The following story is about the development of a fully consensual and loving relationship between a man and a pre-adolescent boy. At some point through the story's progression, there will be a graphic display of sexual acts between the man and the boy meant to show the natural progression and development of an intimate and caring relationship. If the topic of man/boy sex offends you, or if this material is illegal in your place or residence, or if you are under legal age, please leave now.
Any similarities between the characters in this story and any persons living and/or dead is purely a coincidence.
This story is protected under the nifty archives license agreement, and the author (me!) releases the right for nifty and nifty alone to post it on the internet. Please do not post this story anywhere else without my consent or knowledge.
Well... here at long last is the continuation of events that started in chapter 19. While it was my intent to leave you all with a cliff hanger for a while, I hadn't intended to keep you all on the edge for so long. But I still mean to fulfill my promise, and write this story to the very end.
Please let me know your thoughts at: firstname.lastname@example.org
His head was ringing, like a gong struck with a huge wooden mallet. He pushed at the floor with his hands, moving his head away from where it had crashed into the back of the dining room chair. Even the slightest movement caused dizziness and nausea. Coupled with particles of plaster in the air, which caused him to choke with every gasping breath, Josh's whole world felt swallowed up in swirling white chaos.
He had fired the gun again, and this time it had knocked him over completely. The dining room floor was covered with debris, both from his earlier shot to the ceiling, and the more recent one, which lead his eyes to the far kitchen wall. When he gazed upon the scene laid out before him, his breath caught in his throat. His mother laid slumped against the wall.
Had he actually done it? Had he actually killed his mother? From where he was sitting, with the bar partially blocking his view, he couldn't tell for sure. With a good deal of effort, he heaved himself to his feet, using the gun which still remained in his vice-like grip to prop him up. He felt his heart rate quicken as he walked into the kitchen.
There was no mistaking it. This time he had fired the gun directly at her. The bullet hole in the wall looked right where his mother's head had been. He dared moving closer, holding the gun tighter as he got a clearer picture of the destruction he had wrought.
For several minutes he stood there, absorbing the enormity of what he had done. She looked so different now, like an unwanted rag doll, tossed against the wall. She hardly seemed like the terrible threat she had been only a short while ago.
He looked down at the gun in his hands, feeling it dragging him down, pulling at his whole body. He had done this, knowingly and willingly. For so many things... so many reasons... but was that enough? Was that reason enough to kill her?
He didn't know how long he stood there, his mind a great tangle of thoughts and reasons, of justifications and questions. He was so absorbed, so transfixed, he didn't hear the pounding on the door, or the rushed footsteps into the kitchen. The man, now kneeling in front of his mother, seemed like an apparition to him, almost like a ghost.
He was shaking her, talking to her. It was like he was trying to wake her up, but how was that possible? She was dead, there was no waking her up.
The man was talking to him now, had turned to face him. It was a voice he knew so well, yet his mind wouldn't instantly place it. His mind was too jumbled in confusion, preventing him from reacting.
Finally, the man's words sank in when he knelt down in front of him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Josh, please. You need to give me the gun sweetie."
With great effort, he focused on the face of the man in front of him.
"Steven...." he said at first, unbelieving it was actually him
But it was, it was him. And his face looked so kind, so welcoming, helping a great deal to calm his nerves.
"Steven!" Josh breathed out in relief.
"We can work this all out, but you need to give me the gun first," he said softly.
Josh looked down at the gun. If his mother was dead, then he really didn't need it any more. He loosened his hold on the weapon and extended his arm.
He would have placed it directly in Steven's hands if it hadn't been for a groan that came from the floor, where his mother was lying. He quickly jerked the weapon back. Steven turned to see what had caught Josh's attention, then quickly got to his feet and moved to help her. She stumbled a few times, appearing very weak, but with Steven's help she was finally able to stand on her feet and lean against the wall.
She was still alive. Seeing her up made him feel weak at the knees. He was right back where he had started.
"Josh, I know you have been through a great deal, and I know how confused you must be feeling right now, but you have to give me the gun. Please. I promise you we will be able to figure something out, without anyone getting hurt," Steven said, moving between himself and his mother.
Josh shook his head. "You don't know the things she said. She wants me to move away. She's gunna make me move to South Carolina, into some monastery or something, where she said I can't even play the piano. She doesn't want me to play ever again. She said so!"
Steven pressed his lips together. Josh could tell his words affected him.
"I wont go! I'm not gunna do what she says. I wanna be with you. I love you, and I wanna live with you!"
"Oh sweetie, I love you too, so very much. You don't know how much it means to me to hear you say you want to live with me. I'm sure we will be able to figure something out," Steven said.
Josh wanted to believe it, needed to believe it, but he knew, he just knew.... "She won't let us. She'd never let us live together. She wont be happy until she's sent me away, and put you in jail! She hates you, and she hates me! All she cares about is her stupid church."
"That's not true honey."
Through all their talking, Josh's mother managed to clear the hair away from her face and hobble over behind Steven.
"I know you're mad at me, and you have every right to be. I said some horrible things, and I am very sorry."
Josh looked at his mother, remembering vividly every horrible thing she had said. "Why should I believe you? Why should I believe anything you have to say?"
"Because I love you, and I only want what's best for you. I always have," she pleaded.
Josh closed his eyes and shook his head. I only want what's best for you. That's what she always said. Every time. It was her excuse to make him do things he hated.
When he looked back at her, it was with cold eyes. "You're a liar. You don't want what's best for me. You just want what's best for you! You never cared about what I wanted. You never really cared about me!"
He raised his gun and motioned it at Steven. "Get out of the way," he said, deathly calm.
"Josh, please. Just give me the gun," Steven said.
He could see the fear in Steven's eyes, but there was no reason to be afraid any more. It would be like Steven said. Things were going to work out, he was going to make them work out. After he got his mother out of the picture, all sorts of possibilities opened up.
With his mother gone, they could just take off. Him and Steven. He would never have to worry about coming back home to her, constantly being afraid that she might discover he wasn't there most of the time. He no longer would have to go to church, pretending to like what he was doing there. He was tired of being mother's perfect little boy, doing everything she said and wanted.
He knew what life with Steven would be like. They would spend the nights playing the piano for each other, or snuggle together watching movies. They would go places together, and do things outdoors. If they went to live in the mountains, they could camp out and do lots of hiking. He knew that if he was with Steven, he would take care of him, and love him. Love him like his mother never did.
His resolve was set. He knew what he had to do. He knew that for any possible future with Steven, his mother had to be gone.
"Go back home Steven. Go and pack your things. We're going to run away, you and me. After my mom is dead, no one's going to look for me. We'll be free, free to do whatever we want!"
Despite the fear written all over his face, Steven did not move. He stayed there, standing directly in the line of fire.
"Just go. I have to do this," Josh said, raising his gun.
Steven raised his own hands up in response, but that did not stop him from taking a step closer. "I can't go Josh. Not until you give me the gun."
Josh backed up a step, keeping the gun at the ready. He knew Steven was only trying to help, but nothing mattered until his mother was dead. Once she was dead, he knew Steven would see he was right.
"Get out of the way Steven," Josh said, proving his seriousness by cocking the hammer back.
Steven took another step closer, then another, until he was practically on top of him.
"Please, don't do this," Steven begged.
"Move outa the way!" Josh shouted, making an attempt to get around him rather than step back.
The attempt was futile. Before he realized, Steven had a hold on the barrel, and it took all his strength to keep his grip on it, even with both hands.
He tried as hard as he could to bend one direction, then another, trying to get the barrel aimed at his mother and not at Steven, but the task was proving impossible.
"Let go of the gun Josh," Steven said, straining against him.
"No. I'm going to kill her. I want her to die! Once she's dead, everything will be okay," he shouted.
He felt his only chance for salvation slipping away as Steven pulled the weapon out of his hands a fraction of an inch at a time. Without thinking, he brought up his right foot, using it as leverage against Steven's knee, and pushed against him with all his might.
A loud blast sounded as another bullet left the barrel of the gun. He didn't know who fired the weapon. Steven had managed to get his fingers in the trigger cage. Their hands had been so jumbled up, he couldn't tell who's were who's.
A half second later, he stopped worrying about who had fired the weapon.
There was blood, all along the side of his leg. At first, he thought it might not be his, but when wave after wave of pain registered in his brain, he knew it was.
He felt himself grow faint, but forced himself to hold on, despite the growing agony. He heard Steven shout at his mother to call an ambulance, but every word he heard seemed to grow quieter and more distant.
He felt himself being laid down on his back. Steven had his shirt off and was tying it around his leg, trying to stop the blood, telling him to stay calm.
"It's going to be okay sweetie. The ambulance will be here any second. Just hold on. Everything's going to be okay," Steven said through tear soaked eyes.
"Steven... please d... don't leave..." Josh stuttered. He tried to say more, but stopped when he found himself short of breath.
"Shh... quiet now," Steven whispered, gently wiping the sweat off his brow. "I'm not going anywhere."
His mother was kneeling there now, though she kept her distance, staying out of Steven's way.
"Y... you p.. promise?"
"I'll never leave. Not ever. I promise. I'll be with you to the very end."
Hearing those words were like magic. Even though the pain was severe, he somehow knew. As long as Steven was there, he had nothing to worry about. He let himself slip peacefully into unconsciousness.