Disclaimer: Don't know them. It's fiction all the way.

Warning: Real people slash. Homoerotic contents. If you're not allowed to be here, don't tell me. If homoerotic tales offends you - hey, how did you end up here in the first place and why are you still reading?

I do not, absolutely not, recommend the experiment mentioned in the description of a black and white photography in this posting. I never tested it myself and I do not intend to. Also, Chris' remark about farts has merits, me think.

Thanks: Lots of thanks to my beta readers, Christopher and Joan, and to those of you who wrote me. (Yes, thanks to you too, C, even though your threats had me hiding in the closet for several days. Well, here the installment is and, yes, I know it's later than I promised and I am hiding in the closet again, shaking, teeth clattering...)

Response is very, very, very welcome. Can't write without it...

The going is getting slower. The 'raw-chapter bin' was empty a while ago and now the 'patches-and-pieces bin' is almost empty too. I have to write everything from scratch.


Hope you enjoy the read.


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Tail Of The Tiger, Chapter 11

Picture Perfect

I woke up to a world out of joint.

Something was digging into my back. And my leg - appeared to have detached itself.

My brain cleared enough to make sense of the signals. My foot was on the floor. I had lost all feeling in my arm but if the thing digging into my back was the edge of the bed then my hand very likely was resting on the floor too. There was no pain in my neck - yet. It was probably just a question of moving my head out of the odd angle it was in, then there would be lots of pain. I would also lose my fragile balance and fall to the floor.

I'm usually a very quiet sleeper. Except when bed partners insist on the barbarian habit of wearing clothes, of course. There was no doubt that my odd position had everything to do with the warm, hairy, heavy lump drooling on my belly.


Yes. Chris. Sound asleep for sure, he didn't even wake up when laughter made both his head and my belly jump. He merely grunted and snuggled against me, his shoulder pushing me further towards the edge. Just a little bit. It was enough. I ran out of bed and tumbled to the floor.

It took a while to bring the aching parts online and find the light switch. Still sitting on the floor I surveyed what was happening on the bed.

Chris was on his side, sleeping the sleep of the innocent and laying more across the bed than along it, at quite his own angle. He was obviously naked, no sheet was covering him. His skin looked red and a little bruised around the neck and shoulders. There might be complaints about beard-burns once he woke up.

One arm was folded for a headrest, the other lay curled in front of his face and I wondered if he sometimes sucked his thumb. Leaning closer to check I could see that the finger didn't show any evidence of such a habit.

One leg was flung forwards, bent at the knee and propping him. It was not the kind of position one snores in. The entire Chris was quiet, the only movement was that of his chest and shoulders moving with the slow, steady rhythm of his breath.

Somehow the sheet had ended up in one end of the bed and the blanket was half way over the edge in the other; there was a mystery there but I didn't spend much thought on it because there was too much Chris to take in at once. Instead of trying, I let my eyes wander and trace trails on him, following contours and crossing rounded planes.

Starting at his smooth shoulder, my gaze slid down the smooth skin on his side and, slowly for joy, along the beautiful round curve of his ass; my hands tingled with memories of velvet skin.

I followed the pale thigh that had a thin layer of short, soft black hairs on it; the skin was pale and grew more and more golden towards the hairless knee. I stopped briefly to consider the scars there. The rest of the leg was out of sight from where I sat, so my eyes took the track back again, moving slowly along the thigh and the exciting curve of his ass. My hands twitched again, remembering the power hiding under the padded smooth skin. Touch him! My travelling gaze reached the outcropping of a hip; it looked deceptively frail. I decided on a detour, sliding down the vulnerable skin inside the hip, strolling through the Sproing Reserve. My hands curled from the tickling sensation provoked by the sight of the thin layer of black soft hair; I had to fight a sudden inclination to bury my face in the tender Sproing Reserve and breathe and taste the Chrisness of it. Beautiful.

There were magic and mysteries to be found there. A dark path connected two shadow-filled caves, a small, soft-mouthed one in the middle of the Reserve and a larger, deeper one under the thigh; the path disappeared into the black bramble visible just inside the bigger of the caves. I tried to make out what happened further inside it but the darkness and my eyes kept playing tricks on me. It was a while before I could tear myself loose from the pull of the secrets, slip back along the dark path, a couple of times around the small cave and up the hip and slide back on the trail.

I followed the trail up the smooth side to the shoulder, following the curve of the shoulder until I hit the trail again and slipped down his side, taking the trip once more.

I was once again lost in the magic Sproing Reserve when he shifted a little, calling my attention to his face. He was frowning.

Perhaps he was missing his pillow.

His hand jerked a little. He grunted and the frown deepened. The hand moved, crawling across the sheet. A cobra drunk on sleep. It stopped. Just when I thought that it wasn't going to move again it woke up and snaked blindly further away. I plucked a pillow from the floor and fed it to the sleepy snake. The jaws closed on the prey and pulled it towards Chris. Not to stuff it under his head as I had guessed but to press it against his chest and belly.

Was he missing Justin's teddy? Perhaps he was cold; I felt a little cold myself. There was still a frown on his face. So I thought it was the chill and got slowly to my feet, wary of the crick in my neck that would shoot sudden pangs of pain at me when I made a wrong move.

I covered him with the sheet and added the blanket on top.

He mumbled, then he squirmed and rocked back and forth until the cover was snug against him. During the rocking session he pushed the pillow to the floor and changed angle in relation to the bed. His head was now pointing more towards the foot end of the bed.

He had almost covered his head with the sheet, only the top part of his forehead was visible. Enough for me to see that he still was frowning when I carefully lifted a braid.

I tried with the pillow again, holding it so that it touched the top of his head. After a moment the cobra slid out from hiding and groped for the pillow. Yes! He lifted his head when the cobra pulled; the pillow slid into place. The pale snake fell asleep on top of the sheet.

He looked comfortable now, snuggling under the blanket and his head resting on the pillow.

The frown was gone - his forehead was smooth. There were dark shadows of stubble on his cheeks and chin. His thick eyelashes were a soft black shock against the pale smooth skin under his eyes and made me think of butterflies.

The mouth fell open a little. Perhaps there would be drooling... Nice lips! Lick and suckle!

He smacked his lips. Ooh! Kiss, kiss. And rolled over to lie on the other side, mumbling when he moved. He wriggled around and lay still.

I moved so that I could see his face.

He was frowning again.

This just wouldn't do at all.

Perhaps he wanted another pillow to snuggle with. I found one on the floor. Or even better - I could fetch Violet. Perhaps he wanted both the pillow and Violet. Violet almost certainly would want him.

Hey, what about me!? I want him much more!

I sat down next to him to feed him the pillow. Yes! The cobra snaked out from under cover almost immediately after I sat down. It missed the pillow, though, and bumped right into my hip.

I sat still, hoping I hadn't woken him up. Chris needed another several hours of sleep.

The cobra snaked along my hip and across my thigh. Hey there! Welc- Watch out!


I sat very still when the warm jaws closed around my half-hard dick and my balls. I shivered, caught between alarm and something really, really nice. Nice snake. Help! The nice snake thankfully stopped moving once it had filled it jaws. The jaws slowly relaxed and let go, resting on top of the conquered booty that was doing its own snake-emerging parody.

I wondered if the cobra would accept a pillow for a substitute.

I tried to slide the pillow out from under the cobra. It came instantly awake, hooked my thigh with its jaw and constricted fiercely. It was more instinct than anything else that made me tense my muscles. Since my leg mostly stayed where it was, and the cobra was pretty determined, it was the sleeping Chris that got pulled across the sheet.

His head plunked down on my thigh. The snake slithered away and came to rest on the bed. Chris shifted a little, and relaxed with his nose touching my hip. A few of braids came to rest on my balls and across my dick.

It didn't look like a really comfortable position and I wondered if he still was asleep. He didn't move. I leaned back, resting on my arms and bent my sore neck slowly to look for the frown.

It was there.

He sniffed and nuzzled my hip. More braids slithered across my dick that had risen enough to touch the back of Chris' head. He made a whirring motion with his head, his nose digging into the skin just inside my hip, and I hissed from the pleasant pang of it. My dick jumped. Chris' frown deepened. His eyes fluttered open to slits. He grunted and lifted his head. His movement freed the way for my dick and its head slid along his cheek and bumped into his nose. Hi! Lick me? The cobra came alive and pushed the irritating thing away from Chris' face. Ouch! Er, nice touch? Help!

My hand closed around the cobra's neck before it could use my dick as an aid propelling Chris in one direction or the other. He blinked at my hand around his wrist, his own fist around my cock. Nice hand, very nice grip! A rub, please?

"Hng?" There was more blinking. "What... am I doing with your dick in my face?" Kiss me? Lick me? His voice was rusty from sleep.

I let go of his arm. "I think you were about to use it as some kind of handle."

He looked at my dick with sleepy curiosity and wriggled his wrist. Yes, yes... More...

"Ssss... Chris... Stop, please."


"Shut up."


"Sorry." I rubbed his shoulder. "Stupid dick talk."

Hey, stupid! I'm smart!

He let go of my dick.

Now look what you made him do! Stupid!

I slipped out from under him and got to my feet. He followed me with a sleepy dark gaze when I collected the pillows from the floor and made a nice pile of them at the proper end of the bed. I picked the sheet and blanket off him and waited for him to squirm into a comfortable position before I threw them over him and got in with him.

"Man with a talking dick. In Danish." muttered Chris when I snuggled against his back.

"Mhm." Nice place. Rub some? Rub a lot? Chris wriggled and my dick settled between his buttocks. Yes! I nuzzled his shoulder; the skin smelled of sleepy Chris, prompting me to take deep breaths. It was a good smell. "Sleep." What! Stupid mouth again. Rub me in this nice place!

"Okay." And he was out like a light - if he had been awake at all.

I couldn't see if there was a frown but didn't think there was; his body had gone totally slack, oozing comfort in a puggish way and pugs are very good at getting comfortable.

My dick was busy doing clandestine work. I was breathing the presence of Chris and it was a while before I became aware that my hand was wandering, moving about in the Sproing Reserve. While I was having a discussion with that body-part my hips began moving... During that debate my hand picked up its addiction to sproing and love trails. In the end I had to get up or I would have woken Chris up, making love to him while he slept. He wouldn't mind. I know! He really needed his sleep.

The night was still wrapped around the house and it was quiet. Daybreak was an hour or so away. The hot shower had mostly taken care of the crick in my neck and masturbation had taken the edge of my restlessness.

I was making dough for breakfast buns, taking pleasure in using my hands and letting my thoughts run loose. Using the machine was out of the question anyway, considering the awakening Mormor and I had hit Tom with the day before. I wasn't taking any risks today, wishing for Tom to have a nice and quiet morning. Paul would be over for brunch after church so Tom had very nice Sunday in view, even if his eyes still were closed in sleep.

I dumped the dough in a bowl and covered it, leaving it to rise, and started on the dough for the bread. It was very much routine and my thoughts were had begun working on the some of the problems that Kurt had sketched for me. The updated server had an unfortunate habit of getting caught in some process the reason for which he hadn't been able to track down. We were about to start the method of wild guesses and that was where I came in.

The dough was finished and I covered it, absentmindedly. For some reason my attention caught on the smoke-alarm in the ceiling and I snapped out of work-mode. Tom's voice echoed in my mind. The smoke-alarm should have started. Of course there could be anti-alarm elements in the smoke from burning chili con spirits...

Not trusting Chris' magic to shorten smoke-alarms, I washed my hands and eyed the thing, deciding to take it down and leave it on the counter so that I wouldn't forget about it again. I fetched a chair to stand on and peeled the alarm off the ceiling. The chair shifted a little when I was getting down and I caught myself against the backrest, bumping the alarm against it.

The world split open with a scream and the main gate to Hell sprung wide open - right in my grandmother's kitchen.

The keening noise coming from that cursed place cut through my head like a cutting torch. A spell of insanity immediately descended on me and I lost all will to move.

It was several seconds before I dawned on me that Hell was still safely sealed away and the noise was merely that of one of Hell's messengers. I tore myself out of the petrified state that had gripped me. My hands shook too much to pry the hellish apparatus apart; so it was back to basic problem solving strategies. I smashed the thing against the back of the chair. Small plastic shard flew off when it broke almost in two.

My ears were ringing and it was a moment before I was sure the basic strategy had worked.

I took pleasure in breathing but a small sound quickly put a stop to that pleasure. It had sounded awfully like a door opening.

Still shaking from the experience I turned to see Chris dressed only in boxers coming down the stairs. He eyed the wreck that I was holding and began laughing.

"Take this." I pushed the broken alarm into his hand and took a step away from him.

His eyes widened with realization. "Hey!"

It was too late. The were-bear appeared in the door open and pinned me to the spot with its evil stare. The glare slid over to Chris and stopped there. I could breathe a little easier. "You..." Its voice was gravelly with evil.

"Hi, Tom. Will you believe me when I say it was Mikkel that did it?" the little tattler said. He was far more awake than I had thought.

It growled lycanthropically and then I once again was the one to be immobilized by the glare. "Do you mind if we add smoke alarms to rule two?" It wasn't really a question.

I hadn't expected it to believe Chris that readily. The little imp was wriggling his tongue at me. Nice tongue!

The were-bear shifted and I knew I better say something fast. "Uhm. No. Of course not." Blast, the house rules kept growing.

"Thank you." It made to turn, then it stopped and stared at Chris whose tongue snapped back into hiding. "Are you sure that you are not involved in this?"

Chris nodded, eyes wide and innocent.

"Get some clothes on," it grunted and lumbered off and I knew that I was lucky to be alive.


But likely not for long. The dogs were barking too.

Chris gingerly put the smashed alarm on the counter. "After you." He sounded like he was having fun.

I sighed and went to see what Mormor wanted, though I thought I had a good guess. The dogs shot by me as I opened the door.

She had raised the head end of the bed and was sitting up. "What are you doing?" she whip-cracked.

"Uhm. Just an accident. Nothing's burning."


"Yes, I took the smoke alarm down to check on it and it just went off."

She grunted wryly. Her eyes were glittering. "I see. Checking smoke alarms at five past six on a Sunday. Why was it I didn't go to a nice, quiet resort?"

"You wanted to go home?"

"There is that." She cocked her head and the clouds left her face. "Is that Christopher out there?"

I turned to see what my lightning rod was doing. Chris was sitting on the steps to the kitchen petting Leika and Frida that were very happy to see him again. "Yes."

He stiffly got up and came over, the dogs dancing around him. "Good morning, Rose." He poked he head around me and his warm hand rested lightly against my back, the hair on his chest tickled my arm.

Mormor smiled. "Good morning, Christopher. How did the concerts go?"

"Great, thanks," he chirped. "I got you tickets for tonight's show. I know it's late, but... if you want to come?"

"Yes!" Yes! I was going to see Chris at work. Nice Chris dancing! Chris grinned at me, sparkling. Huggable. Really huggable. My arm twitched, touched warm skin.

Mormor chuckled. "Thank you. Of course we want. Where is it at?"

"Hard Rock Café here in Orlando, in a section for wheelchairs. I got one for Paul too."

"He's going to faint," I guessed. "Do you want coffee?"

Mormor shook her head. "I want to sleep. You look like you need another bit of sleep too, Christopher. Don't let my impossible grandson keep you awake with smoke-alarms. I want you to put on a good show for us tonight."

"He won't. I'm about to go out like light."

"Good. Mikkel, you be nice and quiet." She patted the blanket and Frida and Leika clambered back in bed.

"Adhering to the newly revised rule two, yes, Captain."

"Very smart of you. Now, close the door and let me sleep."

"All right. You beep me when you are getting up."



"Get out."

"Okay. But if I end up spending the evening in some hospital instead of going to a concert just because you've been stupid-"


I closed the door from the outside.

"What's rule two?"

"I think the new edition goes like 'don't turn on kitchen aids, power-tools or smoke alarms before Tom has had his breakfast'."

He yawned. "Hm. You know, it sort of makes sense."

"Yeah. I suppose. Tom is kind of a light sleeper."

"Well, he must be - if a smoke-alarm can wake him up." He blew at a couple of stray braids and grinned, his sleep puffed eyes gleaming.

I felt warm, a heat source in my chest were powering up. "When do you have to leave?"

"Uhm. Around three. We have sound check at four."

"Tuck you in?"

He smiled and made for my bedroom, diving under the blankets.

I sat down on the edge of the bed. The cobra caught my nose when I leaned in for nuzzling and I stared into a glittering darkness swirling with cosmic dust clouds. "That was a fucking mean thing to do, Mikkel."

I shivered at the prospect of threats. "I didn't do it on purpose." I am not good at bad excuses; they always fall short. Staring into the Universe didn't make thinking any easier.

"Didn't stuff the alarm into my hand on purpose? You think I'm stupid?"

"Oh. That. No. Well, it seemed like a brilliant idea at the time. Au!"

He gave my nose a squeeze before he let go. "It wasn't, man. You're gonna regret it."

"Yes?" Even I could hear the hope ringing in my voice.

Apparently that wasn't the proper response. He poked my sides in the most ticklish spots but didn't really fight me when I grappled for his arms and held him down. Which just went to show how tired he was. He lay still when I leaned in and suckled at his lower lip, his tongue came out to play, lazily, and it was a slow, wet kiss.

I pulled back; my lips were tingling and I was warm again.

"Uhm." His eyes were immense when he stared up at me. His gaze slipped down my face. When he wriggled his arms I let go of his wrists and he pulled my t-shirt out to look down at my chest.

"Perhaps you should get some sleep before you start freaking?"

"Nice tits."

"Wet t-shirt contest material."

Chris chuckled and nodded. "You know what really stinks?" he asked still looking inside my t-shirt.

"Really sweaty feet?" I nuzzled his hair.

"Something that's worse than that."

"Somebody else's really sweaty feet?"

"You think my feet stink?"

He smelled good. "Mmm, no. What has that got to do with anything?"

"I don't know, you're the one that brought feet into this."

"Aren't you supposed to be a flowerbed?"

"Shut up. Let me tell you what really stinks."

"You are not talking about feet?"

"No, man, I'm talking about regrets. They smell worse than your feet. Almost as bad as bored." He let go of my t-shirt and his head fell back on the pillow.

"Tell me about a stink-foot?" I wouldn't know about regrets being worse than bored. I didn't understand the concept of boredom that well, so I hoped that it wasn't an important part of the subject.

Chris yawned. "Already did."

"The signs in Cantonese?"


"What's so bad about them?"

"All the good sex I've missed out on in college," he grinned crookedly.

"Look at the bright side. You specialized in women instead. And now you have an entirely new field to explore. Isn't that a good thing?"

He frowned. "I do, don't I?"

"Yeah. Never mind you being a stupid ass not realizing you are bisexual before."

He punched my shoulder.

"Av. Did you talk with Joey?"

"Uhu. He laughed at me." Chris smiled. "He thought I was just being funny. I had to punch him really hard to make him believe me. Then he went, like, 'Dude, does that mean I can have your porn collection?'."

"Did you give it to him?"

"No, man. I'm bi not gay." He yawned. "Besides, Joey wouldn't appreciate the finer points. It's quality stuff and it would be wasted on him."

"Finer points in porn?"

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. Did you have a good talk?"

"Yeah. He's cool with me being bi."

That statement stirred an echo of the alarm. "You're not sure the other three will be okay with that?"

"They'll have to be." Another yawn tore his face. "Justin and Lance will just have to get used to it. But I want some more time before they find out. I need breathing space. And right now I wanna sleep."

"Okay. Sleep."

He pulled me down for another slow kiss. I had barely pulled back before his hand slipped from my shoulder. His eyes closed and he was out like a light.

Beautiful. It hurts.

It may end up hurting a lot more.

I don't want to think about that.

He didn't stir when I moved his arms and tucked the blanket around him. He looked comfortable so I left him and went back to the kitchen.

Some hours later I was deep in work trance, hammering away on the keyboard. Mormor was busy with the dogs. She had beeped me when she got up; perhaps she had only done it because she knew I had heard the dogs bark and would come looking in any case.

The text appeared on the screen, paragraph by paragraph. Kurt was reporting back, new mysteries were popping up in addition to the ones we already had. He didn't believe in my number one theory that an evil pixie had moved into the server; hence gassing was not an option though he did consider gassing in any case. Somebody put a mug down next to me and I absentmindedly picked it up. My nose told me it was coffee, which was a welcome thing, and I took a sip and swallowed it before I discovered just how disgusting it was - sticky and sweet. My biological system almost went into immediate shutdown.

"Bwadr!" A hand plugged the mug out of my hand before I threw it to the floor.

"Sorry. Wrong mug." Tom and offered me the one in his other hand. His eyes were laughing and at that moment I didn't believe in accidents.

I took the mug he offered me. The dark liquid smelled all right. I dipped my tongue in it. It didn't seem overly sweet so I dared a sip and found that the taste was just right. "Bastard," I muttered.

He grinned. "What are you doing?"

"Trouble-shooting. The server is not behaving like it is supposed to. We can't figure out a pattern to when it freezes. Just a sec..." I finished my message and sent it off and waited for Kurt's acknowledgement before logging off and cutting the connection. He would be busy for a good while.

Tom sat down across from me and switched his computer on. "I left your door ajar. Leika wanted in and Violet wanted out."

"Okay. Is Chris still asleep?" Snuggling and warm. All alone... Wake him up and do nice things to his nice body.

"Yeah." He eyed me, drinking the terrifying concoction. "When did he get in?"

I didn't think that that was the question he really wanted to ask but I answered it anyway. "Around one."

"Granny said he brought tickets for tonight." He was probing, I could tell from the sharp expression.

"Uhu." I wondered why he didn't just ask outright. Perhaps part of him didn't want to know. "Can you and Paul come?"

Tom chuckled. "It's not like I'm going to have a lot of choice in this. It's more like a question whether I want to arrive at the show bound and gagged or walking on my own feet."

Something about the way he said it alerted me, 'bound and gagged' had been a little soft at the edges. "Paul's into that?"


"Okay, okay. Just, if any of you are perhaps we should have a talk-"

"I don't know. I don't even know if I am. Alright?"

"All right."

He made a double click with his mouse and a moment later I could hear the modem working. "Are you?"

"Into bondage?"

He nodded.

"Sometimes. Depends with whom and when..." That wasn't much of an explanation. "Like, sex is something you have to figure out together and sometimes bondage fits. Sometimes it doesn't and that's fine too. Some people take the opposite approach, though. Like Kurt. He has some pretty unusual preferences and likes to find partners that fit those. I kind of go the other way, find the partner and figure out the sex."

"He's gay?"

"No. He's very much into women. He is also very aware of his sexuality." 'Shameless' was the word Lisbeth had used but I thought Tom had enough of that kind of words in his head.

Tom chuckled. "You mean he's horny?"

"Not more than most. I really meant just what I said - that he is aware"

"Uhm. Okay." He frowned at the screen. "You mind if I hog the connection for a while? This is some monster download."

I shook my head and he leaned back and watched the screen for a moment. "Uhm. How did we end up in this tangent?"

"'NSync show."

"Yeah... You got any clothes?"


"For tonight. Nice clothes. The green shirt would be alright but you can't go in jeans with holes and paint."



"Well-" My computer yawned and the screen blanked and would stay blanked for the next ten seconds.

"Am I boring you?"

"No. Just my wake up call. Time to get cooking. Paul will be here in half an hour or so. I got clothes, don't worry, I'll be presentable." Kamilla-stuff but I could wear it for an evening without getting hurt. "I'll wear my wetsuit."

Tom grinned. "You need help in the kitchen?"

I shook my head.


I went to look in on Chris. He was on his side, turned away from the door and still under the blankets and miraculously parallel to the sides of the bed. Leika was rolled up in a snug fit behind his bent knees. She looked up at me when I poked my head in, immediately putting her beg-face on, perhaps thinking I was about to throw her out. "It's okay," I told her and she put her head down on Chris' leg and snorted a deep sigh.

"Time to get up?" asked the lump in a sleepy voice.


He grunted and I closed the door quietly to let him have what sleep he could.

Not long after, Mormor rolled into the kitchen for a mug of coffee. "Aunt Green has begun to brake," she said, stirring the coffee.

I was cutting bacon. "I noticed. She even succeeds to get it right some of the times."

"If any of them have liver shunt it'll probably be her. Odd behavior and stunted growth are some of the symptoms." The spoon clattered into the sink when she threw it. "Did you tell Christopher about the liver shunt?"

"No. Is Aunt Green unusually small?"

"Until I heard about that liver shunt I would have said 'no'. I'll go make some phone-calls."

"You're hiring a hit-man just because some breeder got careless?"

"Now, that would be an unusual approach," she chuckled. "Not a bad idea, not bad at all." She turned the wheel chair. "A lowlife with a big, blunt knife and a lot of patience." She sounded like she meant it. The wheelchair whirred and accelerated out of the kitchen. Shortly after, I could hear her and Tom talking in the library.

One of the doors in the hallway opened. There was a soft patter of quick, bare feet moving away. Chris was up and had gone to say good morning to Busta. Which meant he would eat brunch with the rest of us.

I hoped fervently that Busta would be all right; liver shunt is not a small matter.

The bacon was cut. Brunch the way Mormor wanted it was an unhealthy affair, though there would be fruit and freshly made orange juice. I doubted Mormor would eat any of the fruit. On impulse I put some apples in the micro. Maybe she would eat baked apples with the pancakes. This was not the time for her to gain weight or get constipated.

The bacon got a quick fry on a saucepan and went into the oven too so that I could use the all saucepans for pancakes. By then the micro oven had pinged and the apples went into the oven, too.

The water began singing in the pipes; Chris had started his shower.

Naked, wet Chris!

The screen-door slammed and I could hear Paul kicking his shoes off. Violet came down the stairs just in time to welcome him. Everything was coming together neatly.

"Good church?" I asked Paul, not sure what one asked churchgoers coming back from church.

He looked up from Violet's patting session and smiled. "Yes."

"What was it about?"

He blinked. "About? Oh. Our obsession with youth... It was interesting."

Which wasn't at all what I had imagined it could be, so perhaps there was more to this church-thing than I had imagined.

Paul rose and brushed his hands against his pants. "I wish Tom would come," he added quietly so that his voice wouldn't carry to the library. "It would be good for him."

"I think the reverend Father Summer left him with some issues."

"Yeah. That man is sick in the head. Did Tom tell you about the things he's had to listen to?"

"Not in great detail." I flipped the first batch of pancakes onto a dish. "I wouldn't be surprised if he plays a prominent role in those nightmares that Tom can't remember clearly."

"Neither would I." Paul came over and watched what I was doing.

"If you're are going to steal one, please, wash your hands first."

He grinned and went over to the sink to wash his hands before making his raid.

"So you think Tom could use some kind of religious anti-dote?"

Paul hissed and juggled the hot pancake in his hands. "Yeah. Maybe just to be reminded that things can be different. I don't know. Summer is... powerful. You know what I mean?"

"Like people completely stop using their own brains and turn into his personal marionettes?"

Paul nodded, chewing.

"I've met a couple like that." Niller had warned me about them and that time I had listened and kept my distance and done what I could to keep Palle and Martin out of their circles too. Which had been battle, Palle having a thing for dangerous types. "You think Tom has been under his spell?"

He shrugged. "It's like Summer left a mark or something."

"Okay." Perhaps I could get Tom to take me to church next Sunday. A nice one, like Paul's.

Paul washed the grease of his hands and went to the library.

I mulled over our conversation. Somehow it was impossible not to believe that things would work out. Perhaps it was because of the pleasant feeling of Sunday in the house. There was talk and laughter in the library and faint but very nice sounds from the bathroom. Chris was singing. I repressed an urge to go up there and put my ear against the door.

Chris with soap all over! Want! Go!

My dick just had to accept following me around while I set the table. Mormor gave me a wave through the door, she was off to the back again. A minute later I could hear Tom and Paul laughing and then Tom called, "Mikkel?"

Judging by the evil undertone in his voice it was not a call that I wanted to answer. Especially not after he had received a monster download.



"Get in here. We wanna talk with you."

So not. "I'm busy." Busy planning how I could get Kurt back for this.

"Come on. We want explanations."

If they wanted proper explanations they could wait until we had eaten. I wasn't about to risk burning the food just because of a bunch of stupid photographs. "I'm cooking."

'Arranging flowers' would have been a more correct description. I'd gotten a couple of twigs with flowers from bushes the garden and I was trying to arrange them Japanese style but failing.

The water had stopped singing in the pipes and it wouldn't be long before Chris had finished and we could eat.

Tom and Paul came to the door. "Alright. Then just tell us what you are doing with a cardboard box on the top of your head and lipstick all over your face?" asked Tom. With a really stupid grin on his face.

"It's a beauty salon. Really, youth nowadays. Do I have to explain everything?"

"They use cardboard boxes in Danish beauty parlors?"

"They are hairdryers. Didn't you see the wires? Sheesh."

"I think he must mean the string taped to the side of the box," muttered Paul, watching me with eyes that were bubbling with laughter. "I don't get the wires sticking up, though."

"Antennae for the radio." I rolled my eyes at him. "It's the deluxe hairdryer model."

Tom was still grinning. "Hairdryers, right. And the girls are your nieces?"

"Sure. Peter and I were babysitting."

Tom pulled Paul with him. "Come on, let's look at the next one."

Walking around the counter that separated the dinner section from the cooking section I came face to face with Chris who stood in the door to the hallway, grinning impishly and quite edible wrapped in a smallish towel.

"Lipstick?" Water dribbled from his braids and drew glistening trails down his body. Wet Chris!

"You want to borrow a lipstick?" Lick water, water tastes like Chris, nice Chris. Lick!

There was a warm glow to him, the lips looked slightly swollen.

Rub me too!

He shook his head, spraying water, and held out a set of keys to me. "I forgot the bag in the car. You mind getting it?"

"No." A droplet clung to one of his nipples, glittering like a diamond.

Tom and Paul were laughing in the library.

Chris shifted under my gaze. "Move it, man. I'm missing out on something here."

I stuck my tongue out at him, snatched the keys and went outside and got the bag from Joey's car. The bag was an old shapeless thing with a scratched and faded Spiderman on it.

Chris was chewing on a pancake when I got back. "What took you so long?" He stuffed the rest of the pancake in his mouth and wiped his hand in the towel before reaching for the bag.

"Had to pump all four tires before I could make the key work." I stole a kiss from lips moving with chews and let him have the bag. When he turned I held on to a snip of the towel and he walked right out of it. He flashed me a grin over his shoulder and stopped, perhaps for another quick kiss, though likely it was for the towel.

In the library Paul was laughing hysterically and Tom yelled, "Mikkel - how do you get so much mud to stick to you?"

Chris got a near-panic expression in his eyes, and disappeared up the stairs, flashing foot-soles and nice pale buttocks, leaving the towel with me.

It appeared that there was yet one other thing that Chris might find worse than regret - missing out.

"Why, I roll in it, my dear. It's part of my beautification program," I yelled to Tom and got back to my job getting food on the table.

"You guys wait for me before you see the rest!" Chris yelled through the door to the living room.

Paul and Tom laughed and fell silent not long after that.

When Chris made it to the library, after getting dressed in impressively short time, there were frustrated complaints voiced loudly enough for me to hear the words. "You motherfuckers want me to wait?! Get away from that computer, you big-"

I yelled. "Guys, will one of you fetch Mormor? Food's ready."

"Okay." That was Paul who left towards the back.

Chris and Tom were still arguing. There was a thump and some scraping, both of them were swearing. I went to the library to see what was going on. Chris didn't have much luck trying to get a headlock on Tom. Tom wasn't taking any of his poking and tricks, and tackled Chris to the floor. I had to admire the way Chris could keep the string of oaths going through the rough manhandling.

"Tom!" That was Mormor rolling up next to me. Chris shut up with a snap.


"That is not a way to treat our guests. Let Christopher go. Now!"

"But he-"

"Tom, he is wearing glasses."

Tom sighed and got up, moving quickly and keeping an alert eye on his 'victim'. Chris had his back to me but I didn't need to see his face to know that he was sticking his tongue out at Tom before he brushed at his clothes, composing himself like a cat that has been caught in an embarrassing situation.

Mormor turned the wheelchair and made for the kitchen. Tom walked backwards to the door; he was sensible enough not to trust the innocence on Chris' face. Chris grinned and the innocence instantly melted away. Tom gave him the finger and slipped out of the library.

Since I was between Tom and Chris I got to be the one Chris jumped and gave a knock on the head. I tickled his knees and he slid down, clinging to me for a moment, all liquid hardness and warmth. He pulled my hair before he let go.

"That was cheating," he grumbled and poked my side.

"What? You get to tickle me but when I tickle you it's cheating?"

"Right. Rule number one-"

"Don't you start ruling at me too! Besides, rule number one is-"

"-don't walk around the house without any clothes on," said Tom from the kitchen.

We got seated and Tom said grace and we fell to.

It was a nice, slow meal and the talk went back and forth. Mormor didn't pick up the subject of liver shunts until the eating had ceased to occasional pickings.

"Is it fatal?" was Chris' first question, eyes glittering sharply, his face otherwise oddly neutral.

"Without an operation - yes. Medication can keep it at bay for a while. It's a dangerous operation and it's not always possible to operate."

"It didn't say anything about liver shunt in any of the books..."

"It's a new thing in pugs. Nobody knows a lot about it."

"Explain it to me."

Mormor arranged a pancake on her plate to illustrate a liver and added pieces of bacon to show the difference between a properly wired liver and a liver with a shunt. Not really table conversation, if you ask me, but nobody did, and I kept my mouth shut since everybody else were interested in the detailed description. Nobody seemed to find it odd when Mormor ate the shunt, leaving the rest of the illustration for the garbage can.

She invited Chris to come with us to the vet the next day. He didn't hesitate. "Sure, I wanna be there. Busta is having his x-rays taken!"

Mormor settled with the paper and the rest of us began clearing the kitchen. It took perhaps half a minute before I was left to do it alone. Then Chris tried to sneak off to the library and Tom and Paul were on him, not wanting him to watch pictures without them. Mormor sent me a questioning look.

"Kurt sent Tom stupid pictures of me. Tom's request," I told her.

"Oh." She folded up the paper. "Why didn't he tell me?"

I thought I knew but I shrugged anyway. "Ask him." And I hoped she would because Tom would be healthily embarrassed.

The wheelchair whirred and she was gone. I finished clearing the kitchen and went to see what they were laughing at. They didn't see me when I stopped in the doorway.

"Oh, dear," Mormor was struggling for breath.

"Man, that's a lot of naked in a public pool."

"Let's look at the next one."

"No. Tom, wait-" Chris had conquered the mouse.

"Chris! That's my cousin there. I don't need that closeup." Tom tried to grab the mouse but Paul held on to his arms from behind, grinning and red in the face.

"Well, look at the ceiling for a few minutes more, wimp." More clicks.


"I wonder what those nice girls are laughing and pointing at."


"That's a pair trunks she's holding..." Chris grinned. "Bet you he lost them when he jumped in."

Paul giggled and Tom groaned, "Next, damn it."

"Language," snapped Mormor happily.

Chris tapped the spacebar and suddenly they all sat very still. Chris was the first one to move, leaning forwards, his mouth shaping an oh and matching the shape of his eyes that had grown quite round. The cobra and its mate took defensive action, shielding the mouse.

Paul's body should have shrunk and his head grown to resemble a hot air balloon with all the blood that made its way to his face.

Tom watched the ceiling. "Next!"

"What kind of guy is this Kurt?" Mormor said in a clipped voice, not sounding like she really expected an answer. "I'll not have drug propaganda in my house. Next!"


"If it is anything then it's anti drug-propaganda," muttered Tom.

"Is that Mikkel?" asked Paul; he was firmly attached to Tom's arms, his knuckles white.

Tom grimaced and looked at the screen. "Mikkel's got a scar like that."


"Uhm, what's that... thing?"

"A chillum, that's a hash-pipe." Mormor tapped Chris on the shoulder with her index finger, ignoring Tom's questioning gaze. "Next."



Chris was still staring at the screen; the left cobra brushed in the general direction of the irritation of Mormor's poking. "Does that work?"

"No," snapped Mormor. "Next."

Shit! Kurt got into the boxes under my bed. Haven't I told him they are off limits? I can't remember...

Still a little unsure of my guess, not wanting it to be true, I went over to see what they were looking at.

Mormor was maneuvering the wheelchair, perhaps so that she could get the keyboard within her reach.


The screen showed a black and white photo of a pale ass high in the air, obviously it was a man's ass and it had a chillum firmly planted in it. There was a ragged scar on the right buttock. Martin was holding a burning lighter, about to light the chillum, a serious and concentrated expression on his face.

He would look like that when he was screaming with laughter on the inside.

I'm going to feed Kurt's balls to the birds. With him still attached to them.



Breathe. "Sure, it works. Actually, we had to take out the chillum to light it properly and then reinsert it. It's hard to create a lot of suction in that position. But it works if you're patient. It's good... goes right to the balls..."

Chris turned. I could feel his suspicious gaze on me and shut my mouth before I destroyed his fragile doubt with my babble. "Good - as long as you don't fart, huh," he said dryly.

I nodded. Tom had turned to look at me. He opened his mouth and closed it again, somewhat concerned.

Mormor snorted, taking advantage of Chris no longer shielding the keyboard with his body she tapped the spacebar.

My heart skipped a beat in fearful anticipation; I did not trust Kurt...

Phew! We were back in the beauty parlor.

"That was the last one," Chris said and hit the spacebar again to make sure. It was a picture of Kurt and me with some friends at a soccer game, all of us in full 'uniform' and looking as trashed as we had been. He flipped back to the beauty parlor. "What's that in Peter's hair?"

I had to think for a second. "Tooth picks and pieces of kitchen roll?"

"I like that."

Paul blinked at Chris apparently unsure whether he had meant that. I couldn't tell either.

Tom grunted. "I can't believe Kurt sent that. He's a f-"


"You asked for it," I grinned. "Be careful what you ask Kurt for, you might get it..."

"You could ask him for another batch," suggested Chris. "What was his email address?"

"No more drug pictures! That one was quite enough. You tell him that, Tom."

"Sure. I'll tell him several somethings. Mikkel, is he online?"

"Yes. He's probably busy. I'd rather you waited distracting him, if you can. We really need this server up and running before tomorrow hits Denmark."

"Why? What's up?" asked Tom.

"The server running the new services is unstable which is rather bugsome. There's a virus making the rounds and it looks like it'll hit Scandinavia in earnest by tomorrow or the day after. We would like to be ready to ride the panic wave." Danish companies are notorious for being sloppy with their security.

"Like vultures," said Chris and mimicked evil, flying birds with his hand. I nodded. He got up. "I'll go see what Ms. Connigan wants with me." He eyed me. "You sure she didn't say what she wanted?" So he had caught on to something when I told him that she wanted to see him.

Tom got busy choosing a new awful wallpaper for his desktop.

I shrugged. "Have her way with your handsome body? Maybe you should bring a pitchfork."

Chris smirked and bounded out of the room, the bunched braids swinging from side to side. He went out the front door and bounced down the ramp, making the entire house shake. Then he ran back up the ramp and bounced down once more, giving the house another shake, before he was off across the street.

I walked over to my own computer and logged on.

Kurt had made headway. There was a short message waiting for me, saying that he had called off the pest control, so he was probably deep in check procedures.

"You gonna hog the connection?" Tom asked.

"Just a minute and it's free. Kurt's busy."

"I want to check my mail," muttered Mormor.

Tom frowned at her. "I was first."

"I'm the impatientest," she declared, quite sure it would trump anything. It did, Tom grinned and rolled his eyes.

I downloaded my mail and sorted briefly through it before I started on some of the other chores that waited.

Mormor stayed around for a while, mostly making phone calls to pug owners and asking about pedigrees. I wasn't really aware that she must have left the room before a couple of slim, masculine arms slipped around me, folding themselves across my chest. A wet tongue licked my ear.

"Mmm. Hi, Chris." I saved my work and shut the computer down, shivering.

"Tom asked if we wanted to play ball."

"What did you tell him?" I nuzzled his arm, the soft hairs tickled my nose; his skin was warm and smelled of Chris and soap.

"That we could catch up with them. He and Paul went to the park." He nibbled at my jaw; his breath was warm and moist against my skin. "Wanna get naked in bed with me?"

Yes!! Right now!

I turned my head and I think he must have been expecting that because his lips were right there, soft and welcoming, eager tongue pushing into my mouth.

A grin tugged at his mouth when he pulled back and his eyes sparkled. I blinked and had to collect my scattered thoughts before I opened my mouth to say something but he slapped a hand across it. "Don't ask if I'm sure or if I'm gonna freak. One more fucking stupid question like that and I'll do really evil things to you. Okay?"

I nodded and licked his palm, tasting salt. He chuckled and removed his hand.

"What evil things?" The thought of having Chris doing evil things to me made my belly clench and set off small electric impulses to my balls and dick, tickling sweetly.

"Force-feed you five gallons of industrial waste with ice needles in it through your dick with a foot pump."

The sweet tickle stopped immediately, and my dick fell very silent. I should have known he could come up with something truly horrendous. "Av!"


"What I was going to say - it would be easier for me to get up if you weren't leaning on my shoulders."

He let go and grasped my wrist, pulling me out of the chair and continued pulling me with him before I found my balance. When I stumbled he merely sped up, dragging me through the library and into the living room.


He just laughed. And pulled me towards the ramp.

I heard the whir from the hallway a split second before Chris swerved, still pulling me along. I bumped against him and we tumbled to the floor, me on top of a flattened, swearing Chris that sounded somewhat out of breath.

I untangled myself and rolled off him. Mormor had stopped the wheelchair just below the ramp and looked down at us; concern and mischief mingled in her eyes. "Are you okay, boys?"

"Chris, are you okay?"

He grinned and rolled up to sit, panting. "How many legs am I supposed to have?"


"Check. Feet?"


"Uhm, something's missing..." He pulled at my leg. "Gi'me back my foot, you thief."

Mormor laughed.

"Traffic lights, I said we should have traffic lights. Av!" Chris was trying to break my foot off. "Av! Chris you have them. Look..."

He stopped mangling my foot and frowned at his own feet.

I pointed to his left foot, twice, "one, two," and to his right foot, "three. They are all there."

"Oh," he smiled. "I miscounted."

"Yes." He wasn't wearing his glasses, I looked around, found them and passed them to him.

"What did you two think you were doing?" Mormor asked.

"Going to my room to have sex. Then we ran into Mr. Toad."

Mormor frowned at me. "Are you calling me Mr. Toad?"

"No, of course not. Chris is Mr. Toad."

"Hey!" He slapped the back of my head.

Mormor shook her head and aimed her vehicle at the library. "Did Mr. Hamhead Fraser call me back?" There was an amazing acceleration in the wheelchair.

"Nobody called."

"Flibbergibling idiot is hiding, I know it," she muttered to herself as she drove into the library.

"Is Hamhead really a name?" I asked Chris.

"Sure. Quite common in parts of Mississippi, actually." He rolled up to stand and I got up too, wondering if I had just asked an 'alligator-question' but forgot about it again when the laughter in Chris dark eyes sparked champagne bubbles in my chest; I grasped Chris' wrist and pulled him with me to my room.

We were laughing by the time we tumbled onto the bed. Chris wrapped himself around me, and there was kissing, frantic slides of lips and tongues, moist heat.

Yes! Chris-taste!

I slipped my hands under his t-shirt, wanting to get at naked skin. His small muscles flexed, straining with strength when he pulled me on top.

Chris' hand traveled down my back, following my spine, touching that place, right above my ass, making white sparks run wild up and down my spine. The sparks zapped my brain for a moment.

He pushed me away and rolled out of the bed. At first I thought something was wrong. Then I saw fiery eyes smiling impishly at me.

He performed the quickest striptease I have ever seen. The clothes blurred and flew off his body on their own. It had to be a magic trick; nobody can move their hands that quickly. For some reason it made me think of phone booths, though not for very long.

Beautiful Chris! Naked and nice. Rub me in him.

I reached for him but he batted my arms away and tore into my clothes and began pulling them off me. His hard, small hands poked my tickle-spots if I wasn't cooperating quickly enough, which happened several times, since he momentarily had grown an extra two sets of arms, all six hands giving me confusing directions.

"What's so funny?" he asked and dumped my underwear on the floor.

I lay laughing on the bed. "I think... I think we have to practice that."

"Later." His eyes narrowed. "You don't plan on putting clothes on now, do you?"

I was about to say 'yes' just to see what evil he would come up with, but then it was too late. Chris launched himself at me. I jerked, suppressing an impulse to curl up to protect myself, staying where I was despite the frantic 'Help!' from my dick when Chris was in mid-air. He landed heavily on me, cushioning the landing against the bed with his arms and legs and not doing damage to any vital parts.

"Oomph!" He still managed to knock the wind out of me.

"You know what I really like about gay sex?" He lay splayed on top of me. I was busy playing dead.

A finger poked my side.

I opened an eyed and looked at him. "Nnn?"

"Not having to hold back." He jumped up and down for emphasis.

"Nnn!" I closed my eyes, playing dead a couple of seconds more, trying to form my answer. "Not that I am complaining, just, this time I would like to last more than two minutes."

"That's not-" My grin escaped and he poked me. "Dude."

"You masturbated in the shower..."

He smiled and licked my nipple.

I shivered. "I would like to see that."

He squinted at me, grinning a little. The pink tongue flicked my nipple.


"You wanna watch me beat off in the shower?"

"Yes." Yes! Yes! "And not holding back." Tell him about the soap!

"You're crazy, man." But he was smiling. "Your dick's talking."

"Mhm. Telling me to tell you about the soap."

He laughed. It didn't take much pulling to convince him to come up for a kiss. His tongue was intent on exploring every corner of my mouth; in between it was quite a heated battle - I wanted to explore his mouth too. My tongue ended up sucked into a trap and getting suckled. His hands were buried in my hair, making sure I didn't escape.

I could feel his heart beating.

Nice partner, drooling. Nice slide. More! Rub, rub.

His back was warm, my fingers slid easily along the trail of sweat along his spine, down to cup his ass. The soft padded velvet contrasted delightfully with the flexing of hard muscles when he squirmed. He shivered and pressed against my hands, his belly doing wonderful things to our trapped dicks.

Ooh. Go, go!

I pulled back and spoke into his mouth. "Lay on your side, let me gnaw your neck?" Knowing that if he didn't get off me then we would get caught in red heat again and it would be over much sooner than I wanted.

He rolled off, bent his head and pushed his braids away, offering me his neck. He grunted and wriggled when I slid my mouth and tongue over his skin.

Nice, happy Chris-sounds. More!

Lick by lick and bite by bite I proceeded to get myself dizzy and drunk on him.

The warm skin of his chest and belly caressed my hand, the hair tickled my wrist, the sproing snuggled right into my touch.

Oh, and the nipples... if I spread my fingers I could rub both of them with one hand.

Nice squirm, nice Chris-wriggle.

He reached behind us and grasped hold of my ass and pushed himself up against me. I was no longer sure whose pleasure it was that sent electric currents dancing along my spine and spinning in my balls.

I am happy!

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea-

Are you mad? This is great!

I pushed away, pulling my protesting dick from its heaven between Chris' lively buns.

He twisted around, his eyes were heavy-lidded and swirling with heat and it was all I didn't pull him back up against me-

Do it! Doitdoitdoit...

"Dick is going crazy," I muttered and Chris laughed soundlessly and let me push him onto his belly so I that could ravage his back with my mouth and hands.

My tongue found the tiny fold of skin under his left buttock, and the fold was full of secrets. Chris hissed and squirmed. It wasn't just the little fold - the entire gorgeous Chris-ass was a mine of good spots.

When I pushed his legs further apart his head came up and he looked questioningly at me over his shoulder. I wriggled my tongue to tell him what I was about to do and he grinned. His voice was husky. "Well, you're the gourmet around here, man."

Which was kind of funny and I just had to open my mouth wide over one of his buttocks and blow to make a fart sound. Chris laughed and wriggled, spreading his legs even further. I forgot about fart sounds and dove into the musky cleft. And, yes, he liked that too, grunting softly deep in his throat, making me all fuzzy and achy inside. It was easy to ignore 'me too, me too, me too!' when he squirmed and sounded like that.

Somewhere in the heat of it all I remembered that I really wanted to suck him off. When I rolled him over I got a wild-eyed glare and he growled at me; swollen, red lips pulled back baring white sharp teeth.



Kissing him was like diving into a hot spring.

Our tongues had hardly touched when the cobra grasped my wrist and determinedly tried to rub my hand against Chris' hard and burning dick.

I wrenched myself free of his mouth. "Do you want me to suck you off?"

The cobra let go of my wrist and came up to push at my shoulder.

"Let me get rubbers."

Chris groaned impatiently but the cobra stopped pushing. I got up and sat astride his thighs, stretching to get condoms from the bedside drawer, checking their color. I wanted those without lubricant or taste.

A sweaty hand closed around my dick.

Happy me!

Confetti-lights danced in front of my eyes. Never mind the color of the wrappings, there were condoms in my hand and that was enough. I needed that hand for balance.

Hand still moving on my dick, Chris sat up and seared me with a kiss.

This time it was him that pulled back. He let go of my dick and fell back on the pillow, watching me with eyes that bled velvet darkness.

Ride him!

No. Breathe.

Want Chris inside!

"Shut up."

I wasn't aware I had spoken before Chris grinned. "What's it saying?"

"Ride him. Want Chris inside."

"You can do that..."

Want to!

I crawled off him. "I really want your dick down my throat; that way I get to know it better."

He grunted, and spread his legs making room for me, watching me crouch down.


Veins stood out on his dick; it looked painfully hard. It was drooling on his belly and jumping with his pulse. Chris had stilled, the touch of his gaze as tangible as that of the hand on my shoulder.

His smell... I nosed the soft spot between his dick and balls. Soft things, warm and hairy... I licked them and he shivered.

Beautiful, so beautiful. Chris!

I moved up to rest on my hands and knees. Chris glared at me, doing his damnedest to will me...

I snarled at him and he snarled right back, eyes flashing heat and laughter. He gasped when I put a hand on his belly to hold him down and bent my head, clicking my teeth less than a centimeter from his cock. His hands moved to push my hair away so that he could watch me bite the shaft gently with sharp teeth. He shuddered and grinned a little. The grin disappeared when I made to bite into the flaring, purple head. "Shit!" he muttered and lay still, watching me with round eyes, his belly clenching under my hand.

A lot of tongue, then, like a cat licking its kitten. Only the skin of this kitten was naked and thin, stretched tautly over hard muscle and veins. He liked that, pushing himself upward for more.

Nice Chris-grunts.

I fumbled around on the bed and found a condom and tore the wrapper off it. Luck hadn't been with me; synthetic strawberry smell assaulted my nose.

I rolled the condom on him and suckled the round head, tracing the ridge with my tongue. Chris groaned; it sounded somewhat relieved.

His hips bucked, continued bucking when I poked the small slit with the tip of my tongue. I rode the motion; the head slipped in and out of my mouth while I sucked and licked, rubbing the good spots with my tongue and lips.

Give him more!

I leaned forward and met his motion; his dick slid into me. Chris groaned and grabbled at the sheets and his legs came up. The head pressed against the walls of my throat, going in deep. Then there was no further to go; the bramble tickled my nose.

I wanted to take him there. Pulled back to move in again, sucking and licking and using the muscles in my throat.

Yes! Like this! Again...

Chris let me, shivering and grunting. His hands came up to tangle in my hair, urging me on, not quite pushing.

His pleasure rolled off him in waves; he was taking it all. I would have laughed with joy of his abandon if my mouth hadn't been busy.

Beautiful Chris squirming!

He growled and arched, his cock swelled and the growl became a high-pitched mew almost outside hearing range. His dick pulsed and he fell back on the bed.

His hand flailed limply, telling me he was oversensitive and please...

Carefully I slipped him out and removed condom.

Chris was sprawled on the bed, glistening chest laboring. Clear diamonds sparkled in the hair at his temples.

Sated and beautiful.

Eyelashes fluttered against flushed skin. Butterflies...

It was a dizzying revelation that the axis of Earth's spin was Chris' eyelashes but it had to be - nothing could be that beautiful and not have the world spin around it.

I lay down next to him, in need of snuggling, and he cooperated somewhat groggily. I hugged him close, his head resting on my shoulder for a long stretch of quiet.

"Man...," he sighed.

"Yes. All man."

I could feel his cheek move when he grinned. He ran a finger up my dick before slipping his arm across my chest and snuggling closer, flinging a leg across me. "Yeah. A dick and no boobs."

"Hm." I sniffed his hair and relaxed; the tug in my balls would fade in a moment. The skin on his back and buttocks was sated and soft, oozing wellbeing.

"Gi'me a minute," he muttered. "Promise, I'm not gonna embarrass myself twice."

"You are embarrassed about what?"

"Last night, man. Now let's talk about something else."

"Mm." I debated with myself and decided to ignore his request. "I like my bed-partners unconscious. Then they don't protest when I start on the really perverted stuff."

"You did kinky stuff to me while I was out?"



"Do you think you might want sex with me again some other time?"

"Probably. Sure. What kinky stuff?"

"Not going to tell you. You wouldn't want sex with me if you knew and I really, really want sex with you again."

"Just tell me already."


His head came up. Dark eyes glittered, the gaze roamed my face. I cupped the back of his head, pulled him in for a kiss. His swollen lips were soft; a warm tongue snaked around mine, curious and lazily playful. A naked kiss, furry aching pangs... My whole body was humming a mantra.


He pulled back and sniffed my breath. "Strawberries?"

I grimaced. "Wrong kind of condom."

He grinned and turned his head, looking me over. I didn't need to see his face to know where his gaze was going, my skin grew warm under its touch, glowed.

Yes! Look at me! Yes!

"Yelling at me, are you?" He slid a finger up the hard talker, making it jump and the rest of me shiver with anticipation. He turned his attention to my chest.

Hey! What about me?!

He chuckled as if he could hear it. He ran his hands through the hair, playing with the curls.

Hot breath on my nipple.


A light touch of soft lips, moist heat.

A hand slid across my belly.

Lick, lick nipple. Now! Don't stop! Yes!


A light touch to the inside of my hip sent a jolt through me. Chris paused and tried again, causing another jolt.

Yes! Good spot! More!

He chuckled and rubbed the spot. Light and heat sizzled in my blood when his hot mouth clamped down on my nipple, sucking hard. His tongue was a silken, dangerous thing, pushing the nub against sharp teeth. He slid and moved against me, using his whole body for caresses.

There was no more coherent talk from my dick; I was adrift in pleasure.

I was thrumming and close to the edge by the time he slid down me.



"Man, your dick is loud."

"I know! Please, do something..."

He laughed and nodded, braids sliding over my skin like sun-warmed thin snakes, the cobra's jaws closed around my dick, and there was hot breath on my balls when he bent his head and a the silken dangerous tongue...

Moremoremorewant! Yesss...

I followed my balls into a cave with soft walls, breathing red heat.

What? Nooo!

Left floundering in the surface. My head cleared and I looked down, looked right into a star factory...


With a shaking hand I fumbled under me and found a one.

His eyelids moved in a slow, innocent blink... "Strawberry, please."

"Fuck you." I checked the color and threw the thing away, fumbling for the other itching thing under my ass, relieved when I found that the wrapper was lush green.

Hurry quick hurryquickquick...

Not trusting him not to tease, I tore the wrapper with my teeth and jammed the condom on.

"Shit. How did you do that?"


He sent me a perky grin. And slipped a hand around my dick.

Come on!

A pink tongue flicked like a soft whip against the head. I jumped with the sudden hard tug in my groin.


Chris heard that and showered me with tongue flicks.

Then he licked along the length. Paused. Kissed the head. Licked it. The dangerous tongue traveled along the ridge, exploring the shape. He was teasing me, and I bit my lip to keep my dick from speaking directly out of my mouth, knowing he probably needed a while to adjust and I didn't want to push him...

Besides, I was enjoying the suffering. A lot.

His hands were stroking me, his joy reached under my skin, tracing glowing tracks.

A tweak of one of my nipples sent me reeling. The teasing was over; his hands, lips and tongue were determinedly doing wonderful things. My dick mercifully shut up, or maybe it was just that we were speaking with one voice, swelling with the pleasure, rolling in the surf of heat and light.

Tumbling in the crest of a huge wave.

The long fall through feathery heat...

The slow clearing of my mind.

Chris was still down there, resting his head on my thigh and looking at me with soft brown eyes. The condom was gone from my dick. He smiled and crawled up to lay half on top of me, pulling the sheet with him before coming in for feather-like kisses.

The sheet slid over a wet, slippery spot on my leg. His dick pressed against me, soft, swollen and slick. The information moved sluggishly around in the back of my mind for a good while before it came together with a snap. My heart clenched and melted.

He moved like liquid and was quite willing to tangle and kiss. His arms snaked around my neck and held on. We kept kissing until the world spun and I was out of breath. My weird heart was quite happy to lie in a puddle under the bed while the rest of me melted into the mattress.

Chris looked at me with eyes gone dark again. There was a glimmer of something I knew I should recognise only it was gone too quickly. "We stink," he murmured.

"Mmm." I pushed his arm up and buried my nose in his hairy armpit, drinking his heady smell and licking the intoxicating taste off him.

He squirmed, revealing the secret of the armpit being a tickle-zone, and grabbed me by the hair and eventually managed to drag me away. "That's it. No more smooches until you've cleaned up your face. I'm so not gonna eat my armpits off your mug."

"You already ate your ass."

"So what? I've got standards, man."

Which of course was a challenge and I took him up on it, making him eat both his own words and the taste of his armpits. Not that he fought much after I made initial contact and he let me suckle his tongue for a good while before he pushed my head away. "Pervert."

"Utmost delicate. Rates right with the Frizengeist."

Chris grinned and poked me before he snuggled, apparently quite pleased being compared to the kind of German spirits that needed burning before they were drinkable.

The bed was a very good place to be in. I felt quite rich with an armful of dozing, sex-sated Chris pressing me into the mattress, and swam in it, dozing and not really wishing for anything more.

Coming to again was nice too. Chris had been drooling on me. He jerked a little; that was what had woken me up. He rubbed his nose against the crook of my shoulder and settled again with a sigh.

A flickering touch of an eyebrow told me he was awake and I nuzzled his hair.

"What've you been up to while I was gone?" he asked.

"I think you can guess most of it... Remember the ghost-riders?"

"Yeah. Met them again?" His head came up and he looked expectantly at me. "Got me a ride?"

"No and no. One of them has been looking for me, Niller, the Gold Wing. I talked with him on the phone on Wednesday."

"Ha! There you go, barbarian infidel. It was a premonition. I knew it!" He rested his cheek on my shoulder and looked at my face. "So, what did he want?"

"One of our old friends are in hospital with AIDS. He asked Niller to find me since I might have gotten it from him." Chris suddenly lay very still. "I haven't."

He drew a deep breath. "What about your friend?"

"Niller would have called if it had gotten critical. It's bad but not really bad, still... It's been eight years. I really want to talk with him, them, but not on the phone. Guess I'll have to. I keep thinking..."

"You're not sure he'll be alive when you get back."

For some reason it was good to hear somebody say it out loud even though it hurt. "Yes. Hard to talk with somebody if he's dead."

"Yeah. Are we talking about your first boyfriend here?"

"No, this is Palle. He used to be a very close friend. My boyfriend was Martin."

"The Virago."

"Yes. And the guy lighting the chillum."

"Why wasn't the ghost-rider Palle?"

"I don't believe in premonitions, remember?"

"It's still a good question. The photograph counts too. That's Martin twice."

Because Martin may have 'it' too and I am scared and worrying really doesn't do anybody any good. "Coincidence. I'm not sure I know any of them anymore and there's unfinished business between us. It's high time I faced all of them and we got things finished somehow."


"No. I just know. Partly, because of Palle. Also, I am frigging tired of dragging this unfinished business around; it is heavy luggage. I want to be free to move around in my life and I'm getting kind of desperate about it. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yeah." He nuzzled the hair on my chest before continuing. "When we came back from Europe, I had to tie up some things too. It cost me my apartment and my car."

"What happened?"

Chris moved away to lie on his belly, resting on his elbows, his shoulder touching me. "Cheryl is one of my mother's old friends; she helped us a lot when I was a kid. We really owe her and I went to see her because, well, we hadn't talked in a long time and my mum was a bit worried that maybe something was wrong... It turned out that it wasn't Cheryl but her daughter that was in trouble. That's Sally. She and her kids needed a place to stay in a hurry. There went my apartment."

I rubbed his shoulder.

"After that I went looking for my dad. Man, that was a mistake. Or I should have taken the bus. I don't know."

"Your bio-dad?"

"Yeah. He's a fucking bum." Chris glared at the mattress. "My dad stole my car, left me like in the middle of nowhere at some stupid gas station. Fucked up, huh." He plucked at the sheet, frowning. "He didn't even ask. It wasn't like we'd been fighting or anything."

I suppressed a flare of anger and an urge to fly out the house with a rolling pin in my hand. "Maybe bio-dads have a thing about cars. Mine's a used cars dealer, a crook and a politician. I haven't told him I have started a business; he'll just try to use it when he finds out."

Chris squinted at me. "You two talk?"

"Not really. I talk with my aunt. She's nice. Can you talk with your dad?"

He snorted and shrugged. "About some things, yeah, I guess. Right now I'm so pissed that I don't now if I want to see him again and that's bad. I really liked that car; it was like an old friend, you know?"

I nodded. I had felt the same thing about the bikes I had owned.

"I guess he's sold it or lost it in a game of pool by now. Fucker." He rolled onto his back. "My mum went, like, 'I told you'. I hate it when she's right."

I rolled onto my side so that I could see his face. His impossibly amateurish pout made me laugh. His face cleared and he grinned, and I knew he didn't at all mind being outsmarted by his mother. The cobra gave my nose a pull.

I became aware of an itch in my feet. Chris tried to stick a finger in my ear and I batted his hand away. Perhaps he was getting restless too. "How about we go play some ball?"

He raised his head and looked at the clock. "Cool. I get first dibs on the shower." He rolled out of bed.

I folded my arms under my head and watched him get into his boxers and t-shirt almost as quickly as he had gotten out off them. "I'm really looking forward to see you at work tonight."

He smiled and glowed. "We're gonna blow the roof off."

"Okay. We will wear safety helmets and umbrellas at your show."

He laughed and bounded out off the room, presumably to take his shower, and I got up too.

Chris had left the bedroom when I finished my shower. It was a good guess that he was with the pups. I went to the kitchen to get us something to drink. The door to the living room was open and I could hear Mormor talking on the phone.

For a moment her voice rose enough for me to make out what she was saying. She sounded pissed. "Not hereditary?! Mr. Fraser, that is the worst nonsense I have heard so far..."

I sipped my soda, straining to hear more but she had lowered her voice too much for me to make out the words. The call ended with the sound of a phone being slammed down on its cradle.

I picked up the drinks and the water bottles, about to sneak off.

But, "Mikkel, is that you?"


"I want a drink."

Since she could get at the fridge easily enough I figured she wanted some of the stuff that was out of her easy reach.

Her mutter proceeded her like a dark, flashing thundercloud. "... flibbergibling idiot, spineless get of a jellyfish, smelly blob of quivering snot..."

"Schnaps?" I had bottle and glass ready.

"Yes!" She rolled around the counter and stopped the wheelchair. "Guess what that son of a rotten cod said! Not hereditary!" She took the glass and drank half of it before continuing. "Too stupid to walk and pick his nose at the same time. Mikkel, how do I go about hiring a hit-man with a big, blunt, serrated knife?"

"Put an advertisement in the paper?"

Mormor chuckled humorlessly and emptied the glass. "Is Christopher with the pups?"

"Yes. We'll go to the park in a moment. Anything you want me to do first? Apart from hiring hit-men with rusty bread knives."

I held up the bottle in a silent question and she shook her head in answer. "No. I'm going to call Karen."

"Did you get the information you wanted?" I could hear soft pads of quick feet from the hallway.

"No." She slammed the empty glass down on the counter. "I didn't get any information." The chair whirred and swung around. "And Mikkel?"


"Don't you dare harm Christopher's career with PDAs."


"Public displays of affection." Chris bounded down the stairs. "Hi, Rose. Did you find out more?"

"No. Flibbergibling idiot Hamhead Fraser said liver shunt isn't hereditary. Can you believe it? Not hereditary! The man has snot for brains." She rolled off. "I'm going to flay that son of-"


"I am not listening." She was almost out of earshot anyway. "Just find me that hit-man."

"She's pissed," I told Chris and passed him his orange juice.

"No kidding," he breathed. "Hit-man?"

"Yep. One with a big, blunt, serrated knife and a lot of patience for evil."

Chris grinned and downed his orange juice, eyes closed and throat working furiously. He gasped for air when he had finished.


He shook his head. I put the glasses away and turned to find him watching me. His dark gaze pulled at me and I followed the pull, finding a kiss at the end of it.

We had been naked together only moments before; yet his clothes were still hiding secrets...

"Existential crisis. I want to take your clothes off and have sex with you and I want to go play ball because my feet are itching."

His eyes twinkled and he squeezed me. "Ball."

"Beat your ass."

"No way! You European guys are hopeless at basketball."

I growled, not about to let him know that he had a point. He would find out early enough. It was almost ten years since I last had played basketball and the rules were somewhat fuzzy in my memory.

There was bound to be a lot of fouls.

* * * * * * *
End of chapter

©Morgenfryd 2002