Date: Mon, 29 Mar 2010 01:18:00 +0300
From: Guardian Drake <mat.maren@gmail.com>
Subject: Part 1 - Wolf's Eyes

Disclaimer: This story is a work of and contains descriptions of explicit
sexual acts of boy's discovering their sexuality.  It contains graphic
scenes of sex between an underage boy and adult males...  If this type of
content offends you or you are under the age of 18 do not read it.

Author's Note:

This story is the property of the author. It can be downloaded for personal
reading pleasure or sending to a friend, but if you wish to re-post them at
your own site, please contact the author for permission.

If it is illegal to read such material where you live or if you find the
topic distasteful the please leave now.  If you enjoy the story or if it
evokes memories of your own, please let me know.

Also, I'm not a native English speaker. I practice my knowledge of the
language mostly by reading and haven't so far had the chance of visiting a
country where the English is officially spoken. This means that there is
very big possibility that I have misspelled or misplaced words and phrases,
as well as I probably messed up with the tenses. I hope this won't repel
the readers or spoil the pleasure of reading.

I started this story with the intention to move slightly the focus of the
story from the pure sex-experiences and discovery of sexuality to the real
man/boy relationships and its psychology as I see it, and to show my view
on the matter. Unfortunately, this would mean showing more every-day /
real-life situation and the character's reactions to them, in order to
reveal better their feelings in better manner. This is staring to postpone
the sexual scene for some later point.

Although this story is a work of fiction, I tried to put in it as much
realism as I could. My wish is to work on literature field some day, and
despite I'm 33 years old I haven't given up hope. I would really appreciate
any comments or recommendations on subjects of style, plot, story building
or character building.  You may contact me at mat.maren@gmail.com

Copyright 2010 Mat Maren, All rights reserved.



Wolf's Eyes
By
Mat Maren

Part 1
Predator and Prey

There are two things that smell of fear can invoke into a predator. One is
hunger, of course. The other is... arousal. Every beast can feed from fear
as well as from the flesh. But when fear is mixed with a sexual desire, the
feeding frenzy is sex, not a killing. But the opposite is also true - the
sexual desire, mixed with a wisp of fear shifts the sex into something
mush, much stronger.  And before u say something, yes, I had heard the
saying that there is a predator hidden in every man. It just didn't occur
to me to connect the two facts. And besides, I didn't know back then the
fear driven rush of adrenalin into a predatory male calls for violence or
sex. So I was totally unprepared for what had happened to me. That an 11
year's old boy was about to become a meal for a man and the beast within
him.

Someone told me a story like this should start with a description of
myself, so here it is.

My name is Nick. I'm 13 now. I was 11 back then, when it's all started. I
was just above 4' tall - a shorty for a boy of my age, I've been told. I
weighted 132 pounds. Yeah, I know. I was a slime ball.

I have brown hair, and my eyes are brown too. Brown is a dull color for
eyes or hair. All interesting stories happen to boys with sandy hair and
blue eyes, or with redheaded boys with green eyes. My Mum describes my hair
as color of dark honey with a tinge of brass and my eyes - eyes of a
dear. Don't trust her, Mums are partial. Nothing real in the description of
velvet smooth skin - my skin was healthy pink color of a boy who spends too
much time in front of the PC, playing on-line RPGs and have an acquaintance
with sunlight mostly trough the window. The "sensual cherry-pink lips" are
also over exaggeration. Lara Croft has sensual mouth. I don't. My nose is
stub, and looks cute. And when you are 11 "looking cute" isn't something
you particularly like about your appearance. So is "looking so
innocent". At 13 you hate both descriptions. Especially when the second is
as far from the truth now, as Moon is from Virginia. But some things must
be kept hidden, especially from Mums.

Someone else told me later that I had looked so nicely round and delicious,
like a freshly baked muffin, steaming on the table waiting for him to sink
his teeth into me.

Yeah, right!

I live with my mom. My dad died in an industrial accident when I was about
2 years old, so I don't remember much of him. To tell that I don't remember
him at all would be a lie. I remember two strong hands picking me
up. Remember the smell his sweaty peter. Remember his big muscles,
glistening on the sunlight. Somewhere in my sub consciousness this is being
printed with big, blazing letters: love and safety = tight, engulfing
embrace where I lost myself entirely in the sweaty muscle.

I'm messed up, I know.

We live in a small house in the suburbia that dad's insurance policy bought
us. Mother never married again. There aren't any men in her life. There was
one, though, and I think he is the reason Mum decided to cope for
herself. It was bad. He ended up in jail at the end, but not before Mom had
ended up in hospital several times, and me - once. We manage. Mom has two
jobs and no time for anything more than putting some food in the fridge and
cleans clothes on my bed every morning.  I'm pretty much left to rise
myself. I had been allowed some independence three months ago, when Mom had
given up to the obvious - I needed no babysitter, being pretty much a
complete bookworm and nerd with no friends to drag me into trouble and no
affinity to sports and physical activity whatsoever. Chubby kid with
glasses. Classic. Despite that she bought me a mobile and was checking on
me every couple of hours to see if I hadn't burn the house down yet. What I
was doing was a pretty much the same as when Kathy (my babysitter) was
around - back from school, doing my homework, studying, doing my chores and
playing on the PC after I was done. Or reading. I was a boring child with
boring life.

That did change suddenly when the empty house next to ours have been
bought.

***

"Someone's at the door, brb." I wrote in game chat and rushed to open the
door.  Thank God for the timing, we were just on a brake before tackling
the next pack of monsters. Otherwise I wouldn't open the door, being home
alone. Not that I would do it in any other circumstances, Mum forbid me to
open the door when left by myself - that was one of the conditions for my
freedom, but the rush of adrenalin of killing 4 bosses in Valkiria's Pass,
the third most difficult raid dungeon in the whole "BloodLore", the on-line
RPG game that I was sooooo infatuated in, made me cocky. I ran downstairs
and opened the door with a swoop, broadly smiling at myself. And froze. It
felt like I sprinted into a brick wall. It might as well be so, 'cos there
was a brick wall of a sort at my door. The man was... 100% pure
masculinity. He was towering 6'8" and was so broad and muscled that I
thought for a moment that his muscles have muscles. Not the gym muscle's
kind. I can tell. Not developed by carefully planned and punctually
executed exercises, combined with a high protein diet, food additives and
vitamins. The coach of the local football team has muscles like that, and I
see him every day at school. Been watching him train couple of times when I
had decided to put off some weight. This man had
hard-work-and-heavy-lifting muscles that had just been given a polished by
a few hours in the gym. But is golden tanned skin was smooth and hairless
and glistening on the sun, like professional bodybuilder's skin is. God, he
looked like he can bench-press cars!

He had very dark brown, almost black hair, trimmed short, like the
policeman's or military haircuts. His face was... To say handsome would be
understatement. Masculine beauty doesn't do it credit either. It was like
carved from stone - rough and angled, square subborn jaw, wide cheekbones,
Roman nose, which had been broken sometime in the past, thick eyebrows,
pointed chin with a dimple. An old, wide, L-shaped scar crossed his left
cheek, almost from the chin to the temple. He was so attractive in his pure
masculinity that my knees went limb. He radiated brute masculinity that
would draw instant attention to him when he walk in a room crowded with
people.

And then I looked into his eyes. They were blue as the sky, cold, and
menacing, and lethal, and burning with cold flames, blazing with hardly
surprised rage. My shock turned to pure, wild terror. The lethal glee
petrified me on my spot, my stomach dropped, cold chills ran down my spine,
and the big hand of the fear grabbed my heart and squeezed hard, stopping
my breath. I was sure, absolutely convinced that this man, this giant, will
reach with one hand, crush my skull and rip my head off. Later I was
surprised I didn't pee myself.

I have no idea what expression was on my face, but it apparently had
irritated and enraged him even further.

"What?" he growled at me. I swear he growled at me.

"You can bench-press cars!" I blurted out in a small voice.

His eyes lit with amusement, flames gone and he laughed. It was a huge,
warm, base laugh, the vibrations echoed in my ribcage. And it broke the
spell of fear and cleared the menace from his eyes, replacing it with
amusement and a tinge of pleased smugness. He leaned at the door, towering
over me.

"Sorry, kid, I have to disappoint you" he grinned at me. "I guess I
startled you. I'm sorry. Your folks at home?"

Fear was gone. But I felt cautious, my Mum's warnings ringing in my
head. And the alarm was replacing the fear. I'll never open the door again,
I promised myself.

"Mom's at work" I answered hesitantly. May be he's not gonna kill me right
at the front door...  Probably he's not gonna kill me at all, just tie me
up in the basement and ramidge the house.

"And your Dad?" he insisted.

I looked at my shoes. "He passed away." There. I was defenseless; he can
tie me up now. No reason of struggling, I couldn't escape this man. If I
won't struggle and do anything stupid he might not hurt me.

"O.K." he said in a gentle, soft voice "Lets start over. My name is
Douglas, but my friends call me Doug. I'm your new neighbor."

I raised my eye to his face again and saw his gentle smile. He must have
felt my conviction that he was my doom bringer. Something flickered in his
eyes when I met his gaze, but it was gone too fast.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Nick. Nicolas." I answered.

He extended his huge hand. The palm was with the size of a shovel.

"Nice to meet you, Nick."

I shook his hand gingerly. It was rough from hard work and felt so strong
that I was sure he can crush my hand into mushy meat with no effort
whatsoever. But felt his gentle control too. Like he was, oh, so careful
not to hurt me. Strange warmth run through my body. Suddenly, I never felt
so safe before.

"I'm moving in and my tools haven't arrived yet. Do you have a screwdriver
and a wrench?" he asked.

"Sure" I answered. "Wanna come in?"

He hesitated.

"You O.K. with me coming in? You were pretty scared a moment ago and
frankly, I'm a stranger." Something glimpsed again in his eyes
again. Amusement may be, I decided.

I was looking at him wondering how to answer that.

He smiled knowingly and then said softly "I'm not gonna eat you, kid."

That did it. I smiled back, moved from the door and motioned him into the
house. My social skill, no matter how puny they are, kicked in at that
point and I led him into the kitchen.

"Can I offer you something to drink? Soda or juice may be?"

He sat at the table. I think he didn't want to scare me more than he
already did.

"Soda would be fine, thank you."

Handing him the can I decided he was trying to look less menacing. He was
only moderately successful. His eyes were following my every move.

The search of the kitchen drawers left me with plenty of knives, spoons,
forks, beer- and can-opener and even a corkscrew, but no screwdriver. I
have no idea where Mum kept the tools, I just was curtain we have some.

"Be back in a sec" I told my new neighbor and headed to the closet.

Found a hammer and nails, and paint boxes and some other stuff. This should
be the right track, but still, not what I was looking for. Not on the
bottom shelves at least. Probably they were in that box over there?

"Need help?"

I jumped and hit my head hard in the shelf above.

He laughed. "I'm sorry I startled you again." I stood up and faced him,
rubbing my ringing head. Sparkles of laughter were glittering in his eyes.

"You O.K.?"

I gave him a grim look.

"Let me see" he said, stepped into the closed and knelt down, removing my
hand and spreading my hair. His hands were all business, but suddenly I was
very aware of him. In this tiny closet, his body so close to me, staring in
his massive chest muscles in the sweaty worn t-shirt while his hands were
searching for any damage I've done bumping my head... His smelled of musk,
and sweat, and wood and cigarette smoke just under his rich cologne, and
something more primal, more... aggressive... I didn't have to word for
it. The smell of male. I suddenly have butterflies in my stomach and felt
... something I never felt before or rather, I never felt that strongly,
and didn't have the word for it. I wanted, I craved something, and had no
idea what it was. I was all but shaking with that desire.



I was sexually aware back at 11. Actually, I was sexually aware at 6. I
remember having hard-ons at 6... And by the time of 9 I found by my own
that if I rub my cockle when it is stiff after awhile it feels
wonderful. Jacking off at 9 could have brought me into loads of trouble
with my Mum, if I she knew about it, but something in me told me to keep
quiet. We had the Talk when I was 10, but by that time I already have know
this and that... and the Talk didn't help me at all, just brought more and
more questions, but I be damned if I ask my Mother about them. As ignorant
as I was, I know already what gay meant... in general.

I remember distinctly one children's book with pictures, all children
stories illustrated. There was that picture of the Big Bad Wolf, hidden in
some bushes, with his hungry glare fixed into unsuspecting lamb, drinking
from a stream. I'm pretty sure that was the book that started the dreams. I
was deeming about being stalked by the Big Bad Wolf. Then he jumps me,
grabs me, drags me to his lair, and keeps me captive there, feeding on
me. Not eating me. Just licking me, nabbing me softly and never letting me
leave. I lay there defenseless, helpless, and unable to do anything in his
big paws and he's licking me, like my skin was made of caramel or maple
syrup, feeding his hunger with me... And when I would wake up, I had had a
boner.

I don't know when the Big Bad Wolf had become the Big Bad Man. Somewhere
when I was between 8 and 10, I think. But I'm sure, when we had the Talk, I
had known already I wanted sex, although I have no idea it was called sex
back then. And I wanted to have sex not with a girl, as my Mum told me
things are supposed go, but with a man. I knew asking her about it would be
bad idea.

By 11 I already even had fantasies about my teachers and my coach. I was
secretly looking at the broody men walking the streets with the distinct
desire what I want them to do to me... Sometimes I have instant hard-on
just by looking at a man. I wanted a man to have me. Grown man. Big grown
man. Like the one that was checking my head for injuries while I was
breathing his masculine smell and filling dizzy and lightheaded. The only
reason I haven't had the hard-on at that moment was that some part of my
mind was absolutely horrified what will happen if I have a hard-on at this
moment, this man sees it, sees my desires and tells my Mum. Being gay was a
bad, bad thing, I knew. Very bad. People throw their children out for being
gay. And gays are despised and beaten by everyone. They have to sleep in
the park, on the benches, to search the garbage cans for food, and
occasionally being picked up by the police and thrown into jail. And I was
one. I couldn't let anyone know! It was a good thing that my neighbor
couldn't see my face, 'cos he would have known what I am for sure.



"No blood or burses." He pronounced and stood up. "You have a tough head,
kid." He rubbed my hair one last time. I had to compose myself and face him
or else he'll know something's wrong!

"Ah, here they are!" he said and I turned to see the top shelf while he was
reaching for the toolbox. K, few more seconds of hidden face. Get a grip,
Nicolas, NOW!

My mobile saved me, by ringing in precise that time.

Saved was relatively said. I was about to get in another set of troubles
altogether once I pick up - Mum would be livid that I let a stranger into
the house, but that was something ELSE to worry about. Have you ever been
happy of a prospect of punishment? 'Grin and bear it' had altogether new
meaning for me at that moment.



"So, you opened the door, knowing I strictly forbid u to do just that" said
my Mum. It wasn't a question, it was a statement, made in a quiet, matter
of fact voice that told me she was really mad. Here it comes.

"Yes, Mum" I said meekly.

She kept silent for a moment, contemplating my punishment, and letting me
explore all the depths of my imagination. No TV for week? No PC for a week?
She won't buy me the new Harry Potter novel? Sunday's cinema is off?

 "O.K. no more BloodLore for the day" she finally pronounced. BloodLore?!?
Shit, I totally forgot!!! I was keeping 19 people waiting for me after a
boss kill and for how long? 15 minutes? Oh My God, my guildmates gonna be
kill me!

"You gonna switch off the PC" continued my mother unaware of my inner state
"and then you gonna help Mr. Johnson with his moving in. You'll ask him if
he had lunch, and if he hadn't, you'll make him a sandwich. You will offer
him to mow his yard for free, and will do it this afternoon after you're
finished helping him. You also gonna do everything else he asks of
you. That's about it for now. I'll consider if I will buy that book you
want so badly. Depends of how well you perform."

I looked stupidly at the phone.

"Mr. Johnson?"

"Our new neighbor." She said.

I looked at the man leaning at the door watching me with amusement.

"You know him?" She couldn't! I know Mum. She's protective of me as an
angry tigress! If she had seen this man before, she wouldn't let me be
alone in his presence for even second! I asked, hoping my disbelief
wouldn't show in my voice, still looking at him. He looked back at
me. Amusement was the only emotion he was letting show on his face, but
there we're more in his eyes and couldn't read them.

"Haven't met him, but I have asked about him. He's OK." She pronounced
meaning that I could trust him. Than she added "This question is not to be
asked after letting the person in the house, Nickolas, but before that.
You understand me?"

"Yes, Mom"

"And if this happens again, I'll cancel your subscription to "BloodLore".

My eyes widened in fear, and I must have gotten pale, 'cos some concern
crossed my neighbor's face.

"See you tonight. Invite mr. Johnson for dinner." And she closed the line.

I looked at the phone in horror and disbelief. Then at
mr. Johnson. Douglas. Doug.

"What?" he asked me bluntly.

"My Mum asks you to dinner tonight" I answered. "I am to offer you sandwich
if you haven't had lunch. And if you want, I'll mow your yard for free this
afternoon" I continued grimly "And I'll help you move in, will carry boxes
and stuff... and I'll help you with whatever you needed these for" I
pointed at the tools box in his hand "And also whatever you need me to do".

"How's so?" he asked.

I let a deep sigh out and gave him a shaky grin. It could have been
bad. Mum could have canceled my subscription.

"You're my punishment for opening the door and letting a stranger in the
house".

He laughed. The butterflies in my stomach came back again.



***



"So what did you thought I'll do to you when you opened the door?" asked
Doug with amusement.

"I thought you gonna crush my skull and rip my head off." I muttered to my
plate. "Your eyes were blazing blue flames, like Baron Yaroslav's"

He laughed and the worm feeling from his laughter washed me again.

"Too much BloodLore" he sentenced.

The reason of his anger when I opened the door became obvious as soon as we
entered his kitchen. There was something wrong with the sink and with the
garbage disposal. The whole kitchen floor was drenched in water. He fixed
it while I mopped the floor. Then we moved some boxes in, arranged some
stuff on the shells of the basement and the garage. He kept quiet just
asking me a question now and then. I chattered all the time. About school,
about BloodLore. About my friends, which all were in BloodLore - I haven't
got any "real life" friends. We call the world outside the game RL. About
books and movie. About everything really. Then his mobile rang. He muttered
with irritation "They left me alone only for 3 hours" and went to pick
up. And started bossing people.

It became apparent that to get something done in time in construction
business meant intimidating everybody - the owners, the construction teams,
the suppliers, the contractors, the delivery services. At some point I
started to wonder if actually he could talk normally - without snarling,
yelling, ordering about and bossing people.

I was looking wild eyed at this towering angry giant, with his booming
voice which vibrated in my chest with every word that echoed in his
basement. I should have ran from him, and I would except... Except the
maleness radiating from him kept me in place. One part of me wanted to run
and hide, but the other, stronger feelings kept me where I was, doing what
I was doing, and trying to be inconspicuous, careful not to make a mistake
to direct his anger at me, but unable to leave either.

He spent on the phone next 3 hours non-stop, answering and dialing, all the
time pacing the room, and harassing everybody, me included. In between
phone calls he spoke a few words with soft and calm voice, assuring me I
did fine. And during an especially long calls with lot of yelling he gave
me sudden soft glances or ruffled my hear reassuringly when got a glimpse
of a particularly frightened glance of mine. He was sensing my fear and
tried to calm me down as best as he could while yelling at people. In
reflection I wondered later how strong reigns he got over his tongue,
because I was convinced - in so MUCH yelling there ought to be at least one
swear word, and I was pretty sure if I wasn't in the room he would have
been swearing a plenty.

It was frightening at first, and it took me a long time to calm down around
him, but a few things became obvious. He was short tempered. He intimidated
people to get things done. And he had tremendous self-control, and
controlled the others around him. "Control freak" was a word I would learn
later, but it describes him all right.

I was quietly arranging his stuff where he ordered me with gestures,
glaring at me... At first I was flinching under every menacing look, but it
become apparent he wasn't glaring at me 'cos I have done something wrong,
he was glaring at the person on the other end of the phone line. And since
that person obviously wasn't in the room with him, his scary looks went to
the next person in hand - me, that is, being there. Once I understood that
I calmed down.

He was lovely. My glance kept and kept lingering toward him. His short
black hair, his blue eyes that promised menace to the people disobeying
him. His broad face, his chin with a dimple, his scar... His scar, I
decided, was probably from a bar fight turned nasty. Probably a broken beer
bottle. Or a knife. Somehow it made him even more handsome.

His legs were like tree trunks. His fists - like sledgehammers.

At first look he was that classic bar bouncer, or hired muscle, or
bodyguard of the type that doesn't require much thinking, just to take the
bullet with their bodies and survive afterwards. You know the type -
sturdy, big, dump men who think with their muscles. One would think so,
looking at mr. Johnson, until one is not confronted with his gaze. There
was intelligence there, sharp intelligence, and knowingness, and life
experience and more things I couldn't read. And anger, of course.

As I watched him secretly I wondered why he doesn't have the all big men's
stomp, or careful-clumsy movements... He was swift and graceful, he moved
like a cat. No, not like a cat, I decided, like a big cat, like a tiger may
be.

It was getting hot and stuffy in the basement, despite one opened
window. At some point he took his sweaty t-shirt off. His smooth, heirless
muscles popped free of the fabric. He may be obtained them from hard work,
but he had polished them to the point beyond of perfection. Bulging,
glistening, and hard, tanned skin, without a single hair - not on his
chest, hot on his stomach, not on his shoulders or arms. There were two
more scars visible now. One was long - about 5-6 inches from the right top
of his stomach, and to the middle of his breast in a slight angle. Slice
wound? It wasn't as deep at the one on his side and no more than inch and a
half long. Stab wound I decided.  The lighter tissue covered lines,
crossing the pure male perfection of the iron muscles and somehow enhancing
it. Thank God he was on the phone and he didn't hear my gasp. I turned away
quickly facing the shelves, but it the next moment his hand was on my neck
and the smell of man surrounded me. The hand felt rough and callosity and
the gentle scrub of the roughness on my neck gave me tingles. I had to
fight to surprises a shiver. I had a hard-on. Instant hard-on. His hand
gently squeezed my neck one more time and drifted away. He scared me
shitless, and I lusted on him beyond everything I felt for a man up to now,
and in the same time never felt so safe and sheltered in my life... I had
fought hard not to lean against the hand. It took almost 10 minutes real
struggle, including biting lips almost to blood, digging nails in palms and
pinching myself painfully, but I somehow managed to will the hard-on away
and went to mow the back yard. He came after me, not loosing me out of his
sight. All the time on the phone, pacing, glancing me from time to time to
be sure I'm where I suppose to be and continue to yell at people. His
muscles glistened on the sun, but I was ready this time, and suppressed the
hard-on before he even begun. I was almost finished mowing when he finished
talking. He gave me an approving nod and said "I need a shower. Good work,
kid." And went into the house. I felt shaken as I never been in my life. I
finished work, got the mower into our garage and went inside to take a
shower myself. As soon as the hot water hit me the erection was back with a
vengeance. It took me 3 strokes to reach the happy place. I wasn't thinking
of him or picturing him precisely. I was remembering the
touch. Reassuring. Possessive. Never felt like that before. I was drying my
hair when the doorbell rang.

I opened and he grinned at me wolfishly.  "You're asking for another
punishment? Not that don't appreciate the help, but still, you Mum is
right. You Don't open the door to strangers, kid" - and there was a push
behind that "don't". I gathered all my will against the erection.

"I know it was you. Come in, I'll make you a sandwich."

"Nah" he answered and grinned "You're coming with me." It came out so
matter-of-factly like there was no chance in the World of this not
happening or me disobeying him.

"You did such a fine job today that I own you lunch." He added and we went
to his house. He fed me nuked pizza and told me about his work. He owned a
small construction firm. He was in house development as well as in
reconstruction, renovation and house repair. He yelled at people, and he
apologized to me about that. He said he made his best not to scare me.

I asked him if he ever beat someone up.

"Sorry, kid. I must have frightened you. I know I'm scary and short
tempered. You were actually very brave back there. I kind of expected you
to run away. But don't worry, I never hurt something of mine."

I stared at him dumbstruck, fully scared all over again.

"I'm yours?" I asked him in tiny voice.

He laughed full-heartedly.

"Don't worry, kid, I'm not a psycho. 'Mine' as in 'my neighbor's son', 'my
employee', 'my friend', 'my relative'. That sort of 'mine'. You shouldn't
be afraid of me. Although, I suppose I'll be scaring you a lot. So what did
you thought I'll do to you when you opened the door?"



It was later occurred to me that he actually evaded my question about
beating up. He was a hitman, I deicide. Not a hired muscled, or bodyguard -
too much intelligence for that. And those catlike moves. And the stab
wounds. Yeah, it fits.



***



After Doug left that night my Mum gave me a thoughtful look.

"What do you think, Ma?" I asked her cautiously.

"About Douglas?"

I nodded.

"I like him" she surprised me, and laughed at my look. My Mum had some bad
experiences with violent men and partially it was my fault. And Douglas
Johnson radiated menace...

"Let me tell you something about mr. Johnson. One of his employees has a
baby daughter. Her babysitter was called on emergency and dropped her baby
at her work. The lady had to go on an important meeting and there was no
one to watch over the child. So, mr. Johnson took it. He has that
reputation of violence, you see. I asked about him at work too, and I
couldn't find anyone had actually seen him doing anything, but there is the
talk."

Mum's a nurse and she works in the ER. She sees cops all the time at
work. She can find out about dangerous stuff very efficiently if she wants
to.

"I mean, look at him." she continued, "He's intimidating. So the lady is
very, very hesitant to leave him with a child. He is very blunt as probably
have noticed.  So he tells her that if she doesn't leave him the child and
doesn't go that meeting she is fired. And believe me, it was not an idle
threat. He is "no-nonsense" guy. She needs the job badly, so she goes to
the meeting. But here's the funny part. When she comes back she runs into
his office and finds him pacing the room, yelling at the phone with the
child in his arms peacefully sleeping. At first she decides he drugged her
baby, throws herself on him, but he just puts the baby in her arms, waves
her away and continues to yell at the phone. She looks down and she sees
that he had bought her baby earplugs. The baby was fed twice, and when she
checked the garbage it appeared he changed the dippers too. And done it
like it supposed to be done, with baby powder and everything. There are a
few similar stories. I have a co-worker whose brother-in-law works for
him. That's how he knew about the house, actually. So that's one thing
about Douglas Johnson. He won't take any nonsense from you. You do as he
tells. But he will also take good care of you."

I was fascinated by the story.

"But Mum, even with earplugs, the baby wouldn't fall asleep!" I exclaimed.

She grinned.

"The earplugs would remove the most of the noise. Mostly the baby would
feel the vibrations of the voice in his chest would feel trough his
body. And apparently they soothed her, like cat's purr relaxes its owner,
and rocked the baby into sleep."

It was so unbelievable that it must have been the trough. My Mum wouldn't
make a joke about something like this. And then I remembered how SAFE I
felt in his presence, and could almost see him with the sleeping baby in
hand while he was yelling on the phone.

My mother continued to watch me.

"You spent the day with him. What do you think?" she asked me.

I looked at her.

"He scares me." I confessed. Never lie to Mums, until you really have no
other choice. "But in the same time, I never felt so safe in his
presence. Like nothing could happen to me when he's around".

 She nodded and get to the dishes with a faint smile.

"I hope that scare is enough for you to never open that door again" she
said.

"I don't mind you being around him." She added in a while.

I looked her back... My eyes narrowed. He likes to boss people around. He
likes to take care of 'his'.  Mother left some stories untold. I wonder
what they were. I am not a baby, I'm 11, for God's sake! I just got rid of
my babysitter! Had she just found me another one?



***



May be it was his crude, abrupt, sturdy manner that drove me to Douglas
Johnson. I was just craving to be around him. I caught every opportunity to
be around him. His work hours were pretty erratic, sometimes he went to
work when I was at school, and was already back home when I was back. He
even drove me to school couple of times - his office was close
by. Sometimes he went out when I was getting home. When I asked him about
it he said he can rule his dealing by the phone as efficient as he is
there. Then he gave it some thought and added, more to himself then to me
"More efficient actually. People are not so scared of me on the phone. But
I'm good at delegation, kid, and good in intimidating people I delegate to,
so they wouldn't go astray".

"What's 'astray'?" I asked him.

But when he was at his house I kept finding reasons to be around him. My
Mum got worried at that point and went to ask him if I was a bother. I
don't know what he told her, but she came back pleased. Apparently I wasn't
bother to him.

It wasn't only the sexual drive that was pulling me to him. That subsided
in a while. Don't get me wrong, I was dreaming about being in those arms
every night, about his hands on my skin, about the roughness of his
unshaven chin, scrubbing against my cheeks leaving pink trails on my
sensitive skin, about being pressed tightly against his muscles... I was
waking up from those dreams to find myself in my happy place, that I
learned later was called "dry orgasm". Sometimes once, sometimes four or
five times per night. But he was in my dreams every night, and I belonged
to him in those dreams, I was his, in every way and manner I could think
off. I hadn't got any idea about what anal penetration was, and have a
vague idea about full-mouth kiss. So I hadn't dream about them. I stole one
of his sweaty t-shirts from his laundry basket and kept it under my
mattress. Every night I would take her out and breath his smell, and then
put it under the pillow and sleep with it. His smell started disappearing
from the t-shirt, though, so in a few days I'll probably put it back and
steal another.

But it wasn't only that. Not only the sexual part. He radiated this aura of
masculinity that called to me 'You are in my care, bad things don't happen
here'. I decided he had figured at some point in his life that people are
very frightened of him, especially women and children, and find a way to
calm them. All those small gestures - a soft word, a reassuring touch. And
he could switch it on and off, and he did when he wanted to make me submit,
to obey him. Probably the absence of a fatherly figure in my life has been
driving me toward that man, so masculine and full of himself, so distinctly
male, that other men him felt like unsure teenagers compared to him. He was
so dominant, so possessive, so territorial. And I was his territory. I
wasn't Really his, not in the way I wanted, but still, I was, in some ways,
for a few hours at his house, or garage or back yard. I know I'm making a
mess of it, but I can't find real words to describe my feelings. I wanted
to be his, to feel the safety and shelter of his presence, to be... to be a
kid again I suppose. Not to have to be adult.

Probably that was it. I had been trying to act older, to think older, to BE
older.

I love my Mum. I know what she was going through, trying to rise me all by
herself. I'm not blind; I can see the shades under her eyes from all those
nightshifts in the hospital gave her. She tried to hide from me how tired
she was, but some things could be seen if people pay attention. So I tried
not to give her any more troubles than she was already into. Yeah, she was
in trouble, all right. Having me. I tried to spare her the worry for
me. She was worrying still, the adults do that all the time, but I kind of
felt better knowing she had to worry about the house being hit by meteorite
or plain falling on my head on the way home from school instead of me being
hit by a car while playing on the street or been kidnapped at the Mall or
something. I know how worry-sick I was she laid in the hospital, fractured
and beaten, tied to the bed by wires and tubes. And I knew that she had
taken the beating meant for me, because I was the one who had enraged her
boyfriend. And then it happened again. And again... And the pain was worse
every time. I have taken my share of beating up. Being unpopular kid
automatically made me the prime target of the school bullies. I had known
the pain from the one and from the other. I would have taken any beating,
anytime. But I didn't want for her to feel That worry for me. Ever. Which
meant me - being adult.

I had my moment of black depression. I was this overweight kid, that no one
at school wanted to be around or to play with, or even talk to because he
doesn't go to the park, he doesn't play sports, finds comic books pretty
but childish, reads a lot, and talks and acts like their Mums.  No fun
whatsoever. Which burdened me, more or less. I have my periods of
depression and helpless tears, but I kept them well hidden from my Mum. I
don't want to hurt my Mum. I love her and I'm terribly afraid not to lose
her, I had noone else in the world. But you know what hurts the most? The
knowledge that no matter how much I love her, I will break her heart one
day, 'cos I'm gay and gays are bad. Probably that's the main reason I
myself kept away from the other kids. The irrational fear of them knowing
somehow.



But Doug dragged the stronger needs into the surface, emotions, I thought I
had well bottled up and stuffed down and away. He brought to the surface
that part of me that I tried to run away from. Which gave me more reasons
for depression.

However well I was hiding it from my Mum, and, believe me that wasn't hard,
she wasn't at home much, we saw each other for about an hour per day, I
couldn't hide it from Doug. The first time my mood dropped suddenly I was
at his garage, watching him shirtless rummaging under the hood of his
car. His body was calling me so strongly that I almost went to him and
touched his broad back. And the self-loathing and anger at myself overrun
me so suddenly I just hopped down from the counter I was sitting on,
gritted between my teeth "I got to go." and left. He called after me, but I
didn't answer. Tried to stay away from him the next day, but it didn't work
out all that well, I ended up in his yard watching him fix his hosepipe.

On the fourth or fifth incident Doug confronted me and asked me about it. I
told him, or rather told my shoes, 'cos I couldn't met his eyes and not cry
like a baby at that moment, that I didn't want to talk about it. He asked
me if it was something he had done. I raised my eyes then and demanded him
if I have been a bother to him. He was taken aback.

"What do you mean?" he asked me honestly bewildered.

"Me - around you every day since you moved here?" I insisted with grim
determination.

He's initial surprise from me throwing my temper at HIM passed and looked
at me self satisfied.

"If I answer this I gonna answer one of my questions."

It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

"OK" I said, which wasn't much of an agreement, 'cos he was gonna make me
answer him no matter if I wanted or not, but I was resigned to get this
over with and go home and hide in the closet, where no one would see my
helpless tears. And besides, I wanted his answer bad enough and he knew
it. He got me where he wanted, but I didn't bother much about it, I was
anxious for the answer.

"I don't mind you being around. I rather enjoy the company." I stared at
him. He was deadly serious. He had sensed my mood right and answered me
with the truth and a manner I would believe him entirely. But I had to push
further.

"The company, or my company?" I insisted.

Menace flickered in his eyes for a moment and was gone, and he wiped all
impression out of his face - a look I had known by then. Only his eyes
sparkled dangerously. There were other things there, his eyes were full of
things I couldn't read, and made me even angrier with myself. But he was
angry too. One doesn't demand form Douglas Johnson. One asks him
politely. I knew him well enough by now to know that I just manage to boil
his temper, something I hadn't done so far, and that scared me 'cos there's
nothing in the World I didn't want more than Doug to be angry with me. I
dropped my eyes in panic, but not before he saw it.

"You gonna get this answer for free." He growled, and there was a tinge of
satisfaction in his voice for putting me on my place.

"I enjoy Your company. Now it's your turn. Look at me." The last bit was an
order.

I raised my eyes. He stood infront of me, stone faced, anger in his eyes,
arms whiled on his chest. I couldn't lie to that gaze.

"Why do you look at me that wistfully all the time?" he demanded.

I thought I had known fear. I was wrong. There was nothing, nothing I could
compare with the cold chill that slid into my soul. I couldn't avoid
answering, and all the Hell would broke lose after that. I have never been
more scared in my entire life. But those blue, menacing eyes pulled the
answer from me.

"I want your body" I blurted out, and such a heat run on my cheeks like I
never blushed before. Later he said I went the color of the strawberry
juice.

His eyes sparkled with angry amusement for a moment then the anger was gone
completely and he laughed. I was free from his spell to run away in
shame. Well, I should have known better. I made two steps when one huge
hand just grabbed the back of the collar of my shirt and pulled me back,
letting me dangle in the air for a second before I put me down in front of
him. He knelled, his hand clasping the back of my neck, and I felt the
strength beneath it. If I had tried to get free and run again, he would
have squeeze lightly. 'Lightly' mend he wouldn't break my
neck. Probably. But all fight in me was gone leaving only desperation.

"You like my body?" He asked me gently.

I have the strength only to nod, unable to meet his gaze.

"It's O.K., Nick. Really, it's O.K. Its completely natural for you to want
it." In that moment I raised my eyes in utter disbelief of what I was
hearing, and met his gentle stare. It couldn't be!!! He must have
misunderstood me!

"You are only 10."

Righteous indignation blossomed in me.  He saw my expression.

"Ok, 11. One day you'll be grown up. You'll be 35 like me. And you'll
probably look like me. Believe me, there are things happening in
puberty. The man's metabolism changes. Trust me, you won't be stuck forever
in that overweight body that bothers you so much."

That hurt. God, that hurt! He was loathing me, my body, he thought I was
degusting, greasy, slimy ball like everybody else. I thought I heard my
teeth gritting with the effort. I will not cry! He saw my pain from those
words, and smiled again, even more gently.

"One of the reasons I like you so much, kid, is because you are chubby."

My jaw dropped. Literally. I tried to process what just had happened, but
my head was light and empty. I blinked at him several times. He let me go
and turn away from me.

When his eyes left me I my mind started working. First, he misunderstood
me. The relief of that was overwhelming. I did wanted his body, but in a
completely different manner. Whatever part of me chose exactly those words
to shoot out when he fixed me with his gaze and pulled the answer from me I
didn't know, but was monstrously grateful to it.

But the thing that hit me before I could even cope with my relief was the
comprehension of what had happened next. The trough of the spoken words I
saw written in his eyes too. He liked me being around him, being a clumsy,
helpless, stupid, grease ball. I couldn't bare it. I turned around to run
again, but he held me with his voice this time. It was like a whip.

"Nicolas!"

He had me freeze on the spot with a single word.

"Go sit there. I'll be done in a minute. Then we gonna have dinner."

There was nothing for me to do but to obey.



I kept quiet all the rest of the afternoon. He was silent too. When we went
into his house he just pointed the sink and made a growling sound. I went
to wash my hands and sat on the chair at the kitchen table, while was
taking a shower. He came back and made dinner. I kept silent. He was
looking at me under his brows, things lingering in his eyes. I met them
consciously once and twice, for just a second. He put a plate with some
roosted chicken in front of me and sat opposite to watch me eat.

"When will you stop being afraid of me?" he asked after a while.

"I'm not afraid of you" I told my chicken.

He sighed.

"Doug?" I asked in a while.

"Yes, kid?"

I looked at him.

"Did you ever kill a man?"

Amusement sparkled in his eyes.

"Would you believe me if I say "no"?" he asked.

I thought about that.

"Probably. Yeah!" I told him at last, and the surprise I felt at that
thought slipped in my voice. I realized that I would actually believe
anything he told me.

He smiled slightly mostly to himself.

"No, kid. I haven't. I don't believe in violence." He read my astonishment
in my face and chuckled. "That doesn't mean I wont resort to violence if
pressed. But intimidation works just fine for me. And I can intimidate just
fine, don't you think?"

I tried to hide my grin by looking at my plate, but another though crossed
my mind and I rose my eyes again.

"Those scars? On the cheek, on your chest, on the hip? Your broken nose?" I
asked.

He gave me the unreadable expression again.

"There are couple more you haven't seen. When I was young, I thought that
violence is the answer for everything. I didn't know how to intimidate back
then."

"You had been a bully?" I asked him, and something sparkled in his eyes in
response of what was on my face. I read it this time. Possessive anger.

"You have problem with bullies?" he asked with a soft voice that I never
heard from him before and his eyes hardened uncomfortably at my
hesitation. He let me drop my eyes again.

"Nick?" the soft voice still demanded an answer, but this voice that gave
my cold chills more than anything I have heard from him so far.

I nodded.

"How often?" he asked.

"Not very" I said. "Once in several months. I'm clever, I know how to avoid
them."

"Next time you tell me." He said. I risked a glance. He was looking at me
under his brows, all possessive and determined and with a faint, oh so
faint smile on his face that scared the begivers out of me. I wish I never
would be the subject of that smile. I read someone's death in it.

"You're vary dominant" I muttered to myself.

That gave me a reaction I didn't expected. Rage.

"What did you say?!" his hand slammed the table and I jumped.

I looked him startled. Why was he suddenly so angry?

"Where did you heard that word?" he demanded.

At that point I had enough scare for one day.

"What do you mean - where did I heard that word?! My main's werewolf! I
know all about dominance!" I raised my voice at him, something no one in
his right mind would ever do.

He tried to surprises his rage and my sudden temper amused him, which
apparently helped.

"And what do you know about it?" he asked me with the menacing faint smile
again.

"And what's a main?" he demanded as an afterthought.

I waved the last question away in exasperation.

"The main character I play in 'BloodLore'. I've been stacking dominance
since level 40".

"Stacking?" he asked me with interest but the anger wasn't gone completely.

Where to begin from?

"When you gain level you gain status points" I looked at his empty
stare. He didn't understood a thing. I waved that explanation away too. You
can't explain 'BoodLore' in few minutes to someone who never played
RPGs. "Anyway, you need certain level of dominance to enter certain
dungeons or the bosses... uh, the bosses of the monsters you are there to
kill... Anyway, the bosses will fear you and your party more often."

Empty stare again.

"You need dominance to keep your party under control." I ventured, "But you
need to stack submission too, or the werewolf fractions will think you are
a treat to them and... and..."

It wasn't working. I tried to put in even more simple words a complex
concept.

"They will get on you way, 'cos they'll wanna get rid of you as a
competition for the throne and they'll try to stop you every way they
can. They will call their bank loans, higher the prizes on weapons and
armor, instigate rebellion in you home city..."

Still empty stare. He wasn't about to grasp the concept. I gave up.

"I just know what 'submissive' and 'dominant' means, OK?"

He gave me one of his unreadable smiles but then sobered.

"Nick, this is real world. Here 'submissive' and 'dominant' have very
different meaning. A grown up one." This instantly caught my interest. He
was talking about sex, I was sure of that!

"You startled me" he said, "I thought you might have learned about the
dominance in the real worlds in some way, that someone made something to
you in that meaning. Something that must be done strictly between grown
ups. Don't use those words in every day conversation. And don't ever use
that in front of your Mum." The last obit was an order.

"Oh, don't worry, Mum knows what I mean when I talk about dominance and
submissiveness. I had shown it to her." I told his shocked face. Then
comprehension downed. I narrowed my eyes.

"She had that sudden interest in the game when I mentioned that I'm not
submissive enough to her for the first time."

He nodded at me with the unreadable stare under brows again. That annoyed
me and I decided to push him.

"OK, you're very dominant in the werewolf's way, not in the sexual way."

His jaw dropped then he laughed.

"Sexual way? You know about sex? He asked with interest.

I shrugged. My mind was elsewhere already.

"Yeah. Mum and I had the Talk after she caught me with a boner." I said
absentmindedly. I needed to find what 'dominant' meant IRL, and fast.

"You didn't understand much." He said, drown back my attention to him and
letting me know that my puzzlement on the matter had shown in my voice. I
looked at him. He tried to hide his amusement, failed, and said with a huge
grin. "Well, if you have any questions, will be glad to help".

I blushed instantly. And had a boner. I'll rather die than ask Doug about
any of my unresolved sex issues. Especially keeping in mind that he Was my
unresolved sex issues!



***



The pain blossomed again as someone's shoe connected hard with my side. My
head was still ringing and I was seeing black spots when someone grabbed me
by the hair again, pulled my head up and bashed it again in the asphalt.

"How's that feel, pig?" someone snarled in my ear while someone else kicked
me in the stomach.

They had waited for me on the way from school. I should have knows, Darn
it, I should have known what will happen when I refused to give my homework
to Peter Jamison. I should have known what would happen when the teacher
grounded him after school hours. Or when he promised me this.

"Not today, but soon" he had said.

I had been stupid. I should have known it would be today. And the stupidest
thing of all was me - trying to run.

They jumped me from an alley. I ran away but there was someone hiding in
the next alley. He tripped me. I fell hard. And they were on me, dragging
me into the shadow of the building. The beating started. I usually am
resolved to take the beating. Normally it is a few kicks in my butt, a fist
in the stomach, a torn shirt and that's about it. Nothing that
shows. Besides, no much fun in beating unresisting prey.

This time it was bad. My nose was bleeding; a blow had cut my lip. Someone
kick me in the chest again and it ached so hard that I thought I would pass
out. I could breath. Probably some broken ribs.

Finally beating stopped, but I heard the click of Peter's automatic
knife. Someone pulled back my hair again and the knife cut it. A fist
shoved in my face then with a handful of my hair. A voice in my year.

"And if you tell someone, fatso, the next thing I'll cut will be your
throat".

'Mum gonna freak out' I though, while above me my schoolbag was torn to
pieces. 'Doug gonna freak out. Then ms. Andersen gonna freak out. Everybody
gonna freak out and they'll coax the truth out of me, and Peter will kill
me'.

A falling textbook hit me in the face, and I tried to cover it with my
palms while other stuff followed.

Sudden cries of pain. Something heavy hit the wall behind me and landed,
then something else followed.

I rolled on my back in agony and tried to focus. Peter's feet were dangling
in the air trying to kick two legs thick as tree trunks. One of the other
boys was pinned to the wall by a shovel-sized hand, closed around his
throat.

"If you ever, ever come close to Nicolas again" I heard that very soft, icy
calm voice that scared me most in Doug, "You won't leave to see tomorrow."

I saw trough my dimmed vision that he was holding Peter by his t-shirt, and
then bashed him into the wall, once, hard. The sound of Peter's head
hitting the bricks echoed like a shot in the alley.

"You understand me?" Doug asked.

I couldn't see his face, but he must have been very frightening, 'cos
suddenly there was a stream of yellowish steaming liquid pouring from
Peter's thrower legs. With one swift movement Doug bashed him in the wall
again and dropped him. The other boy flew to the opposite wall, connected
and landed on one of his buddies.

Doug picked me up and carried me to his car. He gave me some clinex for the
bleeding from my nose and slit lip and drove me to his house in
silence. But the steering wheel was cracking protests under his grip. He
was enraged.

He carried me inside, put me in an armchair against my feeble protest, that
I'll stain it and snarled at me to shut the fuck up. He never had sworn in
front of me before. Ever! I quieted and he started undressing me, but when
he tried to remove my cloths I whimpered, just tore the t-shirt apart and
hissed. He stood up and went to the kitchen, came back with a pair of
casers and cut my torn and muddy jeans. He stood there, towering, staring
down at me, fists clenching and unclenching. One muscle on his jaw
twitched.

Finally he picked me up without saying a word and took me to the shower. He
bathed me, dried me with a fluff towel and tried to take care of the
damage. In a while I had to hold two packs of ice - one to my face, one to
my ribs, while he was clearing the scrapes with some peroxide.

His jaw never stopped twitching.

"Tell me what happened." He growled at last.

"I was stupid" I began, but he gave me such a look that I shrieked.

"Again" he ordered and I started over, this time dropping out the part of
me being stupid.

By the time I was finished he had finished clearing my cuts and scrape too.

"You were stupid. How?" he fixated me with ice stare.

I told him. Or tried to told him but my voice trailed away at some
point. He was trembling with rage.

"How often does this happen?" he asked me with quiet, icy voice, "How often
you take the beating?"

I hesitated. If I tell him he'll kill them.

He saw it and grinned menacingly. His scar curled making him like some kind
of evil monster. He never looked like an evil monster to me until then. I
guess I never really thought he could kill a man, all those other times
were just my childish imagination. But there it was now. I was looking in
the eyes of cold blooded killer.

"I won't kill them, don't worry. This simply will stop, once and for
all. I'll just make sure they are not coming anywhere near you again."

"Don't." I pleaded with a shaky voice, but couldn't continue.

"Don't worry" he told me softly and his voice was like a cores this time
"I'll just take care of things. No permanent damage."

I looked into his eyes. I couldn't do anything to stop him. I just have to
hope he isn't lying to me for not killing them. Besides, the main
confrontation was about to come and I had to win this one. So I let him
have this point.

"Once every two months for the last three years." He turned away from me
suddenly, probably to hide his face.

I gathered and hardened myself against what was coming.

"You can't tell my Mum."

He whirled toward me and saw his real lethal glee but I met that gaze in
grim determination. He won't have me this time.

"Would you repeat that?" he asked with his most intimidating voice.

"You can't tell my Mum" I was deadly serious, and determine, and this time
I won't be cowering before him, I wouldn't bulge.

His face lost all his expression, but in his eyes something else showed up,
and this time I could read it. Cold, distant, slight interest. Like cat's
curiosity. Predator's curiosity. Like I was a mouse, or a bug, and he was
waiting for me to do something interesting like trying to run. All hot rage
was gone. Now there was only icy clam.

"You can't tell my Mum." I said for a third time and tried to rise my chin
in defiance, but the gesture was spoiled by its tremble.

"I will take you to the hospital now." He said with a calm, disinterested,
matter of fact voice. "You need to have an x-ray. You might have broken
ribs or eternal bleeding. The hospital will call your Mum. You can't avoid
that. I did the best I could to minimize the impact of the news. The
bleeding had stopped and you are clean. That's about it."

Every word hurt. The coldness of his voice hurt. The emptiness.

"You can't tell my Mum about the other beatings."

No answer just disinterested stare.

"She'll freak out." I tried again.

"She'll start to worry, I can't worry her." At this point I shattered, all
determination gone, and the tears that were lingering about chose that
moment to run free. "I can't worry her, I can't, not after what I cost her
so much. Please!" I begged, I raised my hand, pleading, but he didn't
move. Just stood there and watched me with disinterest.

"She's doing so much for me, she's struggling, working herself out, just to
raise me by herself, and it's my fault! I know its my fault I heard he
crying at night, 'cos she's alone, and has no one except me, and she cant
even see me and much as she wants, spend the time she wants with me,
because she has to work to make money to take care of me, and she wouldn't
have a boyfriend to love her, because of me, and what I did, Frank was mad
at me, not at her, but she took the beating for me, and then she was in
hospital and I was sitting there in the room, and I was worrying, she cant
worry, I mustn't worry her!"

I was blabbering hysterically now. There were more. I spilled the whole
story at him in that inconsistent, sobbing blabber, my face hidden in my
raw hands, pleading all the time. The only things I was constantly
repeating was "I cant worry her! I cost her so much already! It's my
fault".

A hand landed in my neck, and it was too much, my sobs quadrupled. The hand
drag me into a broad man's chest. I hid my pain there, my shame, my
worthlessness.

Then I calmed down he moved away from me. I kept staring at his chest and
the moist trails from tears, blood, and snot - my nose apparently was
started bleeding again at some point and the cut on my lip had opened, bled
for a while - on his shirt - and closed again. He lifted my chin. The
disinterested stare was gone. He kept his face close, but the unreadable
thing were there, back in his eyes, and I suddenly felt happiness and
relief. Beaten up, with face covered with broses, blood, snot and tears I
felt so happy because the alien stare was gone. I smiled stupidly, but it
came out a weak smile, and my lip split again.

"I wont tell her for the other beatings" he said gently "but you need to
tell me everything. I didn't caught even the half of it.".

"Now?" I asked.

He just nodded and handed me another clinex.

Then I talked. I told him everything. About my Mum's boyfriend, about how
she gave up men because of me, her work at that private medical center, and
the nightshift at the ER at the regional hospital. About me, being
adult. About me being unpopular. I almost told him about me being gay, but
somehow I managed to keep that hidden.

When I finished he just shook his head and said to himself "You are nothing
I have expected". There was sadness in his eyes, I didn't understood then,
but it felt like he just gave up something of value to him, because of me.

He took me to the hospital then. He deliberately chose different hospital,
not that my Mom's. He stayed with me, but when my Mum arrived, gray faced
and panting like she had been running all the way from the Regional, he
went to intercept her. They went to talk by one of the curtains that
separated the beds in the main ward. I still could see them, his broad
back, her glancing at me from time to time, trough the glass door. I
couldn't hear what he was saying to her, so instead I read her face. Worry
and desperation, and hurt, all was there, changing places. When the tears
appeared Doug turned to me, give me sad glance and pull the curtain hiding
them from my view.

My mother entered the room alone. Her eyes were red and puffy, but she was
calm.

"We gonna take you home now. Nothing cracked or broken." She said to me,
and then Doug entered. Those words let me know that whatever my Mum and me
gonna talk about, it would be alone and in private. I glanced at Doug, but
he had his unreadable face put on. I couldn't read if had told her about
the other beatings. Or anything else of what I had told him. They put me
into bed together that night. I could hear them talk in the kitchen
downstairs, but no matter how much I tried listening in, I couldn't hear
what they were talking about. At the end drifted into sleep.



We haven't talked at all about what happened, which told me that Doug had
said something to my Mum about the things I shared... ok, bullied me into
sharing with him. But several things changed.

Doug started coming for dinner once or twice a week. He also started
driving to and picking me up from school from time to time. After finishing
my domestic chores and done homework, I would go to him if he was at home,
as usual, but instead of silently watching him work on something (or yell
at people on the phone) we started doing thing together. He asked me to
hand him tools or hold something for him. That was sort of a problem,
especially when he worked topless, 'cos of the hard-ons he was giving me. I
loved to work close to him, enveloped in his scent, and bathing in the
masculinity he radiated. I needed to fight hard not to snuggle up to his
hard body. His presence was keeping me constantly hard.  I solved that by
starting to wear tight underwear instead of boxers and baggy shorts. And
when it was too much for me to handle I would go his bathroom and
jack-off. I was reaching my happy place with several strokes, so my delays
haven't aroused his suspicions...

Then he got that big project and had to go to construction sight. Instead
of leaving me home alone, he started taking me with him. I loved the raids
in his shev, when the hood was off. He managed to make me not feel like a
bother in those meetings by tasking me with something constantly. I was
fetching some blueprints he had forgotten in his car, water or soda or
coffee - when he was thirsty, or fetching someone for him. When we were
back at home I was exhausted. All day running about! Ok, I'm
exaggerating. Not all day, couple of hours may be. But I was completely
worn out.

Then a friend of his went on a business trip to Europe and left him his dog
to take care of. I took to him instantly. He liked me instantly too, being
a stranger to him, but I guess he just loved kids. He was akita'ino,
Japanese breed and it was called D'av. He has wonderful golden honey color,
with white on his belly and white socks on his paws. Akitas aren't usually
that big, Doug told me, but this one had Sanbernarde for an ancestor a few
generation back. The dog was up to my chest, and massive. In appearance
D'av was like a German Sheppard, long mussel, pointy ears, but was more
bulky. Doug told me the were breed as war dogs back the samurai era. I
loved animals, bug big dogs tend to scare me. I asked my Mum for a cat or a
spaniel for years but the answer was no.

D'av was very tranquil animal. He wouldn't play ball or fetch, he wouldn't
run about, and seldom played with other dogs. He was very affectionate, but
not in "lick-your-face" or "jump-on-you-yapping-madly" kind of affection,
but it was clear to me that he was addicted to body contact. Not peting,
no. But he would cuddle against me with his head on my lap when I was
playing BloodLore or reading, or watching TV. From time to time he would
sight deeply and startle me. It was a sad sigh. I guess he was grieving for
his owner.

I had to walk him in the park every evening for hour and a half. It came as
a surprise to me that Doug, who was clearly declared by now to be my keeper
and was never letting me out of his sight for more that a minute when Mum
wasn't at home or I wasn't busy with my homeworks, sent me in the park
alone with D'av. But it became obvious why he had done it a few hours later
in the park when two 8 graders tried to pick on me. D'av move between me
and them, bristled, his thick long mane stood up and it seemed to me he
grown in size twice, curled his lip showing them his impressive fangs and
snarled deeply. They left me alone in a hurry. It was in some doubt who was
walking whom, tho. After about half an hour D'av was dragging me on his
leash in a steady walking pace around the pack sniffing this and that,
while my ankles and feet were aching. I haven't used to walking, and I
hadn't want anything more at that point than to sit on bench, but he
wouldn't let me. Doug had forbidden me to unleash the dog, so there was
nothing for me but to follow.

The dog stayed with Doug for three months, and then his owner came back
from his trip and toke it away. I still miss D'av badly.

Six months passed since Doug moved next to us, and four from the beating
incident. Peter and his gang never bothered me again.

One day I entered Doug's garage and said with exasperation "Doug, could you
please make a new hole on my belt, my pants keep falling!" He was knelt by
one of the shelves, varnishing it. He put down the brush and turned to me
with smug, self pleased and proprietary expression, which puzzled me. I
frowned at him.

"What?"

He smiled smugly.

"You did lost quite a bit of weigh, didn't u?"

I blinked at him. Then glanced down to the belt I was holding. Before the
incident there were 3 belt holes I couldn't use. Now I needed a new one. My
Mum was buying me new clothes lately. And she had been feeding me more
vegetables and salads.

I dropped the belt, run to him, hugged him, and tried to hide the tears of
happiness and gratitude in his neck, which was a huge mistake. He hugged me
back, pressing me tightly against his naked chest. His chin bussed against
my cheek and his one-day's beard scrubbed my cheek sending tingles from the
top of my head to my toes. His smell enveloped me, spinning my head. I had
an instant boner. I wriggled myself free and ran home. After I calmed down
a little I remembered that this was the one time I had been this close to
Doug. In his arms and pressed against his chest, hugged tight, breathing
him in. I went to take a shower.

After I calmed down some more... O.K., after I jacked off two times I
calmed down... I went to look myself into the mirror.

I stared in myself with astonishment. I wasn't chubby anymore! O.K., I was
far from skinny, far from normal even, the plumpness was there, I still had
a bit of belly and some extra pounds hidden here and there - on my upper
legs, my hips, my butt, but I wasn't The Fat Kid! And I haven't even
noticed!

And then and there, staring naked in my room, staring into my reflection in
the mirror, I could name my feelings about Doug. I loved him. But that
wasn't all I felt for him. I was in love with him. It was horrifying.



***



 My birthday came. Doug gave me mp3 player, and my Mum gave me a
subscription to the digital section of the Library, which meant audio
books. I though I had died and went to Heaven.

The fist books I listened to were the Harry Potter's of course, but by then
the pure fantasy seized appealing to me that much. I listened to "The Lord
of the Rings" and some "Wheel of time", but I dropped it in the middle of
the series. I wanted something new. Then I found urban fantasy. "Twilight",
the movie, just came up, so I tried the series. I liked it, but I cant say
I loved it. I decided to try other authors, googled "urban fantasy" and
came up with Sukkie Stuckhouse series. Listened to the abridged version of
the books suitable to children, and it kindled my imagination.

"Why are still looking at me like that?" asked me Doug one day.

By then he had know almost all my secrets already, all but the two biggest
ones, so I didn't felt flustered by the question. I was feeling much more
free and at ease around him. Besides, one of the earplugs of my mp3 player
was in my ear, and the new Anita Blake novel was going on. I always found
the sound of reading voice soothing. And by then I had learned how to move
around difficult subjects, and fake sincerity with Doug. You have to agree,
"Cos I'm in love with you" or "I want to have sex with you" are thing such
things that lying to avoid spilling them out is acceptable sin. But I had
learned by then I can't lie to Doug. He had always seen trough me, and
known any part-truths I ever told him, and would coax or bully the full
story out of me afterwards. So I stared lying to him with the complete
truths.

"I still can't figure what you are" I told him vaguely, I hoped -
absentmindedly, like I was distracted by the book I was listening to.

He raised his eyebrows, and this, I learned, meant he demanded a specific
answer, with the explanation of the last nonsense I blabbered, and he
wanted it this instant.

"I mean" I continued and faked being driven away from what I was listening
"What are you, really?" I bent my head to one shoulder. "You are not a
dread lord, no matter your eyes burn with blue flames from time to
time. You don't do magic. You aren't a hitman. You should have been sent on
some assignment by now, and their assignments take months. You aren't a
vampire, despite that you're immensely strong, you can dwell in
sunlight. Your eyes glow red from time to time, though".

I don't know what had got to me that day. I just suddenly felt cocky, and
mischievous, and smug, and the look of his face, that pure, absolute
disbelieve that he was hearing pleased me immensely.

"What are you?" I asked. "A shape shifter or a fae?"

He stared at me with disbelieving eyes for a few seconds, then shook his
head and grinned, deciding to play along.

"What, I can't be human or something?"

"Nah" I told him. "You're too good to be human".

That, I saw took him aback completely.

Something crossed his face, something I could almost read, being around him
all that time, but still can, and then his face closed.

"I want to know about the wistful look, Nick" he said softly. That sobered
me up, and I lowered my eyes in panic, flushing.

"Nick?" he spoke gently to me again. "Look at me".

I raised my eyes again and met his gaze. He saw my panic.

"I rather enjoy your attention, kid" he said to me softly. He was sincere,
I could tell, but there was more, more there I couldn't read. What the Hell
I had let slip in my expression?!

"I just want to know the reason for it" his voice caressed me. "Tell me the
truth."

Truth. Now what truth I can tell him?

I dropped my eyes again, franticly searching for something. He
waited. Patient. "Stalking" crossed my mind. He was getting that truth out
of me no matter what,

"I can't read you." I said finally, and then met his eyes for him to see my
truth and repeated. "I can't read you at all. I can't read men. Don't know
what you're thinking. What makes you tick. How do you think. There are
things in your face from time to time, and I can't understand what they
are, and what caused them. I NEED to be able to read men." I shrugged,
unable to explain it better.

His eyes gentled. He understood me.

"You haven't been around men much, kid, haven't been around men at all,
more likely." He smiled softly. "Men are more closed than women. They don't
show their feelings. What you can't read or you don't know how to
interpret, are the small signs of feelings men involuntarily let slip away
in their faces. Don't worry, you'll learn. That's my job now, to teach you
about men."

That stunned me. I blinked at him.

He smiled and get back to what he was doing, leaving me to comprehend the
knowledge.



***



My PC broke. Doug took to repairs, and told me afterwards that my
motherboard was gone. Don't know what this meant, but it was going to be a
few weeks to fix it.

I was devastated. So Doug installed "BloodLore" on his laptop for me to
play. And then, I don't know what had got to him, he installed it on his
desktop PC, subscribed and made me teach him play to. We spent hole
afternoons figuring out what suits him best. He instantly hated healing. He
probably hated me bossing him around. I tend to get bossy and aggressive in
BL, and he, being in the room meant me ordering him about and scorning
him. We made a group for a few low level dungeons for him to learn. He
failed. Extensively.

Spell casting didn't compel to him either, so we distended he ought to try
a melee or tanking class. Somewhere the brute force is needed.

It happened one afternoon. I just had finished my homework and went to his
house to play a bit. Doug was in his garage, meddling with his car. He told
me to go and play and he's gonna finish what he was doing and join me. The
laptop, he said, was on the table.

I didn't ask which table, I assumed I could find it by my own. Which I
couldn't it turned out.

I was feeling at home in his house, so I wondered about, as he was letting
me do for almost the first day we met, in search of the said laptop. For
God's sake, a laptop is not a matchbox, it should be easy to spot! I was
getting more and more worried and angry with myself for not being able to
find laptop and keep 19 more players waiting for me.

If I say I'm addicted to BL would be an understatement. I was doing all my
chores and homework without any hint of protest letting slip, I was
studding my ass off and bringing home good grades with only one drive - my
Mum not canceling my account to BL. She had done it once, when I was bad, I
don't remember what I have done, but once was quite enough for me.

I was so upset at the end that it didn't even occur to me to go and ask
Doug where he had left the laptop. I groaned in desperation and did
something I was strictly, absolutely forbidden to do. I turned his desktop
on.

Doug had absolutely forbidden me to touch a few things in his house, things
like his electric tools, knives, cooking stove, laundry machine, his
briefcase, his blueprint's tube that sort of thing. And right there in that
list was his desktop PC.

The operation system logged me in automatically, and I started his browser.

And it loaded his last visited page.

My heart dropped. Sudden heat flushed my body. I felt dizzy and feverish,
hot and cold in the same time... And I had an instant hard-on.

There, on his 17" screen, with wide red letters was blinking "Men and
theirs boys" sign. And underneath it was a picture of tiny naked boy,
cuddling against naked muscled man's chest.  The boy was looking right at
me, as if to play with a dreamy look in his eyes. The man's hand was on
boy's cocklet, covering it, but the look in man's eyes was
unmistakable. Hunger. The man was hungry for the boy sitting is his lap.

I just stood there, dumbstruck, looking at then, unable to master a single
though in my head.

And then the Hell broke loose.

The office chair was spun around. One massive hand, like the Wrath of the
Gods, grabbed me by the t-shirt and lifted me in the air, my feet dangling,
to level me with two burning with rage eyes.

"What are you doing?" he asked me almost in a whisper. I was unable to
speak. He shook me in the air like a rugged doll and yelled, Doug yelled at
me, Doug never, ever yelled at me like that. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

'He'll kill me' crossed my mind, while I tried instinctively to hide my
hard-on with my hands.

He yanked them away, shook me again to remove any trace of resistance and
grabbed my crouch. His hand was business-like, not squeezing, not hurting,
just searching. It just found what he was looking for matter-of-factly and
moved away. His eyes narrowed.

"DO YOU LIKE THIS?!?" he bellowed in my face.

I couldn't speak still, too frightened and helpless in his grip, eyes wide
in pure terror.

He had known the answer to that already, he touched the answer, and so he
yelled his next question.

"HOW LONG THIS IS GOING ON?"

"Six" I managed to croak and he shook me again "SIX WHAT?"

I wans't able to speak again and he roared "ANSWER ME!"

"Years" I whispered. I wanted to close my eyes, I wanted to hid somewhere
from that burning glare, but he had me in his mercy.

"Why were you staling and putting back my t-shirts?" he snarled this
time. My head went numb. He had known about the t-shirts.

"Answer! Now!"

I couldn't disobey that voice, so I had to master a replay.

"I wanted... I wanted... wanted..." my voice failed me, my thought failed
me, I couldn't put to words what I wanted.

He dropped me back into the chair, removed his t-shirt of with one swift
movement, knelt infront of me, pulled the chair to him and breathe in my
face.

"You wanted this?!" he snarled. His smell enveloped me. His muscles
glistened, bulging, tenså, shivering with anger.

"Touch it!" he ordered.

I tried to raise my trembling hand, but failed.

"TOUCH IT!" he roared.

My vision dimmed. His breath was so hot in my face, his smell - so
intoxicating, the muscles under my fingers sizzling hot, twitching...

"Look at me!" his voice pulled me back into focus into his burning eyes.

He grabbed my other hand the one that wasn't touching his chest in an iron
grip and pulled it toward something. I felt silk fabric and naked skin and
heat, a moment of fabric tension, and my hand passed something elastic. I
felt roughen hairs under my fingers, while the elastic pressed back above
my wrist.  Then another hot thing touched my numb fingers, something hot
and I involuntarily tried to pull away. He yanked my hand to break my
resistance. Then yanked again and my fingers closed around the thing. It
felt fleshy on my touch, hard as rock and hot, and slightly moist like
sweaty palm, and tube shaped, and thick, my fingers couldn't meat around
it. Then his eyes told me what I was holding. Mine widened in shock. I was
holding his... his... monster! It was monstrously big just like he was! And
I was holding him! And it was hard! Hard for me!!!

He was my comprehension and hunger and triumph exploded in his eyes, wiping
the rage away. Hunger for me. Triumph over me.

"Don't you dare move a muscle!" he ordered me in husky voice and pulled the
hand that was holding mine. His huge palm cupped the back of my skull, and
he pulled me toward him. His hot lips pressed to mine hard, smashing them
against my teeth. His tongue parted my lisp then, penetrated my mouth, and
then he was drinking me.

I came then and there. My body arched to meet the hard wall of his muscular
chest, my nails dug deep into his skin, my other hand squeezed the hot iron
of his masculinity, his hand moved from my head to my back to press him
against him even harder, so hard that I couldn't breath, and he was
drinking my soul dry... I had never felt anything like it. I think I had
passed out for a second.

When I came to my senses he was towering above me, his face hidden in the
shadow, but his eyes glowing down on me. Hungry. Possessive. Triumphant.

"Don't you there go anywhere until I'm back" he pinned me in the chair with
his words and left me panting.

Not that I have any strengths left to move a muscle. My body felt numb and
drenched. My head empty. In front of my eyes danced pictures of what just
had happened.



When he was back in the room it was almost dark. He lit the light I dropped
my eyes to the floor. I haven't moved from the chair. He was staring at me,
I could feel his hot glare.

Then he started pacing.

"I want you, you want me. These are the facts." He said with businesslike
voice. I glansed up, at him, but couldn't meet his eyes, not yet, so I
looked at his chin. It didn't helped. Muscles of his jaw were twitching.

"But there are implications." He continued, "To deal with them I need to
know everything this time. And by everything, Nicolas, I mean EVERYTHING!"
the last word hit me like a blow. He stopped in front of me.

"Look at me" he ordered. I did. He had his business face on, that cold,
distant, alien expression that had upset me so much when the beating
happened, but I grew to know by now was the face he used when he conducted
business. Like pulling away from the situation and examining it from a
distance, so he could have clear view is what is to be done about it.

"Tell me" he said softly, but his face stayed alien.

I hesitated. His stare hardened.

"You are in big, big trouble, kid. I need to know everything so I can find
the best way to protect you."

I tried I really did, but after a few minutes under his disdained look I
started crying again. I couldn't feel anything but the pain from his
disinterest and that pain was everything that left in my mind, blowing any
single thought way.

He gave me climax, but he handed it carefully not to touch me, which hurt
even more.

"Why are you crying?" he asked me. Coldly.

"Your so cold" I replied between sobs. He let out a breath of air too
forceful to be a sigh.

"Look, Nick..." He started with the cold matter of fact voice again. "I
know what you need. What you want. But I can't give that to you."

"But you want it too!" I protested.

He let out a forceful laugh.

"Yes, I want it more than you can imagine, but I want more. You are too
young to know, but there is much, much more than this, and I want it
all. That is the problem. I can't control myself. I will lose it. If... "
he hesitated, "if we start, you can't back off. You can't say to me 'I
changed my mind, I don't want the rest'. Because if we start, I'll have it
all, even against your will. Do you understand me? I can't touch you not
because I don't want to, but because I'm not sure if you can take what will
happen".

"There is more in sex that this?" I asked with a weak voice.

He laughed again wolfishly.

"That, kid, can not even touch the things there are in sex. That wasn't sex
at all. That was just kissing."

I looked at him. The twitch of his jaw, the tension of his muscles... And
believed him. He was fighting his hunger and need for me for my sake, and
couldn't budge, even for a soft glance or reassuring touch.

"OK" I said and tried to continue.

At the end I told him everything. About the dreams, about my interest in
men, about my fear not to hurt my Mum, 'cos I'm so bad, how she would throw
me out, that she won't love me anymore, and I'll be homeless, sleeping in
the park. About him, and how I would steal his t-shirts and how I will fall
asleep with them... Everything. He kept silent all the time, not looking at
me.

He kept the silence after I finished for a long time.

"You are in big, big trouble, kid," he said again at last "but not because
of what you are. There is NOTHING wrong with what you are." I felt the
punch behind the "nothing", and suddenly felt better. Suddenly I knew he
was glad that I am what I am. Nothing else mattered.

"You have no idea what sex really is, kid." He said. "You and your Mum have
the talk, but the talk doesn't cover the sex you need. And here is the bad
part. You ARE NOT to try to find this for yourself, because of we can't
talk about it" his eyes blazed menacingly and he made his order stuck. "You
are not Googleing it, you are not cruising the area, looking at men in hope
someone will look back at you! Do you hear me, Nickolas?"

I kept silent.

"There are people, specialized in kidnapping boys like you. People, who
will trace you by the data in your search engine, who will come and find
you, and take you away from your Mum. They will drug you, and sell your
body to every filthy man that will want you. And with body like yours,
Nicolas, many, many men will want to do things with you. Bad things."

I was looking at him wild eyed.

"You remember how you scared your Mom with the dominance talk?" he asked.

I nodded.

"There are people, that find their pleasure in causing pain. In beating
ups, in cigarette burns, in wax burns and needles and knife cutting. And
they would hurt a boy like you, because that's what turns them on. But they
won't stop with the sexual things. You won't be a sex slave only. You are
very submissive, Nicolas, very submissive and not only sexually. You obey
my every order, because you can't resist me."

" You are scary!" I protested.

"You took up the beatings, Nicolas" that silenced me again. "How would you
like someone to come and threaten you that he'll tell your Mum about you if
don't do what he tells? Would you steal something from a shop if he
threatens you that way? Would you brake into somebody's house, when they
aren't home? Would you sell drugs in school to other children?"

What I was sensing in all those 12 years of my life and thought it was fear
was nothing, nothing compared to the cold feeling that wasted my body by
his words. Because I knew, as well as he did, that I would do all those
things to keep my Mum away from finding out.

"And when the police finds out, THEY will tell your Mum. But the bad guys
won't be finished with you. You would be lucky if you don't end up in
jail. You would be lucky if you'll end up sleeping on a bench in the park,
looking for food in the garbage cans. Because the bad men won't let you get
away. They'll just kidnap you then and there, when you have nobody to care
for you and to look for you, when you won't be missed, and they will SELL
you to some boozed truck driver who will fuck you in the rig of his truck,
and lend you to his buddies for money. Don't be misled by the looks of that
site. This is just posing for pictures. This boy, on that picture was sold
to 68 years old man for 12 000 dollars 4 months ago. To be his slave, to
keep his house clean, to cook, and for the old man to watch how the boy is
being fucked by his driver. Do you want THAT, Nicolas?"

I couldn't even shake my head.

"If you start googling stuff about men-to-boy sex its just a matter of time
for them to know about you.  And if you try to use it of a public PC - at
library or at school or at internet cafe, its not clear who will find about
you first - the Evil men or some employee or sys-admin and its just a
matter of time everybody else to know about you."

He was looking at me, satisfied that he frightened me enough, and nodded. I
will never, ever do anything to find sex with a man by my own or will let
anyone knows about me.

"About you and me." He continued. "I can't teach you how to keep yourself
safe. How to look for men in a safer way. First, I can't control myself
when talking with you about men/boy sex. You'll end up having sex with me,
most probably against your will, and don't want to hurt you. Do you
understand? My self-control is hanging in a net's hair even now! And I care
for you, and the last thing I want is to hurt you!"

He showed me a bit of what he was hiding from me in his eyes. It WAS scary.

"And you can't get a "half-deal" with me. If you choose to give it a try,
it won't be only a try. There won't be a way from backing off or skipping
anything. You either trust me, to make things bearable or you walk away."

"What things?" I asked.

He clenched his teeth.

"Did your Mom tell you about girl's virginity in the Talk?"

I nodded.

"Boys have it too. Not the same, not at all, but similar in two aspects -
pain and penetration. Sex will hurt no matter what, until you learn to take
it. There are ways to ease the pain, but the there will be pain, no matter
who you are doing it with."

"What if I walk away?"

"We won't see each other anymore. You'll stay away from me, I'll stay away
from you."

My shock and fear of losing his presence were instant and I opened my mouth
to accept then and there, but he saw it coming and interrupted me.

"No, Nick, not now. You don't know what you are accepting. Sex is
possession. You'll have to give me your body and your soul, willingly, and
you have to let me do to you everything I want, that my hunger for you
wants, and the most important part - you have to trust me that I won't hurt
you if I can help it. When you have the talk, your Mom explained to you
that the man enters the women's body. This is no different. I'll be
entering you."

He was breathing hard, muscles twitching, and fists - clenched hard. He
stopped at that point to gain control again. I was honestly bewildered,
didn't understand. At all. I tried to think, but my brain wasn't working
right, just running in circles.

The man, Mum said, puts his penis in woman's vagina... Then I gulped
suddenly remembering how huge and hot and monstrous his penis felt. He
wanted to put it in me. The monster. Now I suddenly understood what he
meant by "there will be pain". He wanted to put his monster in me. But
where?!? I have no vagina. Where he wanted to put it? I had seen sex scenes
in TV shows and movies. The man lays on top of the woman and they kiss
while somewhere under the covers he is in her. But my cocklet is where
woman's vagina supposes to be. I had no hole for him to enter, Oh, my God,
will he MAKE one? Will he make a hole in me for him to enter?!? Sudden
visions of knives and seizers came into my mind, and I tried to chased them
away.  This was scary. Very, very scary. Much more scarier from everything,
every other fright he had given me by now. I was familiar with beatings,
and Mum's boyfriend had given me cigarette burns when I was bad and Mum
wasn't around. But being cut, cut open, damn, damn!...

I raised my eyes to him in fear, my chin trembling, and open my mouth, but
he raised a finger.

"No, Nick. No more questions. I can't talk more about this. You'll have to
come to me willingly and trust me that I can make sure it won't be
horrible, until you grew to like it. Or forget about having real sex with a
man until you grow up, and you'll have to just jack off until then. I'll be
giving you my sweaty t-shirts to keep you hunger under control, but that's
about it. And I'll be making dammed sure you won't be having sex with
another man until you're 21. I can't trust you to anyone else."

He bent down, picked up his shirt and handed it to me, but suddenly I
didn't want it. I was afraid to take it.

"Take it." he ordered. I did.

"Go home, Nicolas." he told me and let the room.

I felt dizzy and numb. I gathered myself and went to my house. I almost
left his t-shirt there, but probably he would come to give it to me again,
and I didn't want to be alone with him. At the front door I hesitated. I
didn't want Mum to see me with his t-shirt in my hands, but then I
remembered she was working nightshift in the hospital. I put the t-shirt
under my mattress, and didn't take it out when I went to bed.



I had nightmares that night of knives, opening my belly and then needles
stitching the edges of the shape of a round hole. I woke up shivering and
in cold sweat, panting. And then remembered the kiss. I got of the bed,
took out his shirt and just stood there in the middle of the room breading
his scent. It felt so good! I remembered the sheer force of what he made me
feel, the magnitude of it. The aftershocks. I wanted that again. Nothing I
ever wanted more than that. I hadn't felt just good, it had been so much
beyond good I could even comprehend it.

Probably, I tried to reason with myself, probably it won't be that bad. OK,
being gay is bad probably exactly for this reason, you can't go around
poking holes into people. And probably you can't go to hospital and ask
them to make one for you. Doug always had been good to me. Not even single
trace of violence until today. And he had been so... protective of me, he
didn't want anything bad to happen... He wanted to keep me safe... He
wouldn't leave me in pain. He'll probably give me some anesthetic to put me
into sleep while he was working with the knife and needle, and painkillers
afterwards so it won't hurt. And once the wound is healed it will feel that
wonderful again... So being gay must have been like eating too much
chocolate. Feels wonderful but adults say its bad for you. And Doug had
said that there is nothing wrong in being gay. So... So, if you get past
the whole poking-a-whole-in-your-belly thing, it didn't felt all that bad,
right? That thought made me feel better. I'll go to him and accept tomorrow
morning. I put his t-shirt under my pillow and went to sleep.



The next morning, of course, I chickened again. No matter how much I
brought back the memory of the kiss, I couldn't buck up the courage to go
to him and say 'Ok, do it!'. But I didn't have to, because Doug was
gone. When my Mum called she told me he went on unexpected business trip to
Chicago and wont be back until the end of next week. I felt relieved and
disappointed in the same time.



***



Those ten days Doug was away didn't go well for me. Not well at all. I kept
thinking about him and the sex, and having sex with him and him - cutting a
hole in me. I was torn between horror and desire. Several times I started
calling him to tell I accept. Couple of times I even pressed the speed-dial
button I assigned to his number, but hung up before the second ring. He
didn't call back, but even if he did, I wouldn't answer. I chickened in the
last moment; I always chicken in the last moment. When I was home alone, I
would wear his t-shirt, letting his scent envelope me. It made me feel
better, reassuring me somehow that however bad it'll be for a while, it'll
be good at the end. Doug loved me, and wanted me. He never had hurt me,
never had risen his hand to hit me in anger. He will do it with care and
precession, and no extra than absolutely unavoidable pain, and will take
care that I won't feel even that. But I couldn't bring myself to dial his
number.

Teachers started noticing that wasn't able to concentrate in
class. Ms. Anderson tried to talk with me after class and find out what was
wrong. I didn't even remember what explanation I mustered, and she didn't
buy it, because that night my Mum asked me herself, letting me know that
ms. Anderson had called her.

"You miss Douglas, don't you?" she asked me in response of mine "Everything
is fine."

I immediately excused myself with my homework and ran to my room. That
evening I went to the kitchen for a glass of milk and heard my Mum on the
phone talking with Doug. Great! Just great! She would tell him what mess I
was. I had to find something to distract me, and fast.

The next day I went to the library and rented an audio book called "Moon
called" by Patricia Briggs. Oh, it distracted me all right. Few hours later
I ran down to Library again to rent the other 3 sequels.

Those 4 books gave me answer to everything. EVERYTHING.

They were about werewolves. Dominant werewolves, alpha werewolves and
werewolves' packs.

In those books I found, in my opinion, a completed description of Doug's
mindset and temper, and thorough, detailed explanation of Doug's behavior,
about the way Doug felt about me...

"Alpha werewolves are short-tempered control freaks. This way they keep
they pack into obedience and the killer's instincts under control. But the
nature's balance is - the more dominant a wolf is, the stronger is the need
to protect those weaker than him."

Yeah. Doug was a werewolf.

O.K. the books helped. They helped me to overcome my fear to some extend,
and to get used to the idea that I'm letting Doug to make a hole in
me. They didn't help me however to concentrate in class, neater gave me
courage to call Doug. I just was listening to them over and over again. You
won't think one can listen to 4 books in 10 day, but come on, abridged
recordings are 5 hours long, and I was listening them all the time.

I knew Doug was back when I came back home one day and found a new sweaty
t-shirt under my mattress and the other two, the one a had stolen and the
other he gave me - gone.

I tried to gather myself and go to him. I spent whole hour trying to push
myself into it. Then I went to his house and stood in front of the back
door for another half an hour trying to force myself into knocking. Then I
ran back home, unable to do even that.

It turned out that even if I found my courage to knock, Doug wouldn't be
home. My Mum told me that they had spoken earlier and he promised her to
talk with me face to face as soon as he can "about my moods", but he had
his business to catch up with. He hadn't call me, tho, and he didn't come
to our house that night. His light stayed turn off.

He wasn't at home on the next day too. On the third day it become obvious
he was avoiding me on purpose. At that point I was so anxious, that in one
point I grabbed my cell, typed in "You have to make me. I want it so bad,
but I'm such a chicken that you have to make me!" and hit send before I
chicken again.

Then the panic of what I just had done stroke, and after that the panic of
him not answering stroke even harder. What if he had changed his mind and
didn't want me any more? Then my mobile bleeped, signaling I had short
message.

'Do you trust me?' it read.

I couldn't find the strength to replay.

After about half an hour another one came.

'DO YOU TRUST ME?' in capitals this time.

I could picture him yelling these words in my face.

And after another half an hour came "Come over, we have to talk".

O.K. No chance in the World of backing down now. He wouldn't let me. Which
was good thing, right? I asked him to. I was doing this. What now? First
and foremost - I mustn't panic.

I tried to summarize all the things I have to tell him, and started making
a mental list, and to worry about vital things he needed to know and I
probably had missed. My Mom is a nurse, and that's why I was probably more
prepared for this than him. How do we get the painkillers and anesthetics?
And we need catgut for the stitches. Worry over preparations gave me
something else to do than panic and fear.

Half an hour later I worked myself up into marching to his house, going
trough that mental list again, checking if I haven't forget something.

"O.K., but you have to promise me you'll sterilize the knife!" I shot at
him as soon as he opened the door, franticly trying to stay calm myself.

He gaped at me but I marched past him into the living room and started
pacing.

"You will take me to my Mum in the Hospital. I will distract her. You will
sneak into the storage room and take the painkillers and anesthetics. And
surgery threads, you mustn't forget the catgut. And you'll sterilize the
needle too. And you have to read up about the dosage of the anesthetic, I
can't help you there. Go to the library. They ought to have some books on
the matter. I don't know where Mum keeps her textbooks."

"What the Hell are you talking about?!?"

I looked at him then. He was looking at me eyes wide, like I had gone
completely mad. There was real panic there, I saw it. Yep, he knew nothing
about surgery.

I tried to talk to him in a calm, soft voice the grownups use to talk to an
upset child, as a matter of fact, the voice he was usually using on me, and
staying calm myself in the same time.

"I have no vagina. You have to make one on my belly for you to enter. And
I'm not doing this without anesthetics, painkillers and sterilized knife."
I managed somehow to sound brisk and businesslike.

This supposed to calm him down, but instead his eyes widened even more when
my word finally hit home. Shock this time, and disbelieve, and terror, and
hurt, and loss and more things.

"You are not doing this without..." he whispered to himself in horror. "Oh,
my God, what have I done?!?"

He shut the door, grabbed me, picked me up and pressed me tight to his
chest, breathing hard.

I was honestly bewildered of his reaction. I'd scared him, and scared him
very bad, but how? What had I done? I didn't understand a single thing
anymore.

"You came here..." he stared in a hoarse, shaky whisper but his voice
failed him. He stared again, slowly, hammering out every word. "You came to
me, in certain knowledge that I'm going to cut a hole, with a knife, in
your belly?!" It was as a question as it was a statement. It was as much
addressed to me, as it was to him.

"Weren't you?" I asked in week voice.

He shivered, and hugged me tighter, so tight I couldn't breath. And then I
knew. He wasn't going to make a hole in me. My control shattered then and
tears of relief ran down my face.

"I don't deserve you!" he whispered in my hair and then I started crying
for real, all the tension and stress form the last ten days piling to come
out at once, and he was kissing my tears away. I just gave up my last
secret. I just had let him know how much he meant to me.

"So you weren't going to cut a hole in my belly?" I asked again when my
sobs subsided.

"Sweetie, NO!" he exclaimed in horror, rejecting even the thought of it,
then tried to say something more, but just stood there, in the middle of
his living room, shaking, holding me almost painfully tight, lost for
words... Then he sighed, gave a tensed laugh and looked up... Were there
tears in his eyes? He looked back at me "You already have a hole!" he
chided me, like I have been extremely silly, and judging by his reaction I
had been just that, then added to himself forcefully "I should have seen
this coming! Stupid, stupid, stupid!" Then back to me, almost a shout "And
I'm not making any holes in you, EVER!"

I didn't understand. At all.

"But where will you put it then?"

I had a hole for him? What hole?! My belly-button?? My piss-hole?!?

"You have holes enough for me to enter! You mouth, your butt hole... I'm
defiantly not making ANY new ones!" he exclaimed again, "How in the World
would you think of that?!? And how long you have been thinking it?!? And
why the Hell would you let me do it?!?"

I didn't answer. He knew the answer of his last question already, and could
easily guess answers for the rest.

He sat down with me in his lap, breathing hard, pressing me hard to him,
like trying to fend me off my own thoughts.

"I should have seen it coming." he growled at himself "Who could you talk
to? Who could you ask? Your Mum? The friends you don have? Your BL guild?
You're so naive, and with that imagination?!... I should have known. Idiot,
idiot, idiot!"

I registered absentmindedly that I hadn't seen Doug that upset, but my
thoughts were elsewhere. His breathing gradually calmed down.

"My... my mouth? You gonna enter my mouth?" I asked after a while. Even to
me my voice sounded shaky and scared.

He looked down at me and smiled.

"Don't you dare chickening on me now. You were about to let me cut a hole
in you stomach!" Suddenly his eyes were now full of happiness and liquid
laughter.

I just blinked at him, unable to understand, what had made him so happy.

"Wouldn't you do that for me?" he asked me in a gentle purr that felt to me
as a thunder in his chest. "I'll do it to you and I want you to return the
favor. And besides, ten minutes ago you were letting me poke a hole in
you."

I blushed and hid my embarrassment in his shoulder.

"Would you do that for me?" he whispered in my ear, his voice low, gentle
cores, sanding tingles trough my body.

"I will" I told his shoulder. "But I don't know how to..." and tried to
hide even deeper.

He gently nibbled my earlobe and made me trembling with desire.

"I will teach you" he said softly.

"Now?" I asked. I sensed the wave panic rising again. I was going to
chicken any moment now.

He chuckled.

"No, not now. I'll take you to my cabin in a few weeks. Then."

I moved back and looked at him bewildered...

"But you said you can't control yourself..." my voice trailed off.

His deep, rumbling laugh echoed in my chest. And he pressed his forehead to
mine.

"I can wait until the Hell freezes, once I know I'll be taking you at the
end. You are mine now"

"B-b-but..." I stuttered "But... but I... I want..."

I didn't know what I wanted. I was scared shitless of what was coming and
in the same time craved it with my whole body. I hid in his shoulder again.

"You want me to take you?" he whispered in my ear, than cupped my head with
his chalets, shovel sized palm and turned my face up to him. "Now?"

I met the hunger in his eyes, but it wasn't wild hunger like the last
time. It was lazy hunger, satisfied with the knowledge that the meal has
his for taking, and it can play with it's food and enjoy every bite of it,
the food will be eaten at the end, having no where to go, nowhere to hide.

He kissed me again. Lazily, leisurely, in enjoinment he was drinking my
soul again. Enjoying. Me. His eyes were blazing amber and gold. Wolf's
eyes.

"You smell so delicious" he told me "like a freshly baked muffin, steaming
on the table waiting for me to sink my teeth into you."

And he did.

I came again then, trembling in his arms, but he didn't end the kiss, not
even when the aftershocks died away, just continued to drink me while I
went all soft in his arms, all tension gone, and fully enjoyed my wolf
having me at last.



to be continued

comments much appreciated: mat.maren@gmail.com