Butterflies Fly Free - by BW Copyright 2007 by billwstories

Chapter 2: Colt.

**Author's Note:** Please read the disclaimer in Chapter 00 before you read this.

"I hope you like what you see," Colt teased, when he noticed what I was looking at. This caused me to turn a bright shade of red and yank my gaze away from his privates.

"Oh, uh... I'm... uh... sorry, Colt," I stuttered, chagrinned and embarrassed that I had been caught in the act. I was finding it hard to deny my attraction to him.

"It's okay," he assured me. "I don't mind. Besides, it's the least I can do, after all you've done for me." Even though he meant his comment to make me feel better, it only made me feel worse.

"I'm sorry, Colt, I had no right," I told him. "I should have turned away immediately and you don't owe me a thing. Please, accept my apology for gawking at you."

"You didn't like what you saw?" Colt asked, confused. I could see that same hurt expression returning to his face that I had seen earlier.

"I didn't say that," I quickly corrected him. "It's just that I didn't have the right, or your permission, to stare at your equipment that way."

"Then you are attracted to guys, right?" he asked, seriously, but I couldn't help but laugh.

"Didn't you approach me outside of a gay bookstore, after I bought a couple of gay DVDs?" I responded. "Of course, I'm gay."

"You bought gay DVDs?" Colt squealed excitedly, causing me to wonder if he'd heard the rest of my statement. "Can we watch them now?" he begged, finding it difficult to contain his enthusiasm. I couldn't help but laugh again.

"Whoa, let's slow down here a bit," I choked out, between giggles. "How old are you and are you trying to tell me you're gay too?" It was Colt's turn to blush.

"Okay, I guess it's time for me to tell you about myself," he conceded, "but this still isn't going to be easy."

I had a feeling I knew a little about what he might reveal, but we both moved over to the sofa and got comfortable, so Colt could fill me in about his background. "I'm seventeen," he began, which startled me. His face made him look no older than fourteen, at least in my mind, even though he had assured me he was older when we first met. He must have noticed my look of disbelief, because he stopped speaking, got up and ran back to the bedroom he had chosen to stay in. I thought I had bruised his feelings and was about to go apologize, when he came trotting back into the living room, carrying his school identification card. He handed it to me and I examined it. I quickly discovered he had recently turned seventeen and was a high school junior. As it was spring, he was at the end of that academic year. When I looked up at him, he spoke again.

"Satisfied?" he asked, looking anxious.

"Yes, you've made your point," I agreed, and Colt seemed to relax, as he let out a deep sigh.

"Anyway, I left home because I just couldn't take it any more," he continued, but not for long. His voice started to choke up with emotion and I began to feel badly for him. It was apparent he was having trouble dealing with whatever had made him run away in the first place, so I tried to ease his plight.

"Colt, you really don't have to do this," I offered, trying to be as understanding and sympathetic as I could.

"Yes, I do," he countered, giving me a look of determination which let me know I shouldn't argue this point with him. "I've never told this to anyone because I've never had anyone I could trust and who wouldn't make things worse for me, but I know I can tell you. Please, just listen. I really need to do this." Now, I understood why this was so important to him, so I put my arm around his shoulders and gently pulled his body against mine. He instinctively rested his head upon my chest.

"I've known I was gay for a few years now," he began, "although at the time I didn't put a name to it or think much about it. All I knew was that I liked boys and not girls. All I could think about was what different guys would look like naked, although I've never had a chance to try anything with anyone." He hesitated after saying this and glanced up at me. I believe this was to allow him the opportunity to gauge my reaction. I just looked down at him, trying to signal him that I empathized with what he was going through.

"I'm not dumb and didn't want to become a target for all the guys who hated queers," he continued, "so I didn't let anyone else know. Let's face it - I live in the south, in the heart of the Bible belt, and I've heard the sermons in church, the jokes at school and seen the harassment endured by others who were merely suspected of being gay." He stopped and swallowed hard, to get the lump in his throat to go down before he continued. "I tried hard not to let anyone know, but one day something happened that destroyed my life."

Colt stopped again and I noticed tears forming in his eyes. I knew how hard it must be for him to admit all of this, but I knew he wanted to do it. Repressing my instincts, I kept my mouth shut and merely squeezed his body against mine, to let him know it was okay and I was there for him. After a few more seconds of silence, he continued.

"It happened in gym class," he admitted. "I had just changed into my gym shorts and two of the jocks I thought were super cute were changing next to me. One of them had gone commando that day, so when he took his jeans off, I saw his gorgeous body and wonderful cock and I sprung a woody. My shorts tented out big time. I tried to turn and hide it, but the other guy noticed and started shouting about me getting a boner and being a fag. Before I knew it, both of them were shaking their dicks in my face, asking if I wanted to suck them or if I preferred to have their meat shoved up my butt. I didn't answer and stuffed my things into my locker and ran out of there, but that didn't stop them. It got even worse after class. By the time we got back to the locker room, they had told a group of their friends about what had happened earlier, so the whole bunch of them cornered me before I could get away." He hesitated again, but this time his eyes reflected the fear he had felt that day.

"All the guys were grabbing their crotches or waving their dicks at me," he choked out, "asking me if I thought those were better than tits or pussy. Even though I thought they were, I said nothing and tried to ignore them. Finally, the gym teacher came in and told us all to get to class, but that didn't end it for me. Starting later that day, some of them started writing obscene comments on my locker, yelling things at me in the hall or making fun of me in class. They wouldn't leave me alone on the bus either and I didn't dare eat in the cafeteria again, after one of them tripped me and I fell into my lunch. After that, I brought my lunch in my backpack and took it with me to the toilet during the lunch period. I'd found one boys' room that was located in a little used corner of the high school and I figured they might not find me there. I would go into the end stall, lock the door, sit on the toilet and that's where I'd eat my sandwich and drink my water. God, I hated going to school every day." Colt was actually shaking as he told me this, so I wrapped both of my arms around him and gave him a big hug. I could only imagine how terrible it must have been for him, since the mere memories of those events still seemed to haunt him. All I could think about was, `how can I ease his pain.'

"After a week or two," Colt continued, yanking me back to his tale, "the rumors about me had been heard by just about everyone. One day, the youth minister at my church confronted me about it and demanded to know if it was true. When I didn't answer him, I guess he assumed it was and offered to get me enrolled with a counselor, who would help me see the `errors of my ways.' Remember, as of yet I hadn't done anything except get hard in the locker room. I hadn't admitted to a thing, yet everyone thought I was guilty of this `crime,' without any proof. That night, my asshole youth minister called my parents and told them I was a homosexual and advised them to make me seek help. Now, my parents were on my case too.

"My father immediately announced he wouldn't have a fag for a son and wouldn't let a `fudge-packing, backdoor driving queer' live in his house. My mom just looked at me and started crying. My dad then told me I was going to have to see the counselor my youth minister had recommended and I would continue seeing him until I was no longer a deviant.

"I wasn't about to do that, because I didn't think I was a deviant, so that's when I made my plan. A couple of days later, I pretended to leave for school, but waited until my parents drove off for work instead. Once I felt it was safe, I let myself back into the house, grabbed a few of my things and took off. I knew I just couldn't live like that any more." When he looked up at me, I could see so much pain and anguish in his eyes that my heart nearly broke. I involuntarily shuddered, thinking of the many wrongs that had been heaped upon this poor young man. Instinctively, I hugged him tighter. We stayed that way for a couple of minutes, while he regained control of his emotions, and then he continued.

"I started walking toward the city, but luckily I was able to bum a few rides, so I didn't have to walk the whole way. During the day's before I left, I'd gone to a couple of gay chat rooms and discovered that a bunch of these guys lived in the city. They even told me there were places where gays could hang out openly and not have to hide who they were. I jotted down the names of a few of the locations they told me about and figured if I went there, maybe I'd find someone who would be willing to help me. That's how I ran into you. I had written down the name and address of that bookstore as one of the places where I might find help. I guess I was just lucky you were the first guy who came out and didn't ignore me." As I looked down at him, he flashed me a weak smile of thanks.

"I think I might have been the lucky one," I told him, very seriously. "We're not that different. You see, I have also just begun to open up about who I am and come out a bit, so maybe we can help each other through this." When I looked at Colt, his smile was so radiant that I could have turned off all of the lights in the house and still have been able to find him in the dark.

"Leo, why are people like that? Why do they attack gays and others who are different and try to hurt them, even if they don't have any proof they're right?" I knew he was looking for an answer, but I wasn't sure I could give him one that would satisfy his curiosity.

"Colt, that's a really tough question and there's probably more than just one answer to it," I began. "Some people just seem to get enjoyment out of belittling people who are different or perceived weaker than themselves. Others might foolishly buy into the garbage others are spreading, and then there are those who seem to only be able to feel good about themselves by making others look bad. Just remember, most of the time it's more about them than it is about you."

Colt nodded his understanding, just before I heard the buzzer for the dryer go off. "Hey, I'm going to go get your clothes and switch the others from the washer to the dryer," I informed him. "I'll be back in a few." He nodded again, so I walked toward the utility room.

It took me a several minutes to fold his clothes and put the others in the dryer, so by the time I got back, I discovered that Colt had fallen asleep on the sofa. I sat down in my chair, across from him, planning to watch a show on TV. However, instead of doing that, I found myself staring at Colt instead. I don't know why I found him so fascinating, but I was content to just watch him lying there, asleep. His brown hair was cut fairly short and combed down across his forehead. His beautiful blue eyes were hidden beneath his closed lids and... wait, how did I know he had blue eyes? I've never been known to notice the color of a guy's eyes before, so why his? I had to believe it was only because of all the times he had looked up at me, sometimes with his eyes filled with tears, making it appear as if those blue orbs were watching me from beneath a pool.

I barely had time to reflect on my atypical observation when I found myself staring at him yet again. This time, I noticed how his nose rose gently from his face and how his upper lip seemed a bit thin, while his lower lip was full and puffy. As I continued to observe him, I couldn't help but think his features reminded me of the elfish qualities ascribed to characters I'd read about in fantasy stories. Even though some might not have found him cute, he had an appeal that made me want to study him further.

As my eyes left his face and traveled down his torso, I couldn't help but notice that he had the smallest nipples I think I'd ever seen on anyone, other than an infant. They were tiny, only slightly larger than an icon on a window's screen, and a pale pinkish-red, yet I found them far more appealing than any other nipples I'd ever seen. Below those delicate nubs, I could actually see the outline of each of his ribs and they led me down to his cute little bellybutton, which neither sank inward nor protruded outward. His navel was merely an overlapping fold of skin that accentuated his midsection and looked so very perfect on him.

His arms and legs were both long and slender, with a limited amount of hair, but without a great deal of muscle tone or definition. In fact, they had a spindly, bird-like quality to them, but on him they only accentuated his appeal. His hands were actually quite big, with long, thin fingers, while his feet where long and narrow. I know my description probably doesn't make him sound very attractive, but I found him quite intriguing. In fact, the only defect I found on him was that he didn't seem to have much of an ass. He wasn't blessed with a pert bubble-butt, the kind you so often hear described as being the most appealing, but instead it appeared flat and almost non-existent. The funny thing was, on him it didn't seem to matter. I thought it only added to his cute, impish aura.

Reluctantly, I pulled my thoughts away from studying my guest and composed myself long enough to realize he might be getting chilled lying there nearly naked. I didn't want to wake him, as I felt he probably needed the sleep, so I went and fetched a blanket and used it to cover him. I also lifted his head, so I could insert a small pillow under it, in an effort to make him more comfortable. He didn't awaken as a result of any of my efforts, so I pulled my gaze away from him and focused on the boob tube.

No matter how interesting the television show might have been, I found myself continually glancing over at Colt. For some strange reason, this boy totally fascinated me, yet I knew I couldn't become too attached to him. I had no idea if he might just get up and take off at any minute, leaving me all alone again and pining for this rascal who had so easily and rapidly wormed his way into my heart. What was wrong with me? I know better than to let someone effect me so strongly or so quickly.

`Get a grip on yourself,' I thought. `He's six years younger than you and probably not interested at all, so you can't get your hopes up, only to have them dashed later.'

I was still pondering these thoughts when the buzzer on the dryer sounded again, so I went back to remove the last of Colt's clothing. When I returned, Colt was sitting up on the sofa, wiping the sleep from his eyes. "Sorry about that," he apologized. "I guess I must have been kinda tired."

"It looked that way," I agreed. "It's late anyway, so why don't you just head to bed and go back to sleep," I told him. "Here's your clothes," I added, holding the laundry basket out in his direction. "You might want to put something on first."

He took the laundry basket from me, extracted a pair of his underwear and stood up. He dropped his towel in front of me, so he could put them on. His lack of modesty surprised me, but then I thought that possibly since his towel had draped open earlier and I had gotten a peek at his goodies, Colt felt he had nothing left to hide. Whatever the reason, that's what he did.

"I'd rather stay and watch some TV with you," he told me, "unless you're going to bed too." I wasn't, so how could I refuse such an offer?

"No, I was going to stay up, so that will be fine," I responded. He smiled, sat back down on the sofa and turned his face toward the television, but then quickly turned back toward me.

"You can come sit over here with me," he offered. "If you want," he added, so he didn't sound too eager.

"Is that what you want?" I asked him, just to give him an out, in case he was just being polite. After a few seconds of uncertainty and possibly some minor panic, he finally answered.

"Yeah, I think that would be nice," he told me, grinning slightly, while still avoiding eye contact with me. Seeing he seemed eager for this to happen, I got up, walked over to the sofa and sat down on the end farthest away from the television. After a minute or so, Colt reclined backward, lying on the sofa and using my leg as his pillow. He managed this without saying a word or looking in my direction, so I wasn't sure if he did this instinctively or if it was actually his way of making contact with me. Whatever his motivation, I enjoyed this temporary closeness with him. Almost without thinking, I put my left hand on his shoulder and began stroking his hair with my right. A few seconds later, I realized what I was doing and quickly placed my right hand on the arm of the sofa.

"Please don't stop," Colt almost begged. "That felt good." Encouraged by his comment, I continued what I had been doing only moments before.

We stayed that way through the rest of that program and the one that followed, but we were both yawning by the time the last show had ended. Hesitantly, we got up, knowing it was time to go to bed. Colt made his way down to his room, carrying the laundry basket with the rest of his clothing, while I shut everything off and made sure the doors were locked.

"Sweet dreams," I said to him, as I passed by.

"You too, Leo, and thanks for everything," he answered, just before I entered my room. I got ready for bed quickly and then slid between the sheets. However, as I drifted off to sleep, I found my thoughts filled with visions of Colt.

The night passed peacefully and I woke up early the next morning wonderfully refreshed and rearing to go. I knew it was likely that Colt would not be getting up for quite some time, so I went to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. While I waited for it to finish brewing, I went to the front door, retrieved my morning paper and took it back to the kitchen to read. I started perusing the news, as I sipped my first cup of coffee. I guess it must have been a half-hour or so later when I heard a voice behind me.

"Why did you get up so early?" it said, groggily. I turned around to see Colt trying to stretch his body back to life.

"I'm sorry if I woke you," I apologized. "I thought I'd been pretty quiet. You can go back to sleep, if you want."

"You didn't wake me," he countered, quickly. "I just smelled the coffee and wanted a cup. Do you mind?"

"No, not at all," I assured him. "Cups are in the cupboard to the right of the sink, cream is in the fridge and both the sugar and artificial sweetener are here on the table. Help yourself to whatever you need. By the way, what would you like for breakfast?"

"Uh, I can fix it myself," he added meekly. "You don't have to do it."

"Well, I don't really have much on hand," I told him, "so I was thinking maybe we could go out to eat instead. That way we can talk, while we wait for our food, because there are a few things we need to discuss." I suddenly saw the expression on Colt's face change to one of worry.

"Relax, it's nothing bad," I assured him. "You just have to decide a few things, like what you want to happen next. Does that sound okay to you?"

"Yeah," he agreed, as he began to relax a bit, "but I hate for you to have to keep paying for me to eat in restaurants. That's more expensive than fixing something at home. You know, we could just go to the grocery store and pick up a few things instead, and then I could fix both of us breakfast. How about that?" I was both impressed by his concern and pleased by his offer.

"Tell you what," I responded, "I'll take a rain check on your breakfast, because I'd really like to take you out. That way, we can relax, enjoy our time together and talk things out. We'll have plenty of time to eat together at home." After thinking about it for a second, he nodded his agreement, so we both finished our coffee and went to clean up.

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