Hound-06

The following story is for adults and contains descriptions of sexual contact between males. If you are a minor, then it is illegal for you to read this story. If you find the subject objectionable, then read no further. All the characters, events and settings are the product of my over-active imagination. I hope you like it. Mail me or if literary analysis interests you visit Eliot's Space.

Hound

by Eliot Moore

Chapter Six

Table of Contents

Ten point Twelve (Eighteen point Ten)
Eleven point Two (Eighteen point Twelve)
Eleven point Eleven (Nineteen point nine)
Twelve point Nine (Nineteen point Seven)

Ten point Twelve (Eighteen point Ten)

Peter tracked the new hound Ethan had known as Walter Pearson two years before in little Eric's kennel playing. He paused at the doorway conscious of the fact that this small space had been Ethan's for a time. Two years, and each month since he had laid his small friend in the back of Gus' truck seemed as empty as the last. After a time Peter had gathered his courage and gone back to the sacred place. He did not really understand his reasons or why he thought the four boys buried in the sandy loam beside the lake would listen to his words. Conrad might be sympathetic, they had been friends after all. Conrad had always included Peter in his dreams of flight and freedom. Martin might appreciate his misery. As Martin tried to burn the kennel down around them he had cursed Peter to hell along with Gus and Melvin. The other two boys would be indifferent to his lonely ramblings. Even so Peter included all four puppies in his conversation, and now there would be a fifth.

After Conrad, Peter had learned to shut down when Gus delivered a victim into Melvin's clutches. It was easier to send the feelings someplace else. After Conrad there was not much point in tears. The hound had always moved about his task numbed to the brutality he had been implicated in. Peter saved his tears for after he had gently delivered each burden to its final rest. It was a blessing that Peter could still find the tears, though he never saw it as such. Increasingly, Peter had come to understand that only some of the tears were for the dead puppies. Peter cried mostly for himself, but each time he cried he seemed to move forward a little. Each time he sat to talk about Ethan in the grave company of the four puppies he brought them all a little closer to freedom; and now there would be a fifth.

"Mark"

Despite the December cold the small hound had cast the blankets back as he thrust into the spread-eagled puppy. Peter held the flashlight on the scene. Mark's knees had pushed the small legs open and his fingers pressed the puppy's wrists into the thin mattress. Mark expelled a heavy mist each time his quivering muscles pushed forward. Eric's warm breath was lost in the soiled foam.

"Mark, hurry up, we have work to do." Peter was not as effective as Gus. Mark simply grunted a reply and then the grunt transformed into an ecstatic high pitched cry as the twelve-year-old vibrated with pleasure. After a pair of small jerks aimed at milking the last of his fluid free the new hound obligingly rolled off the new puppy and onto his back with a sigh of contentment. Peter knew the pubescent hound was spent and knew he would gladly slip into sleep. "Now Mark," the little hound eyed Peter to judge the seriousness of the situation. Something in Peter's face convinced him. Mark gave a resigned sigh, kissed the still puppy on the top of his head, and then rose to join his mentor.

"What's the story?" The scent of sex rolled off of Mark.

Peter glanced at Eric. The little puppy had curled up and one small hand was groping for a blanket. Peter spoke quietly with his lips near Mark's ear. "Melvin killed Terrence this morning. "

"Fuck!" Mark's voice was loud. Peter put a cautionary hand on the hound's muscled shoulder. Mark continued quietly, "Bet that will set Gus off."

"No, Gus told Melvin he could put Terrence down." Mark nodded. Peter was disturbed. Mark seemed unmoved by the news. "I need your help for a bit. Go get a shovel and another light. Its going to be hours before the sun comes up. Put some clothes on too. Temperature is dropping."

"The ground is frozen solid. It snowed this week!" Peter noticed Eric had not found the blanket. "Isn't it easier to just dump it somewhere away from the cabins?" Peter frowned at Mark.

"There is a place dug already. It's not a problem. Just get the shovel and meet me." Peter shuddered slightly. After the second puppy died one frozen March, Peter always kept an extra hole prepared. He shuddered a second time and wished the soothing numbness would return. Somehow, telling himself the small body waiting in Melvin's cabin was not Ethan only served to make him feel worse.

When Mark had gone, Peter sat beside the little puppy. He dragged the child into his lap and as he settled him against his wool sweater he covered him in the discarded blanket. Eric melted against him. Some fluid escaped the boy and soaked into Peter's jeans. Peter gave Eric a small hug. Not Ethan, he mourned but another puppy needing comfort. Peter's lips brushed the tight nap on the eight-year-old's head. "You okay Eric?" he asked gently.

"My name is Marvin."

"Well you're Eric now aren't you?"

"I am?" Eric lifted his head.

"Sure" Peter touched the dog tag welded around the thin neck. "See here, it says Eric."

"It does?" The little puppy toyed with the tag a moment trying to read the inscription. Then he settled back against Peter's chest and closed his eyes with a small sigh. Mark would be waiting for him. It was time to introduce Terrence to the others; ask Conrad to take care of him now. Someone new to share his thoughts with. I've got to get out of here, Peter suppressed the silent scream of terror hastily. He hugged Eric a little too tightly and the puppy stirred restlessly. Twice Gus had brought him out and into the world since Ethan had been taken away. Both times Peter thought about flight. Running away seemed pointless. You don't know where Ethan is, Peter reminded himself bleakly, not yet anyway.

Eleven point Two (Eighteen point Twelve)

Sean had to admit the mountains were exciting. Part of the excitement was the break in routine, part of the excitement was snow boarding on a real mountain. Father had bought him a new jacket, snow boarding pants and cool boots. Ross promised he could take Sean's newly learned skills as a boarder up to the top. He wasn't sure if he would get the chance. He had listened to his father grumble about skiing. Father liked the hot tub better. Despite the heat in the van he had kept the clothes on.

Sean spent the entire trip up into the mountains in the back of the van with Ross and two other puppies he had never met. Lee said he lived on a farm and Art lived in St. Lewis. The two puppies had been on the road for a long time. They envied Ross and Sean living so close to the mountains. It was crowded in the back and there was no room to stretch. Ross left him alone while he got to know the other puppies. Sean was very nervous. Ross had told him the winter gathering would go on for days. It would be just like the parties his father went to; except instead of the usual mix of street boys -- mutts as father liked to call them -- there would be kennel puppies and hounds. Sean hoped he would be less popular during this weekend. Lee was only nine. Vance and donald had really noticed him.

The promised group of cabins turned out to be a cheap hotel in a small village. “You said there would be cabins with hot tubs.” Sean commented to Ross as he eyed the run-down building. The sixteen-year-old hound reached down to scoop up some fresh snow and then threw it at Sean.

“Well they were last year.”

“Kind'a run down don't you think?” Sean tossed some snow back. He was feeling light hearted for the first time since he had been taken away from Peter. Suddenly the shabby hotel didn't matter. He was on holiday. “Maybe its better inside” He laughed when Art and Lee jumped on Ross and pulled him into the bank of snow piled against the worn clap board. After watching a moment he joined the pile.

The men ferried bags into the building as the boys wrestled. They knew the puppies had been restless in the back of the van and they needed to work off some energy. Vance paused to watch Sean pin the older boy. He looked so achingly beautiful in his cute snow boarding outfit. Sean had been such a good puppy. He knew he would have to risk letting the puppy out on the mountain slopes. Sean would be devastated if he refused to let him go. Nothing would induce Vance to try it himself, but one of the others would likely agree to take Sean.

The hotel was more of a private club. The name on the bar was something of an inside joke to members: Best of Breed. One of the members used to live in town. He had located the old rooming house and after some discussion eleven of the breeder's satisfied customers had bought the property and formed the Rocky Mountain Kennel Club. Pratt had moved in with his partner and their hound. Vance had never seen the property. He had trusted Pratt's judgment. Pratt and Warner were gradually transforming the old building into a predictable melange of Neo victorian decorating seeded with high tech toys and well appointed bathrooms. The effect, Vance reflected morosely, was uncomfortably reminiscent of a claustrophobic London bordello. The wastrel son of the Earl of Fornication would not have felt out of place; neither apparently did the gay partnership of Pratt and Warner. Vance infinitely preferred the aesthetic lines of his high rise apartment. The bed and breakfast paid for itself with a respectable trickle of tourists much of the year. Vance and his partners appreciated that. He carried his bags up to the small room. There was a water closet in the room. Showers and the pool were in the back. He bounced on the double bed testing it. There was a wall mount HD television filling the space above a side table and a small bar fridge. Someone had thoughtfully stocked it with two bottles of Balvenie Newwood and a bottle of Viagra. The room was small and the apricot homage to the wild west hardly reflected Vance's taste, but it afforded some privacy during the weekend. Vance noticed he had a view of the parking lot where Sean and the other puppies continued their warfare. Satisfied with the room, Vance headed downstairs to share a drink with the other men.

The four boys ended their tussle in a heap of panting bodies beside the van. Art finally suggested that they go inside. They were stopped at the door by an older hound named Cory who directed them into a cloak room. Cory told them they should leave their clothes in this room when they came inside. Sean hung his clothes in an antique locker and shyly waited for the others. The three puppies moved with Ross and Cory in a pack toward the lounge. Sean sat on the floor near Vance. His long hair was tangled and he closed his eyes while his father swept the errant clumps of icy snow from his tangled hair with his fingers. The heat from a nearby gas fireplace warmed Sean. He absently studied the ineffectual flames licking at the impervious synthetic wood. Better perhaps than the sterile illusion of fire back at his home with father in Denver - all lights and mirrors; but not as fine, not as exhilarating as a pine scented fire by a moonlit lake. Sean closed his eyes and called back the memory of sitting cross legged on a flat rock snuggled into Peter's warm embrace. Peter's musk mingling with the perfume of the forest at their back and the cleansing smoke of the fire swirling around them. Light laughter as they fed each other hot dripping skewers of tender meat filched from Helga's kitchen. Meat meant for Gus and Melvin's table. Sean sighed as he remembered Peter's hands protectively circled around his waist as he leaned toward the fire to add fresh fuel. Pause to stir the furnace at the center of the fire, glowing embers flaring, and then watch incandescent sparks flicker out in the starlit sky. Feel Peter's breath between the blades of your shoulders just before he plants a soft kiss and pulls you back against the living furnace of his skin. That sort of fire is alive, reflected Sean. Even a well laid fire starts out smoky but if the logs are fine, once the impurities are burned away, it burns clean. Before long you have a bed of glowing coals that will last until dawn brings a new day. Just feed it occasionally and it will carry you through, Peter had added.

Vance leaned back and looked around the room. “Sean would like to snow board tomorrow. I can't take him. He will be disappointed if he can't go. I hope some of you fellows can help me out.”

“I'll take him if you like.” Sean's eyes snapped open and he turned to stare at the person in the doorway who had spoken.

“Would you like that Sean?” Vance scratched Sean's neck.

“Yes” he barely whispered. They didn't take their eyes off each other for six painful beats of Sean's heart. Peter finally broke the contact and cleared his throat before turning to Gus.

"Bags are in the room."

It didn't registered on Sean's mind that Peter was dressed. He was caught up in the unexpected joy of seeing the hound. Only clearly Peter was no hound. He was a young man now. Peter spoke briefly to Gus and gave Sean another quick glance before leaving the room.

“Your hound has grown up Gus. How old is he now?”

“Eighteen or nineteen I think, fuck if I remember, but he's still my boy. He's a working dog now. He can still gnaw on an old bone every once and a while, but you men know how it is, I like my meat tender." Gus smiled at little Lee, but Sean did not think the smile very warm. He shivered in the heat of the lounge. "Nice little club house you have here gentlemen.”

“You're still welcome to join us.” Donald contributed.

Gus glanced at Donald and the young hound standing beside him. I wouldn't join you fools. Like dogs returning to their own vomit these men would beat a track back to their little club house and eventually someone would notice. They would all end up at the bottom of the heap in prison waiting for the day a Shiv sliced their boy loving throats open. Gus had no interest in joining them, this was a business trip pure and simple. He looked at the blond kid next to Sylkuis staring at him. He had nice clean looks, still very fuckable, but there was something there Gus didn't like; something wild. Hung out too much with Peter too. Gus suspected he should have killed the boy when he had a chance. Well, he's someone else's problem now.

“Sean, go take a shower and meet me in our room. We are in room seven.” Sean nodded and went in search of the showers. So far nobody had asked him to play with them. Everyone must be settling in still. Father had said that he wanted his puppy to win best of breed during the weekend. That meant that he had to play happily with everyone. Sean needed to see Peter and cast about everywhere as he searched out the communal shower room. He found the showers without difficulty. It was like a pool shower. He turned the water on and held his hand under the soft spray. The water flowed between his fingers.

“Hello bright eyes.”

Sean turned to look at Peter and then silently returned to his consideration of the water. His heart was pounding so hard it hurt. Peter touched his shoulder and suddenly he was hugging the young man and the tears and the joy wouldn't stop.

“Ethan I missed you.”

Ethan! I'm Ethan. I was forgetting, he realized wonderstruck. Ethan nearly sobbed. He had not heard his name spoken aloud since the final night he had shared with Peter; the night he woke miles from the kennel traveling south to Denver. Ethan couldn't speak. He was a little boy again ripped from him family with nothing to hold on to except a friendly fourteen-year-old. Ethan buried his face in Peter's chest and nodded. He realized he had missed Peter beyond words. The young man pulled him away quickly and put his hands on Ethan's face. Peter's cheeks were covered in tears of his own. “Answer quickly Ethan, do you know where you live?”

"I remember what my house looks like." Peter looked devastated for a moment and then he caught Ethan's smile trembling through the freely flowing tears. Peter kissed a few tears away and scolded Ethan.

"You little bastard! Don't tease me. Do you know it?"

“Yes” Ethan closed his eyes for a moment to think. He quickly told Peter the address he had read so many times on the letters he carried back to the apartment each day. “Will you come see me sometime?” It hurt to think that he might not see Peter again.

“If I can” Peter watched the boy's face fall and quickly added "Yes, yes I promise I will" and Ethan rewarded him with a smile. He kissed Ethan on the forehead. “You've gotten so big Ethan.”

"Pretty soon a hound"

"Soon" The young man checked the door quickly and turned back to Ethan. Peter brushed Ethan's hair aside before pushing him gently back toward the water. "Have your shower Ethan."

"Don't go." Ethan stood next to the stream of water afraid that he wouldn't see Peter again.

"I'll stay a while."

Peter watched Ethan and ran the vital address through his head. He knew what Gus had planned for him. He knew why Mark was still at the kennel after all these years. He didn't want to be trapped running the kennel year after year. He did not want to train little boys to be puppies. He didn't want to add grave after grave to the sacred place where one day he would lose his mind and be content to stay with the dead. Ethan soaped his crotch and smiled shyly at Peter. Peter smiled back. What he had to do frightened him, but after two weary years Ethan had given him the key.

Ethan woke slowly in the bed beside Vance. Father had come to the room to show him he was loved and then let him sleep. Ethan had found he had trouble saying the words father needed to hear to make his organ hard. Vance had been his usual gentle self; always so anxious to show he loved Sean, and that was the problem. The man loved a puppy named Sean. Somehow Ethan had always known he was someone else and Peter agreed. As Vance filled the special place boys had for men, Ethan's thoughts kept shifting to Peter. After a time it was simply easier to imagine he was encouraging Peter. In his heart, he knew such words would never be needed.

Tonight was the beginning of the dog show. When they went back downstairs they found that the lounge was full. Vance didn't smoke so the toxic air in the confined space bothered him. Imitation Tiffany lamps above each table cast an ocher glow on the men. Ethan saw the remaining boys for the first time. There were three other puppies in the bar and five hounds. Ethan had been to parties with only two of boys but he knew what the group of men expected from them. He eyed the hounds speculatively. His small cock jumped. Peter was sitting behind the bar with Warner, one of the men who ran the club. Ethan suddenly realized Peter was still dressed like the rest of the men. Peter would not meet his eyes. There were benches along two sides of the room with clusters of tables and chairs. His father wandered to a stretch of cushioned bench near a man Ethan had never met. Ethan eyed the man's hound nervously and then gratefully escaped to Peter and the bar to retrieve a tumbler of amber liquor for Vance. Ethan smiled his request at Peter. Peter's dull eyes passed over his and settled on Ross. Ethan's smile faltered and after Warner gave him the drink he retreated in confusion across the room.

Ethan sat at Vance's feet, eyes glued to the floor. He was discouraged by Peter's response. Ross coaxed the little Lee over to where Donald lounged and the partners began entertaining themselves on the puppy. Eventually one of the unfamiliar hounds came up and grabbed Ethan's choker. Ethan followed him over to the hound's master knowing he was wanted. "Come boy; let me see you up close." Ethan stood between the man's legs and allowed him run his hands over his body. "Christ he's a fine animal Vance. Good proportion. Fine features. I wish he had a brother. Fuck Vance, when this kid starts shooting bullets I'd hook him up and pop out a replacement. No quarter of a million for you Gus!"

The breeder's eyes glittered over his drink, but he offered no comment. Eight boys in the room, catching them was the most expensive part, truck them home, feed them local game, fuck their brains out for about two years and pawn them off on you sorry pricks for two hundred and fifty thousand a plump ass. You do the math you fat fuck.

The man slouched in his chair. "What do you think Champ? Are you ready to service this puppy?" The hound began to touch Ethan from behind. "Sit on my lap. Up boy" Ethan straddled the man's plump thighs and clutched at a sweaty shirt as he tried to balance. "See if you can get him hard Champ."

As it began, the evening continued. It was all too familiar to him. The men spoke of love and sex and the boys responded to their pleasure. The puppies were in the mountains, but it was just another party. The men said they loved him over and over yet it seemed to the boy that the one person in the room he needed to demonstrate his love was the one person who would not touch him. Always, Ethan was conscious of his friend. Peter's hand stroking Ross's head as the strapping young hound eagerly went down on him. Peter back behind the bar slouched at the counter until some drink order brought him momentarily to life. Peter never seemed to look at Ethan as he obediently went from man to man. Peter never held him. Ethan tried to catch Peter's eye throughout the evening. Ethan waited for Peter's embrace. Peter seemed to have no interest in him. Ethan feared the feelings in the shower had past.

The men were older and they borrowed the energy of the teenage hounds to prolong their party. The gathered men drained the youth on each other to the flash of digital cameras and the rumblings of their throaty encouragement. Peter shredded a napkin into a shot glass and did his best to ignore the party around him. It was not an easy thing to do as it was his impression that all the activity revolved around Ethan. Finally Peter could no longer avoid his presence. He furtively watched his young friend from his seat behind the bar. Ethan had grown so much. He was poised at the end of childhood and Peter could see the lean hound he would morph into. Ethan lay sprawled on the thin carpet cradling his head on one arm. The puppy's face was half turned toward him and heavy lids shadowed his glistening eyes. He's so tired. Peter had an impulse to scoop him up in his arms and carry him to bed. I'll wipe his face with a hot cloth then kiss his leaden eyes and bruised lips. Feel his breath on me once more. Peter shook his head and forced his eyes back on the twists of paper that had fallen like snow around the fluted glass.

Vance had drank too much. Ethan heard the familiar slur and argumentative tone. Vance was deep into his economic theories with a couple of like-minded fathers. A little while ago Ross had seduced Donald away from the conversation. They had stopped in the doorway to share a kiss before departing hand in hand. Ross liked Donald it seemed. Ethan turned his face to the gas fire. It flickered on casting shadow flames around the room, its flames an endless repetition, never changing, lifeless. Ethan sighed, Peter was ignoring him again. It filled Ethan with such sadness. Ethan wished that Vance would take him to bed, or at least allow him find his own way to their room. The boy felt a stab of pain as someone straddled his hips. He felt stiff fingers dig into his aching back muscles. The fingers probed for a moment before sliding up his back and around his chest. Fingers pinched the nipples on his flat chest before his unknown companion bit his ear lobe playfully. Heavy balls compressed his tense bottom. Ethan felt an engorged cock slide across his body. "You lie there like this and your cute tush is just begging me for some more attention."

Ethan recognized the voice. It was Pratt and Warner's hound Cory. The sixteen-year-old had shadowed Ethan relentlessly throughout the night. "Tired" Ethan mumbled hopefully.

"You want it, you know it. Everyone else has gone to sleep except you. Your such a little slut." Cory slid a hand down Ethan's torso and cupped his groin. His penis was raw from the attention it had received and when Cory began milking it Ethan cried out with a small protest.

"No, please, okay?"

But Cory ignored his protest. The teenager lifted the limp boy up with one hand and dropped him back onto his knees. He collapsed onto his heals, knees splayed, his anus ready for the next intrusion. Ethan bit his lip and tasted his own blood when the youth's organ assaulted his swollen ring. His muscles locked at first, but they did not have the strength to hold back the assault. Ethan felt fluid slide free and down his inner thigh.

"Sean, Sean, Sean" Cory crooned like a mantra.

Not Sean, Ethan tried to crawl away. Cory reeled him back in with one strong arm. The long cock drove home and a cry escaped from the eleven-year-old. Ethan's flat belly rippled beneath Cory's hand. He gave up the fight.

"Your ass is hot. Bet I can feel my cock through your belly." Cory slammed into Ethan twice. "Let's find your love nut." There was nothing gentle about it. Cory began pounding into the small boy. Ethan's face was pushed into the carpet as Cory assaulted him. Tears rolled down his cheeks. The swollen flesh burned painfully. Abruptly, Cory's muscled body fell hard onto Ethan's back. The collapsing teenager plastered Ethan to the floor. Cory's cock still lay deep inside of him, but the movement had stopped. Cory attempted to push himself up but he was immediately forced back down.

"Lie still" Peter's husky voice growled above Ethan.

Peter's foot rested in the small of the teen's back. He stripped his shirt off and jerked open the snap of his pants. The hound turned to look up at him when he moved his foot to kick his way out of the pants. Peter's face had lost all expression. He dropped behind Cory on one knee and jerked his body off of Ethan. Cory's unsatisfied cock slid free of the puppy and Cory arched his back as he anticipated the young man's penetration. Without ceremony, Peter opening the sixteen-year-old with his fingers. Cory gasped at the intrusion.

The three bodies were a study in contrasts to the assembled men who paused their conversation to watch. A wisp of a boy beneath a well fed teenager in the grip of a lean young man entering his prime. Peter's hand held Cory's shoulder in a vice. When he was ready he covered the sixteen-year old in a single thrust. It forced the breath out of the youth as surely as a blow to the stomach. Freed from Cory's crushing weight, Ethan twisted around, curious to see what had interrupted Cory's pleasure. Cory's chest convulsed above him. The teen's neck stretched back and his jaw hung loose. Beads of sweat dripped down his quivering biceps and his rich musk filled Ethan's nostrils. Ethan's feet were getting bruised by the pair rutting above him so he scootched forward between Cory's arms and then collapsed again when he saw Peter's face.

Peter took his time. Cory served his body well so he pushed the youth past the moment when sex was a partnership and on to where the youth was simply a hot vessel waiting to be filled. Peter drove his anger and frustration deep into the clinging cavity. Cory's grunts kept time with his thrusts. Release would not fulfil Peter's need so he slid a sweat-lubricated arm across Cory's chest and with a powerful jerk pulled him the lighter youth up against his chest and held him pinned there. Cory's arms sought Peter's strong embrace and groped at the tangled strands of the young man's hair. Peter held him suspended on his engorged cock; his eyes focused briefly on the wide eyed boy searching his face. Peter closed his eyes to shut the image of Ethan out just as the boy lifted one leg free of the tangle and brought it down along Peter's flank. Small toes dug into his calf as Peter raked his fingernails down Cory's chest and took possession of the limp member dangling over Ethan's groin.

Peter took his time. He let the tight kiss of teenage muscle and the hound's involuntary convulsions keep his manhood strong. Sweat dripped into a stream that found the channel down Cory's back and into Cory's violated cleft. Cory lubricated Peter's cock. Cory's cock thrummed in his hand. A lifetime of experience coursed through Peter's fingers. He held the the agonized youth quivering on the precipice long enough to to hear his whispered prayers for release, "Fuck oh fuck finish it please", and then Cory was freed. He screamed out his relief as long ropes arched free to coil across Ethan's soft skin. Cory tried to clutch at Peter's buttocks in a desperate effort to coax the man's orgasm. Peter dominated the moment. He ignored Cory's feeble attempts to pull his cock deeper. He ignored the exquisite sensation of Ethan's smooth calf and the calloused foot making love to his leg.

Peter took his time. When he released him, Cory's heaving torso fell onto Ethan. Peter pulled the exhausted teen back up and held him until he steadied his jelly arms against the floor. There was a pause filled with Cory's labored panting and Peter's deep breaths. Peter calculated that he could release Cory's shoulders. His fingers slid across the hound's hard back and settled on either side of his narrow waist. Peter began delving around Cory's velvet, clinging flesh. He probed patiently for his target. He felt it pass across his engorged member and felt Cory clamp hard onto him before he began whimpering and cursing softly an octave above the manly voice he had used on little Ethan. Then Peter fell to it with earnest. Driven by Peter's assault, the hound's spent flesh swelled obediently. It thrummed painfully to the beat of Peter's fresh stick. A spider thread of drool hung suspended over Ethan's chest from Cory's open mouth when a fresh supply of pearl spattered Ethan's neck and traced a line down to his belly. As Cory collapsed forward Peter deflected his fall so he would come to rest on the carpet beside Ethan. Ethan remained pinned below the waist. Peter's cock followed Cory's battered ass down. Once his arms were settled on either side of the panting youth he worked his weeping cock its final release.

Ethan's only movement was the rhythmic tug of Cory's body pressing down on him as Peter pushed himself to climax. Cory made small animal noises that were muffled by the carpet. Peter drove on until he suddenly froze. When it came, his orgasm rippled up and down his body. His face contorted in a paroxysm of emotions; shifting rapidly from the painful ecstasy of delayed release to sorrow. He closed his eyes to compose himself and then looked into Ethan's face. Ethan read the longing in Peter's eyes, but he didn't understand his friend. When the tears began to flow down Peter's strong face Ethan let a small hand trail tentatively up one muscled arm. Peter shuddered at his touch and closed his eyes again. Ethan stroked Peter's chest to sooth him. When Peter met Ethan's glistening eyes again his face was composed.

Wait for me Ethan, stay strong. Ethan gave him the gift of a small smile and Peter's heart almost broke. He ignored Cory's wasted body beneath him conscious that the youth's body still held his willing organ in a friendly grip. Peter shifted his attention to Gus: powerful and sober. He knew at once that he might not be able to do it. The leash around his neck was old and strong. Peter had seen too many puppies die under the old man's knife. He had come to heal too often. The world frightened Peter as much as it drew him. He heard the call of the wild, but Gus was strong. Gus caught his eye and slapped a thigh. Peter rose to follow him out of the musky room.

Peter watched Gus tramp into the truck stop. The old man stopped frequently; four times since they had left the mountains. Peter had been sleeping and the late afternoon sunshine had given way to a deep winter night. He felt alert and strangely excited. When the car door slammed he had been startled out of a sun-drenched dream of snow boarding with Ethan. The memory had left him with a joy that the disappointment of waking could not diminish.

The trip to the slopes had been carefully planned. The men had been cautious with their charges but it had been too difficult to keep the boys from scattering across the slopes. Peter had experienced no difficulty drawing his young friend away from the two Fathers who had been confident enough to chaperone the seven boys. Lee's new father had been happy to spend the day with his puppy and the other father was eager to take the remaining five up to the harder runs. It had been a day when Ethan and Peter could be themselves. It had been harmless; just two inexperienced borders sharing the spills and aching muscles on the bunny hill.

After Lee's father had paid for their lunch at the bottom of the mountain the man decided to take the exhausted Lee back to the Club for a dip in the hot tub and a rest. From the way the father looked at the little boy, Peter guessed it might be a while before Lee found that rest. The man seemed blatant in his attentions as he led Lee through the crowd. Ethan noticed to as well. He nudged Peter's knee with his own and muttered, "Vance doesn't like to touch me when we are out. He says our special relationship is private." After a bite of his over priced pizza slice he added, "Vance is probably bored too." Ethan's eyes slid over to Peter and he shrugged his shoulders slightly. He licked his fingers before continuing. "Father say's I'm getting really tall. He was pissed off when I had to get new shoes. He likes Lee." Ethan shrugged again and then reached over to where Lee's father had left a third of his beer. Ethan snagged it.

Peter hand clamped down on Ethan's wrist. "I'd rather you didn't do that."

"Why?" The eleven-year-olds eyes were wide and innocent. His cheeks were flushed from the fresh mountain air. "I've had beer before. I grab stuff from father when he passes out."

"I know, Melvin always left the alcohol around his cabin." Ethan still had his fingers wrapped around the base of the bottle and Peter kept the hand in place.

"Not a big deal Peter."

"It helps doesn't it?" Peter had tried drinking too. He had even shared a few with the four boys down by the lake; well there had only been two then. For a time it had seemed to help, but then Melvin had achieved the impossible and smuggled some drugs into the Kennel. Melvin kept it secret for the better part of a month. Between the liquor and the stuff he was smoking Peter had an accelerate education on the effects of drugs. Eventually Melvin had to lay into a puppy and Gus clued in. Gus was seventeen years older than Melvin but drugs and alcohol had run through Melvin pretty hard. Gus beat the broken man down and left him tied to a tree far from the kennel for a couple of days. Gus tied Peter to a neighboring tree. Maybe it was just to remind him he was supposed to keep an eye on Melvin, but a couple of nights listening to the man gibber and smelling the shit running down his palsied legs pretty much scared Peter straight.

"Yes, it helps."

"It's an easy way out Ethan."

"Is there another way?" For the first time the boy's voice trembled ever so slightly.

"You'll find a way," and when Ethan's eyes met his, Peter added, "We'll find a way." A way to what, Peter could not see. Gus was an evil twisted troll who looked like he would live forever. Peter turned his eyes to his plate so Ethan would not read his doubt and confusion. He could not betray Ethan's faith in him by letting him see how hopeless things really were.

Ethan released his hold on the beer bottle and drew Lee's unfinished plate of fries across the table. "Okay, I'll stuff my face with these instead and then my ass will get huge like Neville's. I'll eat and eat, so much the fat rolls off each side of my chair and I won't be able to see my cock." Ethan slumped on the stool doing his best to illustrate the transformation. He grabbed a fry and popped it in his mouth with a grin.

"Don't you dare, I like your skinny little ass just the way it is." They picked through the remains of the food on the table in silence for a few minutes. They made a striking pair, both with their unfashionably long hair. More than a few of the women in the room noticed Peter and he had an eye for them as well. Gus had shared a hooker with him on the way down. Peter saw a pair of unattached girls his age across the room and speculated.

After they had tried the bunny hill a few more times Ethan suggested they try one of the Green runs. After studying the mountain suspiciously, Peter agreed. Sometime on their second run down the slope Ethan had a hard fall, when Peter dropped beside him Ethan wrapped his arms around him. "I like that you like my skinny little ass," and then Ethan buried his face in Peter's neck. Peter pried him free and then, oblivious to the passing skiers, he devoured the boy's mouth.

The dream on the mountain ended with the rudeness of unexpected separation. Gus was not happy. The whole gathering in the mountains made him nervous. When they finally returned to the hotel Peter had been ordered into the car. Ethan watched in devastated silence as Peter and Gus drove away. The memory of their parting depressed Peter and he turned his face away from the lights of the truck stop. He had seen friends pried away so many times. They were almost all a confusing collage to him now. He never had a chance to say goodbye to any of them. Somehow, Ethan rose majestically like a glistening peak above the murky shadows of the half remembered boys in his life. Tears blurred his eyes as they dropped to the green glow of the dashboard. Peter wiped the tears away and paused. The keys, Peter realized, were still in the car.

Gus noticed the little boy chattering happily beside an older man who must have been his father. The man seemed distracted and murmured inconsequential noises for the boy's benefit. The boy was maybe six. He had that chirpy voice of a child fascinated with the world around. The boy noticed Gus watching and the old man was struck by the boy's bright features. The little sprite reminded Gus of the sullen boy who Peter had become so attached to. The boy paused in his mindless chatter suddenly conscious of the man's attention. Gus smiled and winked at him. The boy looked down at himself and concentrated on his business. When he was done he let his father help him wash his hands. Gus followed the pair out to the counter. He thought about getting a coffee. They really needed to put a little more distance between themselves and the mountain orgy. Gus was a careful man. He scorned the fools with their toys willing to gather together. They trusted each other too much and it was inevitable that living in their own fantasy world they would be betrayed. Like dominoes they would bring each other down. Gus always had to fight his feral caution and balance the risks associated finding new contacts with his need to establish new clients. This trip was a bust, Gus reflected morosely. He needed to average three customers a year. Too many boys at the kennel now. Still, the small boy hovering around his father drew him. He would be worth a premium to someone. Gus shuffled back around the shelves studying the room for cameras. Nothing, except near the till where the father was purchasing something and the boy was studying the array of sweets.

“Stay here Andrew.”

The boy turned away and headed toward the door and then blissfully stepped into the night. It might be done. Gus teased with the idea as he followed the boy out. It would be dangerous though. The prairie highway was not the best place to fade away. The boy obliged his fantasy by wandering off into the dark parking lot. Gus could see no cars. Perhaps the boy was traveling with his father in one of the semis parked in a row. They were close to where Gus had left the car. He glanced back to see if the father had stepped out yet. It was almost too easy. They seemed to be alone. Gus scolded himself a little. He was getting old and he was beginning to be afraid he might be starting to make stupid little mistakes. This really was a stupid idea, but Gus quickened his pace preparing for the swift movements necessary to secure the little boy, silence him, and whisk him into the waiting car. His hand reached out, and then he froze. The car was gone. Gus felt a moment's disorientation. The little boy turned around at his father's voice and ran past Gus back into the light. Gus rotated trying to get his bearings. He was sure he had left Peter at that spot. There was no sign of him. He might have moved the car for some reason. Peter did not drive. After a short search Gus realized he might have a problem.

Peter felt nauseated. He shivered as he pushed the car faster down the dark highway. He had driven for ten minutes before he realized the headlights were not on. Fumbling with the dashboard and steering column almost put him in the snow-choked ditch. He did not want to be in the car. Gus would look for it. Peter did not really understand these things but he knew from traveling with the boys that you had to be careful all the time. People had ways of following you. You had to change directions and vehicles frequently; keep people guessing. He knew with sickening certainty that Gus was behind him already. Gus would cut his throat. Peter continued on, but the longer he drove the more frightened he felt. He wondered if he should turn around. He was skirting a city and the light traffic rattled him further. Green signs he could barely read pointed out directions he might follow. He took a turn and found himself on an even bigger highway. He was already lost and turning back was no longer an option. It would mean leaving the highway and he was certain he would not be able to find his way back. He had no idea what he was doing. Better to let Gus find you. Gus would send him back to the kennel, he might hurt him, but maybe he would forgive him. Gus needed him back at the kennel and the new hound Mark was not ready. The eighteen-year-old finally pulled to the side of the highway and fumbled with the gears to stop the car. He stared into the night as the traffic tore past. Peter was feeling jumpy so when he saw Gus in the rear view mirror he gave out a strangled scream. When he blinked his eyes, the image was gone. Peter gingerly looked in the back seat and then doubled over before vomited on the floor. He felt a little better after that. He sat a while considering what he should do about the car. It stank so he got out. When he reached for his coat he recoiled in disgust at the spatter of yellow bile smeared across the right sleeve. He listened to the murmur of the engine as he leaned against the hood and gazed into the night. His thoughts were finally broken by a semi. It roared past him and then swerved onto the side of the highway. Peter looked at its bright red lights as it rolled to a stop in the distance. A figure swung down from the driver's side of the cab and called to him. Peter walked slowly toward the waiting semi and the dark figure waiting for him. He was deathly afraid that it was Gus.

Eleven point Eleven (Nineteen point nine)

"Peter! This was man, keep your head down so they don't see you!" Sean whispered hoarsely at the little Playmobile man with a red scarf on its head holding a gray gun. He hopped the little figure up the slope of the pillow to where the other figure, a little cabin boy, sat waiting. "Sean, do you see the ship?" "No, I think we got away." "Yay!" The two little figures hugged briefly and Sean held them up so the faces could kiss. "mmma!" The two plastic figures cuddled for a moment longer. "Say where did you put the treasure?" Peter asked in a low voice. "I found a cave up there" the little cabin boy's voice matched Sean's. "Way to go Sean! Let's go!" Sean hopped the friends over to where a line of thread hung down the front of his dresser. "Up here" cabin-boy-Sean advised. The two figures wiggled up the thread and Sean placed them on the edge of the dresser. "Man I'm tired." pirate-Peter exclaimed. "Let's rest before they show up." Sean hopped the two friends over to a large cave constructed from a down turned binder and sedimentary layers of books. Sean checked the contents of the treasure to make sure all the tiny gold coins were still in place. "Gus is going to be so mad" pirate-Peter warned cabin-boy-Sean. "Let him be!", "No way man, you have a cannon!" pirate-Peter hopped over to the small muzzle loader. "Right! We are going to blow them out of the water.", "Lets rest now." Sean carefully lay the two figures on their side so that they were spooning together.

He turned away from his little love nest and crawled over to the bathroom where he had left the Playmobile pirate ship and a small row boat filled with the other Playmobile children. He let children row their boat around the carpet-sea making inconsequential conversation in a high pitched voice. "I like school... school sucks... lets play Xbox when we get home... you farted..." Sean abandoned the little boat and retrieved the pirate ship. He sailed the ship into his bedroom, pausing once to pick up pirate-captain-Gus who had fallen overboard and lost his silver sword. "Look men! There are some puppies. Let's get them!" The ship changed direction and Sean sailed it toward the waiting row boat. The children in the boat started screaming in high pitched voices, "no, help, help, mommy, daddy save use... row faster!" Sean nudged the little boat and a figure fell out. "Help I'm drowning... I'll save you Lee..." A small figure jumped over the side. Sean retrieved his lost puppy with one hand as the other drew the pirate ship closer. He dumped both little figures in the boat and turned his attention to the pirate ship. "Arrr me mates... boy pussy dead ahead!" The ship stopped next to the children and a pirate jumped into the boat. "Ahhh! ahhh!" cried the children. "Arrr me hearties... time for a little loving!" Sean lined the children bent over along the ship's railing. He selected a few pirates and stood them behind the children. Unsatisfied he jumped up and rummaged through his collection of toy figures till he found a skeleton figure. He dropped it down the ship's hatch and pinched one of the children. Sorry Ross, Melvin needs someone to play with. Next time be a little nicer to me. "Ahhh! No Sean, please not that, not that!" Sean considered the figure a moment and dropped it into the open hold. There you go Mel, enjoy. He replaced the grate. He studied the tableau briefly before adding the extra men in his collection. "Arrr me buckoes... we'll just wait our turn.", "Ahhh! ahhh!" cried the children.

Sean turned his attention to pirate-captain-Gus and a figure behind the wheel. "Let's go get them Vance!" He picked up the figures. Sean snapped a gray gun in pirate-captain-Gus's hand. Vance rowed the boat. "Those two are not going to get away with this!", "Right Gus" The little boat moved quickly over to the base of the pillow shore. The pair leaped up the pillow cliff and Sean held them looking at the dangling rope. "Guess we have to climb that Gus.", "Yep", "I forgot to bring a gun Gus!", "He's just a puppy Vance! Crush him under your belly you big fat tub of lard!", "Okay Gus" Sean flew them to the top of his dresser and left them standing while he turned his attention to the two figures spooning in the cave.

"Peter! wake up! They're here!", "Not a problem Sean." Sean put the sword back in the little figure's hand. "I'll take care of Gus" pirate-Peter said bravely. "Watch out Peter, he has a gun!... blam!" pirate-Peter dodged. "You missed Gus... shut up Vance!" pirate-Peter and pirate-captain-Gus engaged in a brief but furious engagement with their swords that was vaguely reminiscent of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon in that Sean had a tendency to carry the battle around his bedroom. The battle ended on the dresser near cabin-boy-Sean. "Arrg... I'm dead Vance!" Sean turned his attention to the figure of Vance for a moment. He hopped him a step closer to where pirate-Peter and cabin-boy-Sean stood near the small cannon.

"Oh Sean I'm so happy to see you. Come here boy. I love you so much! Tell me how much you want me to stick it up your hot little pussy" Sean bent his head along the small barrel and tried to line it up. He flicked the plunger and watched as the plastic ball bounced harmlessly in the wrong direction. Sean repeated the process twice more before impatiently flicking pirate-Vance over with a finger. "You got him Sean, way to go!" Sean retrieved the figure and pulled the plastic head off. "You blew his head off!"

"Sean?"

Sean swiveled around and looked at his father. He stood in the doorway dressed in one of his best suits. "Sean, I'm leaving for supper now. Are you going to be okay?"

"Sure" Sean fingered the Playmobile head in his hand.

"Well good; I might be out all night so I'm going to lock the door. Do you need anything?"

"No"

"Okay then, see you in the morning." The pocket door slid home and after a quiet snick Sean was left to his own devices. He discarded the mangled body of his father and turned his attention to the two friends by the cannon. "Oh Peter, we are free!", "We sure are Sean!" The two figures fell into an embrace that moved to a variety of love-making positions. Sean provided the dialogue and sound effects. Finally he put the two figures back into their cave. He carefully balanced cabin-boy-Sean on top of pirate-Peter. He smiled softly at the result. "We'll save the puppies later Sean", "Okay Peter, I'm tired now."

Sean went to the bathroom and squeezed a generous portion of lube onto his palm and then collapsed backward onto his bed. The lube drenched his cock and balls and he began working on himself with both hands. Another month; just a little while and father will take me back in the mountains. Peter will come visit me and maybe we can spend more than a few days together. Maybe this time he won't ignore me at the party. It felt so good now to close his eyes and imagine Peter kissing him in the snow. Sean stopped and rolled over to his bedside to grab his dildo. He ran slick fingers over the veined surface and then inserted it before returning to his straining cock. He sat up against his pillows, feet pulled tight to his crotch, one hand manipulating the tool buried comfortably in his rectum and the other expertly pushing his stimulated flesh to the brink and beyond. When the mellow feeling washed over his body his hand fell away. He lay with Peter still buried deep contented with his dream.

Twelve point Nine (Twenty point Seven)

“This is a shit hole compared to Omaha. It's not even in the direction of L. A.Why have you dragged me here?” Gavin pressed down on the accelerator and the old Nova coughed as it labored to pass the Air Stream. Gavin glanced at his traveling companion. He was slouched back and he had closed his eyes. His long hair was pulled back into a pony tail but a few stray strands whipped his face as the exhaust laden air blew in through the open window.

“We are driving on fumes and this is as good a place as any to get some money.” Besides, it was that much closer to Denver. Peter opened his eyes and looked at Gavin. “Do you have a better plan?” Gavin was intent on the road. He was a nervous driver and his chain smoking did not seem to help. He was not looking good. Too thin and his face was drawn and haggard. He did not sell well on the street. Peter sighed after a moment's silence. “We'll just stay until we have gas money. I'm hungry.”

“Christ, don't talk about it. What is this place again?”

“Nelson”

“Fuck me, Nelson. You know we are going to stand out like a pair of transvestites in the Mormon Tabernacle.” Gavin paused to light a new cigarette off of his butt. After a drag he continued. “Think a place like this has a gay bar?”

“We'll figure something out.” Peter saw a truck stop. If nothing else served they could hang out there and find someone. He had traveled aimlessly after that first trucker had picked him up by the side of the road. Basically from truck stop to truck stop. The drivers were lonely and he was willing. It took him a while to understand that he could get paid more than a meal and a ride. He was in Atlanta before he could read a road map and realized he was headed in the wrong direction. He had met Gavin in St. Louise. Gavin had been obviously attracted to him and by then he was tired of moving. They shared a flop with three other hustlers and stayed two months. Gavin's dream was California and he talked about it endlessly: when they were on the street, eating fast food, or tangled together on the soiled mattress someone had pulled from the trash. Gavin was only seventeen, but he made Peter feel like he was the younger one. Gavin taught him how to work the streets. Peter did well. Even though Peter could pull in more money they were a partnership. Midsummer Peter got restless and suggested they move on. “Look, there is the exit for city center.”

The old car lurched to the right and Peter steadied himself against the dashboard. He was like a child every time they came to a new city or town. His life had been spent in the northern forest and he did not miss it. Cities spelled freedom. He did not mind playing with the men and occasional women for money. He liked that he could choose. There had been so much to learn though. His reading was better. He wrote his thoughts to Ethan in a journal. Television and movies fascinated him. For the first time he had money in his pocket. He was his own man.

Gavin had an instinct for where to go and they ended up on the margins of the city center. There was a club that looked promising. “It would be nice to stay in a hotel.”

“It would be nice to get a job.”

“Fuck jobs; A&W pushing Chubby Chicken at people for minimum wage. Eight hours on your feet for what you could get in ten minutes on your back.” It was an old argument and Peter did not respond. Playing for money was okay but it was also dangerous. Some of the people he met got hurt. In Atlanta he met his first outreach worker. The woman educated him on the dangers of unprotected sex and sent him a way with a pocketful of condoms. Then too, there were pimps. They reminded him of Gus. It had not taken long for Peter to notice that the people who worked the streets were not all that happy. Pimps were one reason Peter liked to keep moving. He had been noticed in Omaha. On the other hand, he liked the women. They liked his looks and he had no trouble finding partners. Still, he enjoyed working with his hands. It was the only thing, except for his memories of Ethan, he missed about the kennel. “You want to pound nails all day in the cold and heat?” Peter did. He had tried to get a job on a few occasions. He had no experience but they liked his looks and he had seemed eager. It always fell apart quickly when he could not produce any ID let alone a social security number. They took him for an illegal alien and nobody in the Midwest wanted the hassles. “Better find some place to park the No-guts before it parks itself in the middle of the road.”

“Back street or alley?”

“Alley I think” Gavin had his eyes open for an empty lot or an abandoned building where they could leave the car. They settled on the latter. A sign in the window marked an abandoned store front and Gavin pulled the Nova into the alley behind it. They took advantage of the loading space at the behind the building. After that, they began to explore. The club they had seen was quiet. Peter had the price of a drink and sat at the bar. He was under age and looked it. Most of these places were careful so Peter did not try to order liquor. Gavin picked a table across the room. Peter sipped his drink and stared at the bottles. Something about the place reminded him of the lounge in the mountains. It had been so hard to stay away from Ethan that last night. It had been the first time that Peter had felt the overwhelming desire to take the boy away. He had hated seeing him play with the other puppies and the older men.

“The gentleman over at the table would like to buy you a drink.” Peter turned to the indicated man and looked him over quickly. Gray hair fairly fit, well dressed. Peter smiled at him. He accepted the invitation when the man waved him over. Peter only sipped at the drink. You got into trouble when your mind was not sharp. It was surface talk; neither wanted to reveal too much. Peter left with the man. He did not connect with Gavin before he left. They would find each other later.