Date: Wed, 13 Jun 2001 19:22:33 +0200 From: Lange Subject: a little lamb - chapter two Okay, legal disclaimer: do not read if under 18, not allowed in your area, you are disgusted by such stuff or generally don't like it. you know what, i don't force anybody to read this... Copyright 2001 by n-c-g. all rights reserved. don't post this somewhere without informing me. well and if you MUST post it somewhere, make sure the people don't have to pay for reading it, alright? Hmm...I'd still like to be informed, so drop me a line. although I VERY highly doubt people even like this... The things happening in the story should never, I repeat NEVER happen in real life. This was edited by bill watts. a very huge thanks to bill for all the work. I nearly forgot about this, the title of this story is a line in the song 'walk unafraid' by r.e.m if you want to read other stories by me on nifty: "betrayed love" in young friends - on-going - last posted on April 2nd, 2001 "us" in highschool - finished - posted on April 1st, 2001 --------- notes from the author(that's me): hi. i know it's been really long...well, at least in my opinion... since i have posted the first chapter to this story, but well, there this thing called real-life :-) umm, i've just re-read what i have been saying in the 'notes from the author' part the last time and i can assure you, it doesn't apply anymore. Well, that there won't be any sex scenes in this story still applies, but that thing with somehow being disgusted a bit and stuff...this story is like fast on the way to become the one i love writing the most right now. I just wondered why everybody says that they'll ignore flames... hmm, yeah, tell me what you think off the story, please. would be very nice ---------- ~~~~~~~~ ~~~~ ~ chapter two - unintentional harm I look down ashamed. I have just lied to my dad, my lover? I mean, has it been a lie? I really do love him, that's for sure. But this other boy... Why does everything have to be so complicated? Why can't it just remain simple? With the tears springing to my eyes once more, I embrace my dad, burying my head in the crook of his neck. Well, if he doesn't know by now that something is seriously wrong, I don't know what else to do. "Hey baby, what is it? What's bothering you? And don't say 'nothing'. What's going on?" "I don't want to talk." I held onto him just so I didn't have to look him in the eyes. Why does he have to pry? Why does he have to dig deeper and deeper, making me more miserable by the minute? I don't want to talk and I won't. No! Why should I talk, there's nothing to talk about. I only have some weird infatuation with some weird boy I meet daily...okay, he is cute. And? That doesn't mean I'll just go to my dad like: 'Sorry Dad, I meet this boy every day and I have just decided I might love him.' No, I can't do that, can I? "Christopher, look at me! Now!" Okay, that makes me look up. He rarely calls me by my name. 'Don't make this so hard on me Dad, please,' I think. I meekly lift my head from his shoulder and immediately his left hand takes hold of my arm to keep me from curling up against him. His right hand goes to my chin to keep me from looking away. I can't bear to look him in the eye. I know I'm hurting him by not looking at him and he senses that I don't trust him. After working up some courage, I look into his eyes and I see the deep hurt I've helped to put there. His eyes are also tearing up. What's this, my dad is crying? I look at him kind of disbelieving, and slowly I reach up with my hand, which seems so small compared to his, and wipe the tear away. I made my dad cry. It's my fault he's hurting now. I feel bad, really bad. I never wanted to make him cry. Believe me, I... Of course, seeing him crying does not help to soothe my conscience. And my sobbing makes him even sadder, or so it seems. I can't stand to see him crying, so I make the decision to leave my place on his lap. Hmm, I guess it wasn't the right decision, but excuse me, I'm only 13, dammit! (Sorry!). I'm not supposed to be responsible for another human being yet. I'm only supposed to live. All right, I know this is turning out badly, and it seems very negative. It's not like I don't want this relationship, it's really not like that. I swear by God that this relationship is all I ever wanted and I'm really, really happy with it, but that does not change the fact that I have more responsibility to carry than other kids my age and sometimes, like now, I don't know how to act the right way. I don't want to see my dad hurting. I promised to never hurt him, so what have I done now? I have reached my own room, but I realize that was probably the wrong decision. Foolish. I have not lied to my Dad. Well, it was no lie. It was no lie! No. I love him. I love only... Crap, I don't know what it is about that kid. But why haven't I told him? Why don't I tell him? Why? He should know about it. He HAS to know about it, dammit (sorry again. That's already the second time, right?). I can't just keep it from him. Even if it's only a crush or something, it is something that obviously influences our relationship. I have to talk to him and hmmm... I already hear his footsteps. Can I talk to now? Can I face him after having hurt him? No! I crawl into my bed and pull the cover over my head to...well, somehow hide from my dad. I know, it's foolish and silly and whatever, but hey, I'm a kid. I'm not supposed to be mature. Okay, I know this sounds childish, but I can't help it okay? Okay! Fine! That doesn't keep me from feeling real bad though. I have caused him pain. Me! I'm not worth his love when I lie to him or don't appreciate him. I'm worth nothing. He shouldn't cry because of me. It is not right and I'm not worth his tears. I'm... Sobs wrack my body and then I feel his hand through the cover on my back. The hand disappears and I only hear some movement next to the bed. Suddenly the mattress shifts and I feel a body next to mine. He lifts the cover and slides under it, pressed against me from behind. He is nearly naked and despite my tears, I struggle out of my clothes as well (if you must know, we still have our underwear on) and lay back with my back to his chest. He folds his hands in front of my body and holds me tight against himself. I totally relax in his grip and eventually my tears stop falling. It's not like I'm forgetting about everything and I'm pretty sure my Dad isn't either, because he'll surely want to talk about it soon. Right now we don't talk at all though. After a good twenty minutes I was nearly asleep, and my dad moves for the first time, as his hands on my tummy separate. One remains there and strokes the area around my belly button, while his other hand wanders up to caress my hair. He doesn't need to say it, but his movements show that despite my earlier actions or non-actions, he still loves me. I am content. Totally...well, at least for the moment. I feel safe in his arms and I feel great, although I know he'll want a talk. Honestly, I'm more than just a bit scared of that talk, well...it's more like scared shitless (you know the drill!). It could mean the end of our...relationship, as lovers, that is. He wouldn't stop being my Dad or anything, but it could mean so much. I don't want to lose him. Not like that. I love him, and I have no idea how to get this back to normal. Normal...well, what is normal anyway? But I mean, what would it be like if we just went back to some father- son relationship? Would it even work? Gee, I'm sick of thinking about all of this. It never does you any good. You always go on analyzing everything, and you don't even know a single thing more once you're finished, I guess. I snuggle back against my dad and enjoy the warmth and the feeling of being loved and then loving in return. Then, after another few minutes, I turn around and embrace my Dad, kissing him softly on the lips. I let my tongue trace the curves of his lips and he pushes his tongue out also, making them meet, touch, and caress each other. After a while it begins to tickle and I suppress a giggle, so I won't destroy the kiss. When I feel that I can't hold it anymore, I just have to break our connection and look at him grinning. He grins back, and then turns somehow serious again. "Christopher, we have to talk. You know that." "I know, but now? I don't want that talk right now. I mean, we are like laying here all nice and that would be destroyed if we started talking now. So I really do not want to talk about this. Okay, I know it's important and all and I know it has to be done, but...uhhh...I'm not that keen on talking about all this relationship stuff." "Now, let's get out of bed and dressed." "Can't we...?" "No. Get up." Geez, I'd like to keep lying here, but nooo, we have to get up. That sucks! (um, sorry, I guess!) That's so really typical for adults: always acting exactly the way that satisfies kids the least, so that they always have the power. And I was not satisfied. I hate it when we get down to the father-son mode. Well, it was not quite f-s mode, but still bad enough, really. And I hate this 'we have to have a serious talk' voice. Unhappily I comply and get up, putting on my clothes grudgingly, trying to stay mad at my Dad, but as always, I can't do that for more than a minute. I simply can't stay mad at him. I love him too much, I guess. Not that it's a bad thing, but arrgh, sometimes I just *want* to be angry with him. Sometimes something he does or says just pisses me off (hm, I *had* to get that out). I mean, I guess it's pretty normal that sometimes you don't want to talk to someone. Well, whatever, my father stepped out of the bed also and I think he is smirking at my hard-tried-anger, as always. Okay, it's not as if he's making fun of me every possible moment, not by a long shot, but he generally seems to have good idea when I'm really serious or when I only pretend to be. Mostly. I have already gone to the kitchen and sat down delete in the kitchen, our place for serious talks and hmm, I wait for my dad to come in there, and he does. Well, he waits in the doorway. I look at him...somehow confused, I think. He smiles at me tenderly and I'm nearly melting. "It's not that kitchen today, babe. Let's make ourselves comfy." "Cool." I smile widely at him and embrace him, standing in front of him. He takes my hand and leads me into the living room. I somehow feel like his wife or something. Hm, in a way I am, I guess. He sits on the sofa and begs me to sit on his lap. I happily comply. Once I'm sitting there, I feel slightly better. Usually, when we're in the kitchen and have one of our serious talks I kind of get easily frustrated. I mean, my dad might be able to simply switch modes, to go from affectionate lover to educating father, but it's harder for me. And yeah, he's explained to me why it's necessary to not always be my lover, but I've forgotten the reason already. I mean, I just don't see it, okay? So now, while I'm leaning back against him, he brings his arms around me again and places them under by t-shirt, on my tummy. Despite his sweet caresses, I'm soooo tense because I know he'll start the talk any minute. When he takes one deep breath, I know the time has come. Gee, if that doesn't sound dramatic... "Babe, you know we have to talk." "But Dad..." "No but. Hey, you know I'm not doing this to embarrass you or make you feel bad or anything else, but I see that you're hurting or that you're at least uncomfortable." "I'm not." "Chris, you usually are not running out crying. And you did that twice already today." "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you mad. I really...didn't, I'm so sorry..." "Babe, shhh. Just listen to me. I'm not mad at you, how could I ever be?" He softly lays my head against his strong chest and strokes my hair gently. "But you said..." "I'm sorry if it sounded like I'm mad 'cause I'm honestly not. Still...there must be something that's troubling you. " "Troubling me, what do you...?" "I mean there must be something that makes you cry, something that bothers you." "Do I really have to tell you?" "Babe, if I were only your father, I'd probably say something like, if you think it's nothing major, then try to solve it on your own. But obviously, I am asking you. Baby, I love you and it affects me as much as it does you. We are...well, lovers. Considering you as my son, I possibly wouldn't even want an explanation, but I'm your lover, as weird as that sounds, and it hurts me that you're not telling me about it. And I interpret it like you don't trust me and that really hurts here." The hand that was stroking my hair, momentarily leaves it and is placed on his heart. I did it all wrong. I didn't want to hurt him and I'm hurting him even more now. "I'm sorry, I..." "I know it has not been your intention and I'm not saying it was. It still hurts, that's why I think this is important." "Yeah, I guess." "Well, such talks are really pretty important for couples. You're now learning that earlier than other people, I think. Do you remember the talk we've had after the first time we kissed and slept together at night?" "Sure." "We talked about how important it is for us to trust each other and we talked about not hurting each other and this is exactly what I meant." "I know Dad, but I feel like I'm doing more wrong than right things trying to follow your lead. I can't seem to get anything right. I guess I'm simply not worth your love and trust and..." "Stop Chris, I don't want to hear such things. You're supposed to make mistakes, because that's how we all grow. It's a perfectly normal thing. You're growing up and that's why...well, I guess that's somehow also the reason for this talk and that's why this is important. You know that, too." "Yes, Dad, and honestly, I do want to talk to you about it, 'cause I just need to get it out and, yeah, I know I probably shouldn't have made such a fuss about this." "Babe, I'm not accusing you or anything like that. I never would be able to do that. And well, let's not dwell on things like that. I'm not mad at you, I'm not disappointed, and I definitely will not stop loving you. Just tell me please." "Dad, I know you need to know such things. It's just that I'm so afraid that it will change everything and you'll stop doing all that stuff with me. I know it's foolish, but just to imagine that makes me feel really weird. I don't think I could take it if you said 'that's it!' It seems so unbearable." "Sweetie, I couldn't ever stop loving you, no matter what you tell me. I'm only human, so I have no idea how I might react, but I promise, there's nothing you can do or say which would disgust me or make me turn away from you." "I know. Still..." I was still hesitating, especially after he told me that he could never stop loving me. Gee, this makes it so hard. I don't want to hurt him, really I don't. "Please, talk to me." And then I looked into his eyes and saw that he really meant this seriously and honestly, so I think it's about time I get this out in the open. "Dad, this is so hard to say for me, it's...well, you know the way I take when I go to school? And well...during the past two months or so there is always this kid going in the other direction at the same time. He is blond and...and I look at him longer than at other boys and...he is really cute, Dad and gee..." That's when I look up and see big tears rolling from my dad's eyes over his cheeks and chin, and immediately regret having let him persuade me to tell him about it. "Dad? I...I'm sorry. I didn't want..." "Chris, would you get up from my lap? I...I need some time to think." He shoves me from his legs almost roughly, making my heart feel like it was going to break. From there he goes into his bedroom, and then he closes the door behind him and locks it. I'm sitting there just staring at the now-closed door, kind of dumbly, until the tears begin to roll again. I really did it this time, didn't I? I really messed it up. I sat down on the floor, right on the spot that I had previously been standing on, and just let the tears flow freely. I do not quite bawl or anything, which is somehow weird, because usually I'm a pretty noisy crier (if you want to put it like that). Maybe it's because I just feel so empty...just like earlier when I was lying on my bed. I feel like I've lost everything that has any importance to me, and only because of some stupid kid. I crawl over to my dad's...once it has been our...bedroom door and just lean against it, wanting to be close to him somehow. I know this is stupid, as he probably lying on the bed inside the room, which is like in the middle of the room and only about five meters from where I'm sitting, but I don't care, okay? I. Do. Not. Care. I miss him. The tears have become a steady stream, while my thoughts continue like a hurricane in my head. I want all this to just go back the way it was yesterday. I hate that kid. I want my Dad back. And then I fall asleep, just like that, laying weirdly sprawled out against the door. A sudden movement violently awakens me and now I lay sprawled at my Dad's feet. I don't even want to meet his gaze, knowing it's my fault I really screwed up our relationship, but then he bends down and makes me look into his red, swollen eyes. I'm so totally sorry about this and carefully touch his cheeks letting my fingertips linger on his still damp skin. The realization that I have made him cry...again, send me into hysterics and I shy away from him trying to scramble out of the room before he gets to me or before he gets even madder at me. He has been crying because I have disappointed him. I'm supposed to be faithful when in a relationship, right? And what did I do? I go out and look at the next best kid, getting all my fantasies in high gear. Before I even get a few feet away, he grabs me around the waist and kind of like tackles me to the ground. Now he's going to scold me and... "Daddy, I'm so sorry...I didn't want to...don't be mad at me...I didn't intend to...I'm so sorry..." "Baby, Chris, Chris, Christopher, listen." While I'm babbling somehow...hmm...incoherently, I think you call it, he tries to calm me down. He...he tries to calm me? He is still talking to me? I mean... "Chris, I'm so sorry. It was so wrong of me to react that way. I'm really sorry, baby..." He is the one apologizing to me? I mean, actually it should be the other way around, shouldn't it? I mean, gee, I have just destroyed our relationship, it was me who... "Dad, I'm so sorry." I get up from the floor and jump on him, now really sobbing into his chest, nearly tearing his t-shirt. I don't think he wants me to have one of my crying fits, as he leads me over to the bed and sits me down beside him. He leaves the room, I don't know why, but the second he's gone, my sobbing starts to get stronger again. I don't quiet down until he comes back with some wet washcloths to cool down my skin and make the wet tear traces disappear. He is still so gentle with me, but HOW is that possible? I've just taken something from him that is so important to him. "Chris listen, I..." "Dad, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." "Chris, please be quiet for just one minute and let me talk, alright? I don't mean this in a bad way, but I think that I owe you an explanation and an apology." "But..." "No but. Chris, I'm really sorry. The way I acted is unforgivable. I didn't think I could ever be that selfish, but obviously, this situation just proved me wrong. I'm so sorry to have put you through this. It was really very irresponsible of me. I'm supposed to be understanding and there for you when you come to me with your problems, but I totally failed there. If you don't want to be with me anymore, I will understand. I'm so terribly sorry, Chris." He let his head hang down and I couldn't believe this was happening. My Dad is apologizing to me? I mean, did somebody not get this up to now? It was my fault that all this happened, and now he's...I don't get it. I take the washcloth he has carelessly thrown onto the carpet and use it on him. I try to do it as soothingly as he always does to me, and I gently lift his chin with my hand, making him look up into my eyes. He has this...hmm...look of disbelief about him, like he does not think everything that's happing is indeed real. I slowly lift the washcloth to his face and touch his cheeks with it...gently, as I hope this will make things better. When I have touched every part of his face, I stop what I'm doing, but the washcloth is still in my hand and against his cheek. I timidly lean in to kiss him, not quite sure whether I am allowed to or not. Only our lips are touching, but just barely. It's like our first kiss all over again. I sneak my tongue out and beg for entry. I feel how he struggles against me, trying to decide what he should do. See, he is still mad at me and doesn't want to let me in. I'm pulling away already, when he slowly opens his mouth and lets me enter. The washcloth slides from its resting place on his cheek and finds its way to the back of his head again. He is sitting on the bed, just on the edge, so that his legs are comfortably touching the ground, and I'm on the bed also, kneeling between his thighs. My other hand joins the one on the back of his neck and we really get into the kiss. Gee, I'm even getting hard. It's now kind of difficult to imagine that this is only a...how do you call it...a make-up kiss. He releases my lips and somehow shyly smiles at me, until his look drops to my pants. I guess he does notice the small bulge in there. He reaches up and strokes me with gentle, feather-like caresses, gazing at my cloth-hidden thingy with amazement in his eyes. Hmm, I didn't know I am that exceptional. His caresses are not really intended to make me have an orgasm (whew, does that sound clinical!), but I don't know. I don't know why he is doing that, but to me it feels...re-assuring...somehow. Like I know he is still there. So after a while he just stops and looks into my eyes again. "So, what about that kid, baby?" Immediately my eyes cloud again. That kid is the one who started all this stuff. Of course my dad notices, but he does not react to that though. "Chris, tell me about him. What is it that made you notice him? Why him? Did you talk to him? I really want to know." "But an hour or two back you didn't want to hear about it." "Two hours ago I was a bad father. What do I always tell you, I have to be a father as well as a lover and, well, back then I forgot about the father part." What did that mean now? I don't really *have* to understand that, do I? I mean, I'm still worried that something bad will happen again once I talk about this kid, but it seems as if he wants me to talk about him. "Umm...yeah, like I said before we are like meeting everyday and I really don't know anything about him. It's just that he is kinda cute, having blonde hair and blue eyes and stuff. He is definitely cute. Especially in that tight outfit he sometimes wears and well...on the other hand, sometimes he just has this look about him that makes me worry whether something is wrong with him. He looks so really, really sad and, as soon as I see that look, I feel sad too. Then today he smiled at me." "That sounds nice. Have you ever tried to talk to him?" "No...I don't know. It doesn't feel right to just go up to him and start talking or whatever, and I would feel so weird if I did that. Do you know what I mean?" "Do you...do you have any fantasies about him?" "Like...umm...what?" "Well, don't play all innocent with me, babe." Wow, it's good to see him smiling again. "You know, do you think about him when you're playing with yourself?" "Umm...no. Actually I don't think about him like that at all. I mean he really is cute and all, especially his butt when he's in that very tight leather stuff...it's so cute, but I don't know. He doesn't seem to be somebody I would ever...do something with...I don't know." "Do you love him?" "Dad, who taught me to not talk about 'love' when all I know about a person is the way he looks." "That would be me, I guess?" "Yeah, so no...no love...or...I don't know. It's weird. He really is cute and I'd love to get to know him better and all, but I'm not like all hot for him or anything... And I only love you." "I only love you two, babe." And then we're kissing again. By now we're laying in the middle of the bed, he has his arm around me and I'm by his side, listening to his heart beating through his chest. After we stopped kissing, we just lay there in complete silence, and then I must have drifted off, knowing everything was okay again. The only thing that wasn't quite right was the washcloth, which had slipped under me and was making my t-shirt all wet.