Levi 5

“Turn off the light.”

Fourteen ignores this. Barry Gordon whispers this plea in a thick voice already drowned in the tsunami waves of his lust. They could be on the ass-splintering picnic table beside Levi’s RV that first time Fourteen peeled back Barry’s jeans. They could be in one of many discrete cabins close at hand. Fourteen insists on the unhappy bubble tent.  The awkward seventeen-year-old wants this dirty release anyway he can get it. No headroom, Barry is on his knees, sex-supplicant. Hetero-virgin-cock reveals itself as Fourteen manhandles the stiff fabric down and past Barry’s socked feet. That is as far as it goes. The high school senior won’t get intimate-naked with a boy. He has to close his eyes when Fourteen takes his own pants off.

“Mr. Gordon, sir,” Barry’s father, owns this early twentieth-century Japanese-internment-camp Stalag on the shores of the upper peninsula. Lake Michigan stretches south down and past where Fourteen was violated. Slow calendar pages turn to leaf-dropping October. The tent is pretty damn cold. The yellow bubble tent is set artfully close at hand to Levi’s 1996 Luxor Winnebago. Barry Gordon erected the love nest with less enthusiasm than he does his cock.

Fourteen figures the awkward giant will hastily pack the shame closet memory of fucking a boy away with the tent on the first snowfall. Fourteen sees Barry passing it on to some cousin, maybe He can forget his brief surrender to Fourteen’s seduction. Fourteen pauses to return the camp light (stage light) to proper position. Barry hates the way Fourteen’s mouth twitches to the side as the younger boy contemplates the furred legs and swollen prick. Fourteen frowns at the constant insult. The older boy cannot look at his naked body. It doesn’t matter, pursed lips decide. The squeezed eyes above the pimpled plains of Barry’s wanna-be-whiskered face can stay shut. This is a shadow play for a different audience.

Levi could just go out and sit on the shaky picnic table, have a steaming coffee and listen to the boys. The distorted shadows playing across the yellow-jealous curve of boy-vengeance are a familiar serial. This is the sporadic Wayang puppet theatre staged by his young companion. Lithe-malevolent Fourteen bares ass back-turned-careful so the improbable accomplice can imagine some local heartthrob. More fool him, because Levi knows this perfect package of Hell-hath-no-fury will never come young Barry’s way twice in a thousand incarnations.

Tuan or Fourteen, the distinction is a muddle in Levi’s eroding mind, is using the older boy. Knowing this, accepting the blame for this, Levi still feels the barb of rejection. A sip of coffee (thicker brewed and over-roasted), sweetened with condensed milk, helps to calm him. I’d sit waiting for Tuan over coffee. Never doubting his fidelity to me. Until after, Levi admits. Now he seems to be waiting for Fourteen.

It is there before his eyes in the damn bubble tent. Fourteen will carefully turn just so. Levi tried this experiment himself. Fourteen will not want the fresh perfection of his groin to kill the careful hetero-illusion for Barry. Through the window, shadows merge in passing, then his Fourteen kneels open-ready for the larger shadow. Well, it is the evening entertainment at this winterized-wilderness hideaway. He sighs and takes another sweet sip. Levi is done with cold, except Fourteen’s cold shoulder retribution keeps them here in the forest. Levi sits shotgun-Fourteen-seat with his coffee recalling times he seduced-raped straight young partners in the long ago. It is little better than masterbation. Barry-frenzy fills the tent. “The little fucker is getting you hard.” Levi remarks to his oldest friend and he has to laugh.

Hell will freeze over, Levi knows this. Tuan walked the crowded streets, weaving in and out amongst his people and the uniformed strangers melting in the unaccustomed seashore heat. He came and went. He came and came (but only like that in Levi’s fevered imagination). Sixteen-seventeen years old, but Vietnamese slender like Fourteen. Had Tuan found family, friends?

Levi did the GI-in-country thing half-hearted, seeing village-paddy Tuans everywhere, haunting the streets by himself seeing orphan-angry Tuan, perfect-Fourteen-Tuan. Tuan sees his shirt-fisted body-dragging American saviour, Levi knew it, in the before-courtship rituals. Another calming sip, and Fourteen’s adolescent revenge plays on in the tent, Tuan’s seeming indifference played out on the indifferent Da Nang streets. Levi and Tuan, Levi and Fourteen, Hell will freeze over, Levi knows this.

Barry wheezes constant choked mom-dad-brother alerting screams. It is a visceral male-bull triumph. Barry’s house is ranged beyond a row of dingy cabins, hard up against the Jurassic Park columns of the camp entrance. Brother Dan might be curiously-about, Fourteen doubts it. Barry is John-Patrick-hard, face-wincing bad at this man-on-man action. Pity the girls. Barry is straight-proud-afraid to even touch Fourteen’s bent back. Gay-cooties infecting straight boys, embarrassed groping for the kind of breast-nipples Levi likes.

Fourteen gets it. There is not much here for passive fourteen but the hard realization his best friend boy-crush left at the August Fair would be tragically just like this. Shane lusting after the sweet girls lusting futilely after distracted Jeremy Gates. Jeremy in turn lusting after Shane or a passing pair of moulded shorts. Patrick lusting after Fourteen and, okay it’s true, Fourteen lusting after John. As Fourteen’s English teacher would say, “What fools these mortals be!” Fourteen touches his comatose clipped-cock. Barry’s broken-rhythm shifts to a coughing-spastic finale of mindless thrusts. Then finally, the wheeze-in-pain release of little swimmers into Fourteen’s disappointed cavity. There is more to this failure. Fourteen’s mangled cock is floppy-broken and he does not know how to fix it.

Fourteen’s nightly drama ends. Supporting cast withdraws upstage center. Barry peels the condom off his hard cock. Like so much about Barry, the organ seems uncertain, we’re done here? “Oh gosh! I’m getting it everywhere!” Trembling quaver octave-high, Barry needs to channel his inner stud better. Fourteen turns to look at the helplessness on his knees. Helpless turns to shock when Fourteen sucks the sticky stiffy between his lips. “Kale,” Barry manages.

Gay boys, all the worst locker room thoughts in one confident package materializing in a Luxor Winnebago, off season. Fourteen gets it. Fresh from ass, dirty seconds, inconceivable. Dr Evil gave the mom-dad safe-sex lecture on this. Barry was sanitized-shrink-wrapped when he came. Most of his sweaty ejaculation is nippled in the flaccid condom pinched between the teenager’s fingers like ass-wipe. What is left, is more than Dr. Evil can manage from his veteran cock.

Barry is usually slam-bam-gone. Tonight he wastes Fourteen’s time talking. Fourteen taunts him bare-ass-freezing on the sleeping bag. “So, I was thinking.” Barry begins shyly. “After school tomorrow, I thought Dan, you, and I could take a walk. I like to climb into the state park. We could hike a few hours in, cook something together, hike back.” The older boy looked at him hopefully.

Fourteen is not against the idea. Dan Gordon is closer to his age and blessed with mom’s good looks and laughter. Fourteen leaves him alone. He is troubled-straight Kale to everyone but Barry. Dr. Evil pervs too-young Dan discreetly. Fourteen is still Barry-clumsy around other teenage boys. Dan’s gaydar is acute, his capacity for humour vast. Fourteen thinks Dan has his number and (thankfully) does not care. Maybe my friends would have been okay, knowing about me. Fourteen tries not to think about that. “My grandad,” He begins.

“Yeah, I know,” Barry answers defeated. “You worry about what could happen if you are not here. Mom and Dad would be glad to keep an eye on him. There is cell reception half way up. We would not be out of touch for too long.”

“I know,” Fourteen fingers the slick red polyester sleeping bag. “He needs me.” He slips regret into his voice. The story is well told. Kale’s tragic loss, the teenage (suicide close, hint, hint) breakdown, caring grandfather with his own health problems. Dr. Evil has had bad days. Days where Fourteen fears he will forget to reset the Doomsday clock. The Gordons cannot be sure if the month-long stay is about healing orphan-Kale or nostalgic-gramp. It is both.

Dr. Evil laid it out to Fourteen in a pause before Jurassic Park. Fourteen’s scalpel-raped-penis needed a few weeks healing-catch-my-breath. “It is healing perfectly. Don’t excite yourself. That will strain the skin.” Just that perfunctory advice deserved a punch. Fourteen has to let the old man touch. He is Dr. Evil, but he is the doctor. The ramshackle collection of cabins behind the fieldstone pillars is also part of some morbid Vietnam Veterans tour. Fourteen joined the tour midway from the August Midway and Patrick’s before-after ride.

Barry’s namesake Granduncle Barry died over there while Dr. Evil Marine was dalying with the mysterious, inconveniently circumcised Nguyen Huu Tuan. There was a stop at the cemetery with the Gordon Clan while Dr. Evil did some serious crying over G-Barry’s little-flag grave. It was very un-Ed-Harris like. Dr. Evil was doing some freaky-seance-stuff that helped to keep Fourteen’s cock ice-water-shriveled. There was a quick slash across Dr. Evil’s palm with his wicked-cool Japanese steel clasp knife. Blood dripping on the headstone and a small rock left behind like some pagan ritual. “Semper fi you Marine bastard,” Dr. Evil whispered to his lost comrade. “That’s three,” the old man added cryptically.

Three and how many more? The boy wondered. Well, Fourteen joined the magical mystery tour of duty without an itinerary. Standing beside that old grave, he was about as deep into his fuck-you-Levi-psycho-bastard phase as he would get. The Luxor Winnebago might as well have been a mint-green hearse. Dr. Evil’s graveyard-grief was a puzzle. The Tuan-Dr. Evil Marine story touches Fourteen in a way Patrick’s Pussy-Boy ordeal failed to. It is always on the tip of his tongue to ask more. There was Navy blood on Fourteen’s hand as they walked away from Dr. Evil’s Memorial Day moment.

Fourteen has been seriously middle-finger-on-strike for four weeks. Separate beds and long circular walks. His only concession is catering food for Dr. Evil. Fourteen figures that from now on, anything going into his mouth goes into the crafty old man’s first. The sounds-of-silence between them do not seem to ruffle the old cock’s feathers.

Be sure, the postoperative morning was suitably dramatic. Silence was not the latest after. Levi shackled the bobcat, let the anger-fright tongue lash wash over him. Dr. Fisher was good, more than good at his vocation. Forty years dealing life-and-death, malpractice happens. Drama happens. Dr. Fisher has learned to let the anger wash over him, not let the fury drown him. Less said the better, his lawyers remind him. He gives that a try with Jeremy Gates, but before long, he is on the defensive. His medical arguments fall flat. Fourteen shouts him down in a high pitched hysteria. The handcuffs, Beretta Nano truth, and a silver hoop end the arguing. Take a pill for the pain, Levi says. Fuck you old man, Fourteen snaps back. Pain fades in the latest after.

Levi gets chummy with the Gordon family, learns Cribbage so he could play with Mr. Gordon, sir. He runs into the local town while Fourteen is left bomb-collar chained to the RV. “What happens if you get into an accident?”

Dr. Evil replies, boom. Fourteen actually punches his shoulder. Not too hard, just a bold font emphasis of the tear-frustration blurring his eyes. “Get to know the boys.”

So yeah, that is what he does. It is now the fuck-you, watch-me-screw phase of his revenge. Fourteen knows it is going badly. Dr. Evil is being all Ed Harris about it. He is fighting back with some fishing-with-Dan-Gordon, an innocent On-Golden-Pond remix. He is rough trade with Barry Gordon, the seventeen-year-old lacks finesse. It is all John-hard, but Fourteen can not get it up, less come, since the operation. He sighs and plays with the red sleeping bag. “I don’t think it is a good idea leaving grandfather alone. He needs me.” The smart-death watch on his wrist chimes agreement. Fourteen is still alive and frustrated for another day.

Post-coitus regret, Barry shifts back into his Redwings hoodie. “I’m going to pull the tent down tomorrow. I can open up Number Ten, turn the power on and get a heater. We can hang out there.” Number Ten is discretely distant from both their homes. This defeats Fourteen’s purpose, but it is Barry’s tent, Barry’s cock, so he nods. No goodbye kiss as the camp light goes out.

Fourteen sits cross legged in the post-coitus regret body-rank of vengeful-man-sex. The August stormy night seems unreal-before-magic. Fourteen’s angry now bursts like a bubble. The anger becomes a noisome fart he needs to escape. He just grabs his pants and steps into the north wood Halloween chill of Michigan. Dr. Evil’s Tuan-cosmetic surgery falls off his shoulder as easily as Patrick’s pussy-boy hay-bale-rape. Done is done, tangerine whispers like the wind sending the cleansing scent of pine needles. Fourteen is in the now, and that is adolescence.

The hell-or-heaven teen forever now can be overwhelming. Could be worse, Fourteen’s grandfather chuckles as he reads picture books to snuggled Jeremy. “Could be worse,” Fourteen reminds himself in a soft raspy-male whisper. Pick yourself up, scrapes heal, learn to ride the board so you stay on it. The sweetness of the kidnapped boy reaches past the sad now to a beautiful a tangerine-sunrise Jeremy after. Fingers fondle the fearful, uncertain now of his naked cock-head. There is still this flaccid problem.

Levi sees his boy standing sentinel by the fuck-tent flap. As Fourteen turns toward the door of the Luxor, Levi swings his chair around and crosses his legs. The sounds of Fourteen’s shoes dropping by the door, his shirt slipping over his head, fill the silence. The slender butt-fucked length of him poised in some Fourteen (almost fifteen) moment. Good Housekeeping tidy, the boy takes his clothes down to the bedroom. Levi watches the economical movements, then watches the night. Fourteen confronts Levi once more from the pocket door. Too much silence between them. Something wants to come out, Levi sees this. Tuan walking the town, processing while Levi watched, wanting-waiting.

Eyes meet. Levi doesn’t see the usual fuck-you-old-man in Fourteen’s eyes. There is just uncertainty mingled with caution. The boy slides the privacy-pocket door shut. Toilet-shower time, so Levi waits, coffee cooling. North wood pine and dusty-leaf poplar cold, Levi should turn on the heater tonight. It is too much like tent camping for an old man. Levi thinks about the next flag-guarded gravestone, still too far north for comfort. While Fourteen sluices Barry Gordon off his back, Levi shuts out the chilling night, wrapping the 1996-cozy world of the Luxor Winnebago around them both.

Pocket door slides back, introducing bedtime Fourteen. Levi is on one end of the couch, fresh coffee pressed into a glass mug. Fourteen pauses at the dinette table to flip a high school math textbook Barry stole for him. He is homeschooling himself, ambitious thoughts on the bright after. Levi would help, but the fuck-you-Levi has been between them.

Tight briefs and tee-shirt turn toward the couch, eyes averted, Fourteen scrunches up on the seat facing Levi. Fourteen is cradling the hurt, eyes pressed into knees so that all Levi can see is the damp hair, dusted legs and curled toes. “You said two weeks Levi. I can’t get an erection, you bastard.” Red eyes dripping tears meet Levi’s calm. Fourteen is frightened. He cannot jackrabbit away from this one. Hell freezes over.

“Come here,” Levi commands calmly. Fourteen stands slowly, when Levi gestures at the clothing, Fourteen readily peels it off. “Take a breath, just relax.” He strokes the tense muscles from downy neck hair to the artful swell, propelling his boy gently to the bed. Fourteen is not cold marble, but he is cut to perfection. Levi’s hands and eyes rove, noticing the muscle flinch, rise and fall, the sexuality of the boy. There is a anxious-eager nasal rhythm to Fourteen’s breath and a mute stomach gurgle as Levi drops his head. “Come here,” he whispers to his perfect work.

Tuan came to him through the mingling soldiers on the beach below the sun-blue hills. Word had spread in time that this wandering teenager was Fisher’s boy, or Doc’s boy. This was a good generation before Don’t ask, Don’t tell. Nguyen Huu Tuan was just the kid, impulse-pulled out of a drop-shit-storm. Tuan could hook you up, introduce you to some girls or grease a deal on the street, guide a guy through the culture-shock. Mostly, Tuan walked ignored. Tuan sat on the beach, shirt open, hugging knees, facing Levi as the young sailor watched the surf so the hunger in his eyes would not be so obvious.

“Nous nous sommes regardés assez longtemps, vous ne pensez pas? Je pense qu'il est temps que nous nous connaissions mieux.” We’ve looked at each other long enough, don't you think? I think it's time we got to know each other better.

Levi turned his head and fell into the dark eyes. He nodded agreement. Too much watching and not enough knowing. It was the Age of Aquarius across America, but in Da Nang it was decidedly don’t ask, don’t tell, and don’t show. They walked off the beach and through the crowded streets, Tuan three steps ahead. It was just one more Vietnamese kid guiding the G.I. to a hookup in a third floor walk up.

Levi pulls off of hard-rock-candy length of Fourteen, admiring-concerned with the taught ring of healing scar below the boy’s exposed glans. There is always regret that Fourteen sees the withered trunk and not the strong sapling of Tuan’s time. Levi strips down as Fourteen examines the fruits of his labour. Toy chest time, Levi selects Icicles No. 5 Sapphire Spiral before descending on Fourteen a second time.

Fourteen opens for the crystal persuasion, legs lifted. “Okay,” He is breathless ready. Six of seven rumble-strips across sensitive lips and Fourteen is arched against the pressure. Levi is caught in his own insect-in-amber now of the before and after of Tuan. In his dream-walk-about, Tuan-gasps out some garbled-grateful language foreign to Levi. This is the long-ago synchronization Patrick introduced, only it is Levi’s lips keeping time with unforgiving crystal cock, and Fourteens hands are trying to strip the bedding off.

Levi has Fourteen in an endless now of engulfing penetration. He consumes, he is consumed. For just this erotic now, the silver slave bang-band is a welcome token to the endless midway rides his fevered young body offers. Edging, edging ever closer, Levi is tapping into Fourteen’s magma chamber, very Dr. Evil this.

“No,” Fourteen begins, “No?” It’s all one there now between the line connecting his anal kiss on the shifting shaft, aching prostate, and mercilus manipulation of his cock head. This is healing. “No, just, wait, stop,” then back to an endless curse-free mantra somewhere between no and oh, and it is all one hoped for, pressure release now as he fractures.

Levi was a twenty-one-year old virgin when Tuan’s young cock released his first taste of semen. Sweltering heat and passion left their bodies salty-slick. The first fumbled kiss surprised Tuan. Still adolescent drained, Tuan let himself be rolled over on the mat. Levi kissed a damp shoulder. Tuan’s head rested on a curved arm, lips almost sucking a bent thumb. His chest and belly shivered under Levi’s touch. Levi’s cock wanted in, so he pulled one thigh up, holding the leg like a shield across Tuan’s spent groin. Tuan was open to him.

Levi fucked Tuan. The first gasp brought the boy back from his easy drift. “Levi,” not a protest, an acceptance. Levi’s inexperience cock explored Tuan’s pathways in that first try. In a few strokes, Levi’s cock began to master Tuan. It was a triumph for the lonely, yearning American youth. Deep in the Asian youth, he found himself. Levi had to leave home to find it. The high school, Bobby Socks expectations of the girls, straight-only, middle-America world he left behind just offered a cold heterosexual shoulder to young Levi. Home was a shabby Vietnamese hotel-flop. It was the summer of man-love penetrating Vietnam. He is there in that before. Levi holds Tuan’s shoulder as he thrusts. His fingers curled over the silver filigree, pulling it away from the boy’s neck. Choking his young partner. He replays the first time ecstasy. Triumphant hard, Levi comes. He is deep in Fourteen, but lost in memories of Tuan.

Levi sits stroking Fourteen’s shaft, pausing now and then to compress a heavy-hot sack. Fourteen can sense the hardening anticipation of his groin. It is like the cock-flint strike of dildo within and Levi’s palm across flesh-steel has left a smouldering spark right at the base of his penis. Just a slow burn between his willing shaft and well-struck ass cheeks. Fourteen has given Levi an Ed Harris self-satisfied smile.

“You picked the wrong brother. You don’t like Barry.” Squeeze the base of Fourteen’s cock, then back to rubbing the stick into a fresh-fuck-fire. “Dan Gordon is cute, I’m surprised at you.” Now this is Dr. Evil thoughts. Ed Harris vanishes.

Fourteen stares at the old man, anger building. “The kid is twelve.” Dr. Evil nods his head as if he understands. He can’t. Barry Gordon is man-old to Fourteen. No way is Fourteen going to bale-of-hay-rape a hot little kid just because he is working through some after penis-rape issues with Dr. Evil. For a moment, he wants Dr. Evil to pet a different hairless cat, but then of course he doesn’t.

The Fourteen-Levi moment passes from the old man’s mind. The autumn-chill Luxor Winnebago fades and he is in the Da Nang before again. Levi spent the whole first day with Tuan in that magical room. He was twenty-one-year old, Marine-hard like a Viagra overdose. The soiled glass rod is a handy reminder of that hard cock and Fourteen’s fresh stiffening is a handy reminder of Tuan. Tuan sucks in his breath as the ropes of sapphire glass glide in like a lost-lover. Levi relives the memory of an endless surfy afternoon. Tuan loves him cock swollen. Levi’s heart is sympathetic to the boy’s shape-perfect arousal, perfect need to orgasm yet another Tuan-taste across economical adolescent muscle. It is another perfect now for time-worn Levi Fisher. The boy beneath his hands keeps shifting before-now-after in Levi’s mind.

Fascinated Levi watches the (not) first hard jolt land across Fourteen’s silver loop, dropping a translucent tadpole trail two inches down. The boy is knee raised straining out the next thought-free ejections as the dildo pumps them out helpless-happy. The length of glass lies dormant, seven of seven murdered to the hilt, while Levi licks the laggards from Fourteen’s smallest mouth. “I’m going to clean up.” Levi explains.

Part of Dr’s evil is he can read Fourteen’s adolescent body like a book. Fourteen lies content on the bed listening to the noise of Dr. Evil (Ed. Harris) Levi packing odds and camping ends into the storage compartments. He lies alone on the bed, the usual after-fuck lassitude-narcotic numbing his muscles. Levi has stepped out into the night. The RV has been suckling water from the Gordon’s pipes and pooping down a handy drain. Levi is cutting ties to this grave site.

Barry-Levi-cum and slick blown glass help Fourteen to spit out the unyielding dildo Levi left as some sort of Dr. Evil reminder that Fourteen has his own personal Kryptonite. One of seven whispers push me in again, and then he is just bruised lips waiting to be rough-tongued another day. He could help, but Levi has it in hand, as he seems to have Fourteen in hand again.

Fourteen is bracing himself against the shower glass as Levi rough-rides him past the Gordons’ house and woodsy Jurassic Park gate. He should not be scrubbing sex off and they should be sleeping. The road settles down while Fourteen finishes his shower. He is an old hand at walking the swaying deck, at least when it is not in a rutty gravel tempest. Cold Michigan night, but the boy opts for the underwear-tee-shirt look Levi probably likes. The dashboard vents blast welcome warmth over his bare legs. “Where are we going next?”

“Somewhere warmer.”