Jack and saw he was all pale and clammy, his chest heaving. I felt his pulse, it was thin and rapid. "Shit! You're like totally dehydrated! How long were you going at it up there?!"

I was literally feeling anger at him. He was making me worry myself senseless here, dammit! I checked the medicine cabinet again, there was an empty water bottle with a salt/sugar mixture bag in there, just my luck.

"Stay right there!", I ordered him. I don't think he would have managed to leave even if his foot had been undamaged, but I wanted to make certain. I rushed off to fill the bottle, and when I came back, I picked him up - so light! He was so light... - and slowly administered it to him, making sure he drank enough of the lukewarm fluid as he sat there on my lap. It wasn't necessary to keep him there of course, but I just wanted to feel him close to me after spending so much time that day looking for him.

Jack seemed to start getting a little better. At least, some color returned beneath his tanned skin.

"Thanks...", he managed. "You didn't have to do all that, you know."

"Sure I did", I said, surprised at the amount of affection I managed to put into that simple statement. Jack squirmed uncomfortably. "Hey, what's wrong?", I asked, putting a hand on his cheek to make him face me.

"Please don't touch me", he told me with such pain in his voice. "I... I can't stand you touching me." It wasn't words of revulsion, I could hear that. He was punishing himself, denying himself that which he most wanted.

I was so very surprised. "But... Why?"

His reaction was immediate, violent, and shocking. "Because I don't deserve it!", he shouted with pain-filled anger, his young voice shrill in my ears. "Any of it! Please, just go! Leave me alone!" Tears came pouring forth again, his pretty face contorting from self-contempt. He cried angry, fierce tears this time, not those he had cried yesterday.

"Shush, shush...", I told him and put my hands around him. It felt stupid, but I could not think of anything else to say. I began to rock Jack gently while he spent his last energy pouring out all those bitter tears. Was this the same kid that had shouted, 'bite me, white-boy', less than a week before? Were both those persons living inside this beautiful shell of a boy, the outgoing, open Jack, and the insecure, frightened Jack?

Eventually, he quieted down, only giving a sniffle every now and then. Tears, snot and saliva had dripped down on his leotard-covered legs during the outburst, but none of us cared about such things right then.

"When I said I would never stop loving you, I meant it. I am a part of you forever I think, and I could not live without you. Why do you want me to leave?" I was feeling the same pain, pain for him, and for myself at the thought of losing him.

He sniffled a bit more. "You have no idea what it's like to be me", he replied faintly, his voice very much quivering from all his crying.

I smiled. He couldn't see it because I was holding him so close. "Yes, you are right, Jack. I have no idea, how could I? All I know is, you are smart, beautiful, intelligent... And that I love you."

"All about me is WRONG!", he blurted, but doing it quietly. The self-contempt was still there too.

"What do you mean, wrong? You can do almost whatever you want, you-"

He shook his head forcefully. "No, no no! I cannot do whatever I want! I can hardly do anything I want! I have to do what others expect of me!" I began to realize what he meant as he explained. "So what if I'm smart and intelligent" - he said it in a very much cynical voice - "Did anyone ask me if I WANTED to become a physics graduate at age twelve? No, they did not. I did it because I learn and understand things just by reading it once or having it shown to me, and because everybody expected it of me! I'm smart, so I must be a great student and learn everything."

"So, you don't like physics, then?" I wasn't sure if that was such a smart thing to say right then, but I figured, if he wanted to talk, he would talk. I squeezed him closer to reassure him.

"Physic's OK I guess... It's just that I never had a choice! I'm forced to live this... This LIE, act according to the mould I've been shaped after and I can't handle it anymore! I was OK with it until... Until-" He hiccuped, sniffled again, then continued really quiet. "Until I met you."

I grinned, again without him seeing it. Yeah, my mere presence seemed to make the very heavens come tumbling down at times. "It can't be THAT bad", I tried. That was the parent-like way of comforting. Smoothing over, covering up instead of gouging it out and then be done with it. The second method was more painful initially but better in the long run. A bit like pulling out an infected tooth, you don't want to walk around with it in your mouth forever but actually doing it takes courage because it hurts. "I don't care about how people think of me, and I don't live in no mould!", I continued unsuccessfully.

"Yes! Yes, you DO TOO!", Jack said angrily. "The difference is, you don't mind it! You play hockey and get off of being thought of as a bit of a dangerous guy. It's the same thing as for me!"

Damn, the kid was too fucking sharp for his own good... Yeah, Jack was probably spot-on there. I could see how my behavior could be interpreted that way. I did what people expected. I bossed my peers around, had girlfriends, got myself into trouble on a regular basis. How was I any different than him? Of course, if you don't enjoy your mould, if it pinches and chafes, forces you to go in a direction you don't want, and is too small for you to grow in, then you will begin to resent yourself. It isn't anymore complicated than that. My mould had always fit me perfectly up until then (not counting the odd pang of regret after doing something really stupid), but to be sure, after Jack came into my life hadn't I too felt it starting to restrict me?

Sure I had.

It was time to break free. For both of us.

I picked up Jack in my arms and carried him out of the gymnasium. He was so light, and so sweet to the touch. Locating Tompson, I walked up to him and explained what had happened in there, with Jack falling and hurting his foot. I did not mention our long conversation of course, that was private.

Tompson still seemed pissed I had wandered off, but he did congratulate me on the first-aid I had applied, I'd done that mostly right at least. Some guys looked at me strangely, I defiantly glared back. Nobody decided to challenge me outright then and there.

I held Jack in my arms the entire time until one of the school's groundskeepers came with a car to pick him up. I refused to put him down, I felt as strong as one of the Titans of ancient Greece, my arms like bars of steel. When he was about to go, I again refused to leave his side, and was finally allowed to follow him to the hospital.

Explaining a diagnose is wasted on me. A broken ankle is a broken ankle in my book, no matter which of the little pieces inside there had been torn or broken. Anyway, it wasn't as bad as it could have been, but neither was it minor either. Jack got a cast put on so it could heal up; it would take a bunch of weeks, but there shouldn't be any permanent damage according to the female doctor treating him. I wrote my name on it as soon as the plaster had set.

I stayed with Jack there at the hospital until his parents came to take him home. He was still quiet, didn't say much of anything, and nothing about what we'd discussed in the hall earlier. I said goodbye to him as he left in a taxi, he seemed so tired, ready to fall asleep right then and there. Not tired just physically from straining so hard that day up on that balance beam, but also mentally. Coming to grips with oneself like he had done, it could be just as exhausting, if not more so.

Jack's parents offered me a seat in the taxi, but I didn't want to push myself on them like that right then and there. I would have had to take the bus home, because it was altogether too far to walk, but I didn't have any money on me, still dressed in my training clothes as I was. I had to borrow a phone at the hospital so I could call my folks and have them come pick me up. After about half an hour of waiting outside, I saw my mom come driving in her red Volkswagen. I waved at her, and she stopped nearby to let me in. We started the trip home (first back to the school so I could pick up my stuff though) in relative silence, I explained to her why I was at the hospital, but not much more than that.

"Your father tells me you and Jack seems to come along well together now", she said after a while. "Are you just good friends, or..." She coughed, uncertain. "GOOD friends?"

I sat there for a while. What should I say to her? The longer I waited though, the clearer my answer became in my mind. Besides, moms often have good intuition as well, she knew how to interpret my silence I think.

"We're GOOD friends", I simply said.

"And Jennifer?"

I wasn't surprised she'd ask that. "She's OK with it too, I think."

"Aha." That's all she said about that.

The next couple of days were difficult for me, Jack stayed at home (nursing his ankle, I would think), and my parents were, shall I say, edgy. They didn't quite know how to treat me anymore. In a way, I wanted to say they shouldn't treat me any different than they had before, that all was the same. But it wasn't. At school, people were also aware things had changed with me, nobody actually said or implied anything straight to me, but I could still sense it. The guys in my old gang were also distant and wary of how to behave, I didn't see much of them. The only firm thing I had right then in my life was Jennifer, and she still accepted me. I guess I would have pulled through anyway, but with her at my side it wasn't such a monumental struggle. And, since Jack wasn't in school, nobody cared about enforcing my detention either. I was beginning to wonder if they'd bother with it at all, in fact.

ELEVEN - UNITY:

I didn't have no big "coming-out" ceremony or anything. I just refused to either confirm or deny what was said about me behind my back. And people did talk, I know they did. Everybody enjoys good gossip whenever they cross its path, and if they say otherwise they're lying through their teeth. However, being seen with Jennifer, even if it was only for short moments confused many I think, which was good. I did not want to clear things up for them, it was muddled-up enough for me.

I had come full circle. It was Thursday again, and I was once more sitting in Principal Montoya's office. We weren't discussing me for once, we were talking about Jack.

"I'm not sure if the school has properly thanked you or not", she started. "So I guess I'll have to do that now instead." She didn't actually SAY thanks, though. I guess she still didn't like me very much.

"Yeah, well, it was nothing."

"Mm-hm", she said curtly, almost as if I was the one who was to thank her somehow. "The Legrands have considered pulling Jaques from the school and give him a private tutor instead", she said. "They haven't decided yet. It would be unfortunate for JHH if that was to happen. I cannot ask of you outright to try and persuade them not to, but if you have any influence with them..."

She wasn't thinking of what was best for Jack, she was only caring about the school and its reputation! I felt sad, and cheap for being used in such a manner. I decided I would not help her at all, Jack had to make up his own mind what he wanted to do.

"I'll see what I can do, Ma'am", I lied.

The Principal gave me a dutiful smile that came nowhere near her eyes. "Thank you, Alex", she said, trying to sound friendly but only managed to barely get past the 'patronize' setting on the dial, and then moved on to other topics. She covered my mental absentness in class lately, but told me that in light of recent events they were going to ignore that for now, at least as long as I behaved otherwise. And I was to sharpen up my act too, of course. Getting to leave her office was a vast relief, it felt as if I could breathe again once more.

In the afternoon after I've come home (having skipped hockey and workout because I quite frankly didn't feel up to it), Jack called me. I tried to restrain my happiness over hearing his voice again, as I wasn't sure if he had recovered sufficiently in his mind yet to be able to handle my affection for him. He sounded very business-like to me, wondering if I would mind very much if he asked me to come over. Apparently, his mother's sick older sister had taken a turn for the worse back in France, and she had to return back there in a couple days. As it was expected for her to die soon anyway, Jack's father was to follow to help with funeral matters and such, should that be necessary. Jack had explained to them he'd rather stay in the U.S. though, but his parents were understandably apprehensive about leaving him alone in that big house, especially with the condition his foot was in.

That's where I came into the picture apparently. If I was to help him get around in school, maybe come by whenever I could to check on him, they'd might let him stay. The house's owner ordinarily employed a cook (but the Legrands didn't seem to eat much "at home"), that could fix meals for him, and there was a housekeeper too that came by twice a week.

I was like, "Yeah!", of course. After having said goodbye, I immediately left the house, only taking time enough to write a note to my parents explaining where I was. I rollerbladed back to Jack's place in record time I think, and I didn't even feel very tired as I got there. I guess love can do that to a guy, I truly ached for him, now more than ever.

I ran up the wide steps and rang the front doorbell, waiting patiently as I unstrapped my 'blades. I expected one of Jack's parents to open the door, but it was he himself that stood there wearing a long, heavy bathrobe, leaning against a crutch. I heard faint tones of Schubert's 'Ave Maria' drifting out from somewhere inside the house, even though I didn't know the name of the piece.

I stood there, unsure what to think. He had been so distant on the phone, I feared he was going to be like that now too, and the thought blanketed my mind with sorrow. I didn't need to worry about that though, almost as soon as he saw me, his face changed from a blank expression to a sea of emotion. There was happiness there, and sadness and guilt, and more which I hardly can describe. I stretched out a hand, and he took it, pulling me inside. I kicked the door closed with my heel, then took him in my arms and lifted him up so I could kiss him. His crutch fell forgotten from his grasp and clattered to the floor, my skates were still sitting there on the steps outside the door.

Oh, such bitter-sweetness! Tears came again in both our eyes, even as I wanted to laugh out of sheer happiness! We could not get enough of each other, it was if we had been separated for agonizing months instead of mere days! So what if his parents walked in on us any second now and discovered what we were doing? I didn't care the slightest! I buried my face in his long hair, drawing in a deep breath of his scent, that which was him.

Jack's bathrobe was soft, but Jack himself was so much softer still, and I wanted to feel him. I desperately wanted to. I tried to wriggle him out of it right then and there, but he stopped me.

"Pick me up!", he instructed instead, breathing heavily, his brown eyes shiny, as excited as I was. I immediately obeyed and put one hand under his lovely butt, the other on his back and lifted. He placed his legs so his knees stuck out on either side of my waist, feet folded backwards. I carried him according to his instructions, ending up at the main bathroom. It was an orgy in gilded metal, glass, white and pink tile and marble. There was a door to a separate room inside where I guessed the toilet was located, because I could not see it in there. I did see however a large shower with rough-surfaced glass doors on it, and a big jacuzzi tub. Twin washbasins were cut out of a solid marble bench beneath a huge golden-framed mirror that stretched for at least seven feet or so along the wall, maybe more. Soft classical music played here as well through hidden speakers.

Carefully, Jack lowered himself to the floor and balancing on one foot, he casually let the robe drop to his feet. I was again struck forcefully by the sheer beauty of his young body, the inner perfection of his thinly boned yet well-muscled limbs, all covered by that velvety soft skin that could drive me crazy just by thinking about it. A tightly wrapped plastic bag covered the cast on his right foot, something I hadn't noticed before.

"They're not home", he whispered, grasping my hands in his. "They won't be back until late tonight..."

Yes, we had indeed both come full circle. We were again naked together in a shower, warm water squalling down around us, not nearly matching the unsurpassed heat shining from our bodies. We were like a pair of stars circling each other in the heavens, exchanging hot, gaseous matter between us in our radiance. It was not just sex we shared at that moment; it was so much more than that.

I let my hands do whatever they wished. I explored him once more like it was the first time, starting with his head, tracing the ridges in the delicate bone structure of his face, the face which I loved so deeply. I felt his neck and chest, lightly caressing the pectorals, my fingers exploring the sensitive area around his stiffened nipples. I slowly progressed down his back, caressing the knobs of his spine and the sinewy muscles covering his ribs. Then I reached the twin mounds of his buttocks. I felt them, gripped them with my hands, gently squeezing, letting my hands wander inside the cleft between them. As a finger brushed across his anus, I heard a sharp intake of breath, then a shuddering sigh. I did not try to penetrate him however, I felt too much love and respect for him for trying anything like that without his express permission.

My hands would not reach any further with me standing up, so I kneeled. Jack's erect penis was literally right in my face, sticking out almost straight from his body. It again pulsed like it had before I could tell, rising and falling just a tiny amount in time with his rapid heartbeats, bobbing whenever his stomach tensed as I continued my exploration of his body. I did not touch it right then however. Instead, I ran my hands down his flat tummy, caressing it as I had done with the rest of his body, circling his belly-button slowly and carefully.

I was almost overcome with emotion as I encircled his hardened member with my hand. Jack's back arced backwards, and a slow moan slipped past his lips as I began masturbating him. He thrust his hips forwards forcefully, silently wanting more than I could give with just my hands. Pulling back his foreskin as far as it would go without hurting, I gently put my lips to the crimson tip... Feeling the glans slip inside of me, I marveled at its smoothness as I touched it with my tongue. Again I heard that hissing intake of breath...

I have no idea if I did things properly or not, being a total newbie at the task as I was, but judging from Jack's behavior, at least nothing was wrong. He moaned more loudly than I've ever heard before as I massaged his member with my mouth, gently playing with his smallish balls and scrotum with one hand, supporting his body with my other so he would not lose balance. His hands rested on my head, sometimes pulling my hair, urging me closer as if he wanted me to swallow all of him at once. Seeing ecstasy envelop him deeper and deeper, I tightened my grip on him, using both hands now. I did not want him to slip.

Jack's orgasm was much more violent than the first he experienced together with me, it took me quite by surprise actually, I did not expect it of him as he came again and again, completely lost in rapture. After the magnificent experience had passed, his body suddenly seemed to lose all rigidity and I had to quickly grab hold of him so he wouldn't fall. Supporting him with one hand under his rump and the other on the small of his back, he looked up at me. He was happy again now, and that made me happy. We kissed once more, slowly and intimately. Perhaps it had taken him this long for him to realize I really did care for him as deeply as I had said I did, I'm not sure.

We stood there, sharing love and affection, holding on to each other as the smotheringly sweet tones of Pachabel's 'Canon' played around us. It was simply too good to be true to be alive right then. If I could have, I would have remained there with him forever and ever.

Reaching for that same orange-yellow bottle I had seen him use a week ago, he asked me, "Are you ready?"

Yeah, I was ready. "Lavender, here I come", I guffawed. Oh, the sensations he brought to me with his small, skilled hands, I cannot even express it properly, it almost overcame me completely. We were both covered in thick, creamy lather, making our bodies even slicker as they touched. I was totally, completely hard, more so than I'd thought possible. Rubbing my dick between his legs, I felt myself sink down into a deep sea of fiery molten lava. Oh, the pleasure of it all! I came explosively with a strangled howl, spraying my semen on, and up between Jack's buttocks.

"That tickled!", the little rascal told me, eyes wide. Feeling physically weakened, my tunnel-vision slowly fading, I could do nothing but grin and wrap my arms around his chest again, letting one of my hands sneak up and hold the back of his head. He put his soft cheek against mine, arms encircling me as well. Standing together like that, we rinsed off under a cold stream of water where the warmth of our bodies was more than a match for the chill of the shower's water, then stepped out together.

We dried each other off with a big towel, touching and caressing, I stopped to put on my boxer shorts and T-shirt, Jack didn't even bother with the bathrobe, he just tore off the plastic bag around the cast and then stood there even more naked than before. I tossed the robe over my shoulder, then lifted him up once more in my arms just like he was, and carried him to 'his rooms'. He was not heavy at all, and I did not get tired as I climbed the stairs.

I carefully put Jack down on the black leather couch so his head was supported on one of the low armrests and tucked up the bathrobe around him so he would not start freezing. Seeing him like that, curled up, relaxed, his eyes closed and a faint smile on his lips made me feel that strange ache for him again. Not in a sexual way this time, I was thinking what would happen to me if I ever was to lose him. I sat beside him and smoothed away damp hairs from that perfect forehead of his, deeply enjoying simply being in his presence...

I must have started to get tired, because I found myself lying down beside him after a while. I hardly noticed when he snuck out of the sofa and returned with his bedspread. I mumbled something unintelligible - half-asleep as I was - as he prodded me to move in order to make room. I had my back against the couch's back, then Jack laid down in front of me, pressing himself close, his butt coming up tight against my groin.

"Mmbbffll...", I mumbled as he covered us both up. My arm went on its accord to wrap itself around him.

We must have slept together like that for at least two hours, because when I woke up, it was getting dark outside. I patted him very softly on the cheek, and he stirred slightly, still asleep. I smiled, it felt so good being there, beside that beautiful boy of mine, knowing he was safe, relaxed and comfortable. I slowly and carefully extracted myself and reached for the magic wand on the table before returning to the warmness next to Jack. Turning on the TV really low, I flipped through channel after channel in search of something worth watching. I didn't find anything that compared to the sight sleeping right beside me though and soon I left it on, just looking without trying to interpret what I was seeing. The tube's bluish glow made the finely chiseled features of Jack's face stand out, giving it an alien beauty of sorts in the flickering light.

Jack stretched luxuriously, nearly pushing himself out of the couch in the process. "What time is it?", he asked me.

"Just past nine thirty, sleepyhead!", I said and playfully ruffled his hair (it was still slightly moist in places).

"I don't wanna get up...", he complained. "Do you?"

"Are you kidding?" No way I would leave that couch as long as he was in it!

He turned his head to look at me. "Kiss me please", he asked all of a sudden. I obeyed, enslaved as I was by the feelings I had for him. I felt my desires building again, and I quickly took the opportunity to extract my stiffening wang from my shorts.

"Mmmmnnnh!", Jack exclaimed through his nose as my organ brushed against his naked nether regions while our lips were still joined. I was growing rapidly and Jack responded, squirming and pressing himself against my erection. I let a hand seek out his member and found it hardening as well, then we both paused. It was not necessary for us to go any further than that, we were both happy and content. I held him as he touched me, we did not need more.

Eventually, the heat of the moment leaked out of us both, but we still stuck close together.

*ZUSTARA* A K A L V