Seal Rocks

Here's the latest installment - as always, comments, suggestions, not-too-vicious critiques etc are welcomed and craved. All rights are reserved, and this is faction, people, so chill.

Seal Rocks Pt. 11

Jesse was discharged the next morning, after still more prodding and following fingers with his eyes and assorted annoying tests. Mike and his mother were there for the occasion, which made the process more cheerful. "Mike even picked out your wardrobe for the day," Jesse's mother cooed as she produced a pair of cargo shorts, his rainbows, and a Stussy T-shirt from a small duffel bag. "Oh," she added, blushing a little, "and these." She held up a pair of undersized boxer briefs. "I think it's a joke, to see if you can fit into them."

Behind her, Mike grinned evilly at Jesse.

"Thanks, Mom," Jesse said in an even voice. "Guess I have to wear them for now - I can't very well go home with no underwear on, can I?" They all had a giggle over that as Jesse padded into the bathroom to change.

The shower felt wonderful, refreshing and warm. He had been warned not to close his eyes for too long when upright, in case he got dizzy, but he found no problem while soaping his hair and face. His only woozy moment came when he turned too quickly to step out of the stall after he was done. He wavered, and banged into the plastic side wall loudly.

Mike was beside him in an instant. "You OK, bud?" Jesse blinked a couple of times hard, trying to clear his head - he knew shaking it would hurt. "Ya. Sorta lost it there for a second."

Mike put an arm around his waist and helped him step out onto the bathroom floor. He pulled a towel off the rack. "Hold on to the sink, Jes."

"Dude, I can dry myself."

"Do it. Now."

Jesse obeyed, quietly grateful that he wouldn't fall over or anything. Mike dried him all over, carefully, with only occasional teasing comments or gropes. He was, however, especially slow in drying Jesse's genitals, which of course quickly got Jesse half hard. "C'mon, dude, this is humiliating enough," Jesse half complained, looking over his shoulder at Mike kneeling behind him.

Mike smiled, leaned quickly forward, and kissed the side of Jesse's right buttock. "Can't help it, dude. Got a surprise for you later, too."

"Ya? What is it?"

Mike stood up and gently turned Jesse around, pushing him back against the sink to brace him as he toweled his hair. "You'll see. Hope it's cool with you."

Jesse grinned back, feeling better. "Course it'll be. You'll be there, right? My booty call and all that shit?"

Mike smiled and ran a hand across Jesse's cheek. "Always." They kissed carefully. "Y'know," Mike said as he pulled back a bit, "the bruises under your eyes are going away already. And the stitches look pretty clean, too. You'll be back by next weekend."

"Yeah, but my tongue still feels really weird like it's got this huge raw burned part to it."

"When will you be on solid food again?"

"Soon, I hope. This nutritious shake crap is soooo gross."

"Yeah, but look at how tight you look," Mike said, running his hands down Jesses flanks. Jesse's eyes closed involuntarily; he felt himself thicken again.

"Dude, we can't - not now. Both our moms are out there." He was hardening by the second, and Mike was grinning at him, playing his hands over his bare body, enjoying both the feeling and the reaction he was causing.

Mike knelt and quickly took Jesse into his mouth for a moment, savoring the clean taste, then stood back up. "You're right, later."

Jesse was trying to catch his breath. "That is so unfair, Mike!"

Mike grinned and threw him the boxer briefs. "Get all dressed now, baby boy." Jesse was surprised at how well they fit on him; aside from the embarrassing bulge his erection made, they felt fairly good. "I must have lost weight," he muttered, looking at himself in the bathroom mirror and contemplating how prominent his cheekbones suddenly were.

Mike smiled softly. "Ya, you kinda look starved right now. We'll fix that quick."

"We?"

Mike's smile broadened. "You'll see."

The t-shirt and cargos hung loosely on him, confirming Jesse's impression about his weight loss. He examined himself in the mirror once fully dressed. "I look like I'm back in 8th grade or something, all pencilly." He grinned into the mirror at Mike. "But at least all the looseness hides my cock."

"Maybe you like that, but I'm kinda disappointed." Mike stepped to him and fondled. "Though I do know where it is in there."

Jesse pulled away, smiling. "Ya, I guess. I'm gonna get you big time, y'know, and soon."

Mike laughed. "Promise?" And, laughing, they stepped out of the bathroom, back into the waiting ministrations of parents, doctors, and nurses.

Dr. Stassi was waiting, standing next to their mothers. They seemed to have been having a conversation until the boys emerged, but quickly stepped back and smiled. "Looking a lot better, Jesse," Dr. Stassi said, looking with a professional eye at the stitches across the bridge of Jesse's nose. He motioned for Jesse to open his mouth. "That's healing well, too," he said in a satisfied tone of voice. "Keep using that antiseptic mouthwash and we'll look at it again in a couple of days. We'll have you eating tacos again in no time."

Jesse smiled wistfully. "God I'd love a taco."

"Don't worry, Jesse," Mike's mother said.

"We've got a load of good meals for you, things you can eat without hurting yourself. I'm a devil with a blender, you know."

Jesse smiled. "Yeah, but Mom always said that was making margaritas." Why was she offering him food?

Mike's mom giggled. "You'll have to wait a few years yet to find that out."

Carlotta appeared with a wheelchair. "Time to go, young man. We need to get some sick people in here."

"Thanks, Carlotta. For everything."

Carlotta's hand ran softly over the back of his head as she smiled down at him from behind the chair. "You'll be fine, Jesse. All set for a ride?"

Jesse nodded, and they rolled out to the elevators, waving and calling thanks to the various other attendants along the way.

The lobby was much more sunny then the ward had been; Jesse's eyes stung. His mother leaned over and handed him his Panama Jacks. "Here, they said the light might be bright for you at first."

There seemed to be a crowd near the door. As they approached, Jesse realized that literally dozens of his friends from school, surfing buddies, and church group members, had all gathered there. Both Boynton brothers were there, the DeVries twins, Mitch Huff, Chase Johnson from church, so many people. Erick was in the lead, looking sheepish, and gave him a huge hug as they got to the group. "How you doing, dude?"

Erick's hair smelled apple-ey, sweet. His body was firm, and his lips pressed momentarily against Jesse's neck. Jesse began to stand, but Carlotta was firm. "Not until you're at the curb."

"OK," he muttered. "Guys, let me get to the curb and I can say hi, OK?" He suddenly felt a rush of emotion that so many people had gathered to see him. His mother looked wet eyed.

Ben was waiting at their SUV, leaning on the front fender. He had on his usual home attire - boardshorts, flaps and a Rocky's shirt. It looked odd to see him like that but in a military short haircut. The crowd quickly fell back to join him as Jesse was wheeled into the sunlight. Even with the glasses on, his eyes hurt a little, but the warm rays were soothing and reviving. They got to the car door, and Carlotta said, "Last stop." He rose slowly, wondering if it'd feel different standing out here in the open. To his relief, he felt fine. Carlotta whispered, "Good luck, son," and moved away. Almost at once, Jesse felt like he was in the center of a mosh pit Guys and girls crowding around him, talking, hugging, kissing his cheek (well, the girls at least), rubbing his back. They were all openly happy, but at the same time careful, reserved in their movements as if he were fragile. Kate held him for a long moment, her eyes damp, but smiling secretly at him. He saw Ben with an ear splitting grin over her shoulder. They all offered him a chance to get together "real soon," lunch, dinner, a road trip to Cardiff to surf the break there, phone numbers, anything it seemed. Jesse felt his throat tighten. He had no idea.

"People," he finally called out. "Folks. I - I don' know how - I mean - I - Look, this is really cool of all of you," he stammered. "Thanks." What else to say . . . "We gotta, like, get together or somethin', real soon. I'm gonna be kind of laid out for another few days, but we'll definitely get together, OK? Stop on by, you know the place." His voice was thickening, he fought not to cry. "This all - this means a lot, OK?" He waved weakly and slid into the SUV. As soon as he closed the door, behind the tinted glass and invisible from the outside, he buried his face in his hands. Mike and Ben sat quietly on either side to him, rubbing his back.

They passed the exit for Jesse's house without stopping. "What's going on?"

Jesse's mother turned to look at him. "Jesse, the house - it's still sort of a mess. I need - to get it cleaned up and everything. So Mike's family has offered to let you stay there for a few days, until we're back to normal up there. Is that all right?"

Jesse glanced at Mike, who was vainly suppressing a grin. "Of - of course. Yeah. That's cool. That'll be good."

Jesse's mother smiled, relieved. "Wonderful. It's just for a few days, baby, don't worry. And Mike has promised to stay at home with you and make sure you're OK and help you out."

"Least I can do," Mike said with a magnanimous air, still unable to hide his eager smile.

Jesse looked at him and couldn't keep from bursting our laughing. "Ya, I bet he'll take care of me!!"

"Now no horseplay, you two - this is serious," Mike's mother scolded from the driver's seat. "You need to rest still, Jesse. We'll cook for your mom and Ben and you every night, so you'll have family dinners, and it'll be just like a mini-vacation."

"Thanks," Jesse said, and he meant it. The thought of going home had been a mixed one for him. This not only put it off a bit, but set him up with Mike. It was perfect. "I really appreciate this."

Jesse's mother reached back and stroked his cheek, smiling softly. "It's going to be OK, baby," she whispered, her eyes moistening.

Jesse rubbed the back of her hand with his. "I know, Mom. It's all gonna be fine."

He was relieved to get to Mike's house; the car ride had made him slightly nauseous. The beach air was cool on his face, and the trees around the house softened the sunlight as he walked in, half wanting to just sit down there on the front yard and enjoy the day. The mothers, however, bustled him back into Mike's room, demanding that he lie on Mike's bed. Mike, they pointed out, had a fold-up cot he'd use at night to stay in the room with him in case he needed anything. The two boys suppressed grins again; Ben shook his head. "OK, honey," his mother finally said, after he drank a large smoothie she'd made that was the first really filling meal he'd had in days, "Ben and I have to go. You sleep. There's a memorial tonight at 7, and I'd like you to be there. Are you going to be up for that?"

Jesse nodded. "Of course, Mom. I can't miss that."

His mother nodded back grimly. "Good. All right, you take it easy. Mike don't you let him run around, he needs to be quiet."

"No problem, Mrs. S. I'll take care of him, all right." They all had a small laugh at the comment (and their differing interpretations of it) as the adults left.

Mike followed them out to be sure they were gone, then returned and closed the bedroom door. "Gotcha. Mine at last."

Jesse propped himself on his elbows, laughing. "Hey, I'm supposed to be resting here!"

Mike sat on the edge of the bed. "Seriously, you OK?"

Jesse smiled at him. "Perfect." He pulled Mike's head toward his, and they kissed. Jesse hesitantly opened his mouth to Mike, and their tongues gently met. Their arms slid about each other, and Jesse lay back beneath Mike. They felt each other's growing hardness, and fought the urge to go at each other with abandon.

Mike finally broke the kiss, gasping. "Oh shit, Jes, it's all I can do - "

"I know." He pushed Mike's hair back up off his forehead. "Do me a favor and strip, OK?"

Mike smiled a moment. "You sure it's OK and all?"

"I'll tell you if I need to stop."

Mike stood up and complied quickly. Jesse sat up enough to slide out of his t-shirt, and took a few seconds to look at Mike's naked body. It was like he'd never seen it before, even though it had been, what - three days? Four? He was smooth, long in every good way, beautiful. Jesse reached out and touched his side. "Wow."

Mike leaned over and undid Jesse's shorts, pulling them down slowly. Jesse sighed as he felt the cool air flow over his naked body; his cock twitched eagerly. "Wow yourself," Mike said, sliding onto the bed alongside Jesse and pulling him into an embrace. Their hips began moving against each other as they resumed their kiss, their bellies slowly becoming slick from their leakage. Jesse clutched at Mike tightly, feeling instinctively that this was the one thing he could truly hold on to, and whimpered as Mike moved over him, kissing and giving him pleasure. By the time Mike had slid down to his crotch, Jesse knew what he wanted. He opened his legs and lifted them up.

"Fuck me, Mike. I want to be all yours right now."

Mike looked up from where he was poised to lick Jesse's erection. "You sure? I don't want you to get hurt or anything. Will the doctors see it again?"

"I - I don't think so. Fuck that. I - I just need this, OK? Please?" He had felt so defenseless and scared, he wanted to feel that here, with Mike, being defenseless, surrendering, was a comfort, a pleasure, a delight. He realized vaguely how beggingly he was looking upwards. Mike ran a hand over Jesse's stomach, nuzzling in his pubic hair.

"Course, dude. You know I love that. Just tell me if you need to stop, OK? I do have some responsibilities here, y'know," he added with a smirk.

"Ya, well fulfill this one dammit!" Jesse giggled.

Mike pulled open his bedside table drawer. He had a small vial of KY inside ("Dude, where'd that come from?" "You want Coppertone instead?" "Well, it's kind of a tradition . . ." and the giggles grew louder). Jesse shrank from the touch of the cold liquid in his crack, then breathed in deeply as Mike started probing the fluid into him with a finger. He lightly grabbed Mike's perfect shoulder. "Oh, damn."

Mike shot him a smiling glance. "OK?" Jesse nodded, trying to lift himself up more, to open himself to the penetration.

"Ya, I'm fine. Guess it's perverted or something, but I want it real bad."

"It's not perverted, Jes," Mike said as he climbed onto the bed between Jesse's legs. He rested Jesse's ankles on his shoulders. "It's pretty cool, I think." He moved closer to Jesse. "OK?"

Jesse nodded and closed his eyes. He felt Mike's hand on his buttock, then the back of his other hand, holding his cock as he positioned himself. That hand left, and the cockhead slowly pushed forward - up, down. Up again, then on target. Jesse inhaled sharply as Mike started to descend into him, slowly, gently, the pain of entry clearing quicker now. His hands ran up Jesse's sides and he grunted raggedly as their bodies came into closer contact. Jesse lifted his hips to Mike, a soft smile on his lips. "Oh, yeah," he whispered.

Mike began moving inside him, again slowly, bending over to kiss Jesse and press their chests briefly together. Jesse's hands ran over Mike's shoulder and arms, onto his chest to play with his nipples, down over his belly to the pubic hair where they lay connected. He felt Mike's shaft as it slid in and out of him, slick, steely hard, massive. He held on to Mike's smooth buttocks, feeling the muscles flex and relax with his movements. Mike thrust harder, and Jesse's arms fell outward. He was utterly at Mike's mercy, utterly defenseless, utterly possessed. He had never felt so secure. "Oh God, Mike. Oh God."

Mike was moving faster now, groaning, whispering so softly Jesse couldn't make out what he said. His hands held Jesse's shoulders as he took possession, his whole body trembling from the effort and the sensations. Jesse felt his uneven breathing, his sighs and groans. Mike's cock seemed to get bigger inside him, deeper into him, with every stroke. His testicles were hitting Jesse's buttocks lightly now on the inward drive, and he would hold himself inside, fully penetrated, and grind in an effort to go even deeper. Jesse realized he was crying out loud now, and he didn't care. He belonged here, he belonged to Mike, if just for these few moments of touching and moaning and fucking and clenching and their bodies moved like pistons against each other now, both noisily rising to their climaxes until Mike stiffened his entire body, clutched at Jesse and began pumping his orgasm deep into him, Jesse's cock feeling the spasms in Mike's stomach and erupting between them, and they cried out and made guttural noises until they were emptied and exhausted and fell limply into each other's arms.

Mike slowly rolled them onto their sides, still intertwined and connected. "You - OK?" he gasped between ragged gulps of air.

"Fine." Jesse could think of nothing else to say. He kissed Mike's collarbone, breathed in his scent. "I'm fine." He slowly extended his left, upper, leg straight and wrapped it around Mike. Maybe they could stay there forever. Mike moved inside him again slowly and Jesse groaned, his head lolling back. "Oh God Mike, you're still going?"

Mike giggled softly. "I think I could, actually, but this feels so good."

"You want to?"

"What - keep going?" Mike sighed. "Maybe, in a bit. You?"

"Up to you, dude. I - I think I could stay like this forever."

Mike looked at Jesse and kissed his lips for a long minute. Jesse felt Mike lengthen again inside him and groaned. "Can' believe it," Jesse breathed as they broke their kiss and Mike rolled him back beneath him.

This time they were much slower, gentler. They touched and kissed constantly. Mike seemed to go everywhere on Jesse's body kissing his toes, running tongue and lips over his calves, almost tickling as he brushed his flanks. For his part, Jesse feasted on Mike's body, feeling the moves of every muscle he could find, but always coming back to the erection impaling him. It felt so comfortable, so essential, inside him, the physical pleasure he got from it almost was secondary for a while.

Mike was whispering to him again, and this time he could hear. "Oh shit, Jes."

"Good?"

"So good. So good. Aw dude, this - I - I wanna stay like this."

"Me too." They smiled at each other, and for awhile their kissing precluded more talk.

A hard thrust from Mike finally brought Jesse up for air, gasping aloud. "Fuck, Mike, aw fuck yeah.""I wanna go Jes, I gotta go here, it's too good."

"I know. Do it. Real hard. Aw yeah, like that, real deep. Oh shit. Mike. Oh, Mike." And up the long trembling slope they went again, bursting open like stars; they both couldn't believe it possible to come again so hard.

They slept after that, tangled together, slightly smelly, blissed out beyond words.

Jesse finally stirred, reached to the bedside table and opened his cell to check the time. Almost 3:30. "Dude," he whispered, "we better get cleaned up and make it look respectable, it's late."

Mike moaned and pressed his face deeper into the crook of Jesse's neck. "Wan' stay," he protested feebly.

Jesse rolled slowly away. "We can't Mike. We got all night though, right?" He stood carefully, feeling the blood pound in his head for a moment, but he didn't get dizzy. As he padded off toward the bathroom, Mike chucked a pillow halfheartedly at him.

Jesse managed to keep from getting dizzy this time in the shower. The water felt even better than in his morning one. As he rinsed his hair, he heard Mike pissing in the toilet, and peeked out. The poor guy looked like a train wreck - hair tangled, cheeks flushed, powdery semen residue on his belly and clotting his pubic hair. Jesse giggled until Mike gestured as if to piss on him, which prompted him to close the shower curtain quickly. He left the water on when he was done and just stepped out, dripping. "Your turn."

Mike smiled and ran a hand over Jesse's side. "You OK?"

Jesse felt himself blush, and couldn't help giggling. "Oh hell ya," he breathed, leaning into Mike. He smelled good like this - a little sweaty, acrid with their sex. "Mmmm, on the other hand, don' shower, I like this."

Mike laughed and pulled him into an embrace. "Pervert."

"You bet."

Mike gave Jesse a last squeeze and stepped though the shower curtain, humming softly to himself.

They were just about dressed when they heard the doorbell. Mike ran from the room to answer it, while Jesse sat on the bed and rubbed his towel slowly in his hair. When Mike didn't return after a couple of minutes, Jesse brushed himself into some sort of order with his fingers and walked down the hall.

Mike was standing stiffly at the door. Framed in the opening behind him was Ernie. Even form inside Jesse could se the bland smile on Ernie's face, as he stepped past Mike as if invited in and strode to Jesse. "I'm so glad to see you out and on your feet!" he exclaimed with apparent sincerity. "You look wonderful - bruises are almost gone already, and those stitches will be out in a couple of days. Just wonderful."

Jesse resisted Ernie's offered friendly embrace a little, but eventually patted the older man on the back lightly. Mike was frowning slightly. "I'm not going to stay - I know that would be awkward. I just wanted to drop off your latest deposit slips. The money is in your accounts, and I think you'll both be very pleased." He gestured to Mike, who lifted his left hand a bit to indicate two envelopes he held there. "We've gotten quite a buzz from your work. Some fairly major players want you two to work for them, a couple of the gay magazines want photo shoots, very good stuff. I haven't committed to anything now, please understand," Mike protested quickly, stepping back and turning toward Mike, his hands outstretched. "You're on the shelf for right now, and I've made that clear. On a family trip, I've told them. So there's time to decide if you want to do any of that. It is good to know," he added, smiling slyly, "that you're at least keeping in practice."

Jesse and Mike both turned crimson. "W - what d'you mean?" Mike sputtered.

"Darling," Ernie cooed, "the place fairly reeks of sex. I hope that's part of your therapy, Jesse - or should I say Ronnie. You need to get used to your screen names. Don't worry," he added reassuringly as they both instinctively moved to open windows, "it's something you sort of need to be attuned to. After the years I've had in the business, I can tell. I think the parents won't realize a thing. Anyway," he continued, his voice falling to a more businesslike tone now, "I'd like you boys to meet me at my RV next Friday around 11. No photos or anything, just a chat. And I'll have another set of deposit slips for you. All right?" He smiled as if they'd agreed. "Excellent. Well," he brushed his lips against Jesse's cheek, "bye." He kissed Mike the same way, and swept from the house.

It took a few seconds for either of them to move. Mike slowly held one of the envelopes out to Jesse, who opened it. A bank statement was inside. Jesse swallowed hard as he scanned it. "I have more than $3500 in this account, this says." He blinked. "You?"

Mike nodded silently as he looked over his own statement. "It shows our fake names and addresses and everything. How can they do that? Make stuff up like that, from nowhere, and all of a sudden you're you're not you any more, you're another person and they can give you this -this money . . ."

Jesse looked quietly at Mike. "Dirty money?"

Mike nodded thoughtfully. "I guess. Maybe not dirty. Slimy, anyway. I just - " They both heard the garage door open on its squeaky track. They shoved the statements into their pockets and raced back to the bedroom, trying to rearrange it in some semblance of order. Mike grabbed a fan and turned it on full blast, propping it in the open window.

A few seconds later, just after they'd managed to assume casual poses, Ben knocked on the open door. "You guys OK? Jes?" "Hey Ben," Jesse smiled, relaxing and sitting up on the bed. "We, um - we thought it might be like Mom or something."

Ben regarded Jesse for a minute, then began grinning broadly. He looked over at Mike, who was seated at his computer, face turned away from him in an effort to hide his red cheeks. "Not during the days, guys. Mom and Mike's mom are like running over each other to free up time to check in here as often as they can. It's too dangerous. Things are weird enough right now, let it stay private for a bit, OK?" Jesse nodded, blushing, though himself unable to stop blushing. "K."

Ben gestured at the bed, which neither of them had made very well in their rush. "Besides, I think you're all done for now anyway." He chuckled as he stepped over to sit by his brother. "We're gonna need to get you dressed soon. There's a memorial service at 7."

"Is - is Dad going to, y'know, be there - in a coffin or something?"

"No, Jes. Dad's being cremated. This'll just be sort of a celebration of him, of his life. They're scattering his ashes tomorrow out behind Seal Rocks. I don't know if the doctors'll let you come out on the boat - it'll be rocking and all, it might make you really seasick. Anyway, we got to get you looking a little more formal here." He stepped over to Mike's closet, and Jesse noticed for the first time that some of his clothes were hanging there along with Mike's. Ben pulled out a pair of khaki slacks and a muted aloha style shirt. "This'll do. It's informal, like everything at church, and hell, you're still a kid. No one's gonna begrudge you not being in a threepiece suit." He looked at Mike, who seemed to be trying to climb into his computer monitor. "You coming too, Mike?"

Mike turned slowly to face Jesse, still bright red. "Uh, ya, of course. Gotta - gotta hold up my end. Nursemaid and all that, right?"

Ben smiled. "Right. Nursemaid plus. OK, I'll be back around 6:30 - you guys be ready. And air out your room, fer Chrissake!" he added over his shoulder as he walked out.

Mike sprang to the bed and started making it up as soon as Ben was gone, barely giving Jesse time to leap off it himself. His face remained flushed as he worked, and Jesse, standing off to one side, couldn't help being amused. "Mike," he said calmly, "it's cool. Ben's not gonna say anything."

"Yeah, but what if my mom figures it out?? We gotta be careful here, Jes."

"I know, but relax. We got the fan on, it'll be fine in a minute. Mess up your cot a little too, it'll look like we both crashed out for a while."

Mike regarded this idea for a second, then smiled and threw himself theatrically onto the cot, thrashing about for a minute until the sheets were tangled. "There. That look good?"

Jesse laughed. "Like we were fucking in it."

Mike laughed, lying back. "Oh no, too much!!" He pretended to panic, trying to straighten the sheets beneath him up without getting off them.

Jesse sat at Mike's computer. He'd been playing solitaire, and the game was a loser. "So, how's our porn doing?"

Mike grew instantly serious. "They like feature it every day. They're really pushing it. They say it's the hottest thing they've ever sold and shit. I dunno," he shrugged, "maybe that's all bullshit to sell it."

Jesse thought for a minute. "Let me see."

Mike leaned over him and pulled up the voyeurvideo.com site. The logo was superimposed on a grainy still picture of Jesse and Mike kissing while lying together nude on their towels. Once they entered the site, more stills of their lovemaking were shown, with their genitals whited out. The caption, in flashing yellow letters, read, "OUR HOTTEST SELLER EVER!!! RON GANTRY AND JAMIE HALLER SET THE WEB ON FIRE IN THEIR FIRST EVER SURFER TWINK FUCKFEST!!!!" Below it, in italic, was, "Caught uncensored by Voyeur Video cameras in sunny California! ONLY the best from Voyeur!!" As Jesse watched, the stills changed positions on the page and others appeared, until there was a circulation of about 10 pictures of them doing various things. It seemed that the film was now available on DVD and VHS for home delivery, at a stunningly high price given the cost of most DVDs and videos. "well," Jesse noted, "at least I understand now how they get so much money. Seventy bucks for a DVD??"

Mike nodded. "It's kinda weird, isn't it?"

"It's so beyond weird." Jesse turned away from the computer, and Mike clicked the screen back to his homepage.

A bustling noise came from the kitchen, and Jesse's mother walked in. She was dressed in black. "Are you OK, honey? It's time we went to the church - we need to be early. Ben said he put out an outfit for you, do you need it ironed?"

"No. Mom," Jesse said, rising from the chair. "It's fine, it was all hung up and stuff." He indicated the shorts and aloha shirt Ben had left hanging on the closet door.

Jesse's mother inspected the clothes for a second. "Well, you're just a boy still - I guess that's all right. And I know you still aren't feeling your best. Yes, I guess this will be all right," she mused as she inspected the shirt closely. "At least it's dark."

"Mom, I can put on my suit if - "

No, it's OK. Your suit's up at the house, and we'd have to find a shirt and tie . . . This will be fine, Jesse." She stepped towards him and brushed his hair back off his forehead. "Are you feeling better? Did you rest?"

Jesse smiled. "Ya Mom, we both rested a lot. It was nice." He glanced at Mike, who quickly looked down to examine his bare feet.

"Good. Get dressed, now - I'll be out in the living room."

Jesse nodded, and she left. Mike started giggling. "I can't handle this, dude, it's just too funny. `Oh yeah, we rested.' Christ."

"Well, we did," Jesse protested mildly, shucking off his shirt. "We just did a little exercise before we rested."

"I'll say." He stood and steadied Jesse as he stood on one foot briefly to climb into his shorts. As he did so, he took the opportunity to fondle Jesse's ass a little.

Jesse grinned. "Damn, dude - you never quit."

"What can I say?"

"How about goodbye?" Jesse leaned over and kissed him briefly. "For a little anyway. I gotta go."

"I'll be there."

"I know. Thanks."

The church was already crowded when Jesse and his mother pulled up. Ben had gone on before at his mother's direction, to arrange for a quiet place for Jesse to wait in until the service. The family sat in the prayer room just off the floor from the main sanctuary. The pastor came in, uncharacteristically wearing a suit. And embraced them all. "Jesse, are you doing OK?"

"Yeah, Pastor Ed, I just have some headaches that'll go away soon."

Pastor Ed stroked his cheek gently. "You look good, son. I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Thanks." How could he say anything else to this guy? How could he explain what had happened, what he'd done, what people thought, what he wanted, what he was ashamed of, what he found himself increasingly taking a sort of pride in? The best seller ever . . .

They walked out behind Pastor Ed into a sea of faces, all inspecting Jesse for signs of beatings or abuse. He felt naked under their gaze, as if they all knew and were about to stand up and denounce him. He looked at his shoes and shuffled to the front pew.

There were some hymns, some brief tributes by former Marine buddies of his father's, some of whom he knew vaguely, and a simpering speech by the head of his father's old firm - the one that had laid him off. Jesse grew angry as the guy- an obvious PR flack - spoke on and on about what a fine employee and person his father had been, his bassett hound eyes drooping with feigned sorrow. You bastard, Jesse thought, you're the ones who put him over the edge. You didn't give a rat's ass about how he felt until he turned up dead. He started to stand up to tell the guy to go screw himself, but felt Ban's hand firmly holding him down. Don't, he mouthed at Jesse. Jesse looked at him mutinously for a moment, then sank back in the pew.

Finally Pastor Ed stood alone at the small lecturn. "We always wonder, when something like this happens, where God was. Why didn't the Creator who loves us so step in, save Walter Sullivan, protect his son and his wife? Why did God let this all happen? The suffering this family has faced, the pain they have to go forward with, the memories they have to bear, are like millstones for them. The pain of loss, of feeling we somehow let Walt down, of wanting to do something - anything - to ease the suffering we see before our very eyes, even in the midst of our plenty, wracks the heart of everyone in this room. It's one reason you're here - to bear witness to your grief, to express your own regret and pain, to offer some seemingly inconsequential gesture of love and support. And it's wonderful that you do these things. But we come back to the issue: our love and support are like feathers compared to the millstones Walt's death has placed on all of us. Why did God let this happen?

"The answer, I think, is at once incomprehensible (and so unsatisfactory to human ears) and common-sensical. It is that God is God, and we aren't. We have a job to do, a place in the Creation He has made, and running that Creation isn't part of it. That's God's job. And if we believe that he knows what he's doing as he unfolds his Creation and its mysteries to us, then we accept that his purposes and intents are often beyond our understanding. We also accept that from even the worst things, God can through our love of Him, and for each other, bring forth joyous fruits.

"This isn't a popular idea in modern America, where we think we can control everything from the temperature in our cars to the upbringing of our kids to the time we spend at work and at home - to everything. We as a species, and as a culture, demand answers. There are reasons for things, causes and effects. And those are supposed to be deducible of the individual human mind. Whether it's the secrets of DNA or the origin of the universe, we're confident, we're determined, to understand, to use our power of reason to peel back the onion layer by layer and finally reach the central nugget of insight that will explain everything. Now, don't get me wrong - that's a great and noble undertaking. But we need to realize, and to accept, that once the onion is peeled all the way, the central nugget we find - the core of all insight - will be God.

We all try to run our lives ourselves. We have control, we're the captain of our ship. But we aren't. We're passengers on God's ship, and He calls the shots. Only by placing our lives in His hands, only by trusting our sacred Captain, can we pass through all the seas of life, and come at last home to His loving embrace. Walter Sullivan has made that journey. He did it with pain, and with despair, and maybe with shame, but I like to believe that at the end, he trusted God to see that everything would come out right. That he knew he was not forsaken, nor would his family be. That pain would pass, and loss would dull, and the sacred gift of life would continue. That's my prayer today - for Walter, and for each of us. Hold on to your Creator, trust in His grace and love - and come at last safely home."

As they prayed to end the service, Jesse let himself cry silently. His father didn't deserve what had happened, his father didn't deserve him. He'd let his father down so much. He was truly a great disappointment. And now he was dead, and he'd never be able to make it up to him. Never. A lifetime of opportunities, of love, of redeemed promises, lay in ashes, just as his father lay in the small bronze urn dully glinting in the overhead lighting on the dais in front of him.

The next half hour or so seemed dreamlike, as Jesse tried to make sense of what had happened. People kept coming up to him and hugging him, many crying, all seeming to want to pet his head or rub his back and say things he didn't really hear. He was conscious of Pastor Ed hanging just out of earshot, watching with a kindly look that partly reassured him and partly pissed him off. His mother and brother had moved off into their own circles of people commiserating with them.

Finally, the last person turned and walked away, and Jesse stood alone, arms limply at his side, staring at the urn. Was that all a human body needed, he wondered. It's like the size of a Coke bottle. He felt disoriented. Pastor Ed was suddenly beside him, taking him by the elbow gently. "Let's go have a talk, Jesse," he whispered.

There was a small office next to the prayer room. Jesse sat in a leatherbound chair in front of the desk. Pastor Ed took an identical seat beside him. "I know this is especially hard for you, Jesse. Are you feeling all right?"

Jesse couldn't make the question, or the fact that he was sitting next to another person, register. He stared at some point in space a few feet in front of him, idly. "Ya," he said in a monotone. "I'm getting better."

"Jesse," Pastor Ed continued, shifting his weight noisily in the leather chair, "I think you might need some counseling over the next few weeks. I've spoken to your mother, and she agrees, but it'll only work if you want to do it as well. You remember Dave Magadin? He does a lot of lay preaching here, especially in summer. Well, he's a therapist, and he's volunteered to help you out." He was searching Jesse's face for some reaction; Jesse felt self conscious but somehow unable to react. "You don't have to answer right now, but I'd like you to think about it, OK?"

"Sure," Jesse answered. He shook his head, trying to bring himself back to reality. His father was dead, in an urn. His father was a reputed child molester. He was the reputed victim. He was a porn star under an assumed name. He loved Mike. Tina was dead. He let Mike fuck him in the ass. He was homeless, for a little while anyway. Ben knew. Ben was a queer, well sort of. His dad had tried to kill him, or something. He closed his eyes and put his head in his hands. "Ya, I think I need that."

Pastor Ed rubbed his back silently for several seconds. "Jesse, God sees you right now, and He loves you. Remember that, hang on to that, because that's all our help in the end. A lot of people love you - "

"I know. Mike loves me." Had he really said that?

"Of course he does. So do your other friends, all the folks who've been with you in Youth Group for so many years. And so do we, all the pastors, and your mom and your brother. But you need especially to trust in God's love right now, that He'll bring you good out of all the pain and sorrow that's overwhelming you."

"No, I mean - never mind. No, I know all that."

Pastor Ed smiled. "You know that up here," he said, pointing to his head, "but at times like this you need to feel it here," as he touched his chest.

Jesse suddenly welled up and started to sob. He didn't know why. His head was pounding, and all he could think of was the betrayal his father must have felt at the end. What he'd done to him. To his own father. After a few minutes he looked blearily up from Pastor Ed's shoulder, where he'd buried his face, and saw Mike peering in through the glass in the door. His face was streaked with tears, he had one hand pressed against the glass. Jesse reached out his hand, croaking, "Mike! Mike!" as Pastor Ed held him in the closest thing he could muster to loving arms.