Date: Sat, 23 Sep 2017 08:10:23 -0400
From: Orson Cadell <orson.cadell@gmail.com>
Subject: Beaux Thibodaux 27

Please see original story
(www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/beaux-thibodaux/) for warnings and
copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights reserved. Includes sex
between adult and young-adult men, some of them related to one another. Go
away if any of that is against your local rules. Practice safer sex than my
characters. Write if you like, but flamers end up in the nasty bits of
future stories. Donate to Nifty **TODAY** at donate.nifty.org/donate.html
to keep the cum coming.

*****

"You just called me son again. No. Hush now, please? And... and I liked it,
Oncle. I... I want... I'd like... Can we talk about what you said all the
way back in New Orleans? I think of it every day, I even remember the
words. 'One day,' you said, 'I hope to use the word son to mean that you
really are my son, that we are a real, actual family.' Oncle, Kevin, I
think... I think I want to talk about that now."

*****

Beaux Thibodaux 27: Dating for Beginners

Wednesday/Thursday

By Bear Pup

Quick note: If you come across French terms that aren't translated, just
insert your favorite cuss-words. Most are Cajun colloquial insults or
imprecations.

*****

Why do cars come with wipers and eyes don't? I mean, I could drive easily
with a little rain, but I had to pull into the next mini-mall after Beaux
said that. Bawling like a child, I pulled him to me, clutching him like a
drowning man, hugging him as if I were an overly-possessive bear. Thinking
back now, I had never done that with anyone before that moment; not my
parents, my closest friends, my most-intimate lovers. With roughly a dozen
words, Beaux had destroyed every breakwater, every wall, every barrier in
my soul.

When I could speak (Beaux couldn't since I had him in something like a Pro
Wrestling Death Hold), I blurted out, "I can c-c-c-c-call you son, Beaux?
Really? I can ad-d-d-d-dopt you? Really?"

What burbled up from under my arms sounded like, "Yakayntdopakorps!"

I let him loose a little and, at my most eloquent and profound, said,
"Huh?"

He sucked in a long, shuddering breath. "I said, you cain't adopt a corpse!
I ain't breathed a lick since you pulled off the road! Now, just let me
be!"

I pulled back, appalled, as my ward (son?) sucked in several ragged
breaths. He finally turned to me, a shy smile on his face and a twinkle in
bright-blue eyes. "Now, you jump over h'yar again and I'll haveta whomp ya,
but... yeah. I want to be your... son, Kevin. I want you to
be... family. No! No. You stop that, now! I want you to be my... my
père, my papa, my pappy. HEY! NO! Don't you do that! I'll jump right out
this car, me!"

He flapped against my hands as I tried, without reason or thought, to
capture him in my arms again. I finally sat back and
everything... stopped. What the fuck had I done? I was too old, too set in
my ways, too... FUCK! too GAY to be a dad. But it was, I knew, what I'd
wanted since I walked into that hovel and saw him standing there, twirling
a reed, a leaf and a hook in his fingers. When he first said, "You come to
take me away?"

But I also knew that I was the last man on Earth that could guide a young
man, parent a young man, teach a young man. I was QUEER, for fuck's
sake. Better, I'd realized over the last few weeks that I was far more
screwed-up than I'd ever understood! I mean, at every turn, the kid I was
supposed to mentor was teaching ME!

"Uh, Kevin? You still in there? You, um, ain't mad... you ain't, well, not
wanting that any more...?" The tone of horrified embarrassment and despair
snapped me out of my reverie.

"Beaux, I've not wanted anything else since I met you. But, well..."

"Well, what? You scaring me now!"

"I'm just not sure that, well Beaux, that I'm good enough."

"You ain't my pappy yet, right?" I shook my head a bit mournfully. "Good!"
He smacked me upside the head and yelled, I mean YELLED, "BORDEL DE MERDE!
What you thinking, Kevin? Not good enough?!? You say that there merde again
and par la volonté de Dieu I'll beat you senseless, me! You hear me,
Oncle? Huh?"

One ear ringing from the slap and the other from the yelling, I just stared
slack-jawed as Beaux grabbed hold of me and yanked me into a hug just as
fierce and possessive as the one I'd given him. He was crying and yelling
imprecations in Cajun French at the same time, pissed to hell and back that
I'd say something like that. He finally pushed me back and grabbed my chin
in his long, lean fingers.

"Kevin Faolan, I love you, me! I love you like the family I read about and
never had. Don't you DARE take that away. Certain-sure not for some fool
notion that you, a man ever person tell me is the best they know, ain't
good enough to teach me. Kevin," his voice thickened as he started to cry
again, "you the best thing -- the only good thing -- that ever done
happened to me."

I curled forward into his chest and lap and he petted me as I cried, just
as I'd done for him on several occasions when the world was just too
much. I finally pulled myself together and refused to look at Beaux, shamed
completely by my behavior, as I drove to the house.

We got home and I stripped instantly as did Beaux, but I suddenly froze as
my shorts hit my ankles. "Um, Beaux? I'm, well, I'm not really sure that I
should, you know, go around naked now that--"

"FAIS CHIER! You kidding me? Tu me gonfles, Oncle!" Beaux threw up his
hands, throwing his undies into my face "accidentally" in the
process. "Forget I said, anything. Just... AAGGHH!" He stormed out, leaving
me blushing purple and speechless. I mean, he was right... sorta. It
just... well, felt different strutting around naked if he was going to be,
you know, my son and all. I kicked my drawers into the hamper and tossed
Beaux's behind them and went in search of my ward.

I found him (naturally) in the kitchen murdering a sack of nuclear-orange
snacks and cussing non-stop in French under his breath. "Beaux? Beaux, I'm
sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"Upset me? Upset me? Beck moi tchew!"

"Um, I don't know that one. I have a feeling I deserve it though."

Beaux cracked a smile that he tried to hide. "It means, um, 'Bite my ass,'
Oncle." He giggled.

I chuckled. "I respectfully decline, but I could ask Will...?"

"Pic kee toi!" He smiled widely.

"Now that one I'm pretty sure I *do* know, and I shan't be fucking you in
this lifetime or any other, thank you very much. Again, though, I'm sure
that Will--"

"Oh, go to hell!" He was laughing now, which was a good change.

"Beaux, I really am sorry. I freaked out. And you know something? I
guarantee you that I'll do it again. It's neither the first nor last
time... for either of us. Okay?"

"Maybe." The smile was gone and there was a clear grump in his
voice. "I... I don't want you to change the way we treat each other,
Kevin. I don't. But I... I meant it when I said I love you and w-w-w-w-want
to be a family with you. So how do we do that without ruining things?"

I sighed deeply, trying to get my own roiling emotions in check. "I really
don't have an answer to that, Beaux. But I know who I'm going to ask." I
stepped to the side table in the hall and grabbed the phone, dialing the
number from a card I'd grabbed from the front of the fridge. "Dr Silvers?
This is Kevin Faolan. Can you call when you have a moment, please?" I
finished with my number and hung up. Beau was leaning against the wall,
staring at me with interest and a bit of annoyance.

"Just like that, you gonna just ask Dr Silvers? I thought you said you were
going to let me make decisions, too. You don't think I might have had an
opinion about that move? "

"No, actually." My voice was matter of fact and simple. "I want to ask him
something about ME, Beaux, not about you. You are not the one with the
issue here that he might be able to help with. You are doing just fine with
all this whereas I'm a complete fucking mess."

He snorted but seemed mollified. On this one, though, I was absolutely
certain -- If someone could help me not completely fuck this up, I'd pursue
it!

I noticed that the answering machine had messages. One was from Louise,
reminding me of an appointment on Friday with the Leewood Building
Department. Another was Tala apologizing for the short notice but asking to
move our session with him to the afternoon. I called him back and left a
confirming message on his own machine.

The phone rang before I even moved away and I picked it up fully expecting
either Tala's or Dr Silver's voice. "This is Kevin, may I help you?"

"God, I hope so, Mr Gorgeous..." the voice on the other end purred.

"HANS! Hans. Hi. Um, great to hear from you. Uh..." I was so flustered I
couldn't talk.

He chuckled. "Well, I have to make this quick. I swapped a shift with Betsy
so Will and I both have tomorrow night off. Are you and our little Bayou
Beauty available?"

"Absolutely!" I kicked myself for the obvious desperation that suffused my
voice. Subtle, Kevin, real subtle. Hans laughed outright.

"So, should we meet or just pick you and Beaux up? Will has to ride with me
as he doesn't have a car." Some little voice in the back of my head purred,
'Perfect. There goes the, "I ain't gonna drive, me," problem!'

"Just come by the house. We can decide when you get here. Do you want me to
make res--"

"Already handled and it's a surprise, so don't ask. And don't try to get
Beaux to wheedle it out of Will; I haven't told him either." Damn! That was
precisely what I'd planned to do, too. Bastard.

"That's great. What time?"

"We'll be there at seven. Oh, almost forgot. Call Frank Lyons at
816-727-9146. He's Matt's dad and he'll put you in touch-- Oops! Gotta run!
Kisses!" He hung up before I could mewl some pathetic, girlish goodbye,
thank God.

"So, Hans is coming by?" Beaux asked, eagerly.

"Better. We, my boy, have a double-date!"

"Oh, ONCLE! When?" Beaux's face lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?!? So soon?" I laughed as his elation crashed to horrified
worry. My chortling did not endear me to my ward in the least.

"Beaux, that is the exact reaction you had to the party, and that turned
out fine, right?"

There is, apparently, a French (or at least Cajun) equivalent of "Harrumph"
that I can't even begin to transcribe.

"So, let's talk dating."

"Aw, Oncle, now?" Ah, the power of youthful put-upon-ness.

"It's a sex-talk night, and what better subject? Unless you want to watch
girl videos...?" I let that hang there for a moment. "First though, Hans
gave me the number of the dad of one of the guys your age from the party."
He groaned loudly as I dialed.

"Hi, Frank? My name is Kevin Faolan and... Yes, from the party. Beaux's
uncle. Well, actually, that's why I'm calling. Beaux doesn't have any
friends his own age and... Really? Well, thank you. Uh huh. Yes. Really?
That sounds, well, that sounds perfect, Frank! Saturday at 11:00. Yes, I've
written down the address. You have no idea... Well, tell Matt that we'll be
there and thank him for both of us. See you then. And thanks so much,
Frank!"

Beaux was giving me serious stink-eye when I hung up and turned. "Okay,
before you say anything, who do you want to argue with first, Dr Silvers,
Julia or Rob? All of them told me the same thing, Beaux, that you needed to
socialize around people your own age." His look of disgust was so
quintessentially-teen that you could easily forget he had been raised by
she-wolves on the bayou.

"Go on. What you got me into now?"

"As it happens, Matt Lyons -- you met him at the party -- is having a
combination birthday party and end-of-summer 'bash' at his house this
Saturday. He had actually already *asked* his dad, Frank, if he could find
out if you could come, so it worked out perfect. Aaaaaaand, they live over
on Weatherby Lake and they have a dock, a boat *and* a pool." His eyes
pricked up at that. "We're to wear swim trunks and be ready for a day on
the water. How does that sound?"

"Doesn't sound terrible, now that you explain it." It's delightful to watch
a teen try and fail to hold onto a serious grump. "But I'm more worried
about the date with Will, me."

"Okay, then. I think we're probably going to want to pay attention to this
one, so I'll put something simple in the oven."

I threw together one of my Bachelor Classics. I cut up and sautéed a
couple of chicken breasts with frozen pearl onions and fresh mushrooms,
then built a quick sauce of chicken gravy mix, herbs, milk and cream. I
added frozen peas and decanted it into a casserole dish, topping it with
Stove Top boxed stuffing then sprinkled the whole top with parmesan. Into
the oven covered tightly and it could bake for weeks without getting
overcooked. Pull the cover and crank to high heat to crisp fifteen minutes
before you're ready and Magic Sunday Supper was always delicious.

We decamped to the library with our drinks (an Irish Coffee for me and a
ginger ale for Beaux). "Okay, dating. This is almost the opposite of going
to a party. At a party, you want to make sure to pay a little bit of
attention to everyone; on a date, you want to pay zero attention to anyone
other than the person you're with. At a party, you want to put your best
self on display; on a date, you want to be true to who you really are,
flaws and all."

Beaux was appalled. "But what if Will don't like my flaws?"

"You don't go on a real date just because you just want to have sex. You go
on a date because you want to be with someone. Why would you want to spend
a lot of time with someone you don't like, or who doesn't really like you,
son?"

"But I want Will to like me, Kevin! I want it a lot!"

"Beaux, I know. But ask yourself. Would you be happy if he came back here,
the two of you had sex and he left disappointed because you weren't the
person he thought you were? That's called a one-night stand, Beaux. Now
don't get me wrong, they can be a hell of a lot of fun. But I don't think
you liked Will just because he's sexy, did you?"

"That's mean! Of course, I didn't think that!"

"Do you think he was nice just because he thought you would be good in
bed?"

Beaux growled, "Now you just stop that!"

"From that reaction, Beaux, you know as well as I do that you want Will to
like YOU, son, not just *like* you. Do you see the difference?" He
grunted. "And if you pretend to be perfect, you're cheating him,
Beaux. Just be yourself." He was so utterly unconvinced.

I smiled. "I'll tell you a story. A really good friend of mine at college
was horrified at the way he laughed. It was this hideous
hur-hur-hur-SCHNORK, hur-hur-hur-SCHNORK!" Beaux started to giggle at my
impersonation. "He did everything he could never to really laugh when he
was on dates. One night, we were out with friends, Ray with a girl he'd
dated but who had never really seemed interested. I made a joke and Ray
'schnorked' at it and looked at me, horrified. They were married a year
later. Diane said that, until that laugh, Ray hadn't seemed like a real
person. To this day, she says she married him for the 'schnork'."

"Now you're just making that up, you!" he chortled.

"Swear on it, Beaux. If we get over to St Louis, we'll go out to dinner and
Diane can tell you herself."

"I'll think on that. But don't you go thinking that I'm going to make a
fool of myself!"

"Beaux, I didn't say that. Just don't pretend to be anything you're not."
He nodded thoughtfully. "Speaking of the difference between a one-night
stand and a relationship, you and Will won't be having sex tomorrow,
either."

Beaux's eyes popped, his jaw dropped and his every hackle went
'sproing!'. "Don't you say one word, Beaux. You heard Dr Silvers. This is
for you to learn about relationships, not learn how to fuck your way
through a crowd." I had to fight not to laugh at the utterly-appalled and
offended face of my ward. "So, I will explain to Will that the clothes will
stay ON tomorrow night, for both of you. No, don't you dare say what you're
thinking. That's the rule for this one, son, so deal with it."

His jaw worked very much like a guppy for a minute as he seethed. He got a
sly look then, even through the rage, and put on a smarmy voice. "Fine,
then. As long as the same rule applies to Hans!"

I slammed my jaw shut from its sudden gaping pose with an actual snap as my
teeth met. "That," I said as my jaw worked back and forth in anger, "is not
for you to decide."

His eyes, green and angry, squinted and he pitched his voice in a
sadly-accurate impersonation of my own, adding a bit of mocking sing-song
that made me want to strangle the little brat, "Beaux, let's just forgive
each other," he quoted from the post-Barry-blowjob discussion to my
absolute fury, "and use this as a learning exercise. I will try really hard
not to butt into your sex life, and you keep your sex life in your
room. Agreed?" He smirked at me and, swear to god, I have never wanted to
bitch-slap a young man more than I did in that instant. "What happened to
that, huh?"

I took a deep breath to keep my voice within the very limits of what could
be called 'reasonable'. "That stands, but does not apply to this. Shut up!
I swear to you, Beaux, I will pick up that phone and call Dr Silvers back
and explain the situation. You want a quote? How about this one: 'I'll
write a prescription that Beaux gets no spice, salt, pepper, meat, butter
or cheese. For a WEEK.' You like that quote, Beaux?"

We glared at each other over the chasm that had become the coffee table. I
saw pinpricks of tears at the corners of his eyes. "I wasn't gonna have sex
with him anyhow! It just ain't your place--"

"Fuck that! It is EXACTLY my place! And you think I'd be LESS likely to lay
down rules to protect you if, if, if..." I swallowed and found my own voice
and eyes tightening with tears as well, "if you let me adopt you than if I
was just your uncle? Beaux, I care about you a hell of a lot more than you
appear to care about yourself. I'm done with this conversation! I'll call
you when dinner is ready." I got up and fled to the bathroom before he
could see me break down crying.

I sat there on the toilet lid, face in a towel so I could muffle the sound
as I cried. 'I can't do this. I can't. I can barely be an uncle. How can I
be a dad?' ran through my mind as a terrible mantra until I finally quashed
it. I thought of the sympathy I could expect from Tala and Dr Silvers and
even Rob -- none at all. 'Fuck it, Kevin. Beaux needs this. Suck it up and
deal with it.' I flushed the unused commode and washed my face with cold
water, then went into the kitchen.

The casserole can't overcook, but it did need a minimum of time in the
oven. Our conversation had taken, at most, thirty minutes even counting my
crying jag. I was standing at the kitchen island staring at the oven when I
felt Beaux's arms come around me. I yelped in surprise, having forgotten
how silently he moved.

"I'm sorry, Kevin. I am. I know you're doing your best, and doing it for
me. I forget sometimes is all."

I turned in his arms and returned the hug, uncomfortably aware of our
shared nudity and simultaneously ashamed as I realized Beaux was completely
oblivious to it. "Beaux, I am so, so terrified that I'm fucking this up. I
can't even explain it, son. It scares me so bad and I'm sorry if I snap at
you sometimes or make stupid, knee-jerk responses."

"We agreed a while back to forgive each other. I think that still
holds. Tonight, I think we both have a little forgiving to do. And... you
were right. About Will. About setting limits. I don't like it. I'm not
going to ever like it. That doesn't mean you're wrong." He smiled. "Just
don't expect me to ever say that again, though!"

We hugged for a minute, smiling. We pulled back at about the same time,
Beaux taking a seat and me moving to the fridge where I had some frozen
Parker-House rolls. I do a lot of things, including baking, but
yeast-breads and rolls? Those I get from people who really know what the
fuck they're doing. I have a dear friend who does catering and he sets
aside small, aluminum-foil pans of par-baked breads for me. Parker-House,
clover-leaf and Chicago rolls as well as multi-grain and white
peasant-style breads. Even focaccia and Irish soda-bread on occasion. Best
part? They only took about fifteen minutes, about the same amount of time I
crisped most casseroles.

I cranked the oven up and pulled the cover from the casserole and popped in
the rolls when it reached temp. I knew Tala would give me a nasty look for
the carb-fest and just didn't care. Beaux was preparing to mount a
full-frontal assault on the oven by the time the DING announced it was
ready. I pulled the food and plated everything, getting the Euro-style
butter out for the rolls. Beaux promptly did the flash-steamed-mouth dance
-- teen boys are incapable of learning that lesson -- but the dish was a
hit and he added it to his, "Beaux Likes" list with a couple of notes to
the side about herbs and spices to improve it. There were, shockingly,
leftovers but I knew they'd vanish sometime in the middle of the night.

We were up as normal the next morning and used the Tala Torture session to
burn off jitters both of us had about the evening, talking in between
sets. Shower and breakfast were routine and we settled in for a morning of
work. I called Louise back and confirmed Friday with Leewood and she told
me that the lawyers had combed through the Chicago contract and found
nothing of real interest to change. I promised to swing by after going to
Leewood to sign it.

Dr Silvers called around ten. Beaux listened intently as I explained the
situation. The man was quiet for a while and then said, "This is not a
subject for a quick phone call, for either of you. Let's talk Monday if
that's okay?"

Lunch needed to be light as we both expected Tala to attempt to murder us,
and that kind of exercise on a full stomach is a nightmare. Over his
objections, I had Beaux grill some salmon for his and I did a chicken
breast for mine. He couldn't see why I objected to him changing his food
preferences to be more like mine. We talked about his schoolwork over lunch
and the additional hour or so we needed to kill before heading to Sparta.

Today was our first with free weights, all of it upper body. He
demonstrated a set of each exercise for Beaux, then had Beaux watch as he
ran me through a set, correcting the things I had wrong. He was, to put it
simply, a master of understanding, shaping and tormenting the human
body. He said we'd do bar lifting later, but wanted us concentrating on
barbells to start. Beaux and I were hurting so bad when we were done that
we discussed arm amputations on the way home -- ours and/or Tala's.

That was until we stepped into my bathroom for the blessed steam-shower. It
would have been a comedy routine if anyone was there to see. We walked in
chatting and both froze like statues when we caught sight of ourselves in
the mirrors. They were positioned with a subtle angle that allowed you to
see front and back at the same time. We stood like idiots, flexing arms and
chests and backs that we hadn't even had a few hours earlier. The effect
was... startling. Beaux looked more like a sculpture than ever, and my back
looked like someone had airbrushed it to accentuate my frame. We were both
speechless.

Then, abruptly, we met each other's eyes and burst out laughing at each
other's expression. We showered in high spirits and went our separate ways
to dress. I came out to find Beaux still in his room, dithering over what
to wear. Most of the things he owned were on the bed or chair at that
point. I looked at his amazing, lean, muscled frame and smiled. "Beaux, you
can't agonize over clothes. Let me pick something you and Will should both
love.

Over his strenuous objections, I put him in a black tee shirt that was,
after the session at Sparta, too small for his upper body. I got him into a
pair of snug-not-tight, deep-blue jeans without underwear and the boots
from New Orleans as he grumbled and spat that he'd look stupid and
under-dressed. I frog-marched him into the bathroom and stood him in front
of the mirror where he just... blinked, turning slowly.

The black shirt made his gorgeous hair shine and his eyes pop with
color. With the black above, the blue of the jeans drew the eye to his
amazing ass, packed crotch and thickening thighs. Every curve and muscle
was very subtly on display. The black fabric on his upper body understated
it from a distance but emphasized the definition more and more as you got
closer. He was simply stunning. I leaned forward from behind him and
whispered, "With you looking like that, Will might just have a heart attack
when I tell him the no sex part." Beaux giggled and blushed.

I was in some soft, black chinos and a cowboy-cut shirt of white with
sparse blue paisley and silver chasing running through it. It made me look
younger (always good) but also seemed to accentuate the work Tala had
done. I decided not to mention that it was the seventh shirt and third pair
of pants I'd put on. The 'don't obsess about clothes' thing was damned good
advice even if I, personally, was incapable of taking it.

The clock was chiming the seven o'clock hour when the doorbell rang. I
opened it and my jaw dropped. I have described Hans as a Norse
God. Tonight, though, he was dressed for the role. He had on an open bomber
jacket of soft, brown leather, a shirt of some stretchy material the color
of buckskin that rippled with the underlying muscles and a pair of black
jeans and engineer boots. He took my breath away and I simply... gaped at
him.

"Um, is Beaux here?"

"Whu?" I finally broke my gaze away from Hans and saw Will standing there,
shifting nervously. "Oh! Oh, sorry. Come in, both of you!" Hans chuckled
and let his biceps glide across my chest as he walked by, making me
shiver. Will was in jeans tight enough to tell his religion, boots, and a
shirt of dark-grey nylon so well-tailored that you could see his nipples
without it looking tight or stretched.

I had poured Hans a crown-n-coke as soon as I heard the car and handed it
to him. He beamed at me. "Will, what can I get you? I've got just about
everything."

He was looking everywhere to see if he could spot Beaux. He said,
distractedly, "I, uh, don't really drink. Could I have a club soda with a
slice of liiiiiii..." The 'i' sound in 'lime' trailed off as his breath
slowly left him. Beaux had come around the corner from the kitchen and
stopped like he'd been poleaxed. His eyes scanned up and down Will like
weather radar. He smiled slowly and walked forward, moving like a jungle
cat.

He came up to within a foot or so of Will and his smiled widened as he
purred, "My God, Will, you look so good tonight. I'm so glad to see you
again." He leaned in and put a peck-kiss on Will's cheek, at which point
his vict-- I mean, his date's face suddenly flared red, starting at his
neck and ears until the blush met at the tip of his nose.

"Beaux, Will would like a club soda with a slice of lime. Would you like to
get it for him?" Beaux nodded at me and turned. I swear to god he
deliberately flexed his ass as he moved and Will whimpered a little. "Will?
Will!"

"Whu?" Hans snorted a little of his drink at Will's unconscious impression
of my own reaction at the door. I was not amused. "Will, come over and sit
with us, please, while Beaux gets the drink?"

The small, muscled man turned to me and visibly shook himself. "Yes, sir."
He followed as I led Hans to the loveseat. Hans sat so close he pushed me
bodily into the fabric-covered arm, leaving a sizeable gap on his other
side. I coughed to regain some sort of composure as Will settled on the
couch.

"Will, this will be Beaux's first date, ever. Will, look at me. The clothes
-- ALL the clothes -- will stay on tonight."

"Oh, Kevin! I would never--"

"Bullshit!" Hans chortled. "If Kevin so much as turned away for a second,
you'd be on that boy like a lawyer on a line of coke and you know it!" Will
spluttered but knew the truth when he heard it. Hans slipped his arm behind
me and I felt him caressing my far shoulder seductively just as Beaux
handed Will his drink and sat next to him on couch leaving *just* enough
room between them to be decent.

"Um, and Hans? The s-s-s-s-same will be true for us, too."

It was Will's turn to laugh outright at the look on Hans' face. "I beg your
pardon?"

I blushed hard and shot a glare at my ward before turning back to Hans'
slightly-scrunched face. "That is the deal I made with Beaux. It's not
forever, just for this date." I got a mischievous grin at the expression on
his face. "Or are you saying you only want me for my body?" Will chuckled
and Beaux watched the exchange with interest.

"I never said *only*, but your body *is* part of the package," he leaned
forward and growled low, "and what a fucking package, Kevin."

<eof>

Special proofreading thanks got out to Dan, Daniel, Tom, Ronald and Skip.

*****

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Active storelines, all at www.nifty.org/nifty/gay...
Canvas Hell: 35 chapters .../camping/canvas-hell/
Beaux Thibodaux: 27 chapters .../adult-youth/beaux-thibodaux/
The Heathens: 28 chapters .../historical/the-heathens/
Lake Desolation: 20 chapters .../rural/lake-desolation/
Culberhouse Rules: 12 chapters .../incest/culberhouse-rules/
Raven's Claw: 10 chapters .../authoritarian/ravens-claw/
Ashes & Dust: 6 chapters .../rural/ashes-and-dust/
Maybe Next Time: 6 chapters .../authoritarian/maybe-next-time/
NEW! IRMA'S BOYS: .../adult-friends/irmas-boys/