Unlikely

Unlikely - Chapter Eleven

Unlikely
By Draeconin

This is an original homocentric love story. If you are offended by homosexual relationships, do not read. All characters and situations are fictional and of my own creation. Any resemblance to real situations or people, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Chapter 11

I'd just taken their baby's virginity. How were they going to react to that when they found out?

I had no doubts that they'd find out, either. Jer was entirely too open with his parents as far as I was concerned. I had to remind myself that they thought we had already been having intercourse.

We went in to shower, and as Jer bent over to retrieve a couple of towels from the bottom shelf of the linen closet, I noticed that his opening was red and a bit swollen. I blushed as I also saw a little of my semen seeping out and dripping down his leg.

I couldn't help myself. I reached out the few inches between us and gently rubbed his red hole as I asked, "Are you okay, baby?"

Jer had stopped moving as soon as I'd touched him. He kind of hummed and then sighed as he said in a tone of great satisfaction, "Oh, yeah."

"You sure? You're pretty red back here."

"I'm great; but we're going to be late if you keep doing that."

"Why?"

"I'm going to knock you down and shove you in me again." His face was red as he said it, but he sounded... well, mostly serious, anyway. There was definitely some teasing going on too, though.

As red as he was, I didn't think that would be a good idea. My cock had other ideas, but I overruled it. I took my hand away and gently patted his buns as I said, "Maybe tonight. I don't want to hurt you by doing it too often."

Jer straightened up and turned around. I swear if I'd been wearing a shirt, I think he would have grabbed the lapels and got in my face.

"I'll tell you if you're hurting me, Tan," he said seriously. "Don't baby me."

"But-"

"No," he said abruptly, cutting me off. "Damnit, Tan; you just gave me what I've wanted from you since almost before we met. I'm not going to let you ruin it by... by treating me like a little kid!"

Okay... Maybe I had been kinda handling him with kid gloves. But he looked so- He was right. Damn. I took hold of his hips and pulled him to me, then put my arms around him. "I'm sorry, baby. You're right. But you gotta swear to me that you'll tell me when it gets to be too much, or I'm doing something you don't like, all right?"

"What makes you think I won't?" he said with an insoucient grin.

I just looked at him. He tried to bluff me out, but it didn't last long. He'd done lots of things just to please me. I knew it, and I knew he knew I knew it.

He tried a pouty-face on me, and when that didn't work - barely; another second and I probably would have given in - he hid his face in my chest. "Okay, already. I promise," he muttered.

"Louder?"

"I promise," he repeated louder.

"Good!" I exclaimed, gently slapping his cute butt. "Then let's get showered and go eat!"

He didn't let go, and he leaned his head back a fraction to look at me. "But you've got to promise me that you won't baby me, and that you'll trust me to know my limits," he said, as though I hadn't said anything at all.

I really didn't want to promise that; mostly because I didn't trust him to know his limits. I compromised. "I promise I won't baby you," I said as earnestly as I could, looking him straight in the eyes. Even then I was only being half truthful. Of course I was going to baby him from time to time. But I was also going to try to trust him to stand on his own more often, too.

He bought it, and turned to the shower. I gave an inward sigh of relief, and stepped into the shower behind him.

"Of course I do expect you to wait on me hand and foot, now that you've got me pregnant," he added with a sly grin.

I was surprised his parents didn't come charging down the stairs to see what was causing their baby boy to squeal like that. Needless to say, his threat that he was going to piss himself if I didn't stop tickling him didn't stop me. After all, we were in the shower. (He didn't, by the way.)

We were still grinning at each other when we sat down to breakfast, but that didn't last long once we noticed that something wasn't quite right. Mister G wasn't looking at us - in fact, he was kinda hiding behind the newspaper - and Mrs. G was walking around kinda stiffly. Her lips were pressed tight together, and her expression was almost like stone. I finally caught Mister G's eyes, and in response to my silent question he glanced meaningfully at the intercom.

I'm sure my eyes nearly popped out of my head. I knew my face was burning. I looked over at Jer, just in time to see his red-faced form jump up from the table and dash out of the room in the direction of his own room. But I had to know for sure, so instead of going after Jer right away, I looked back at Mister G. I mouthed, 'You heard?' at him. He gave a tiny nod, and nodded towards Mrs. G, indicating that she'd heard, too.

I had to go after Jeremy. "Excuse me," I said - I think. I tried to, anyway. My face felt like it was going to burn off, my throat was tight, and I had a knot in my stomach, I was so scared. Not so much of Mister G, since he'd helped us to this point: but Mrs. G was another matter. And Mister G seemed to have a habit of giving in to her. But right now Jeremy was more important than what might happen to me. I got up and walked as calmly as I could to the door of Jer's room.

I was right. Jer was in his room. He was laying on his bed, his face turned to the wall. I sat down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay, Jer?"

"They know," he whispered. He was crying.

"Yeah. But they thought we'd been doing it all along," I reminded him. "But, um... they heard us." That was stupid. He knew that.

"Mom too?"

"Um... Yeah."

"Oh, no... " he moaned. He halfway sat up, then leaned into me. I caught him, of course, and kinda rocked him as we sat there.

"I'm going to disconnect that thing. Downstairs, anyway," I told him. "I thought we had to press a button to talk!" Somehow I felt violated, and I think Jer did, too. I mean... telling is one thing. Being... What? Spyed on? Listened to, anyway: that was quite another thing. That started me to thinking, though; we'd been sleeping together down there for a while, now - and having sex. Were they able to hear us all that time? I blushed all over again. I sure hoped not. I didn't want to think of Mrs. G as a voyeur. I knew - at least I think I knew - that Mister G woulda told us after the first time, if he'd heard. Then I looked at Jer, folded in my arms. He looked so lost and forlorn. I kissed him. He kissed me back, kinda gentle and absent-like, like his mind was on other things. I could guess what things, and they weren't happy ones.

"Are they mad?" he asked.

"I don't know, love. I think your mom might be, but your dad seemed okay. Even if they are, they're mad at me, not you."

"Why should they be? They knew I wanted you."

"You're their little boy." He got a look of indignation on his face, but I beat him to it. "Yeah, I know. You're not a little boy. But you'll be their little boy no matter how old you get." I read it somewhere. Reader's Digest? "Most parents are like that."

Thinking of my own parents, I couldn't help but get a little sad. Okay, and angry, too. Stupid, closed-minded bastard. My father, I mean. Because of him, I no longer had a real home, no matter how good Mister and Mrs. Graves were being to me.

"Tan?"

"Hm?"

"I'm sore."

"Hm?"

"I'm sore!"

"What? You mean... "

Jer's voice was meek and his face red as he quietly replied, "Yeah."

"I'm sorry, love," I told him as I cuddled him even closer.

"Look, I enjoyed it, okay? I just... didn't expect you to feel... so... big - and before you say anything, we are going to do it again!"

I looked at him, surprised, then the incongruity of it hit me and I grinned at him. "Don't I have any say?" I teased.

"Tan... " he said threateningly.

I couldn't help myself: I started laughing. "Okay! Okay!" Then I broke down laughing and couldn't talk for awhile. Hysteria? I don't know. It didn't help that Jer kept glaring at me, though. Every time I looked at him, I started laughing all over again. Finally he attacked me, pulling the force of his hits as he pounded on me wherever he could reach, but it didn't help: I kept laughing. Finally I wrapped him up in my arms to stop him from hitting me and fell back down on the bed with him, still chuckling.

"First things first, love," I whispered in his ear. "D'you think some Preparation H might help?"

"Ta-a-an!" His protesting wail was loud!

Surprisingly, though, when we looked it up on a gay website, that was one of the suggestions. And since it was the easiest to get, we rode our bikes down to the local grocery and bought a tube (Jer complaining about his ass on the bike seat all the way - but I could tell he was exaggerating and trying to make me feel guitly. I think he just wanted to feel one up on me after I laughed at him so much.) When the cashier looked at us funny, I whispered, "Gag gift," in a conspiratorial manner. The guy grinned and happily rang it up and bagged it.

Of course Jer had to give me grief about 'gagging' on the smell of the stuff on the ride back. I thought he was kidding. I'd never smelled it before, but it turned out Jer had found a tube in the bathroom one time back at his old house, and took the top off when he became curious about it.

When we got back to my room, the first thing I did was make sure that damned intercom was disconnected. Then Jer insisted that since I'd done the damage, I got to apply the stuff. It stinks! If you can imagine a combination of old fish and vaseline... I had to wash my hands three times to get all the smell of that ointment off my fingers. Yes, I used more than one finger. After all, I had to get some inside too, and... Well, so I played a bit! I was gentle, and Jer enjoyed it, too. I hit his prostate a couple times, I think.

Anyway, he got to laugh at me while I was washing my hands, and I hammed it up for him over the smell. I teased him back, though, telling him that now he really smelled like a pussy, as well as being one for complaining so much. I laughed as I ran for my life.

I ran outside and climbed up in the tree in the back yard. Jer could have easily followed me up there, but he chose to pout up at me as I laughed at him. I didn't laugh for long, though. That pout got to me. And he knew it, too. But since I knew he knew it, I was prepared when he went to swing at me when I drew near him, trapping his arms at his sides, and hugged him. Finally he calmed down and returned the hug. He hadn't really been angry anyway: more peeved, I think.

I don't know where Mister and Mrs. G were all that time, but fortunately we didn't run into them coming or going. Thinking back, I did think I had heard their voices coming from their side of the house, though, the times we traipsed through the kitchen.

And when we went back up to the kitchen to scrounge for something to eat, since we hadn't really had a chance to eat breakfast, I heard them again. Mrs. G was a little hysterical and strident, and Mister G was being calm and forceful. No, I couldn't really make out what they were saying - just the tones of their voices. I was embarrassed and feeling guilty. I looked over at Jer, and he was a little pink too, but he gathered up the sandwiches we'd made, took my hand, and led me back down to my room. I had to run back up for the colas, but I beat it back downstairs just as fast as I'd come up them. I didn't want an awkward meeting between me or either one of the adults.

We turned on the TV and watched a video while we ate, then Jer cuddled up with me while we finished watching it. We'd just put another one in the player when there was a knock on my bedroom door.

"Come in," I said, dreading what I might hear. I tried to sit up against the headboard a little more and get a little distance between Jer and me - for propriety's sake, you understand - but Jer wouldn't let me, and held me tighter. Well, we'd done the same in front of his parents before, so I gave a mental shrug, and watched Mister G sit in one of the desk chairs. I turned off the video.

The first thing he did after sitting was to look at the intercom. He nodded when he saw the loose wires, then looked at us. God, he looked tired.

"Relax, boys," was the first thing he said.

"Your mother isn't happy with what she heard this morning," he said, looking at Jer, "but it was her own damn fault. If she hadn't turned on the 'monitor' function... " He shook his head, then looked at me.

"Please understand; that function has not been used before, as far as I know. Never when I was in the room, anyway. And I think Amy would have let me know if she'd heard anything before this morning."

I nodded my understanding, and felt a little bit of relief, anyway. I still felt violated for what happened this morning, though.

"How much... ? I mean- H-how long... ?" I couldn't finish the question, but I must have got across my meaning, anyway.

"Just the amount of time it took me to get from the table to the intercom." Mister G nodded at the disconnected box. "Smart idea. I don't think she could resist 'checking up' on you two, now." Changing the subject slightly, he said, "You know she didn't mean to spy; she was just going to call you to breakfast."

That eased my sense of violation, but it didn't make me feel a whole lot better.

"Is she mad?" Jer asked. That would have been my next question, too.

"It's one thing to think that your child is having sex; it's another to hear it happening," Mister G answered obliquely.

"And you?" I asked him.

He blushed. "I'd rather I didn't hear it again," he admitted.

I didn't blame him. I wasn't much into the idea of voyeurism, either. Well, I hadn't thought of it before, anyway. No. Not anyone I knew. I'd never be able to look them in the face again. Maybe videos, though... Intriguing idea. But someone watching Jer and me? No way. I'm not an exhibitionist.

"Is she going to try to keep us apart?" Jer asked.

The question surprised me. I should have thought of it, but I hadn't. When had the idea of 'us' supersede Jer and me as individuals to that extent?

"She wanted to," Mister G admitted, "but I convinced her that would only make you sneak around to be with each other, and you might wind up in places that weren't safe."

I blushed. I seemed to be doing that a lot, today. But he was right. That's exactly what we would have done - or at least what I would have wanted to do.

Jer nodding his head seemed to confirm that he would have done it, too. "So is everything okay?" he asked.

"Just... cut back on open displays of affection around your mother for awhile, okay? Give her a chance to settle down and get used to the idea," Mister G suggested.

Jer was looking doubtful, but I nodded. "It won't hurt us to try to have a closed door between us and your mom when we want to... " I trailed off as something occurred to me.

"Does that include hugging and, well, like kissing on the cheek?" I asked Mister G. Jer and I had become rather open around his parents before now; standing with full frontal contact as we kissed, kissing and cuddling on the couch, and so on. I was willing to modify that behavior, and even give up a few things in front of Jer's mom, but... everything?

Mister G looked thoughtful, then said, "No more than you've seen us do in front of you."

I winced. Mister and Mrs. Graves were definitely loving, but they weren't all that demonstrative. They'd do some loose cuddling on the couch and exchange a quick peck on either the cheek or the lips (usually the former), but nothing lasting anywhere near long enough to satisfy Jer and me. I could foresee us spending a lot more time together in our rooms - and said so to Jeremy.

Mister G got a thoughtful look on his face at that. He wasn't upset, I don't think, though. He said, "On second thought, just try not to get carried away and forget there are other people present." Then he got up and went upstairs.

Jer and I looked at each other. 'What was that all about?' I wondered.

I found out that evening, when we were all watching TV together. Mister G was being a lot more demonstrative with Mrs. G, despite her faint protests of, "Not in front of the children."

Mister G's, "Hardly children any more, love," helped mollify our indignation.

Needless to say, that soon encouraged Jer to cuddle up to me. We'd been sitting close and holding hands, but otherwise the shock from that morning had caused us to be a lot more circumspect with each other. But now... Well, I kept a close watch on Mrs. G out of the corner of my eye to judge her reactions, but otherwise I let Jer cuddle, and put my arm around him.

Mrs. G shot a mild glare at me, and I started to pull away, but Jer wouldn't let me. I looked nervously at his mother. She was only glancing at us every now and then, but it was still with that same mild glare.

Jer sighed loudly, startling me.

"You knew, Mom," he said to her. "You knew I wanted him." His face was blazing, and he evidently couldn't look at his mother, but his voice was resolute.

Mrs. G's cheeks tinted a bit, but she didn't say anything, and she did stop glaring at me.

I have to admit that I was, once again, trying to learn how to sink through the floor. Could things get any more awkward and uncomfortable? Please, don't let me find out!

It took a couple of days, but Mrs. G finally eased up and started treating me like she had before 'the intercom incident'. In the meantime, Jer and I tried to be more discreet around her. And like the old saying goes, 'it don't do no good to lock the barn door after the horse's run out.' Jer and I continued to have intercourse, along with everything else we'd done before. It only got better.

Things at school were starting to deteriorate, though. Remarks and epithets were being hurled my way more often, and I heard a few aimed at Jeremy, too. But whether it was due to guesswork, my father's spite, the incident of the night of the first GSA meeting, or one of my friends with a loose tongue, was anyone's guess. Not that it mattered. I continued to try to play it off, and coached Jeremy to do the same, but it seemed the damage was done.

The main instigator seemed to be Dan Phillips. A junior, he was a jock. He was about four inches and sixty pounds bigger than me, with light brown hair and brown eyes. He wasn't bad in the looks department, but he had a nasty attitude. The fact that I knew it was probably overcompensation for low self-esteem didn't make putting up with it any easier.

I'd told Mister G, on the sly, what seemed to be happening. However, until Phillips was caught in the act, there wasn't a lot he could do. He'd either been smart enough not do it with a teacher within earshot, or just lucky. Either way, Phillips was in the clear, for now. What Mister G could do, and did as soon as he could pull it together, was call a school assembly and call in speakers to talk about tolerance and acceptance. He'd even found a few openly gay teens to talk to us, although none of them went to our school. Pretty smart. Kids'll listen to other kids before they'll listen to an adult.

Of course everyone assumed the assembly was because of the fight after the first GSA meeting, and the words sprayed on Mister G's car. (The main instigators of that had been expelled, by the way, and the other three placed on a one-month suspension. Their trials were scheduled about two weeks after that. Just worked out that way.) Even most of the students who thought gays were 'sick perverts who deserved what they got' thought that defacing the principal's car was going too far. I thought that was pretty ironic, that a hunk of iron and rubber got more respect than a human who happened to be 'different'.

That made it sound like there were a lot, huh? But I'd paid attention, and as far as I could tell, there were less than a dozen who had made anti-gay remarks - mostly guys. Of course I knew that meant that there were probably about four times that many who felt the same way but kept their mouths shut, but in a student body of just over a thousand, that was still a pretty small percentage.

The GSA? There was something surprising, too! You'd think after people getting beat up it would have died, right? But next meeting, there must have been twenty people there! (Twenty-two, but who's counting?) And last week there were a few more, including the student body vice-president!

Of course my luck couldn't hold out forever, and good ol' Dan was the one who broke it. I was walking down the hall to lunch, talking to Barry, Tim, and a couple of the other guys, when Dan came out of the gym with some of his pack, their hair still damp from their showers. Dan saw me and, with his little coterie, headed us off.

"Hey, Whiting," Phillips said sneeringly, "I hear you're a queer! How about sucking on some of this, then?" At that he grabbed his crotch and shook it at me.

This was the kind of harassment I had been afraid of, and I suddenly felt a bit nauseous. But I didn't let it show. Instead, I winked at the guys, and said, "Why, Dan! And here I thought you were straight!"

The next thing I knew, my face hurt, and I was on the floor. Dan's friends were holding him back, otherwise I'm sure there would have been a brawl, 'cause his face was murderous, and my friends looked ready to rumble.

I sat up. "Must have hit a nerve," I said as I gently touched my cheekbone, where his fist had landed.

"Don't push it, Whiting!" one of his goons said.

I got to my feet. "Hey, I didn't ask for his shit, so don't act like it's my fault!" I riposted. Before anyone could reply, I added, "And now if you'll excuse me, I have a call to make and a report to fill out."

"For what -" Phillips spat out, "a little tap on the face?"

"I'm not 'tattling to the teachers', Phillips," I told him, "I'm calling the police - sexual harassment, and assault and battery as a hate crime."

All the fight went out of Phillips, as well as all the color from his face, but he didn't say anything.

"I'm going to need you guys as witnesses," I told my friends, then I started towards Mister Graves' office. They hesitated a second, looking at each other, then followed me.

After I reported the incident to Mister G, and he'd heard Barry and the guys tell their version, he asked if I wanted to press charges. I told him 'yes', of course. But it wasn't so much that I wanted to get back at Dan (although that figured in), as that I wanted to send a message to any would-be bashers that I wasn't going to just lay down and take it.

Mister G sent us out to the outer office while he got on the phone to call the police. There was a surprise waiting. Dan Phillips was sitting there, alone, and without supervision, which meant he was more than likely there voluntarily. I had to tell the guys to cool it, as they were all for giving Phillips 'some of his own medicine'. He ignored them, his eyes locked on me. I thought he was going to apologize, beg me not to call the police. He surprised me.

"My older brother's queer," he said in a flat voice. Well, you could have floored me with a feather! "Dad beat him so bad, he almost died. He watches me like a hawk, now. Has a couple of my friends spying on me. He'd probably beat me if he even thought I was going soft on queers."

Okay, I admit that little speech did make a little bit of a difference, but, "What made you think I was one?" I asked him.

He gaped at me. "You're not?"

"Answer the question, Phillips," Barry said.

Phillips glanced at Barry, and then looked back at me. "My dad heard yours cussing out some guy who asked how you were doing. Said he called you a 'fucking queer' and that he didn't have a son. And, well, you are living with the principal."

I nodded thoughtfully, looking at him. "Tell me, Phillips, unless you're planning to sleep with them, what does it matter what someone's sexuality is? That's the only time it makes any difference."

"Queers'll fuck anything on two legs with a cock," Phillips said. But it sounded like something he was reciting, rather than anything he really believed.

"Ah. So your brother's a slut, then?" I asked.

"What? NO! He's got a nice boyfriend, and..." Dan trailed off, knowing he'd been caught, and sighed. "Yeah. I getcha, Whiting."

The door burst open, with Jeremy pushing through it all the way, and looking frantic. He caught sight of me, and my face.

"Tan!" he cried out, and then he was fussing over me, paying absolutely no attention to anyone else that was there - or to me, for that matter, when I tried to get him to calm down. He wouldn't even let me steer him into his father's office. Before ten seconds had gone by he had kissed my bruised cheek. Finally I had to gather him into a hug to reassure him I was okay, knowing even as I did it that it, along with Jer's fussing over me like that, would be hard to explain.

I glanced around as Jeremy clung to me. Dan had a grin on his face, his accusations justified after the fact. I knew nothing anyone said would change his mind now. I wondered what he'd do with the information.

My friends were looking a bit dumbfounded. It's one thing to know something intellectually, it's another to have it proven. And the office staff, two ladies, were trying hard not to stare.

I sighed to myself. It might be possible to do some damage control, but I doubted it. It looked like Jer and I were 'out'.

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Copyright © 2006 by Shamyn Whitehawk