Date: Fri, 21 Dec 2001 18:20:50 +0000 From: Java Biscuit Subject: Babying Reuben, chapter four This story involves teen/adult, male/male graphic sex and is not intended for reading by minors. If you are underage, or this type of material is illegal where you live, please stop now, and go read something else! This is a completely fantasized story meant only for the purpose of pleasurable reading. These people don't exist, this world doesn't exist, outside of this story. It is not in any way, shape, or form meant to encourage unsafe, unprotected sex. Feedback to javabiscuit@hotmail.com Babying Reuben ~ chapter four by Biscuit "Don't call me every hour, you'll upset my uncle," Reuben said, blushing. The young painter's face hid nothing, Jean thought. The feathery eyebrows moved, the dark lashes fluttered. Reuben's lips were full and expressive. He pouted, compressed them, bit them. How old is he now? Jean wondered, trying to remember if Reuben was sixteen yet. To him, the boy seemed disconnected to age. Young, very young seeming, especially when his short straight nose twitched down like a rabbit as he frowned. Emotions were rippling through the pretty features; happiness, embarrassment, there was a flurry of anxiety. But, in a way, Reuben seemed older than his years, so full of intensity, of passion, that it didn't seem possible that he was only fifteen. Maybe, Jean thought, I've just forgotten how it was to be that age. But he didn't think he himself had ever been as sensitive a creature as Reuben was. But then, he thought, I wasn't an artist. At the risk of making Reuben jump out of his skin again, Jean gambled on asking him to stay and eat with him. "Would your uncle be upset if you don't come home for dinner tonight?" He drew him tighter, pressing his hardening cock into the moist skin of the boy's stomach. He wanted to fuck him and feed him, and keep him with him as long as he could. That's what relaxes you, he thought, seeing Reuben's eyes and lips respond to being stroked with his cock. "I could call him and say I'm staying out," Reuben said, closing his eyes, retreating into the almost distant state he inhabited when he was aroused. Jean surprised the boy's eyes open when he picked him up. He carried him to the bed and put him down in the mussed covers. He took a fresh towel and fitted it under him before drawing the linens and comforter over him. He saw Reuben find his bear where it had landed off to the side, as he picked up the basin with the discarded diaper. No need, he thought, to have it sitting by the bed now that Reuben was calmed down enough to tolerate being left alone for a moment. He handed the phone to Reuben, from the bedside table, and left him in privacy to call his uncle while he took care of the other. In the bathroom, Jean washed his hands and stomach, and lightly soaped a wash cloth to bring back to bed with him. He would never tire of babying Reuben, but he wondered if they could soon move beyond the game itself. Surely there were other ways to make the boy feel cared for and relaxed enough to have sex. (I live to see you.) Jean felt a shiver of pleasure remembering the sound of him saying it but a sliver of fear tinged the happiness. What was it, really, that Reuben wanted? Him, or the retreat into that hazy eyed state of being pleasured without responsibility? Reuben was off the phone, covers pulled up with the bear on his chest. "You can stay?" Jean asked. Reuben nodded, tenting the covers with his knees to let Jean reach under and wipe him with the damp wash cloth. Reuben's semi erection firmed up in his hand as he stroked him with the cloth. By the time he patted him with the towel, Reuben's eyes were closed and his dick fully hardened. Jean too, was woodenly erect, as he wiped between the cheeks of Reuben's ass, wanting back inside him. The boy was still leaking cum and lubricant and Jean's finger slid into him easily. Carefully, his heart beating harder, Jean took the bear from Reuben's hands, making the blue gray eyes open. He stroked the furry thing against Reuben's cheek, but took it away, setting it safely next to the pillow, his finger still moving inside him. "The baby's baby will be safe over here, for now," he said. Reuben gave him a barely perceptible nod, his cheeks coloring up. His freed hands moved under the blankets, grasping his own knees to pull them wider and higher. Jean withdrew his hand to shrug off his robe, and watched Reuben's eyes dart over him, centering on his crotch. Good, he thought, his dick swelling harder with the boy's eyes on it. For a moment, before he was in the bed, on top of him, Jean had a vision of Reuben's smooth naked body, spread wide and waiting for him and it sent such a shot of lust through him that his cock jerked and his balls tightened. Oh God, Reuben. Maybe I'm the one who needs protection of that fucking bear! -------------------- He thinks he loves me, but he couldn't feel like I feel, Reuben thought. He groaned un- controllably with each thrust he took into him, without the bear to smother the sounds. He couldn't feel his legs any more, pinned up to his shoulders by Jean's arms, just the stretch of muscle and the wet hard slide of something huge and hot, and so good, in his ass. He strained to move with Jean but had no control. He just took it; over and over, each time feeling like it would be the last he could stand before exploding. I'm such a whore, he swore at himself, his fingers clutching at Jean's neck, his shoulders, feeling so greedy to come. It was hard to kiss him, like this, but Jean would moan and assault him with his open mouth here and there, and the sudden attacks left Reuben breathless. Then it happened. The key clicked home that unlocked the dam in his balls, powered open by jack hammering fucking; Jean's needy thrusts that signaled he was going to unload inside him any second. Reuben heard his own guttural sounds as he lifted into it, the clutching spasm riding through his ass and shooting off hot jerking bliss through his dick. Fuck! He was stuck, shuddering; splayed and crushed under Jean's heaving weight. Dead weight, but not dead; Jean was breathing so hard Reuben felt the deep breaths expand his chest; and he was still hard inside him. Reuben felt him moving his dick slowly, like he was milking the last drops of cum into him. Part of him was begging to be set free and unfolded, but most of him wished that Jean would stay where he was forever, covering and filling him with heat. --------------------- The meal was so simple; cold chicken, warmed up on bread with oil and some slices of red pepper. Glasses of wine. Jean fed him after bathing. Reuben was wrapped up in the warmest of Jean's bathrobes, his bare feet tucked under a fleecy throw on the couch. His plate was balanced on his stomach, and between careful bites, he was studying the room around them. He looked ... fucked, very beautifully fucked. Plumped out and sleek, his pale skin marked here and there -- mostly around his throat, with blooms from Jean's teeth and sucking kisses. Jean sipped his wine, enamored by the sight, wondering, now that he'd gotten him here, if he could keep him for the night. Slow down, he cautioned himself. "You don't mind coming upstairs?" he asked him. The look of disbelief Reuben gave him almost made him laugh. "Are you crazy?" he asked. "I, well, I wanted to see it." Then he blushed, and Jean cursed himself for making him self-conscious again. But Reuben took a breath, looking down at his plate, and then back up again. "I like it, being in your house. It's great. Like downstairs," he said. He was trying to hide his smile, "But a lot messier. In a good way," he hastened to add. "I never thought you would have a messy place, Jean. You're so, you know, you dress so nicely, and the studio is so neat." "It gets away from me. The studio's just one room, easier to keep up with. That's why I met you there, instead of up here. I'm glad you like it, glad you're not offended by ... the mess." Jean looked around, it was a jumble of furniture left by his mother, pieces he'd bought for the shop that had accumulated. Some weren't nice enough to sell, others, too nice to give up. A riot of styles, the walls hung haphazardly with things he'd taken a fancy to without much regard for more than where there was an empty hook. There was more of the same stockpiled on the third floor. He thought of the rooms overhead; the one that was heated, and pictured Reuben in there, painting. He'd never seen any of Reuben's stuff, but couldn't imagine, given the boy's early placement at the art school, that he wasn't talented. Slow down, he admonished himself again.