Date: Sat, 26 Jan 2019 05:14:09 +0000 From: destabilizer15 Subject: "Young Lovers," Chapter 16 Chapter 16 It took more convincing than I had expected. I think Marco was taken aback at first by Jack's plea to get off what he called "the big cock list" because he didn't expect Jack to even know about it. He eyed me somewhat skeptically as Jack made his plea. He finally said, "OK, Jack, let me be honest with you. A boy like you -- you're super cute, you're lovable as hell, you have a great body, and a huge cock for your size -- a boy like you is really, really hard to find. There's a reason you're busy every single night, you know! And if we didn't give you one night off a week I know we could keep you busy all seven nights. There's nobody -- and I mean nobody -- who makes more money for Young Lovers than you do. That's why your bank account is so big! On the other hand, we've got tons of the "boy next door" type. So why should we make a change like that?" I saw Jack's eyes begin to fill with tears. He looked at me. I frowned and gave a little nod, trying to encourage him to stay strong. "Well, don't you think I'd still be, you know, popular?" he asked, his voice quavery. "Oh, I'm sure you would," Marco replied. "But where am I going to get another boy to replace you? For all the guests who want what you've got between your legs?" "I dunno." There was silence. Suddenly Jack blurted out, "What about Johnny?" "Johnny?" Marco frowned, apparently not remembering. "You know, the new kid. Joon's friend." Marco's eyebrows shot up. "Mph," he replied, thinking. I decided to help. "Jack has a point. Johnny's hung almost as big as Jack." "And he has a hot body. Better than mine," Jack added. "Well, not necessarily," Marco remarked. "Most boylovers like a less muscular boy. Still, he has a very pretty face." "And he loves sex," I added enthusiastically. "And I'll tell you something else -- no offense, Jack -- but he sucks cock better than any boy I've ever had." Marco eyed us both, and a small smile crept over his face. "OK, guys, tell you what. I'll talk to Johnny and see what he wants to do. Right now he's not even a young lover -- that's what we brought him here for, but at the moment he just hangs out with you and Joon, right? At `Mike's clubhouse'? I don't even know what he spends his time doing. If he's agreeable, you can make the switch. If not, you have to stay on the list you're on until we find somebody else with similar, uh, gifts to replace you. Is it a deal?" Jack nodded with a big grin. "For your new role you might need a different wardrobe and maybe a little haircut, I don't know. Whatever Butch thinks. Now you still have a guest for one more night, so you'll need to finish up with Mr. McAllen--" Jack suddenly looked distressed. "No, please, Marco!" Marco frowned. I said, "Jack, I know you didn't want me to tell Marco but I think it's only right." I turned to the young man. "This guy McAllen has been violent and abusive. Jack has been traumatized. That's what brought all this to a head. He's been dissatisfied with his role for awhile, but after McAllen he's just at the end of his rope." "You, uh, know this about McAllen?" Marco asked. I could see he was a bit uncomfortable seeming to question what Jack had said in front him. "Well, I saw a pretty swollen asshole!" I said, as roughly as I could. "Shit!" I could see Marco was genuinely outraged. "Shit! That's just not acceptable! He's in violation! Are you OK now, Jack? Do you need to see Lance in the infirmary?" "I think I'll be OK," the boy murmured. I nodded to Marco in agreement. "We'll have that fucker leave the island immediately," Marco exclaimed. "Well, that may not be necessary," I replied. "He's found another boy who meets his needs just fine, and the feeling is mutual, I'll bet. I'm thinking he'll be perfectly happy with Byron for one more night. And if he gets a little out of bounds Byron can certainly handle himself." "Byron? Really? How did that happen?" "Just good luck," I smiled. Marco cocked his head at me with a little smile. "You do get around." "Mike saved my ass!" Jack exclaimed. "In more ways than one, it sounds like," Marco chuckled. "I'm glad that guy's not going to bother you any more, Jack. Anyway, I'll see what Johnny has to say today and then let you know." "Thanks, Marco," I said. "Yeah, thanks." Jack bounced up and gave Marco a big hug. Marco laughed. "What? Don't I get a kiss?" Jack grinned and pursed his lips. Marco gave him a big smooch. "Ok, you get outta here now -- I got a million things to do," Marco exclaimed. Jack turned and gave me a big hug and a kiss too. He pulled back, gave me a long, meaningful look, and the another, deeper kiss. Then with a wave he scampered out the door of the office. I looked at Marco. "I mean it, Marco. Thank you. It was -- it was way worse for him than he's letting on. Emotionally, I mean." "Yeah, yeah," he grinned sardonically. "You know, this is hardly going to be an even switch." "What do you mean?" "In spite of all Johnny's charms, he's not white. Most of our guests are white and that's usually what they want." "Really? That's pretty narrow." "Sexual fantasies are what they are. It's OK, we'll make do." "By the way, I don't think you have to worry about Byron's, uh, sexual tastes changing. He's maybe a bit more versatile now, but he still gets off on pain. Big time." "Good to know, thanks." He changed the subject. "So what did you think of the whole Sunday check experience? I noticed you were doing plenty of checking out of your own!" I laughed. "You gotta admit, there's an awful lot of beauty to check out." Marco smiled. "None of them any more beautiful than this little guy we had right here." His voice was a bit soft. I could only nod, and as I did so I wondered if I'd be seeing Jack any more. Reflecting on that thought a bit later I decided that, much as I'd miss him, it felt complete, somehow. It really would be OK if I didn't see him again, and of course delightful if I did. My unfinished business, I knew, was with Joon. **************************************************** I watched the remarkable spectacle of dozens of naked boys waiting in lines in the tropical early morning sun. Another Sunday check. I noticed Donte, smiling and laughing with some other boys, occasionally guarding his crotch a bit with his hand as sexually shy boys sometimes habitually do. His view of me was blocked by a large bush, but I could see him at pretty close range. He looked fresh and vibrant. His hair seemed a bit longer and more curly, his pubic hair had obviously been trimmed, his other body hair had been either reduced or eliminated entirely. And was his chest just a bit less skinny, a trifle more defined? Had Rudy been working his magic already on this new young lover? Part of me wanted to go over and chat, make a connection, maybe flirt a little and see what happened. But I didn't. The little tinge of melancholy I felt at letting Jack go hovered in my heart, and I contented myself with watching Donte and admiring him from a little distance. Knowing that I had played a part in his becoming more self-assured. Knowing that, once I did what I could for a boy, it was always time to let him go. Donte . . . Jack . . . a few others. Their seed, like their memory, was in me, and mine in them. Maybe that was enough. Not long afterward I headed back to the apartment. No one was around. I wanted to see what was up with Joon -- I just had a feeling there might be some trouble brewing. I went by Byron's dorm expecting to find him and Johnny there. Only a few boys were back from Sunday check and Joon and Johnny weren't among them. I checked Johnny's old dorm, then the Game-boys dorm Joon had stayed in before we met. I even tried the school library. It wasn't far from there to the gym, and I decided to see if maybe Byron were there, figuring he might know of Joon's whereabouts. It was open but only one boy was there. At the far side, with his back to me, was a skinny boy doing squats. I could see at a glance it was Joon. I approached him. "Well, well!" I called cheerily. With a bang he dropped the weights and turned. "What the fuck are you doing here!?" he snarled, his face twisted. His white, shirtless torso shone with sweat. "I'm looking for my boy! What the fuck are you doing here!?" I was right. He was pissed. Unfortunately for him, now so was I. "You've got your boy! Go back to that little long-haired fluffball! I got stuff to do!" He marched over to the weight rack and grabbed a pair of dumbbells. I was on him at once. I grabbed his wrists and tried to twist them so he would drop the weights. In a flash, before I could even think, he had swept my feet out from under me with a swipe of his leg and I crashed to the floor. I was stunned but I had the presence of mind to roll aside as Joon aimed a kick at my balls. With a snarl of rage he drew back one arm and hurled a barbell straight at my head. I reflexively raised my arm and caught a glancing blow on my wrist. I lay still. My mind was reeling. This was different. This was very different. The boy wasn't just putting up a struggle. This wasn't the angry Mike-and-Joon foreplay game we had played before. He had tried to seriously injure me. The weight could have killed me if it had caught me just right. I lay still a moment longer, as Joon stood nearby, waiting. It was so quiet I could hear him panting. I slowly raised myself and crawled a few feet farther away from him, then carefully got to my feet and, without looking back, walked out of the gym. My body moved as if on automatic pilot. I felt nothing, thought nothing. When I reached the apartment I methodically searched through the bedroom, living room, bathroom and kitchenette for everything of Joon's -- books, clothes, and toiletries -- and placed it all on the ground outside the front door. Then I locked the place up. As I headed for the cliffs above the sea I noticed, for the first time, my arm burning with pain. Until then something -- shock, adrenaline, suppressed emotion -- had completely blocked my awareness of pain. I felt my forearm. I could feel no sign of a beak. I let it dangle by my side, throbbing, as I walked. It was already brutally hot on the sunny cliffs, and I turned inland and retreated into the shade of the trees at the edge of the jungle. I dropped down on a large gnarled tree root, leaned back against the sturdy trunk, and gazed out to sea. I stayed there quite awhile. After a few minutes I began to collect my thoughts. I had been wrong about the boy. I had really believed my loving dominance was what he needed, and that somewhere inside, he knew it. I had believed that, whatever his passions, rages and jealousies, he would be intelligent enough to know he needed to subordinate them to his need for me, for what I could give him, for his own good. It had seemed that he felt that need, that he knew he felt it. But maybe that was just a passing thing. Maybe it was too much for him to accept. I thought of what on old friend had said to me once, after I had recounted being abandoned by a boy I had believed in and tried to help. A boy I had loved. "People don't change," he had said, shaking his head. "They might act like they do, or even think they do, but under stress, under duress, all the old shit always surfaces. Once an asshole, always an asshole." That was Joon. Still an asshole, just as he'd been that first time we'd talked. Nothing really had changed. But maybe it was really all me. Maybe I was the asshole. Maybe this was what happened when you opened up straight boys sexually. I had no fucking business messing with his head like that! Who was I to decide that a kid who had thought himself straight ever since puberty, who apparently had never had any sexual interest in males, should want a bond with somebody who not only controls him but fucks him? What the hell was I thinking? What he really needed was to be out finding women to bond with, to kiss, to fantasize about, to screw. I was just using him to fulfill a fantasy of my own. That was it. I deserved this fucking broken arm, or whatever it was. I had always thought of myself as loving and giving with boys. As giving as much good as I received, and usually more. But maybe I had been fooling myself all along. Maybe for my whole life as a boylover I had just been a user. Selfish and exploitive. I stayed out there a long time thinking, remembering, sometimes just daydreaming. Sometimes blaming him, sometimes myself. Sometimes angry and self-righteous, sometimes sad and self-pitying. More than anything, disappointed. And, if I admitted it, lonely. It must have been early afternoon by the time I stood up and headed back. My arm was no longer throbbing -- it just felt very sore. At least one good thing anyway, I thought. My stomach dropped as I saw that he was on the porch when I arrived. He sat with arms crossed on his knees, shoulders slumped, forehead on his arms. He was completely naked. Seeing him there all my anger, all my sadness immediately drained out of me. All the thoughts of what hopelessly damaged goods he was, of how there was no hope with me and him, that I should end it with him -- all vanished. I sat down next to him. He said nothing. I waited. My heart was filled with nothing but compassion. I realized then that the main victim of Joon's rage and intolerance was Joon himself. He suffered from being the way he was more than he made anyone else suffer -- I could see that now. Finally he looked up at me, eyes red. His voice was unsteady. "I'm sorry. Please fuck me." I stood and unlocked the door, then stooped and picked him up in my arms. I carried him inside and lay him on the bed. He smelled of stale sweat. I threw my clothes off and onto the floor, then turned him over onto his stomach and reached into the night stand. Next to the lube and poppers I noticed a tube of massage cream. My hand went to it for some reason. I uncapped it and squeezed a big gob of it into my palm. I straddled him, sitting on his bony butt. Ignoring the soreness in my wrist I began gently spreading the cream over his shoulders. He flinched at the first touch of the cream, then relaxed. I spread the cream, plus a couple more gobs, in a thin film over his entire back, pressing and kneading just a little. I've given enough massages to know that bony bodies need gentleness, not deep pressure. I took my time, circling his back over and over. I could feel him gradually relax. I slid farther down until I was sitting on his legs, and I began working more cream into his small butt. The boy had so little body fat that his buttocks didn't jiggle even a little; they were just two small, curving slabs of muscle. As I kneaded with my fingers I worked my thumbs into his moist crevice, gently caressing just inches from his hole. He was totally relaxed, and my thumbs slipped easily up against the soft folds of his anus. I worked them in small circles and his hole yawned open, pink and receptive. I had never before experienced his body in a state of such complete openness. Over the next few minutes I worked his arms, legs and feet. I took my time. I was partially hard, but in no hurry to make any particular thing happen sexually. I thought we'd probably get there eventually. Instead, I just relaxed into the feeling of connection with him. I had Joon turn over. His cock was completely soft, a little three inch worm curled against his scrotum. I performed the same slow massage on the front of his body, going even more gently over his soft belly. When I transitioned from his belly downward I slid over his cock and balls, caressing them but not lingering there. I dug more firmly into his thighs, his quads being the only part of his body that really felt much like thick muscle. He lay with eyes closed, breathing slowly and steadily, his lips parted, his face peaceful. Finally it was time. I chose not to suck him, though I wanted to. I decided to let him see for himself whether or not what I was about to do would excite him. I took my time lubing my cock, which was completely hard now. Then I bent his legs back. Opening his eyes and gazing at me, he obediently grabbed behind his knees and drew them back clear to the mattress. He was amazingly flexible. I spread some lube into his crack and over the opening. It yawned open at my touch. More lube went inside. I tucked a pillow under the middle of his back, bending him even farther over in the process. Then I placed my cockhead at his doorway. I waited. He looked at me. I continued to wait. I wanted him to hear himself ask for it. Finally he did. "Please, Mike," he said quietly. He was still soft. This was something different for him than a lust to get fucked, which is what he'd always exhibited in the past once I had established my domination and he'd given up fighting me. He'd always been hard as a rock, and eventually came intensely. I didn't quite know what this was now, exactly. I just followed my instincts. Very gradually I began to apply pressure. For a half a minute or more I let it slowly build. Finally I felt his flesh start to give way. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "Let go and relax." I whispered. I kept up the pressure as he exhaled. My cockhead began to nose in, but I still kept the same small, steady amount of pressure, refusing to hurry. I eased in a little more and then all at once my head popped all the way in. He let out his breath in a slow hiss. "Yes," I whispered, pleasure radiating through my body from the head of my cock. I paused for awhile and then, watching his austere face, mostly relaxed, occasionally wincing slightly, I began pressing, with what would normally have been agonizing slowness, into him. For some reason I was okay with going slowly -- it was as if my horniness and desire to force my way into him and ravish him were hovering off in the distance and I was untouched by them. After a minute I'd entered another inch. Then another minute, another inch. I made eye contact with him and held his gaze as I slowly entered farther. His eyes half closed and his lips parted in a little sigh. I rocked forward a bit, bracing myself with my hands on the bed next to his shoulders. It took another couple of minutes until, at last, I was in him to the hilt. He had tensed up only once, but then almost immediately relaxed again. He now breathed slowly and deeply. His face was emotionless and still. We continued to hold each others' gaze. I dropped down onto my forearms then, bent down, and kissed him long and tenderly. He returned the kiss willingly but with little passion. "Go ahead," he whispered. "Do it." He was still completely soft. I didn't know what this meant, but I went ahead. Slowly I withdrew almost all the way and then, with equal slowness, re-entered him. He was so tight it was just this side of painful, yet at the same time it was hot and tremendously good. And then I withdrew, and slowly re-entered. And again. I didn't speed up or become more forceful. I just set up a very slow, steady rhythm. His mouth was open, his thin crimson lips wet and shining, drawn back in a small grimace. For the first time I noticed how little and white his teeth were. "Whushhh," he murmured as I bottomed out in him again. I pulled out almost completely, and then took ten seconds to go all the way back in. He closed his eyes, gripped my biceps with both hands and licked his lips. Something was happening inside him, but it obviously wasn't sexual. For the next few minutes we kept up the same rhythm, me entering and pulling out in a very slow, regular rhythm, feeling the hot grip of Joon's rectum along every inch of my shaft, while he seemed completely relaxed and in a state of total surrender, sexually unaroused yet utterly receptive. I pulled nearly out and paused. I looked at his passive face. It suddenly struck me. This wasn't what I wanted to be doing at all. Physically it felt great, but it hit me like a brick that this was all wrong. That passivity in his face, that submission without passion -- he was doing this because he thought he owed it to me, not because it was what he wanted. This was a guilt fuck, and I realized I didn't want that with Joon, ever. "No, no, no," I muttered, and slowly, so it wouldn't be too uncomfortable, I pulled all the way out of him. Then I let his knees down and lay down next to him. He rolled toward me, a frown on his face. "What?" he asked. I caressed his face. "It's not OK with me to screw you when I'm into it and you're not." I wondered if he'd argue with me, but he was too smart to think I'd believe him if he insisted he really was into it. He knew I knew better. He just looked at me. "Sex with you isn't just for my own pleasure," I continued. "You're not just a good fuck. You're my boy. I respect you. Your needs are crucial to me, especially your sexual needs." I paused. "Do you know why you asked me to fuck you? Why you submitted so completely?" He paused a minute. "It was the only thing I could do to make it up to you for what I did to you. It's all I had to give you." I nodded. "Yeah. The only problem is, it isn't really a gift to me, like an apology gift, if you're not hard and hot too. That's the only sex with you that means anything to me." He swallowed. "So why'd you do it?" I asked. "Why'd you throw that weight at me? You really could have seriously injured me, you know, maybe even killed me. If you want to make me happy, figure it out and tell me the truth." He responded instantly, with some vehemence. "I was jealous! Shit, I was fucking jealous." What was that look in his face as he said that? I realized it was shame. I caressed his head. "Hard to admit?" He swallowed and nodded. "You know, part of what it means to show your real self is to show your feelings," I pointed out. "And you can't do that if you're ashamed of them. A logical, intellectual guy like you maybe has a hard time admitting such a mindless, irrational emotion as jealousy, right?" He nodded glumly. "I'm beginning to think the real you is actually really emotional, really naturally passionate. Somewhere you got the idea that was shameful to be so emotional, so you bottled it all up. Well you know what? I want the real you. Don't hide your passions from me. It's OK to feel jealousy. And it's OK to let me know how you feel. Just don't fucking try to kill me!" There was silence as he digested this. Then he looked at me. "Are you in love with him?" It was my turn to swallow. I reflected a minute. How to handle this? "Yes." He lay back on the bed. "How does that make you feel?" I asked. After a minute, he said, "Shitty." I let that hang in the air. "I'm in love with you too." "Is that supposed to make me feel better?" he snapped. "It's the truth. It's all I have to give you." More silence. "I'm not a one-boy man, Joon. I fall in love with lots of boys. All I can do is to use that love to do as much as good as I can." "While you get off on fucking them all. What a humanitarian." I ignored his bitterness, and repeated to him what I'd said to Jack, something I was only just starting to realize really was the truth about me. "Joon, when I'm with you I love you completely. When I'm with another boy, I love him completely. I like being that way. Maybe that's not right for everyone, but that's me. I'm not ashamed of it. Maybe you'd like that attitude too if you tried it." He raised up onto an elbow, looking stricken but trying to comprehend. "And while you're off fucking that little twerp, `cause you love him completely, what about ME?" His voice almost broke. "Well, you're off fucking some hot guy yourself! Or reading Sophocles. Or working out. I don't know. You and I can move in and out of each other's day without having to possess each other!" "Yeah? So when are you moving back into his day?" "I don't think I am." He waited. "I said goodbye to him earlier today. I think we're done with each other." He eyed me suspiciously. Then he flopped back down and stared at the ceiling. "Good." "No, no, no. There will be another boy. And another. And another. Until they stop coming." He glared at me. "You said it yourself," I pointed out. "What was it? Something like, `I'm your boy, not your slave.' Well, it's the same with me. I have freedom too. You and I, we have to learn to, to have this deep bond that we both want, without possessiveness. In the long run, it's the only way." He stated at the ceiling and said nothing. A minute passed. I finally placed my hand on his belly and rocked him slightly. "What do you think?" I murmured. He closed his eyes and shook his head from side to side. "I don't know. It's hard." I slid my hand down through his black pubes and caressed his limp cock. "No it isn't. It's totally soft. But maybe I can fix that." I slid over him and sucked his cock into my mouth. He jerked in surprise and gasped softly. Holding his cock in my mouth I began working my tongue around the head, over and over. His cock slowly began to swell. I sucked him completely in, then fastened my lips at the base and, as I pulled off him, tugged his organ firmly. Then, holding the base between my thumb and forefinger, I lashed his frenulum back and forth with the tip of my tongue. I felt his hands rest limply on my shoulders. He was hardening somewhat, but only very gradually. After another couple of minutes pleasuring him every way I knew how, I could see this wasn't working for him either. I made a decision. Letting go of his still half-limp cock I raised up onto my knees, slid up until I was sitting on his chest, and grabbed my hard cock. I glared at him. "You don't like it nice and easy?" I cried. "You don't want affection? Fine!" I grabbed his jaw in one hand and my cock with the other. "Open up!" I demanded. He snatched his face away and attempted to dislodge me. I gripped his writhing face with one hand, thumb on one corner of his jaw, fingertips on the other and squeezed until I forced him open despite his writhing and grunting. With the other hand I gripped his throat and squeezed. "You're gonna suck it and you're gonna like it!" I yelled. I shoved my cock against his cheek and rubbed it all over his face, as he grew red and continued to struggle helplessly. Finally he stopped and lay still. I let him breathe. I squeezed his jaw less roughly, but still held it firmly as he sucked in deep breaths. "Ready?" I cried. He just stared at me, his narrow chest still heaving. I pushed my cock against his lips. Resistance rose in his face for a minute, and then crumbled. He submitted, and slipped his lips over my cockhead. "Tongue!" I demanded. Obediently he began twirling his tongue over my glans. I released my grip on his jaw. He raised his head and attempted to get more of my cock into his mouth. I shifted my weight onto one knee to give him a better angle, and he quickly gobbled half my length and began to suck, sliding up and down rapidly. I gripped the back of his head and repeatedly forced him down roughly. "Yeah, bitch! That's a good little slut! Eat it all, baby!" He gripped my hip, rose to one elbow and then really went to town. I had never seen him do anything sexual this energetically. I began thrusting forcefully, almost desperately, as he made each downward plunge onto my cock, and before long he was taking nearly all of it, gagging occasionally but not even slowing down. With a shock I realized I was nearing my climax already. I turned and looked over my shoulder. The boy was completely hard, his bright pink cock drooling a thread of precum onto his flat belly. I pulled out of him roughly. "Turn over! Get on your hands and knees." I barked. He responded instantly. "Get your front end down!" I cried, shoving on his shoulders. He dropped onto his forearms. "Arch your back! Stick out your butt!" With both hands I pried open his skinny butt and rammed my face into him. I tongued his sweaty asshole aggressively, then replaced my tongue with a finger, roughly entering him to the second joint and tugging him open from side to side. He gasped but didn't pull away. "Enough of that shit!" I muttered, withdrawing. I knee-walked up closer to him and placed my cockhead at his doorway. "What do you want, bitch?" I yelled. "I want you to fuck me!" he yelled back. "Yeah? Nice and easy?' "Fuck no! As hard as you can! Rip me open! I can take it!" "Yeah you can!" I cried, and, gripping his hips with both hands, began to push hard. "Aaaaaahhhhhhhh!" he cried. "AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" I was yelling too. As my cockhead began breaking into him I heard my own cry. "YAAAAAAAHH!!!" I was in. I gathered myself and then shoved again as hard as I could. Joon let out a blood-curdling scream as i slammed into him all the way. I pulled out nearly all the way and slammed again. Over and over, him gasping and groaning, meeting every thrust by slamming his hips against me, and me not caring if I hurt him, if he liked it, if I injured him. I shortened my strokes to go faster. I heard a roaring in my ears. I seemed to lose all awareness of where I was. It was only the skinny, writhing gasping boy beneath me and my burning, itching need to cum. Someone was yelling "Yah! Yah! Yah!" with each thrust. It went on and on, for who knows how long. I grabbed for his cock -- it was like a red-hot poker, iron hard, slippery with precum, flashing in and out of my grip wth lightning speed as we fucked as fast as we could. All of a sudden Joon yelled "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" and began cumming. Hot juice splattered against my knuckle as I gripped and stroked him hard. I let go of his cock to hold his hips more firmly-- he instantly grabbed his own cock, and, still yelling, whipped more and more cum out of himself. He finished and collapsed on the bed just as my climax hit. With a roar I slammed into his ass and held myself there as I came and came and came. I saw stars and felt light headed, and it just went on. I writhed against him, grasping spastically at his shoulders, drooling on his neck, biting his ear, still cumming. Finally it was over. As I returned slowly to reality I felt him try to move under me. I slipped out of him and rolled aside. He rolled toward me. We were both comfortably silent for awhile, recovering. I reflected awhile on what had just happened between us. I was realizing that as much as we both tried to find the sex exciting when I was loving and he was completely submissive, it just didn't seem like it was going to work. Without his rebellious anger and my rough treatment, without me forcing him into submission, the erotic charge just was missing. But once I forcefully dominated him -- wow. The sex was as intense and satisfying as anything I'd ever had in my life -- every bit as fantastic as with Jack, though utterly different. And it seemed fantastic for Joon too. Could this last? It was hard to imagine how it could. Time would tell, I guessed. Finally I turned to him. "Do you forgive me for loving Jack?" He paused. "Do you forgive me for throwing a dumbbell at you?" "I have to! Where else am I going to get someone who loves to get fucked as much as you do? I just gotta put up with all your neuroses!" "Fuck you, you love it," he snickered. I grabbed him and kissed the top of his head loudly. He pulled away in pretended distaste. After a moment he said, "I'll try. I know possessiveness is, like, toxic." I took a guess. "Sounds like you're talking from personal experience. Have you known someone who's real possessive?" He made a disgusted noise. "My dad. Possessive, jealous, stubborn, vengeful, narrow minded." "A lot like you when you're not at your best?" He glanced sharply at me, but he thought about it. "Maybe," he admitted. I decided to leave the psychoanalysis for now. I got up from the bed and reached for my clothes. "OK, let's go get your stuff and bring it back into the apartment. Hopefully nobody stole your sexy clothes while they were out there all this time." "Shit, nobody's skinny enough for those clothes," he groused. "Plus I wanna get this arm looked at. I don't think it's broken but I want to be sure." He looked down guiltily. I put my other arm around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze. "I told you I forgive you. Let's move on!" I exclaimed. He nodded sheepishly, and we walked outside together, Joon still completely naked. My arm was still over his shoulder, and as I noticed a group of boys passing close by I left it there, wondering how he would react. A couple of them called to him in greeting. He gave a nod and a slight wave, and acted as if my affectionate arm and his nudity were perfectly normal things. Yet I knew that Joon's image among the boys on the island was one of tough, don't-fuck-with-me independence. Looking like some man's boy would definitely not be part of that image. Perhaps it was his pride that refused to allow me to see him show any concern for what their opinion of him might be. Or maybe he just really didn't care. We brought in some of Joon's belongings and began putting them away. "Where's Johnny?" I asked as I tucked some shirts into a drawer. "He was going to breakfast this morning with Byron," Joon called from the bathroom. "Maybe he was going to Sunday check with him afterward. He seemed curious about it." "Kinda funny how they get along, Byron being so much older, and so much more, I don't know--" "More `street'?" he asked, heading for the door to get another batch of stuff. "I guess." "Yeah, they click." "Maybe it's Johnny's talented mouth." Joon didn't think that was funny, and gave me a sour look. I shook my head. "You're right," I admitted. "He's a lovable kid. A helluva kid. I shouldn't have said that." Joon stared at me and then gave a brief nod. I felt strangely content with that.