Date: Mon, 14 Jan 2002 19:17:05 -0500
From: Elsewhere <dreamer@shell.monmouth.com>
Subject: Humor Me (Part 11/12, High School, m/m)

Humor Me

Disclaimer: This is a story about a romantic relationship between two
teenage males.  If that kind of story offends you, then please do not read
the following story. Also, if you are under the legal age to read stories
of this type, then don't. Please do not reproduce this story without
permission, since that is a copyright infringement.

Thanks to David for proofreading again!

Ok, so here I am posting the penultimate chapter to this mini-epic.  To be
honest, if someone asked me a few months ago about posting to Nifty, I
might have declined.  I tend to keep most of the stuff I write to myself,
especially when, like this, it was originally started as an outlet for a
lot of pent-up stuff I was/am feeling.

But now?  Hey, I've been loving the feedback. I apparently don't get as
much as some other story writers, and the reasons escape me at the moment,
but I do have a number of people I know who have been very devoted, and
have stuck with the story through its highs and lows.  Names that come to
mind are Matt, Kip, Pec, David, and Steve.  Thanks, guys.

Comments go to dreamer@shell.monmouth.com.  Feedback is always very much
appreciated.


-Chapter 11-

            "You're all insane," Jace said, leaning against the podium.  "I
just want you to know that."

            I smiled, putting the plastic bag down on the floor.  The Old
Navy clothes inside didn't make a break for it, or do anything
extraordinary.  With the back of my foot, I pushed the shopping bag against
the door to Smitty's, where we were, having a nice little chat with Jace
before we were seated.

            In the last few weeks, whenever Dani, Lisa, Mike and I hit the
mall for whatever reason, we always made sure to stop at Smitty's and mess
with Jace's head while he was at work. Since we were high school kids who
didn't go all out for the party scene, we needed to find another hobby as
an outlet for our energies.  Shane was out packing boxes at some warehouse,
as a summer job before he went back to college, and the four of us decided
that place wasn't nearly as much fun.

            Sure, Jace would stand there, in his checkered shirt and black
slacks and just look at us like we were out of out minds.  He was right.
But, and all of us said it, there was always the edge of a smile when we
did come around.  Off the wall?  Us?  Sure.  But we were never, /never/
boring.  When your IQs added up to about one thousand, and your senses of
humor tended towards the sarcastic, boring wasn't even a term in your
personal lexicon.

            And so, on a Saturday night, we were fleeing the final outgoing
crowds of the mall and finding refuge and chicken fingers at our new
favorite restaurant.  I wondered if, as the host, Jace got some sort of
gratuity for us being there as often as we were.

            "But seriously," I said, pulling a giggling Lisa over.  "This
was how it happened."  I turned to Dani, who had Mike standing behind her,
and waggled my eyebrows, with the four of us with wide smiles.  We had been
planning this all night, walking through the mall calling out random lines
and generally laughing our asses off.  Did folks stare at us?  Oh, hell yes
they did.  Did we notice?  Since we people-watched everyone else, we
certainly did.

            Did we care?  Not really.  Mike liked the attention, in his
usual fashion and egotistical self-image.  Dani tended to go a step
further, and jokingly asked those who stared too hard if they had accepted
the Goddess in their life.  On three occasions, she got a 'yes' for an
answer, so phone numbers were exchanged to compare notes.  Dani was making
some new friends, mostly girls her own age who were practitioners or
curious about the Wiccan faith.  She and Lisa were having a ball with that.
Lisa, on the other hand, would ask people where they got this article of
clothing or that piece of jewelry.  And, to throw some randomness against
the stereotype of a clothes-happy girl, she'd search out people who were
reading books in the mall, and get into philosophical debates.

            That was the three of them: intelligent, forthright, and just
this side of psychotic.  And I loved every one of them.

            Did I care, when people looked.  A few months ago, I'd have
said yes.  Now, I wasn't so sure.  After getting looks all around school, I
was pretty much used to it.  In some ways, it didn't matter because the
opinion of other people didn't matter to me.  The only opinions and worries
that mattered were those of my family, and my two lady friends mentioned
above, and Mike, of course.

            Lisa stood there, looking upward at a pretend sky as I walked a
few paces away, then back towards her with an expression of angst, my eyes
cast forlornly on the ground.  As I approached, she turned and beamed me a
smile as she remembered her lines from this little make-up drama.  "Jonas!"
she said, mock-ecstatic.  "What's the matter?

            "Oh, I dunno," I said as I stood next to her.  "Well...okay,
the dance is next Friday, and I really want Mike to ask me, but he hasn't
yet."  I looked pleadingly up at Lisa as Mike started humming the theme to
one of those teen television dramas, for background music.  "Do you think
he likes me?"

            "You're scaring me..." Jace protested, absently getting three
more menus to accompany the one in his hand.

            "I don't think so," Dani mock-sneered, as if she hadn't heard
the older boy, and sauntered up to me and Lisa.  She tossed her head,
defiantly, her reddish hair whipping around.  "Try as you might, Jonas,
Mike will never be yours.  He'll be going to the dance with /me,/ and my
dastardly plan will be complete."  She finished this off with an evil
chuckle.  She had a great evil chuckle, worthy of any Aaron Spelling soap.
She looked at me as if she were studying an insect that got in her way, and
by the shape of her mouth, it was obvious she was trying really hard not to
laugh out loud and break character.

            I wheeled on Dani, my anger rising.  "Oh, no you don't," I
said, getting in her face.  "He likes me, and you can't have him!"

            "Says you, you bitch," she said, and slapped me.  I winced,
because that's what one does when they're slapped, and even though we
planned it out beforehand, it still hurt like a bitch because she had her
rings on.

            Lisa gasped, and said in a deadpan voice.  "No, stop, don't
fight."

            But, by the script it was too late for that, as Dani and I put
our hands on each other's throats, and did a gentle shake of each other.  I
turned to Jace, and snickered.  "We'd show the rest of what happened, but
that involved a mud puddle and me walking around bare-chested."  I gave him
a suggestive wink, for good measure.

            "I doubt that," Jace replied.  Oh, hell, he wasn't any
fun. Being close to twenty must really suck.  "And learn how to act."

            "Critic," I spat back at Jace, and shrugged.

            "But," Mike said, taking my away from Dani by the shoulder.
"Here's how it really happened."  And, to start, he leaned against the wall
inside the eatery, hands in his pockets and ever-so casual.

            I walked up, stone-faced and also casual, and leaned against
the wall next to him.  "Hey," I said.

            Mike looked at me, and nodded.  "Hey."

            "S'up," I asked.

            He shrugged, a simple lift of his shoulders.  "Nothin'.  You?"

            "Nothin' much," I replied, calm and mock-apathetic.  "Dance?"

            "When?"

            "Friday."

            Mike pretended to take a moment to think about that.  "Sure."

            "Okay," I said, and pushed myself away from the wall.  Mike
mirrored my movement, and gave me a small shoulder hug before we walked off
the 'stage.'

            "Well," Jace said, as Lisa and Dani were looking over the
plastic dry-erase board at the Dinner Specials, "seeing that, I believe the
first scene better."

            "Truth is somewhere in between," I said.  "And without the
catfight."  I looked past the taller, blond boy who was our host.  "So,
table for four, you know the drill."

            He handed the menus to me.  Guess he didn't want a tip, so that
was his loss.  "Table's right there," he said, and did manage a smile as he
showed us a table right there, inside the restaurant, and visible from the
doorway.  The table itself was freshly cleaned, some of the streaks from
the wet cloth the busboys used to wipe it off fading as we watched.

            As the rest of them walked past to take their seats, I leaned
up and kissed Jace on the cheek.  "Thanks," I said, as we exchanged smiles.

            Mike smirked at me as I caught up to him.  "You're going to
kill him, one day, if he feels like I do about your kisses.  He'll explode,
right there, and that'll be the end of it."

            I sighed.  "Mike, you know why I do it."  How could I not.
Jace, in the plainest sense of the words, saved my fucking skin a month
back.  You don't not treat someone like that the same way you treat
everyone else.

            "I do," he said, putting an arm around my shoulder.  "You have
no idea how cool that makes you."

            "Yes, I do," I said, as he led me gently towards the tables,
giving me another hug as we sat down.

            He liked it when I showed that I had a little more confidence.
He wouldn't say it out loud, but his smiles said it easy enough.  When we
did find the time to get together, like before, we'd share bits and pieces
of our lives, which was mostly a general update of what had happened while
we were apart.  He loved listening to me, that much he'd said out loud.
And, when I'd mention how I did some stuff on my own, he's brighten
considerably.

            I was getting better, even though the first few weeks hadn't
been easy at all.  After I was attacked, I was a little leery of going out
on my own, especially to someplace public.  What if it happened again?  I
had help from the three of them, but I knew that I'd have to overcome that
obstacle on my own, if I was going to move on and live at all.  They
wouldn't always be there, every waking second, and I needed to function
autonomously, in a matter of basic survival.

            There was growth happening there, as I started to regain my
sense of self after Cohen kidnapped me.  As for Cohen himself, I never
found out what happened to him.  As I told Mike I would, I talked it over
with Mom and her lawyer, and did press charges.  But, the charges were only
pressed in an attempt to get Dan Cohen help.  And, it seemed my plans were
the right thing, since his lawyer, in the court hearing, did plead
insanity, and the judge did order him sent to a juvenile facility for an
undisclosed period of heavy counseling and therapy.  Shane was disappointed
that they didn't send him to prison straight off, but it was the outcome I
was looking for.  Sometimes, after that, I would include Dan in my prayers,
in a silent plea to help him get better, and accept himself as a person.  I
never found out if that's what happened, and no one I knew ever heard from
him after that.

            The story itself did make the papers, and while they used Dan's
name, they kept my name undisclosed, since I was still a minor.  I wondered
if that was really fair, since it made me feel like I was hiding from it.
I mean, the paper didn't say my name, so maybe it wasn't me, right?  I
wasn't big on the whole thing.  Not that I wanted to shout what happened
from the rooftops, but if there was a way I could have used what happened
to me as a guide to others, to prevent the same thing from happening again,
I might have been happier with the public outcome.

            That wasn't to say that the story wasn't out.  The kids at
Weathering, they knew, and by the time I got back to school, they were
ready with the questions.  I didn't answer all of them, and I made an
effort not to paint myself as an innocent victim, as some of the other
students seemed to want to do with it.  "Dan wasn't a bad person," I'd
stress.  "What he did wasn't right, but he was very sick inside, and needed
help.  He's getting that help, and that's what's important."

            It wasn't until about two weeks after I came back to school
that I realized that my words, such as they were, were hitting home.  I was
in study hall again, engrossed on my Chemistry book to the point where I
didn't hear anyone come to my table in the school library.  The sudden
self-conscious cough lifted my head out of the book.  Looking up, I gave
the short kid standing across from me a look.  His eyes were down towards
the ground, giving me a full look of the mop of black hair on top of his
head.  "Hmm?"  I asked.

            The kid took a few quick breaths before he was able to speak.
"You're Jonas, right?"

            I nodded.  "Yeah," I answered.  And since I was the only Jonas
in the school, it was clearly not a case of mistaken identity.

            "Yeah...um...you're the one who...well, had...that stuff happen
to him, right," he asked.  He didn't lift his head yet, as if the thought
of looking at me scared him.  Oh, man, did I have a gigantic zit no one was
telling me about?

            But, I had an idea of what the kid, who looked like a freshman,
was talking about. The backpack he was carrying didn't looked scruffy and
used enough.  "I think so," I said.  "If we're talking about the same
stuff."  I waved a hand towards the seat opposite mine.  "Have a seat."

            The kid sat down so fast that for a moment I thought I was a
teacher myself, and the kid was someone who showed up late to class on his
first day.  He tilted his head up, and I saw a pair of gentle, solemn brown
eyes.  "Thanks," he mumbled.

            "No prob," I replied.  "Ok, I'm taking a wild guess here, but
you're here because...of something to do with when I got kidnapped?"

            He nodded quickly, looking away again.  "I don't want to...push
you about it," he said, and he looked like he was about to break out in a
sweat.  "I...well.  Was it because you're...gay?"

            I closed the book I was holding, setting it down on the table
as I leaned forward.  "What's your name," I asked.

            "D-Drew," he managed to get out.

            "Hi, Drew," I said, extending a hand.  "I'm Jonas."

            When he took my hand, I almost jumped.  His palms were sweaty,
and he didn't put any effort into shaking my hand, because it was shaking
badly enough all on its own.  Oh, man, what was with this kid.

            "Now that we're acquainted," I said.  "What's this all about?
I mean, part of what happened was because I was gay, and I think Dan was,
too.  But, he was really hurting bad inside, and wasn't thinking right."

            He nodded again, and the look he gave me was one of a rabbit
about to bolt screaming.  Not that I can ever think of hearing a rabbit
scream outside of a Bugs Bunny cartoon, but the thought was there.
"I...heard that, too.  It scares me," he said in a sudden burst of
strength.  "Don't you worry it'll happen again?"

            "Sometimes," I said.  "It's not as bad now, but I'm getting
help for it, so I'm not scared all the time."

            "Does it go away," Drew asked me, keeping his head low as he
looked back at me.

            "Does what go away?"

            "Being afraid.  You know, because of what happened, or because
of being...gay?"

            Blink.  Blink again.  I started to get a better picture of
this.  "Drew,' I asked, being as gentle as I could.  "Is there something
you want to tell me about?"  When he didn't answer, I reached across the
table, and tapped the back of his hand.  "You still with me?"

            "Yeah," he said.  "I'd been wanting to talk to you for a while,
before what happened.  See...I kept seeing you and your boyfriend all over
school, and you looked happy."

            I smiled.  "Well, yeah.  We're happy.  And exclusive, if that's
what-"

            "No," he said, looking away.  "I mean, I don't like you.  No,
wait.  I mean I don't like you that way."

            "Buuuut."

            "I think I'm gay," Drew whispered.  "I...like guys."  He pursed
his lips together, and gulped.  "There.  I said it."

            Oh, shit.  "Drew.  Am I the first person you've told?"

            "Yeah," he answered.  "I figured you'd know what to do, because
I don't, and I'm scared of telling my parents.  I was going to talk to your
boyfriend, but..."

            I smiled.  Was I ever like this?  Yes, I was, I told myself,
and a lot more recent than I acted.  I knew exactly what had the kid so
spooked.  "Mike?  He's great to talk to.  He knew he was gay for longer
than I knew I was.  He's helped me a lot."

            "I know," he said.  "But he's so...loud.  He acts like he'd
tell the school, and you seem like you wouldn't tell anyone else."

            For a moment, I pondered telling Mike about this, and just
lording this over him. Who's the man, now?  I kicked myself inside my head.
This kid trusted me, and I wasn't going to fuck with his head to satisfy my
own ego.  If he didn't want me telling anyone, then I wouldn't.  However...

            "He's expressive," I said.  "I'll give you that.  But you're
worried about what people are going to say?  Your friends?  Your folks?"

            He nodded.  "This...really scares me.  I feel like an
outsider."

            Yep.  I knew exactly where he was.  I stood up.  "Well, it's
nothing to be ashamed of," I said.  "You are who you are, and don't let
people tell you different."

            "You sound like an Afterschool Special."

            "That I do," I said.  "But in this case it works."  I paused
here.  "Listen...would you be okay with talking about this to an adult?  I
mean, if I knew he wouldn't tell anyone if you didn't want him to?  He's
cool about this, and I've talked to him a bunch of times.  I...I'm just a
kid.  I'll be there for you, but I...see, I'm not a pro at this."

            He just smiled, looking a little less afraid.  If I could
accomplish that much, it was a good day.  "I know what you mean," he says.
"I just felt really...out of place with folks."

            "You're not," I said, walking to where he was after getting my
books together.  "Here, I'll take you there.  It'll be okay.  Trust me."

            And so, I took him to Kevin's office.  Our ever illustrious
Guidance Counselor was actually there, when we arrived, and Drew and I sat
down and talked to him.  Well, Drew did most of the talking, and I was
there as moral support.  By the time Drew left, he had the name of a local
gay teen support group, and he seemed okay with that as a start.

            As I sat down to the table at Smitty's, I wondered how Drew was
making out with that.  Did he tell his folks, eventually?  As I was musing
on this, Mike nudged me, and I got ripped out of my thoughts to find the
waitress already there, asking for drinks.  After ordering a Coke, I turned
to Lisa.  "Lisa, I wanted to thank you again.  Listen, next time, we can
always take the bus, if you want.  I just don't want you to think we're
using you."

            She smiled back at me.  "I know you're not.  Besides, I'm the
only one of us who has their license.  Maybe I feel like showing off my
advanced adolescence."

            "Or your advanced age," Mike quipped.  He pointed to the large
girl's braid.  "Is that a gray hair I see?"

            "Bite your tongue," she retorted to my boyfriend.  "You're not
that far away yourself.  When's your driver's test?"

            "Next month," he said, after school lets out.

            "Oh, poor you," Dani and I said.  Both of our birthdays were
closer to the fall than they were to summer, so we still had to wait, and
depend on the others if we needed to get anywhere without public
transportation.

            But, as Lisa said, she didn't seem to mind, and I made it a
habit to give her some money for gas each time we went out.  She mentioned
that with enough trips, I'd be paying for her college education, but I was
okay with that, too.  I was okay with a lot of things, lately.

            Especially Mike.  He was my rock, especially with what I was
dealing with.  I think most other significant others would have been
distant, but he really did keep with me as I was healing inside.  He made
it a point to be there when they cut off my cast last week, and laughed as
the first thing I did with my arm, while healed nicely by the way, was take
a scrub brush and a bar of soap to it.  So that's what happens to something
when you don't wash it for six weeks.  That alone was enough to make me
promise myself I'd never break another bone again.  Gross, I tell you.
Just gross.

            Through all of it, Mike was there.  I had been getting leery of
a few things, but we worked slowly.  One thing in particular had me
worried, and three weeks after I got out of the hospital, I went to Mike to
discuss it.

            "Yes," he said.

            I looked up.  "See, it's important, and-" I managed to say,
before my ears and brain caught up with my mouth.  "What did you say?"

            On the couch in his basement, he put his arm around me.  "I
said yes.  I'll go."

            The answer, and the quickness with which he did so had taken me
unawares.  "You don't have a problem with counseling?"

            "Nope," he said to me, shaking his head.  "I've been there."

            "See, it's about what Cohen did, but it does tie into you
because we're going out, and I-"

            He put his finger across my lips.  "Shh," he said.  "You don't
have to convince me.  You're getting help, and I'm proud of you, and if you
think me being there will help, there's no way I won't do it."

            "You know," I said, pushing his hand away.  "I spend a lot of
time trying not to be utterly besotted with you.  You're not making it
easy."

            "Tough.  Deal with it."

            And that was the end of that discussion.  I smiled to myself,
at Smitty's, because having Mike there when I did go to counseling was
helping out a lot.  Not that I had any problems with him, but dealing with
a relationship after being stalked to the point that I was...it was helping
us both get more in touch, and we were pretty much, after a good month and
a half, to a good level point.  And, we were still in love.  That didn't
change.


                                       ***

            After taking a sip, I glared at the small clear plastic glass
of punch in my hand with a look of disgust.  "Dammit," I muttered.

            The dance was going on all around us, and Lisa drove us, as
promised.  Dani was out on the floor, jamming to some techno track I didn't
recognize but made a note to ask the DJ later for the title so I could
download it at home.  The auditorium was dark, for the most part, lit only
by the fluorescent lights overhead, which were dimmed, and the occasional
flash of colored light from the apparatus the DJ was using to give the
place a club feel.  Streamers decorated the walls, the tables they did set
up done up with plain white tablecloths, with centerpieces of small bags of
sand holding down bunches of black-and-white balloons.  Other students sat
there chatting above the heavy bass of the music, or swallowed their pride
and were out dancing.

            As for me, I was taking a break, over by the punchbowl, Mike
behind me and Lisa ahead.  Lisa turned around at my comment as Mike asked
from behind.  "What's the matter?"

            I put my own cup down, and handed them each one of their own.
"Taste this," I ordered.

            Giving me odd looks, they both took the glasses as I readjusted
my shirt.  I went for a gray button-down with the shirttails out, the top
button and the bottom two buttons undone.  Under that was bare skin, except
for the dark-blue slacks I wore.  It was enough to see Mike's jaw drop open
when I showed up in that outfit.

            Not that he was a slouch, himself.  His slacks were jet black,
with his shirt tucked in.  His shirt was some kind of Spandex-Nylon weave,
ribbed and tight against his upper body in a splash of wine-red.  For the
first time, I saw how his body had been filling out, and he was starting to
lose a little of the baby fat in his cheeks.  I knew how lucky I was, and
never forgot that fact.

            Lisa tasted hers first, gingerly so as not to spill the fruit
punch on her white shirt.  The shirt was done in a semi-medieval style,
with the strings on the front loosened slightly to show just a hint of her
generous bosom.  The skirt was black, as usual, slashed through with
crimson and low heels.  "Someone my size in high heels," she said to me
when I asked.  "I'd prefer not to have to pay for the divots I'd leave in
the floor, thanks."

            She sniffed at the punch after she tasted it.  "Nothing seems
wrong with it."

            "Same here," Mike said, draining the rest of his.  "I think
it's just some cheaper derivative of Kool-Aid, but it seems normal."

            "That's the point," I said, frustrated.  "What is this, seventh
grade?"  I turned to the dance floor, and spoke up.  "What kind of high
school kids are you people?  You can't even get the grapefruits to spike a
simple punch bowl.  It's pathetic-!"

            I'd have said more, but Mike planted his hands on my shoulder
and steered me towards the dance floor.  "Someone needs a time out," he
said in a singsong voice.  He turned me around, putting his hands around my
waist as the music slowed to some ballad.  I wish I could say what the
title was, but I did not remember it anyway.  "Jonas, talk to me," he said.
"You've been edgy all night."

            I shrugged, wrapping my arms around the back of his neck as we
moved in that steady, back-and-forth rhythm that couples who weren't sure
how good a pair of dancers they were did.  "No clue," I answered.  "Just
got a lot of pent-up energy tonight.  I'm having a good time."

            "Good," he said, and danced with me for while.  During the
song, our eyes never really left each other as we moved.  And with the
lights and darkness and the music, I shut everything else out.  If anyone
stared at us, especially after as long as Mike and I had been together,
then they had issues, and it was Not My Problem.

            "I love you," I said, softly so only the two of us can hear it.
"In case I don't tell you often enough, I wanted you to know that."

            He leaned in, pressing his lips firmly against mine as the
music swirled around us.  "I love you," he said, his mouth inches from
mine.  Said lips of his were drawn across my cheek, until they touched my
earlobe.

            "I want you," he said.  "I can wait forever, but I will always
want you."

            I wasn't a fucking idiot.  I knew what he meant.  "Tonight," I
asked.

            "If my lord so wishes it."

            I felt, for the first time in a while, my cheeks grow hot.
Being around Mike, you learn to lose your embarrassment quickly, or you
would never be able to keep up.  "He does," I whispered.  "He does."

                                        ***

            After Lisa dropped Mike and I off at his place, after I called
Mom from the payphone at school and told her I was spending the night at
Mike's, We walked slowly into his house, with no hurry.  It was still an
hour before midnight, and neither of us was feeling all that tired.  There
was no rush.

            Well, almost no rush.  In all honesty, I had imagined what this
would be like, but I never managed to approach the subject with Mike
himself.  I knew what he had gone through with his previous (and only, as
he would tell me later) sexual experience with Jace, and I didn't want to
push the issue.  I didn't even give it as much thought as I figured most
kids my age did, because I was enraptured with the intimate moments we did
share.  I loved him to a point where sex wasn't an issue.

            He drove me down the stairs with his kiss, me walking backwards
while he steadied me with his hands under my elbows.  He took a blanket,
and spread it out with ceremony across the carpeted floor.  "Wait here," he
said, and went back upstairs, only to return a few minutes later with a
single candle in a holder, and a plastic tube of something.  Again, I
wasn't stupid, as I knew what was in the tube as well.

            I found myself asking the question before I could stop myself.
"It hurts, doesn't it?"

            He looked to me as he set the candle on the table and lit it.
"I wish I could tell you different," he said.  "But it doesn't hurt for
long."  As he turned off the lights, I saw only by the flickering candle on
the coffee table, our blanket between us and the TV.  More than enough
room.  "Jonas, if you want to do this differently, I'd understand.  I don't
want you to hurt."

            I shook my head, stepping up to him.  "I'll live," I said.
"Just, you'll have to return the favor."

            "You don't even have to ask," he said, and reached out.  I
stood there, trying not to be nervous as he undid the buttons on my shirt,
one by one.  His fingers teased the skin of my chest as they moved upward,
sliding against my pale skin.  Once open, he put his hands under my shirt,
his thumb circling the nipples on my chest until I felt them grow stiff,
pulling in the skin around it as they tightened.  His hands brushed against
my shoulders as I spread my arms wide, letting him push the shirt off me.

            As he started working, ever-so-gently, on my belt buckle, I
reached around him, pulling his shirt out of his pants in an attempt to go
slowly.  Part of me wanted to yell like a wildman and just rip his clothes
off, but that would just spoil the moment, and besides, I could only
imagine what he paid for them.

            We took our time, but even that went by quickly as we ended up
standing there, both unwrapped, facing each other in the nude.  It was the
first time we had seen each other, and I studied the definition of his
stomach, and the hair starting from his navel and trailing down into a bush
of dark brown.  His manhood stood erect, like mine, and I wondered if his
hard-on was starting to hurt as much as mine did.  I tried not to be
self-conscious as I noticed the size.  It wasn't big, compared to some of
the stuff I'd seen online, but compared to myself...

            "I guess,' I whispered, and almost winced at how loud my voice
sounded after such a long period of silence.  "I guess I'm a
disappointment, in comparison."

            "Hell no," he said, taking me in his arms.  "You're perfect,"
he said, right before he kissed me, his tongue warm and wet in my mouth to
match the warm wetness that I felt where our waists met.  He pushed me
downward, bending with the knees as he lowered me, laying me out on the
blanket.

            I gripped his shoulders as he started slowly, kissing his way
from the nape of my neck down.  His tongue rasped across one nipple, then
the other as I heard a gasp torn from my throat.  My head felt like it was
filled with air, and was going to take off like a balloon at any moment.
If I had legs, I didn't feel them, since they were below the ache, the need
in my crotch, and that was where my world ended.

            I felt his kiss on my belly button as I leaned up to nip at his
neck, his lower lip, and even managed to nibble on one of his earlobes in
some feat of contortionism.  That close to his head, I could smell his
sweat, and taste the saltiness on my tongue where I kissed him.

            His head moved down again, his tongue robbing against the base
of my cock.  My breath stopped for a moment at the contact, as he brought
his mouth up to kiss the purple tip.  "How does that feel,' he asked.

            Damn compulsive honesty.  "I think I'm about to explode," I
said, my voice tight as I felt my throat close.  Everything ached, but it
was a good ache.

            "Perfect,' he said, sitting up to put a bit of some gel from
the plastic tube on his index finger.  I felt the gooeyness along one of my
back cheeks as he draw his finger across it, searching.  In the next
second, he made contact, the finger entering the crack in my ass.

            It hurt, but only a little.  I found myself wiggling, since
there was a pleasure that burned there from the invading digit.  He slid it
in and out a few times, testing before he went back for more lubricant.
And again, he came back, and it felt like there were more fingers pushing,
probing, seeing a home inside me.

            My vision was blurring a little, and I barely realized what he
was doing before he spread my legs apart, which wrapped around his slender
body by some sort of instinct.  I leaned up, one last time, to kiss him.
"Love you," I said.

            "I love you, Jonas," he said as I lay back down.  He took a
breath, the way a diver steadies himself before he takes the plunge.
"Forgive me," he said, and thrust himself inside me, and I could feel his
own hair down there brush against the bottom of my ass.

            And then, all was pain.  This hurt, and I let out a yell
because I couldn't help myself.  I was being torn in two from the bottom
up, and the hurt, that was all there was.

            I felt Mike's lips on mine again, trying to calm me down.  "I'm
sorry," he said.  "Jonas, I'm so sorry."  He kept on whispering to me as
the pain subsided, but I could still feel him there, still inside me, and
it felt very warm.  All at once, I came, my seed spurting out as a wave of
pleasure washed over me and threatened to drag me under.  The semen flew
out, spattering Mike on the chest and stomach.

            "Keep going," I breathed.

            He just smiled softly at me, and I think it was the most pure
smile I'd ever seen.  A lot of the time, I forgot he was close to my own
age, only separated by about four months or so.  He always seemed so much
older, wiser, and more experienced.  The look took me unawares, as so many
things did.

            Mike wasn't the person he used to be.  He saw himself as a new
person, and that same new person was losing his virginity with me, along
with me.  God...no matter what happens, I will always love him for that.

            He kissed me on the tip of my nose, and went back up as he
started to thrust.  I felt my own dick go soft, then rise back up again as
the pain went mostly away, and he was inside me, filling me with his self,
his soul, his love.  Past the pain, I felt the pleasure, the relief of
release, and the strength behind his pushing.

            He stopped, before the end, as I saw his jaw clamp shut to
stifle the noise as I knew he was about to release.  He kept pushing, and
the pressure of holding back was starting to hurt him as his hand went
around my manhood, pulling, his hand slick with my spilled seed.  This
time, we came together, as one, our moans blending into one harmony as the
relief pulled us under again.

            Mike put out his hands as he fell forward, before he landed on
me fully.  I leaned up to kiss him, gently, like our first ones.  "No
words," I said.

            His eyebrows raised, in question.  He was silent.

            "I can't put it into words," I said, getting out of the way and
sitting up so Mike could relax.  We both needed to catch our breath.  I
went to sit down, and still felt a little sore from the pressure.  Later.
I'll deal with it tomorrow.

            "Did you like it," he asked, seeming younger with the question.

            "Yes."

            "You know...you could always...I mean, I've been where you are,
and it's great on that end."

            I slumped.  I felt...weird.  Like everything was quiet, broken
only by the sounds we made.  "Maybe," I said.  "It doesn't have to be
tonight," I added.

            "Michael," I said, crawling over to the end table.  "I do love
you.  But...I think I want to rest.  Is that cool?"

"Your call," he said, smiling.  "We have time."

            "We have forever," I said.  And, very carefully, I blew the
candle out.

-End Chapter 11-