Three months later, Alan stood at his bedroom window with his morning coffee, thinking about that first day as he listened to the galloping footsteps coming up his stairway. The boy had come a long way. No fights for a month now, and the last one unprovoked and unavoidable.
Without a word, small feet whispered across the carpet behind Alan and then small arms circled around his stomach. The boy pressed against his back and held him.
"Morning," said Alan then took a sip from his cup.
They stayed that way for a while until Max said, "Hey, can I have some coffee?"
"No. It'll stunt your growth."
"That's a myth."
"Well, caffeine's bad for you anyway, so no."
"Pleeeease?" said Max, rubbing his face along Alan's side like a cat.
"Oh, c'mon." This time Max slid up Alan's front until his chin rested on the man's chest, face upturned with devotion and desperation in his eyes.
All fake, of course.
The little weasel was already circling his delicate hand around Alan's coffee cup.
"You're so cute." Alan stroked the boy's face with two fingers as he felt the cup being prised from his grip. "But not that cute." He lifted the coffee out of reach and leaned down to kiss the disappointed boy.
As always, the taste of Max's lips was heaven. The boy tried to be petulant at first, not letting Alan get a real liplock by using a hand in the chest, but soon he relented and was kissing back with equal fervor.
Concentrating to keep from spilling his coffee, Alan slid his hand down Max's back as they kissed, ending up at his small, firm ass. Max loved to have Alan fondle his ass. Sometimes Max would interrupt Alan when the man was watching television by winding his butt in front of him until Alan squeezed him through his jeans.
As they kissed--Alan leaning over Max, Max arched backward until his head touched the window glass--Alan's cock sprang up hard between them. The man slid his hand around Max's buttcurve, starting at the cute valley where the two cheeks met and sliding outward to the boy's hip and front.
Max let go of Alan's lips and dropped quickly to his knees. With practiced hands, he had Alan's pants around his ankles instantly.
Outside, autumn leaves were drifting to the ground. Three kids were playing tag around a lamppost. Alan put the cup to his lips and enjoyed the taste of his Colombian brew.
Max started by brushing the insides of Alan's thighs with his nose. It was such a light touch, but the breaths of warm air against his skin made him tremble. Alan's coffee almost went down the wrong pipe. Then Max introduced his tongue. It was very wet and cool, yet seemed to drive more heat into Alan's squirming thighs. Little licks gave way to catlike swipes and Max moved ever closer to Alan's tight ball sack. Max had been giving Alan head for about a month now, and he seemed to get better every time, especially at drawing out the preliminaries so that Alan moaned in frustration.
The man put one hand down into Max's soft hair (no matter how much gel he used, Max's hair was always soft) and tried to guide the boy closer to his cock. Max would have none of it. He moved up instead, kissing and slurping almost to Alan's navel, letting his smooth neck glide against Alan's hard rod.
The boys playing tag had made their way up to Alan's driveway. Tommy, Morrie and Skin, three of the neighborhood boys who often came over to play in his yard or talk with him. Taking a casual sip from his cup, Alan waved the boys away, letting them know that he was busy today. From downstairs, all they would be able to see was Alan in his cardigan, relaxing as he took in the view. It was a wicked thrill for the man to think of how amazed the boys would be if they only knew where Max was and what he was doing.
Just then Max pulled back and looked up. His throat was painted with clear fluid. "Who was that?"
"Tommy and the gang." Max looked worried. "I told them to come back later."
Satisfied, Max plunged down on Alan's length, taking it to the root before slowly slipping back to the tip, his lips grasping at the shaft. Alan had to brace one hand against the window to keep from toppling over as the flashes of pleasure from his dick sped into his brain.
Max never let him settle. Kneeling there before Alan, the boy seemed to worship his cock, sparing no effort to stimulate it. Max's tongue was always sliding around and he made sure to keep a tight grip with his lips just under the cockhead. Diving down the length at irregular intervals.
"Oh wow, Max. That's it, boy. Suck that cock. Suck it."
Max said nothing back. He just stuck to business and added his hands to the mix, circling Alan's balls and his anus with his fingertips.
The mailman came and went. So did a few other cars. Mrs. Sprubaker on her mountain bike. Reverend Dobson walking his dog.
As all the regular Saturday activities went on outside, Alan enjoyed the blowjob from the boy before him. Whenever he looked down, he saw Max's reverent eyes and his red lips focused completely on the cock in front of him.
Orgasm built within Alan and he started thrusting at Max, slowly but then with less and less control. He was going to feed his cum to this boy. He wanted so badly to feed his come to this boy. And the boy wanted so badly to be fed the man's cum. He put his small hands around the base of Alan's shaft to keep the man on target. It added extra stimulus that accelerated Alan's climax. He felt his balls tighten and then a pulsing, pounding pleasure was flooding his brain as he spurted and spurted into Max's suckling mouth, the boy fighting hard to stay on Alan's knob as he shook and thrust his way to the end.
Finally, all that was left was Max gently cleaning the remains of the mess off Alan and himself with his flashing tongue.
"Man. You're so good at that," Alan said.
"Thanks, it's like Mr Cooper says at school: 'all I have to do to be good at something is apply myself.' Max zipped Alan up and then stood at his side, arms around him. Together they stood watching the day. Alan even let Max have some coffee.
After a while, Alan started stroking Max's neck, then his back, then his hips. As soon as he tried to slip his hand under Max's T-shirt touch his bare back, the boy backed away.
Max said, "Why do you always do that? You spoil everything!"
"I can't help it, I like touching you. I still don't get why you're so reluctant. I mean, you'll suck my cock, but you won't even let me see you with your shirt off. You let me squeeze your ass, but won't let me rub your cock."
"It doesn't matter why. I wish you'd stop pressing the issue."
Alan put his cup down on his desk. He reviewed the paintings on his wall, searching for some clue as to how he should say what he wanted to say. The one in the sleek silver frame over his armoire was a favorite. The brush strokes looked more like they were made with a knife. Simple and quick.
"Is it cuz of the puffy nipples?"
The boy looked startled. "How did you-"
"Well, I look at you a lot--naturally, since you're so pleasant to look at--and I noticed it was kind of swollen there under your shirt."
"Plus it was kind of a giveaway when you went swimming with the other guys and wouldn't take your shirt off. I had a friend who did that for the same reason when I was a kid."
Alan put his hand on Max's shoulder. "It's not a big deal, you know. I read somewhere that like twenty percent of boys get a fatty build-up in that area. It goes away when puberty winds down. You're still very boyish and sexy-"
"I don't care about that. You don't know shit about me!"
"Maaaax, c'mon man. It's-"
"No. Stop talking about it. I don't want you or anyone else to touch me there."
"Fine." Alan put his hand around Max's shoulders. "You're the boss."
As they held each other, Alan wondered if there was any way he could really help Max with his insecurity over his body image issues.
Comments welcome. Even if you're reading this in an archive years from now, I'd love to hear what you think.