Date: Fri, 20 May 2016 15:36:32 -1000 From: Mark Dross Subject: Loving Conor - Chapter 6 This is a fictional story, written purely from my desires and fantasies. The story contains graphic scenes of bisexual and homosexual sex, in which the characters do not use condoms. I do not promote or condone unsafe sex, but in my story there are no sexually transmitted diseases or unwanted pregnancies. So, by all means, indulge yourself in the safety of your imagination. If you would like to be notified when future chapters or related stories are released, let me know. Please consider donaiting to Nifty to keep all the wonderful stories going. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html -------------------------------- Loving Conor - Chapter 6 Conor and I were awakened early in the morning by his phone. I could hear the accent on the other end of the conversation, and I knew it was Markov. When Conor hung up, he said, "The coach is sick, and wants me to teach the classes for the day. Honestly I would rather spend my time with you, but... " I interrupted Conor by placing a finger on his lips, then gently kissing him. "I understand. Go do what you need to do. I'll help Sam get the place cleaned up." Conor smiled and kissed me back, then quickly got ready and left the room yelling, "I should be back around six tonight!" as he closed the door. I spent the morning helping, Sam, Tom, and Charles repack the van and get the Common room put back together. Charles seemed like a completely new person now that he was free from Eve, and I knew he would be back around. After we were done with the Common room, I cleaned and prepped the bar, then Tom and I flipped a coin to see who had to clean the Red Room. I lost. Thankful for Jim's foresight, I grabbed the hose from the wall and set to work. The room still smelled of sweat, cum, and piss. Various sex toys were scattered about, so I put some gloves on and stuck the toys in a cleaning solution. I had no idea who used the room after the incident with Eve, but the melted wax and trickles of blood on the floor were a good indication of what they had been up to. After giving everything a good hose down, I grabbed a towel and dried it all off, then tossed the gloves in the trash and looked around. For some reason, an image of the door to this room was the last thing on my mind the night before. Why the red door? On my first day here, Conor had revealed what was behind the door, and my brain scrambled. I knew rooms like this existed, but encountering one in person had never crossed my mind. My initial reaction to the room was pure shock, like walking face first into a brick wall in the dark. I was confused by the existence of the room in this place. Jim had led a wild life, but a room designed entirely for sex and bondage? It all seemed extreme, even for Jim. All I could say at the time was "Wow!" then Conor smiled at me, and my cock twitched. I had been drawn to Conor since the moment I met him, and as I looked around the room back then, the possibilities seemed endless and exciting, but frightening at the same time. That same evening, Conor had given me a choice. I could join the wild orgy in the room or be with him. There was no moment of hesitation - no pause to think about my answer. The Red Room held no power over my desire to be with Conor. After spending time at The House and getting to know the guests, I understand. The existence of the Red Room may appear extreme to the average person, but for the young revolutionists who stay at The House, the Red Room is a symbol. Sex is not something to be hidden in the dark, ashamed of, or the cause for persecution. For those who dare to be honest - The Red Room symbolizes sexual freedom. My imagination kicked into overdrive, and thoughts of being alone in this room with Conor took over. The whipping pole. The name of the simple contraption inspired a sense of foreboding, and having seen Eve whip Tom did little to suppress the feeling. I understood, however, that different people respond to pain in different ways. For some, pain was simply pain. For others, pain enhanced pleasure. For a few, pain was pleasure. I had little idea where I landed on the scale, and no clue where Conor fit. I did know, however, that I wanted to explore my options with Conor. I turned my attention to the sling... The sling offered a way for one person to surrender completely to another. I pictured Conor in the device, legs spread wide, his cock, hole, and mouth exposed... "Need any help with that?" When the deep voice and strong grip on my shoulder woke me from my daydream, I realized my hand was in my pants holding my hard cock. I was pulled roughly back into an embrace from behind, pinning my arm in place. I looked down to see two tattooed forearms, and knew who it was. "Hi Tom. I was just finishing up in here." Tom said, "I see that. I also see you've got a boner that needs attention. I wanted to thank you for coming to my rescue last night, and I know a few ways I can repay you." Tom was hot, there was no doubt about that, but this didn't feel right. Just as I was about to politely turn Tom down, Sam walked into the room. "Oh my god! What the fuck are you two up too!?" I opened my mouth to explain, and Sam said, "Your boy toy is gone for a few hours so you snag my boyfriend?" Tom kept his grip on me as I replied, "No, your boyfriend came on to me. I was..." Sam said, "You're the one with your hand on your dick!" Tom finally spoke up, "He's telling the truth, Sam. Don't get your panties in a ruffle!" Sam said, "You are both full of shit!", then stomped out of the room. Tom let me go and said, "Sorry, man. I was just fucking around." I said, "We're good, Tom, but what's going on with Sam? Yesterday she offered to blow me for a drink, now she's pissed off for something that didn't happen? Besides that, it's obvious you two have an open relationship. What gives?" Tom replied, "Conor fucking gives, that's what. She still cares for him, but he's the perfect little angel that she can't have anymore because she's the devil... well, not really but you know what I mean." I said, "I get the analogy, yes." Tom said, "Don't worry about Sam. I'll talk to her." I paced the floor in Conor's room, not knowing what else to do. The episode with Tom and Sam had me rattled. I had only known Conor for a few days, but for some reason I couldn't bare the thought of hurting him. I could see no sense in talking with Sam, her jealousy for Conor was blinding her. My only hope was that Tom would sort it out. I was sick to my stomach and realized that I hadn't eaten all day, so I set off to the kitchen. As I neared the kitchen door I heard raised voices. "Why the fuck did you tell him, Sam? I told you what happened! Conor isn't yours anymore so you need to just get over it and let him go!" "You think I'm jealous? That I'm being spiteful? Conor has a right to know who he's been giving himself away to, so fuck you, Tom!" I didn't move as Sam stormed out of the kitchen, stabbing me with her eyes as she passed. To be truthful, I wanted to grab her by the throat and choke her, but I let her go. Tom came out a few seconds later and said, "She wouldn't listen to me, man, sorry." I said, "Yeah, I heard. I may need some help explaining things to Conor." Tom said, "No worries, bro. I got your back." My appetite was thoroughly destroyed now, and I didn't feel like hanging around and waiting. I thought of calling Conor but I knew it would be best to see him in person, so I decided to go to the gym and wait for him to finish. I pulled up a map on my phone and set off on foot. As I walked along, I thought about the situation. If Conor did believe Sam, would he even care? Regardless of how Conor felt, why do I even care? It wasn't like we had made a commitment to each other or anything. At first, I couldn't pinpoint why it was bothering me so much, but then I remembered Conor's words, "When I looked into your eyes, I saw sincerity." There it was. Conor had chosen me for a reason, and I wasn't about to let the antics of a horny boy or the jealousy of an ex-girlfriend fuck everything up! I looked at the map on my phone noting that I was about halfway to the gym. I had forgotten how far the trek was, but I still had plenty of time. A text from Conor came through, "We should talk." I started to reply, "I'm on my way to..." Omph! I ran straight into someone who had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, and my phone went flying. "Damn, dude, watch where you're going!" I looked at the guy I ran into, fully intent on calling him an asshole for getting in my way, then realized he was on crutches. "You're right. I'm sorry sir." By the time I found my phone, countless people had stepped on it and the screen was shattered. I took a deep breath and calmed myself. All I needed to do was focus and I should remember how to get the gym. I had no idea how long I had been walking or where I was. I borrowed a phone earlier, but had no numbers memorized. I checked the White Pages and found the main number to The House, but no one answered. I found the number for Markov's place, but got his voicemail. I looked everywhere for a Taxi, but never saw one. I just kept walking. I finally spotted a familiar set of buildings in the distance, and quickly made my way. The sun was setting as I looked up at the sign, "Cillian's Irish Pub". I went in and and planted myself on a barstool. Cillian walked over and said, "Hiya. Conor's friend, right?" I said, "Yeah, well I used to be. Pour me a pint, please." Cillian said, "Oh, I see. Well, the first one is on the house, and you can tell me all about it." I didn't think Conor would appreciate me telling Cillian much of anything, but I was happy to grab the pint of Gat and down it. Once the first pint was gone, I chased it with a shot of Jameson, then did the same for the second, and the third, fourth, and... I lost count after that. I knew my limits, and knew that I had surpassed them. As I got up to go the Jacks, I stumbled and nearly went down. I collected myself as best I could and finally got to the restroom doors, then stood trying to comprehend which Irish word meant Male. Luckily a girl came out of one door, so I picked the other and went in. With one hand on the wall for support, I leaned into the urinal but failed at getting my dick out fast enough and pissed on my feet and the floor. I didn't care. The fellow next to me did care, however. "Hey, fuck head, watch where you're pissing!" Luckily I've never been an angry drunk. I slurred out an apology, fumbled with my dick and got my shorts zipped back up, then staggered back to the bar. Cillian tried to hand me another drink, but I had enough sense left to wave it away. I opened my wallet, then realized I had forgotten how to count past ten, so I grabbed two hundred dollar bills, and pointed out the guy that I pissed on, telling Cillian that I wanted to pay for his meal and whatever he was drinking, and to keep the rest for his troubles. An Irish band had started playing, so I made my way to a quiet corner and sat down. The music was sweet, and it made me think of Conor... then everything faded, and the music turned into Conor's sweet voice... "Brandon. Hey, Brandon. Let's go home." I knew the feeling all too well, though it had been a few years. I opened my eyes slowly, thankful it was dark. Then I panicked... where the fuck was I? I felt a hand touch my shoulder and tried to push it away, unable to focus on who was touching me. "Brandon. It's me." It was Conor's voice. I relaxed for a second, then remembered what happened with Tom and Sam. I tried to tell Conor I was sorry, but my mouth was too dry to speak. Conor said, "I have something for you. It'll make you feel much better, but you have to drink it all, and don't ask what's in it." Conor lifted my head up and tucked a pillow behind it, causing my brain to slosh and explode, then he put a glass to my mouth and started pouring. The liquid tasted foul, and I realized I didn't want to know what was in it. After the last drop of slime went down my throat, I got two words out, "I'm sorry." Conor said, "I'm just glad you're okay. Cillian was impressed with how much you drank and could still stand, and impressing Cillian is no easy task. He insisted you were Irish. Besides, heaven knows I've plenty of experience taking care of drunks. I've been doing it since I was ten." I grabbed Conor's hand and said, "No. I mean, yes. I'm sorry for that, but..." My head throbbed, "Ouch, fuck. I know Sam talked to you, but I swear it's not like she said. Just ask Tom. He'll tell you." Conor said, "Why would I do that? I don't have any reason to trust Tom when it comes to sex." My heart sank. "Conor, you have to trust me... " Conor didn't raise his voice or seem angry, just disappointed. "No, Brandon. I don't have to trust you. If you haven't figured it out yet, trust is a big deal for me. I could never trust my father, he always said he would do this or that but he never did. Every time he hit me he said he would never do it again, but he did. He said he would never leave me, but he did. I couldn't even trust my mom, the drugs and drinking took that from me. I could never trust Sam, she's always out for the next thrill no matter the cost. So no, I don't have to trust you, Brandon." My eyes adjusted, and I could see Conor now, and wished I couldn't. Whatever he had given me was working quickly, but seeing Conor like this made me feel worse than any hangover ever could. I didn't know what I could say to make him believe me, and it appeared my only true witness, Tom, wasn't going to be any help. "Conor... I... all I have is the truth." Conor looked into my tear clouded eyes. "What is the truth, Brandon?" "I was cleaning the Red Room, and Tom came in. I don't know if he was actually hitting on me, or just horsing around, but before I could tell him to back off, Sam walked in. Nothing did happen, and nothing would have happened. You have my word. If that means anything." Conor stood and walked to the window, then slid a curtain open, letting the morning light fill the once dark room. I cringed like a vampire, expecting the light to hurt, but it didn't. Conor said, "I told you it would work. The recipe was given to me by an old gypsy. It saved my mom from withdrawals too many times to count. I probably should have let her suffer more than I did, but I couldn't bare seeing her in pain. Just like I can't stand seeing you in pain." Conor turned toward me, then walked back to the bed and knelt down next to me, his eyes once again looking into the depths of my soul. "Listen. We're not married. We're not technically boyfriends. We haven't proclaimed our love for each other. I don't even know your last name, and fuck it all, you're leaving soon. I guess it shouldn't matter, but apparently it does. Just look at you. You went out and got wrecked because you thought I might believe Sam, and I stayed awake half the night worrying about you." Conor paused, "At a minimum, we care for each other, and when Sam called me yesterday, I have to admit I wasn't happy. Then I remembered it was Sam, and I refused to pass judgment until I heard from you. Then Cillian called, saying you passed out at his place, and how much you drank..." Conor's face softened. "I believe you, Brandon, and I trust you. I don't have to trust you, but I do." A feeling of relief washed over me, and came out in a flood of tears. I put my hand out and said, "Brandon van Duren. I'm Dutch." Conor took my hand and smiled, "Conor O'Keefe, as Irish as they come." Conor was right. We hadn't defined our relationship, but we cared, and that mattered. "Conor, I... I... oh, fuck!" I barely made it to the toilet in time to puke up pints of Gat. Conor soaked a rag in cold water, then put it on the back of my neck. "I should have warned you that was coming. The good news is, you'll be right as rain in no time." There was a knock at the door. Conor said, "I'll go see who that is, you brush your teeth. Your breath smells of ox cum. Conor walked toward the bathroom door, and it hit me, "Ox cum?" Conor laughed, "Just brush your teeth, van Duren... and use mouth wash if you ever want to kiss me again." Conor had closed the bathroom door behind him, but I could hear Sam's voice. I brushed my teeth, rinsed my mouth twice, and washed my face. Conor peeked in and said, "You look better already. Sam wants to talk to you if you're up for it. Quite honestly, I didn't want to hear from Sam, but I wasn't about to add more drama to the situation. I stepped out of the bathroom and walked over to Sam. "I need to apologize to both of you. I overreacted and said things I shouldn't have. I'm sorry." Conor reached over and hugged Sam. I cleared my throat, then said, "I had no intention of doing anything with Tom." Sam said, "I know. Tom was just being Tom, and normally it wouldn't matter, but..." Sam looked at Conor, "I guess I still have feelings for you." Conor said, "You know I care for you, Sam. Nothing will change that. Just realize that even well meant intentions can have bad consequences. I mean, just look at the poor guy. He drank enough to put an elephant down last night." Sam looked at me and scrunched her lips. "I can see that. You look like sh... sorry." "Shit... yeah, I know. Apology accepted." Conor said, "Of course I forgive you, Sammy." After Sam left, Conor insisted that I get back in bed and rest while he got us some food. The miracle slime had nearly cured my hangover, but I was weak and dehydrated. I tried to recall exactly what I had said and done when I was at Cillian's, not sure if I could show my face there again, but everything was a blur, well... almost everything. I decided it didn't matter. I would be headed back home soon and all of this would be a memory. I just needed to enjoy the time I had left. Conor returned with two plates of eggs, toast, and oatmeal, and a pitcher of water. With no table in the room, we sat on the floor facing each other and talked between bites of food. "You snore and talk in your sleep when you're drunk." "Do I even want to know what I said?" Conor chuckled, "You were going on and on about fulfilling my fantasies. It was kind of cute, actually." "I missed the urinal and hit someone's shoe. I doubt that guy thought it was cute." Conor nearly choked, "You pissed on someone? Oh, that's one for the diary." "Yeah, I'm sure it'll be funny someday. Did I say anything else?" "Well, yes. You were talking about the Red Room. It was mostly gibberish, but you said you wanted me in there. Is that true?" "Honestly, I'm not sure. I lost the coin toss with Tom and had to clean the Red Room and my imagination went a little crazy before I was rudely interrupted by Tom. I don't have any experience with the whole BDSM scene. What about you?" Conor picked his phone up and typed something out, then set it down and looked at me. "Before I give you my answer, there's something we need to take care of. Tom should be here in a minute, and things may get a little weird. I'm asking you to follow my lead, and go with whatever happens. Will you trust me?" I was a bit confused, but before I could ask any questions, a knock came at the door. I just nodded in agreement. As soon as Tom came in, he said, "Hey guys. Sorry about all the shit with Sam. I was just fucking around and she flipped out. It's not like I was serious or anything. We good, right?" Conor smiled, "Of course we're good, Tom." Conor took my hand and put it on Tom's crotch as he said, "In fact, Brandon was hoping you were serious, right B?" It took everything I had not to pull my hand away. After everything we just went through, and now it seemed Conor was pimping me out? I had made the choice to trust Conor and follow his lead, so I put on my best "fuck me" face on and massaged Tom's already growing bulge. Tom closed his eyes and said, "Fuck yeah guys." Conor said, "So Tom. Brandon told me you flipped to see who cleaned the Red Room, but you know damn well we have a cleaning service for that, and I know damn well you have trick coins!" Tom opened his eyes, "Well, yeah, I was just - ouch fuck!" I caught on quickly and was instantly pissed off, and I squeezed. Tom stammered, "I just thought... ahhhh!" I said, "You thought what? You thought you were going to trick me into being alone with you in that room? You thought you were going to fuck me, or I was going to fuck you?" I had a good grip on Tom's nuts, his thin mesh basketball shorts and no underwear making it easy. "Do you have any idea what you caused? You could have ruined my friendship with Sam and my relationship with Conor! Not to mention causing me to break my phone and drink myself into a coma!" Tom's knees started buckling and his face turned white, then he went to the ground and I let go. Conor said, "We've been friends for a long time, Tom. If you value our friendship, you won't pull a stunt like again." Tom stood up, "I won't, bro." then he hobbled to the door and left the room. I held up the hand had been clamped on Tom's manhood, and cum ran down my arm.. "Something tells me he enjoyed that." Conor scrunched his face. "Sure looks it." I walked into the bathroom and cleaned myself off. "And something tells me Tom didn't learn a damn thing." Conor chuckled, "Nope, but he knows you're on to him. He won't be pulling that shit again." I leaned against the sink and looked down at my reflection in the draining water. "Is it bad that it turned me on?" Conor reached around and felt the stiff cock in my pants. "Is it bad that watching you do it turned me on." I turned and pulled Conor to me then pressed my mouth hard against his. Conor pulled away and said, "If you want me, make me yours." At that moment something clicked. I had no intention of hurting Conor, but all the pent up frustration and anger needed to be released. I grabbed Conor's shirt by the neck and tore it down the front, then spun him around and used it to tie his hands behind his back. I pushed Conor to the wall, then reached around his waist with both hands and pulled at his waistband, causing buttons to go flying. I pulled harder and ripped through the zipper and down one leg. Conor's ruined shorts fell to the ground, revealing his ass cheeks framed by a jockstrap... perfect. I grabbed Conor by the back of his neck, pulled him to me and put my knees in the back of his legs. As Conor went to his knees, I moved around, grabbed his hair, and pulled his head back. I could see a mix of emotions when Conor's green eyes met mine, longing and lust to be sure... and fear. Seeing the fear in Conor's eyes made me think of Eve, and the manic look she had on her face as I pulled her off of Tom. Is that how Conor was seeing me now? I knew I was nothing like Eve, who had obviously gone off the deep end, but did Conor know? My questions were answered when Conor grabbed the fly of my shorts with his teeth and attempted to pull the single button free. I said, "Bite it off." and he did. Conor continued to look up at me as he worked until my shorts fell to the floor. I hadn't taken the time to clean up from the night before which was obvious by the smell and condition of my underwear. My white briefs were covered in dried piss stains and now had a wet spot from the precum flowing from my dick. I pressed Conor's face into the dirty mess until he inhaled. Conor stuck his tongue out and went to work, lapping at my filthy crotch until it was sopping wet. My cock strained to get out, and Conor tried to suck it through the fabric, momentarily taking his eyes off mine. I pulled Conor's head back by his hair again, "Do you want it?" Conor tried to nod. "I asked you a question. Do you want it?" Conor said, "Yes, sir. I want your cock in my mouth." As I peeled my wet briefs off, I said, "My name is Brandon, not sir. Never call me that again." Conor said, "Yes si... I mean Brandon." I could smell the pungent odor of my filthy cock as it sprang free. Conor stuck his tongue under a strand of precum and followed it up to my cockhead, then began to lick. I held my cock in place and pulled my foreskin back while Conor's warm, wet, tongue slid up my shaft and around my swollen dick. I pulled Conor to my sweaty balls and set them on his tongue, then reached down and pushed them one at a time into his mouth. With my entire nut sack in Conor's mouth, I started jerking off. It only took a few strokes to realize I wasn't going to last long. Conor had a way of doing that to me. I pushed Conor's head back and my balls slipped out with a pop, then I replaced them with my swollen dick, pushing in deep. I faced fucked Conor hard, pulling him in and holding him until he gasped for breath. I was getting close to cumming down his throat, so I pulled out and waited before fucking his mouth again. I continued the pattern until I knew I wouldn't be able to hold back any longer, then said, "Stand up." Conor stood, his ever-hard cock pressing against the front of his jock, as if to mock the shitty day I had just experienced. I thought of Sam and Tom and my broken phone, and... "Turn around." Conor turned, and I put his flexibility to the test as I spread his feet further and further apart until he was doing the splits, then I pushed his body to the floor and said, "Don't move." When I returned from getting the lube from Conor's nightstand, he was still in position. I marveled at his ability... for a moment. I cared for Conor. I loved his sweet temperament, his beautiful smile, his witty charm, his perfect body, and every fucking thing about him, but in this moment, right now, I just needed to use him. In the position he was in, Conor's hole was mine for the taking. I knelt down and spread his cheeks even wider, then started licking, causing Conor to let out soft moans. Softness wasn't my intention, as he soon found out when I smacked Conor's pert hole. "Ahhhh!" I did it again and again and again until Conor's legs started trembling. To his credit, Conor took it, not saying a word. I reached under Conor's hips and lifted. Conor took the hint and got on his knees, face flat against the floor. I lubed up my cock, then placed it at his bright red hole and pushed in balls deep. Conor grunted, bucked his ass and whimpered, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck" which is exactly what I intended on doing. I started off pounding Conor's ass hard and fast, then pulled all the way out and slammed back in, then fucked him again. I continued the routine, each time getting closer to shooting my load. After the third or fourth round, Conor had precum dripping out of his gaping hole, and each stroke made a sloshing sound as I plowed as hard and fast as I could. I pumped my final strokes in Conor's ass, just to the edge of squirting my juice, then pulled out. I pushed Conor on his side, then moved up and straddled his face. My orgasam started in my gut, and I fucked Conor's mouth balls deep, dumping load after fucking load into his throat. Conor started struggling beneath me, then I realized he was drowning in my cum. I pulled out in a panic. Cum was pouring from Conor's mouth and out his nostrils. "Oh shit! Conor, are you okay?" Conor choked as I untied his hands, then he stood and wiped his face with his torn shirt. "Conor, I'm sorry. I went to far. Are you okay?" Conor pulled the shirt from his face and revealed a smile. "I'm fine. Look." Conor pulled his Jock down, and it was full of cum. "You may have to take me clothes shopping now, but I'm okay." Conor and I got in the hot shower and tenderly kissed and caressed each other as we cleaned up. The stress that had built up inside me was gone, leaving only affection in its place. After the shower, I spooned Conor from behind on his bed, and we talked. "So, you asked me about my experience with BDSM." "Yeah, I said I hadn't had any, and was wondering about you." "Okay, well, I've only had one experience." "Would you mind telling me about it?" Conor chuckled "Well, it was only a few minutes ago, and you were there." I propped myself up. "What, seriously? I was your first? I mean, I'm not doubting you, but I presumed..." Conor slapped my leg. "You presumed what? That I'm a little slut?" "No, sorry. It's just... you live here, and with all of the games and the Red Room..." "Nope. I've never played the games or used the Red Room." "Wow, I'm honored to be your first, but... why" "Why you?" "Bingo." "I've never trusted anyone enough." Conor sat up and pulled his knees to his chest. "My dad worked on fishing rigs and was away a lot. When he came home for short periods, everything was usually fine. If he stayed home for more than a week, he got restless and mean and took it out on me and my mom. If I acted up in the least, I got hit with the belt or caned. The nights were terrible. I could hear him yelling and I would just lay in my bed and cry. One night I could tell it was bad. I heard glass breaking and my mom scream. I knew I had to do something, so I ran right past him to the phone to call the guard... the police. My dad tore the cord from the wall and used it to hogtie me. I screamed and called him names so he stuffed a rag in my mouth then kicked me in the face hard enough to break my nose. Blood splattered everywhere and I could hardly see. My mom tried to stop him but he hit her so hard she crumbled to the floor. I thought. I thought she was dead, and I think he did too. He left then, never once looking back. That was the last time I saw him." Tears streamed down Conor's face as he finished his story, and my face as I sat up and cradled him. "Conor, I'm so sorry. If I would have known, I wouldn't have..." "No B, I wanted it. I wanted you to know how much I trust you." I pulled Conor close to me. "I'm sorry about your father. It hurt like hell when I lost Julie, but that... I can't even imagine." Conor kissed me softly. "Speaking of Julie. When I was telling you about talking in your sleep, I left something out. I wasn't sure I should bring it up, but you would probably want to know." "I was talking about Julie?" "No. You talked to her." "Oh. What did I say?" "You told her you found someone. That you were happy. That you hoped she understood." "I see. I suppose that's true." "Brandon, I... I know we only have a short time together, but I don't want to be just someone you fucked. Do you think we could graduate to boyfriends?" I smiled and pulled Conor tight against me, pressing my face into his hair. "I think we just did, babe. I think we did." ---------------------------------------- To be continued...