This story is a glimpse into loving hearts and into the lives of teenagers who are drawn together to celebrate that love sexually. It is a work of erotic fiction involving teenage boys. If such depictions offend you or violate local restrictions, I respectfully ask you to leave. Please don't display this in such manner as to offend others. These stories are Copyright (1999) 2000 by the author, who has placed a single copy in the Nifty Archives. No other reproduction or distribution than Nifty Archives is permitted, without the author's permission.

These events occurred somewhere in a place I've been. A place where time passes dreamily. A place where our heart's desires are fulfilled. Where every yearning heart is held and kept and lifted up in loving embrace. Please play safe and be kind to yourselves and to one-another.


How We Were


Our community always felt like a small town. In truth, it is a semi-rural enclave on the outskirts of a large northern city. But it is one of those places that people don't seem to move away from. Or they do, but only for a while, and then they're back again. Our parents and grandparents came here and put down roots -- and boy, what roots! Most of the people in this story still live in the same houses, these grand old cozy big homes that once rang out with the shouts of their parents' voices as children. Grandma's cooking smells are still there, in the walls somewhere, if your nose is keen enough.

Anyway, a few years have passed -- not a lot -- and some of us have moved away. But the place just keeps drawing us back. Some to raise a family, some to heal. And I still see these people in the course of a day and often we have a moment to stop, perhaps to touch, and to look each other in the face and smile, remembering how we were.


Chapter 7

Loved


You could have heard a moth murmur.

Brand and me standing together in his room... so still...

Breathing, together... his chin by my cheek... holding each other loosely... gently.

I was drowsy in my need to be WITH him. Be part of him. It was deeply, deeply erotic, but I wasn't even really hard. Maybe a little: swollen, engorged, tumescent. There was something about just... Being... with Brand, holding him near me in that moment, that was so incredibly tender and erotic. Even the air seemed creamy. Thick with a sweet, languid, syrup of… not mere lust... of Eros.

Even my skin was tingling, but I was only half hard. Contentedly urgent. Content.

We had been like this for half an hour, since I got back from practice. Breathing, feeling the tickly caress of the other's breath on the boy-down of our cheeks. Just holding one another.

Brand felt the same, I could tell. Neither of us had made a move to take this anywhere further. I felt an innocence, a swan-like grace. Nude in the garden. No action called for. Senses full. Warm. Gently illumined. A world in soft focus.

We stood there in each other's… field… for another drifting moment, as I turned up my face to gaze in his eyes, easy, mouth soft. Air creamy. Each breath a tiny joyous confession. Brand feeling what I felt, I knew. Eyes bright, brimming a little: his, mine. Content. So content, so full, so almost-horny.

Softly: "Hi... " Voice failing: it came out a whisper.

"Hi," a mere murmur, mouth softly agape. Breathing through his mouth, now, on me. Sweet breath.

"I love you, Brand." A prayer of thanks, of homecoming.

"You are the world for me, baby... " He felt it too…

Our mood was shattered in the instant by the thunder of Dustin-feet. Up the stairs. Down the hall. To the open door.

Running into the room, he stopped, panting. Lazer beam ON!

"Hi, Dustin… " "Hi, Dusti," Brand and I said, almost in unison. Low power.

Suddenly, Dustin was the little boy again. Comfortable and warm. With his Special People.

I was thrilled -- not right this very moment, actually, but I had been thrilled -- to be included. Somehow, I had become part of the package deal with Brand. Somehow, Dustin knew.

"C'n I be in here? Is it OK for me to stay up here with you guys?"

His little-guy sweetness caressed something in me, "Course, Dustin." "Of course."

Brand needed to hit the head. When he got back, Dustin and I were reading together. He likes myths. This was a Navajo thing, something about Coyote and Corn Woman, and Dustin had simply climbed into my lap, natural as anything. Just made himself at home, un-self consciously. His lap, now. To me, that meant something: I belonged here, now.

So when Brand got back, our eyes met and he relaxed, with this certain contented look of his. His "Dustin" look. This set me off, touched me: I barely managed a little V-shaped smile and to keep my voice smooth, as I continued my turn with the story. Brand turned and walked back downstairs, his tread deliberate.

Brand was gone a long, long time. When he returned, he looked like he had been crying. His eyes were all puffy and red and he looked happy. Truly happy, down-deep happy, for the first time since his daddy had died.

Turns out he'd had THE TALK with his mom. Turns out she had known about Brand for probably three years. Some might call it "suspected," but that's just not how it was with her.

Maybe it was the mystery and miracle of Dustin. Maybe it was some place that the death of Jacob -- Brand's dad -- had taken her to. But it was more like she wanted to KNOW her sons, than to FIND OUT about them. So I can't say she ever "suspected" Brand. More like she chose to get to know him, to become acquainted with him. And she had.

Guess she had seen it from day one. Us. Brand, a new person. His legs barely reaching the ground, these last few days. Seeing, she had blessed this thing, this gift bestowed upon her son. Blessed it in her secret heart and never thought to look back.

So they'd had a wonderful talk and I'm sure I would have been cried out, too. I felt a deep... comfort, in his behalf.

"Hi, Brand... " Dustin, still looking at the book. Something in his gentle tone. A littleboy to his puppy, come to flop soft by his side. Dustin was happy for Brand. The tender simplicity of the littleboy's love: a little boy, but no mere child.

I laughed and broke the thickening spell.

"So... Uhh... Do I need to ask?"

"Man, that was so cool," he said. His voice thick, choking a little. "She's so cool. She really, really likes you, Derek."

"Oh! Well, Good!"

"No, I mean really LIKES you, man! She's totally cool with us, with you, with me. Ohh, MAN!" A crying laugh. A rising warble of joy.

"I love you, Brand," I said, right in front of Dustin.

 He slid down: "I'm gonna go watch the new video, now," and went downstairs to the den.

"One mom down... " I said.

"Somehow I don't think you'll have too much to worry about, Derek. Your mom's gonna be cool."

"Actually, I wish Dad were here." He gave me the eyebrow.

"It's different with Dad. He's different. I don’t know how to explain."

"Hunh... Cool." Slightly taken aback.

He took a deep breath, held it, let it out: "Listen," exhaling, "I've gotta go to a soccer thing from 2 to 3."

He saw my look. "No, not a game. Some sign-up shit and to get my gear list for the fall league. After that, I need to go buy the stuff on the list in town. You wanna come with me downtown?"

"Sure. Got some chores first. I might as well skip the sign-up meeting. If that's OK?"

"Pfff ! I wouldn't think of asking you to sit through one of those. Mom wouldn't even go, if she could. Nine tenths of it's absolute wasted motion: it really shouldn't even take ten minutes. But what the fuck can you do? Figure an hour, hour and a half. We'll be back by four."

" 'Kay. Else you wanna do in town?"

"Town" meant the City. Either his mom was gonna to be taking us, or it was the express bus. Thirty-five minutes. Coupla bucks.

Brand dug into his shorts pocket, flashed some bills: "Mom says to take the extra and go have some fun; just don't miss the last bus or we'll be walking."

I laughed. "Yeah, right!" Twenty-six miles.

Returning home, I jumped in the shower, letting the Shower Massage knead my shoulders and back. That shower head was practically the first thing I'd bought when I got my first paycheck from the rink. Had a hose and everything. Worth every penny.

When I got out, I was still half hard. Horny, but just not my dick… Weird. Real horny, in fact!

I laid down on my bed and took my dick in my right hand, just like always. A thought intruding: Should I be doing this? Brand? Save it for Brand?

Huh?

Looking at it. Kinda stuck at half-mast. Pink and chubby, hot to the touch.

"Wait a minute!" I thought, "Whose dick IS this, anyway?"

Thinking of Brand's face, Brand's feel, smell, being WITH him. Mmmmm! Good question.

So: would this be OK with Brand?

Damn Straight, it would!

His face in my mind, I took my dick again. My left hand, this time, thumb toward my body. Beginning to stroke: slowly, slowly. My fingers so tender across the underside of the head. Away, away, slowly, toward the tip, pulling the skin, over the chubby head, swelling, hardening fully, electric pleasure, deep tingling current, sack now tight, becoming joyous, head exquisite. His feel, his smell, his boyish tender head in my mouth, against my tongue. Rising. Tighter still: my balls, my hole. We kiss, I moan. Urgency! Urgent, urgent, steeper, focusing: his lips. Sweet, tender lips. Brighter, now. His mouth, tongue, the sweetness, breathing, together, his bulge, our hot, full bulges, pressing, yielding, mingling, together. His breath. His boyish head. His blooming, his little whimper, his cumming, cumming. Rising, sharper: My CUMMING! Rising: the sweet, sweet, burning, burning... hanging, hanging... and... Uhhh! My lava erupting! Burning, Cool. Coating my hand, bringing me gladness and relief.

Damn! My hair dried all weird. Back in the shower and get it wet.

On the bus with Brand, recalling. I'd been waiting on the front porch as he rode up. Something different this time. The rest of me. Approaching. Arriving. Coming home. My home, coming to me.

Looking at him, there on the bus. Something different from a girl. So... self-contained. Beautiful, young, fresh. Tender, Strong. But... self-contained in some indescribable boyish way. All strong and upright. Slender neck and squarish shoulders. Boy lips: sensuous, unaffected. Brand. There. Sitting there. Brand. Surrounded by... space, by not-Brand. Separate. Self-contained.

With Cicely, there had been a goofy urge to... almost a hyper-awareness of the little details of the surroundings and the urge to make them perfect for her, to hide the shabby bits, the litter and graffitti. A little embarrassed by it. Some romantic silliness about wanting to carry her away to a more perfect place. A sense of obligation to do that. To make it better. Different with Brand. Still seeing the minute detail, but satisfied to leave it as it was, the shabbiness perfect in itself, somehow, with Brand by my side.

I looked over at Brand, him looking a little away from me, out the window. At the curve of his cheek, his ear, sunlight through the fine silver down above his lip. Earlobe glowing rosy, perfect, as the light shown through. A longing and a sense of almost-fulfillment. Wanting to reach out and to hold him close to me. Needing the comfort of his body, his solidity, his weight to ward off... something... something... a tiny hint of dread.

I put my head down on my arms, crossed on the seat-back before me. Closed my eyes. Tried to find the source of my discomfiture. A daydream, a vision of sorts: Time... vast. Vast and cold beyond imagining. Vastness without end. Indifferent, almost ruthless.

And seeking, seeking, through the vastness of the star-fields, the unimaginable expanse of emptiness. Two bubbles of warmth and color, two living hearts, driven by longing, almost certainly destined to fly past, losing each other. By some miracle colliding, merging, joyously trembling, dwelling in the love-space for oh-so-brief a flicker, then swept away, before the onslaught of inexorable time unending. A chill.

My eyes opened. Brand. Object of my desire. Just over my lover's shoulder, the hard chasm of eternity, the inevitability of loss. Looking at Brand, now. Seeing his colors, seeing him breathe, somehow faintly smelling him, hearing him. The intimacy of him. The immediacy. Right there. A glimpse of the exquisite fragility and transience of his youth and his beauty. So self-contained. So much a... boy. Time rushing us onward.

Looking around at the other passengers. No one near.

"Hey." Almost a murmur.

Brand looked at me, mellow, open.

"Have I told you that I love you, today?" A gentle, comforted look. A slight shake of his head.

"I love you today... " A comforted look. Love in his eyes. Time kinder, now.

"Ummm... me too." A quiet, humming little half smile. Time fuzzy.

"I'm afraid to lose you." Hollow again, my confession making it stark, real, again.

"I'm here with you. I don't plan on going anywhere. I have you." Looking down his nose, cute nose. Eyes considering, almost inspecting me. Expression softening, apparently liking what he saw. The bus lurching, Brand thrown into me, slightly. The weight of his body, the slight impact of him, so comforting, somehow. Solid, self-contained. Boy. I felt a hum of comfort. Something... a little void in me, filled. Time benign, again.

The shopping done, now. Sitting at a sidewalk table. Last sip of my strong vanilla shake. More leaves now, swirling, little "skitching" noises as they circled on the cement. Saying very little. Not sad, not bubbly. Gentle, abiding, comfy. Looking at each other. Comfortable to look each other in the face, to appreciate each other.

"I did something today I haven't done since we... " a shrug.

The eyebrow.

"Ya know," glancing down at my crotch & back up to his face.

"Pounded the pud?"

"Flogged the dog."

"Yanked the crank?"

"Bbbbbad to the BBBBone!" I giggled.

Smirking, "So?" Expecting the eyebrow. Just an open look.

"Thot of you. Wanted to lay you down and  roll on you."

"Like your dog?"

"Silly. Yeah, exactly." That made Brand smile.

"I was thinking about your smell... and your, um, taste," he said, sort of hesitantly.

"When?"

"When I did."

"You too, eh? When?"

"Just before I came over."

"Oh, so I shouldn't feel guilty?"

"You, too, eh? Weird. Felt like it belonged to you, all of a sudden, like I was just borrowing it."

"I had the same thing. Decided you'd prolly let me."

"As long as you give it back. And don't break it."

"Oww, Doc... "

"Doctor Benadict."

"Bent it, Hell! Broke it!" We both finished in unison.

"I can just see showing up in school on crutches & a cast."

"With a sling. Down to here."

"It's gonna suck, having school start. We won't even see each other during the day."

"Derek, that may be... may make things a little easier, actually. At least we won't have to try to hide anything."

"Like my giant throbber?"

"Those jeans don't hide a hell of a lot, anyway, on you." He smiled, appreciatively.

"Oh, yeah. Reminds me: I still need to stop and get some jeans."

"One of the things about you. Drives me nuts."

"Aye, Matey! Shiver me timber! Droives me nuts."

Snorting: "Let's go." Standing, his pants all bunched up, outlining his darling meat. Pulling them smooth. He looked at my bulge and gave a little shiver. Looking back up to my eyes, his own slightly droopy-lidded. Big breath, an explosive sigh through his nose. Eyes open, now.

Down into the Metro, fare cards in the turnstile, magnetic stripe -- so! Fssht! Grab the card. Right onto the train. Sitting. The warning chime and the strong, smooth acceleration.

"Sixth Street. Metro Center. Please exit to the left side of the car." The mechanical voice. Up. Turnstiles. Cards. Back up into the late sunlight, the day's fading warmth.

"Here." Through the air door. The smell of department store. Leather. Distant fragrance counter.

Grabbing my size, into the dressing room, pulling Brand. Into each other's arms, Ummm. Warm. The morose feeling of the day somehow easing. Smelling his skin, where my breath barely moistened his neck. Almost sleepy. Comforted.

"Hold me, Brand."

"Ummm. Love you."

"I'm not even really horny... "

Nuzzling me: "No?" Breathing through his nose onto mine, and my cheek.

"Well... "

"Umm?"

"Umm. Now I am!"

Pulling back a trifle. "Took you what? Eight seconds?"

"Humh!" I snorted, "Nine. At least."

"Look up." A grille. A matching grille above each of the changing rooms. Dirty old men up there, prolly, watching.

Brand grabbed the back of my head and kissed me. Tenderly at first, building, building, my cock hardening, 'till I was huffing urgently. Breaking. "Let's get the fuck outta here, Dare. Before they come haul us off."

"Or little droplets of white rain come shooting outta that grille."

"They're all up there with their cameras and shit... Let's go."

Paying for the jeans. Out into the gathering dusk. Brand looked at me: "Got anything else you need? Movie?"

"Naah! 'Bout you?"

"Too late. I'll come back down. We'll come back down. I like shop -- love shopping with you."

"I think I'd like shoveling dog-shit with you."

"Don't get me all excited. Long ride back."

Weird day. Real low key. Mellow. Riding back on the Metro, then the Express, pressing our legs together, drowsy, half-horny, longing to cuddle.

At his house, now. Kick off our shoes. Check my messages. Mom's working another double.

"Can we take a nap?"

"Sure. Wanna get nekkid?"

"Sleepy. Just cuddle. Hold me."

Waking to pull off my jeans, and Brand's. Down to our tees and jockeys. Pull the covers over. Smooth, cool sheets. Embrace him. Hum into his neck. Drift back off.

Waking. Dark out. Sounds from the kitchen, smell of something good. Pot Roast?

A little stretch, horny. Bigger stretch, swelling boner pushing voluptuously against Brand's buns. He turns to face me. He's the same. Thrusts slowly into me, once. I twinge once, exquisitely. Feel relieved. Kiss him.

"Hi." A flowing feeling.

"Hi." Feeling his breath on me. A tickle of pleasure inside my head.

"Good sleep?" Caring about him, so much!

"Yah, feel lots better. Wanna get up?" Actually asking: whatever I want.

"Kay, but... "

"Later. Promise."

"Kay." Horny but content.

Loved.


Send comments to: soaringtoad@hotmail.com. I hope you enjoyed this story. Any constructive feedback will be appreciated and gratefully reviewed. I intend to answer any messages received. Flames... are simply irrelevant.