Warning: The following is a work of fiction and does not relate to any real person or event. It describes explicit sexual activities between adult men and young boys. If this is not what you are looking for, you have no excuse for reading any further. If it is, then enjoy!

 

 

THE PORN BOYS

 

by

 

Cosmo

 

Chapter 16: The Meeting

`Fuck me Mark!'

I was sure that was what I heard. I was about to go into the boys' bedroom to wake them up and that was the refrain I heard through the door.

`Fuck me Mark! Stick it in me!'

It was Vladik.

I paused at the door to listen. Inside there was a lot of huffing and puffing, and the sound of what I could only describe as playfighting. The boys were obviously scrambling about in the bed, probably having a pillow fight. Then there was a pause and I could hear Yura, in perfect English.

`I love you little buddy.'

Then Vladik, also in perfect English.

`Fuck me Mark!'

It was an almost perfect imitation. The little tykes were role playing! Yura was playing me and Vladik was evidently pretending to be Yura. I could just imagine Yura settling himself over Vladik's little body, pinning him down and stabbing his stiff boydick into Vladik's willing little cunt. Of course Yura was essentially a bottom boy, but it seemed that didn't apply when he was role playing, and particularly when he was pretending to be me.

`You're really fuckin' special little buddy,' he went on.

It sounded just like me! There was a twinge of Russian accent, and of course it was said in his little treble voice, but his phraseology was faultless. It was such a faithful imitation, you had to hand it to them: their improvisation was extremely inventive.

`Yeh, stick it in me real hard,' Vladik muttered, getting Yura's terminology down to a tee.

`I'm gonna fuck my spunk into you, little fuckboy,' Yura responded, giggling a little.

Okay, that might not have been exactly what I would have said. They were making it up now, but their discourse was frighteningly authentic. God they were good.

I braced myself and knocked on the door, almost sorry to have to interrupt their little game. There was a moment of startled silence – I could just picture them glancing at each other guiltily – and then there was the sound of laughter. They were both entangled in the bedclothes, guffawing manically as I walked in. I decided to feign ignorance.

`What's so funny?' I asked, playing dumb.

They looked at each other and carried on spluttering with laughter. Little boys – you just had to love them.

`Time to get up,' I said, `We've got things to do today.'

They jumped up out of bed naked, still falling about with laughter. Both of them had the stiffest little boners, the unmistakable evidence of their irrepressible horniness, jutting out of their crotches and waggling in mid-air as they ran into the ensuite bathroom. They burst into the bathroom as though it was a race to be first into the shower and I could hear lots of shouts and protests as they scuffled about jostling for priority. Then there was an inexplicable little pause and Vladik appeared briefly in the bathroom doorway, grinning sheepishly at me. He blatantly wrapped his little hand around his boner, pointed his stiff little dick at me and jacked it hard a couple of times. He had a look in his eyes that said `I'm yours if you want me.' It was the briefest, most fleeting of stares, but its meaning was unequivocal. Then I could hear Yura calling him. Vladik gave a playful giggle and disappeared back into the bathroom. Finally, I heard the steady hiss of the shower jets and soon there was steam billowing out of the bathroom doorway.

Whilst the boys were showering, I set about tidying up the room. I noticed that their pajama bottoms were lying discarded on the floor. I picked them up and smoothed out the bed, which they had left completely disheveled. As I was peeling back the rumpled comforter on the bed, I spotted a piece of clothing that had been stuffed deep into the foot of the bed, probably inadvertently kicked under the covers by the boys. I pulled it free and held it up. It was a pair of Vladik's boxer-briefs. It was a cute little thing, with a spaceflight theme, sporting little motifs of moons, stars, rocket ships and spacemen. I smiled to myself. Finding Vladik's underwear in the bed was delightful. It even had a pronounced roundness in the crotch, where the stretchy fabric had held Vladik's little jewels in place. I realized, as I stood there with that little garment in my hand, that I had the most intense hard-on. It was not just the fact that I was holding Vladik's used underwear, but the fact that those little boxer-briefs had so much spunk dried into them. The boys slept together every night and I knew that they were routinely fucking about in that big bed on their own. It was apparent from the little stains they left on the bed sheets, the very distinctive little hardened spots of dried boyspunk that was the evidence of their nightly cavorting. Vladik's boxer-briefs were so spotted with spunk that it was pretty clear they had been used as a cumrag when there was nothing else to hand. I could just imagine Vladik's rather large boydick urgently spitting out his watery little boy cum into Yura's mouth. And maybe Yura was also squirting his boyjuice over Vladik's tanned young skin. Holding that cute little pair of boxer-briefs in my hand conjured the most exquisite images in my head of those two horny little fuckboys sucking and fucking each other. They were so focused on cock and ass play, I suspected that they were probably playing their little pissing games in the shower right at this moment. That little pair of boxer-briefs, soiled as they were with powdery little cum stains, was extremely arousing.

******

Later that day, Elena called me to confirm that the paternity test on Yura's father had been done via the Moscow Police. His sample was compared with a swab from Yura and the match had come back positive. Roman was definitely Yura's father. That left the way clear for Yura and his father to finally meet. Roman had been granted a special visa and it was agreed that he would fly in from Saint Petersburg for the meeting. The whole thing was progressing frighteningly quickly, and I was barely able to assimilate the potential impact of it all. I only knew that it was what Yura wanted.

That afternoon, Vladik was at HQ having his initial session with the psychotherapist. Anton was attending his studies. Yura and I were enjoying the last of the afternoon sunshine before it was time to collect Vladik. I was extremely horny. I was thinking about Vladik a lot. Somehow the image of those cum-stained little boxer-briefs stayed with me, and so did the image of the boys running into the shower that morning with stiff little boners. I could still hear Vladik's high-pitched imitation of me saying `Fuck me Mark!' from their little game that morning. I thought of the way Vladik was so affectionate and tactile with me. I thought about those intense looks he kept giving me and the way he clutched at his crotch, openly flaunting his boyish horniness at me. Then I remembered the utilitarian way that Anton had so neatly fucked him on the lawn the other day, practically on the very spot where Yura and I were lying right now. I fantasized about Vladik's slightly tanned skin and his golden hair, those emerald green eyes, the luscious little ruby lips with that pouting overbite, and those incredibly long legs. I tried to imagine that perfect little ass of his, and that pretty little dick which was a good size for a boy of his age and which had that elegant, graceful little curve to it. Vladik had the hottest, horniest little body, the type that was put on this earth to be fucked hard and splattered with cum. God, I was so horny.

I turned to Yura lying there next to me, naked in the sun. I saw how beautiful he was, how young and sexy and infinitely fuckable he was, and how soft and yielding his body was, and I was suddenly compelled to do something I had never done before. I had an overwhelming and powerful urge to just use him. I needed to fuck. I needed to fuck badly. My cock was so hard it needed to be engulfed in his body. I sat up. He looked at me, not sure what I was going to do, never having seen that particular look in my eyes before. Without any formality whatsoever, I reached out and roughly flipped him over onto his stomach. He was surprised, but made no objection. He had that familiar furrow between his eyebrows, looking concerned, curious as to what I was going to do. He waited, looking behind anxiously as he lay there. I loomed up and quickly mounted him with an urgency I could barely comprehend. Impetuously, I straddled his slim little frame, lowered my pelvis over his little ass and stabbed my iron hard dick right between the soft flesh of his butt cheeks, in exactly the same way as Anton had fucked Vladik the other day. I sought the tightness of Yura's little pucker, and quickly penetrated his tight little muscle with a callousness that I don't think I had ever used on him before. The sheer force and suddenness of my penetration made him scream. I had certainly never done that before. Sure, Yura always yelped or squealed, but this time it was different. This time it was a real little scream, a shrill vocalization of shock as well as pain, as he felt the sting of his little boyhole being stabbed open. It even gave me a tiny thrill of delight to hurt him a little. God, I was so sexed up. With sheer force, and even though I knew it was painful for him, I plunged further into the depths of his little hole giving him no time to adjust, stretching it to its limit and burying my hard cock in his warmth. I looked down at this tiny, helpless little boy lying prostrate between my legs and I just wanted to abuse his little body. My cock was so hard, it was in control. He struggled a little, fighting the pain, but nevertheless bore my penetration. I tried a few hard thrusts, and as I began to stab roughly into him, the only thing I had in my mind was fucking him as fast and hard as I could and injecting a big load of hot spunk deep inside him.

Perhaps it was my mounting frustration over Vladik. Perhaps it was my underlying resentment over Yura's father. I don't know what it was, but I fucked Yura's little body mercilessly for a good long time as though trying to take out my unwarranted irritations on him. He laid there looking slightly oppressed and taken aback, somewhat cowed by my undeserved austerity, not really understanding the motivation behind my animalistic attack. I expelled a loud grunt every time I fucked into him, almost shouting my pleasure into the back of his head with all the regularity of a tennis player, exalting in his abasement and reveling in the ecstasy I was extracting from him. I could see him screw up his eyes tightly every time I fucked down into him, almost crushing his little pelvis. He turned his face into the neatly cut grass, submitting to the pain I was driving into him, and tolerating it as I thoroughly pummeled his little frame into the ground. I labored above him, pistoning in and out of him with reckless abandon, driving towards the ultimate reward that his little body could afford me with an almost obsessive single-mindedness. I huddled over his tiny preteen body feeling the yielding warmth of his boyishness beneath me. He was so vulnerable, so helpless, so totally within my power, at that moment I just wanted to exploit him. Lucky for him I was so sexed up it didn't take long for me to cum. As I felt my orgasm approach, I fucked down into him even harder, working up into a quick, impetuous rhythm that would have been hard to sustain for much longer. I finally exploded in a welcome burst of pure pleasure, which was all concentrated in my big dick buried in his tight, velvety little hole, and culminated in a series of violent contractions that felt like my very lifeblood was being injected into him. I bucked into him as hard as I could and he let out another little scream just as my cock exploded, which for some reason only intensified my orgasm. Hearing his plaintive scream sparked a cruel little twist of delight in my brain which just made me cum even harder. For a long few seconds my cock pulsed inside him, sheathed snugly in his little hole, depositing my spunk deep inside his narrow little pelvis, as though transfusing my very being into him. I couldn't believe how good that felt. Sex with this boy just got better and better.

When it was over, I collapsed, breathless, onto his hot naked little back. Yura laid silent and still beneath me, thoroughly pummeled into the dirt, with his face buried into the crook of his elbow. I slipped out of him, the tip of my flagging cock smearing warm cum all over his round little ass, leaving a little silvery trail of spunk over the smooth matt texture of his butt cheeks. I squeezed the last few drops of spunk from my cock, and a big glop came out all over my fingers. I flicked my wrist and it splashed in a long wet streak across his back. I collapsed onto the ground next to him. I laid down on the grass facing up with one arm draped over my forehead, panting and sweaty. I looked across at him. He laid there motionless, with his head turned towards me, resting on his arm, and his cheek pressed into the grass. He looked almost sorry for himself, a little dazed, perhaps cowed and subdued by my frenzied assault. He didn't move, but he elicited a couple of little sniffs.

`That hurt,' he said, flatly.

I noticed he had tears in his eyes, and yet the way he laid there, looking so spent, so vulnerable, so utterly fucked, was strangely pleasing. I knew that I had made him suffer for me. And yet, the way he had said `that hurt', with a twinge of bitterness towards me for the pain I had inflicted, only served to intensify my arousal.

Yura lifted his little ass up off the ground slightly and freed his other arm, which had evidently been folded underneath him. He brought out his hand and looked at it. There was a deposit of watery little boy spunk right in the middle of his palm. He had been clutching at his own little dick even as I was riding him, and had spunked right into his hand. His own orgasm had gone almost unnoticed by me. I realized that the little scream he had emitted as I was cumming inside him must have been the vocalization of his own little boy cum. It was perversely pleasing to see that even in the midst of a little rough treatment, whilst his little dick was being ground into the dirt, he was still able to sustain a little boner and to pleasure himself to orgasm even as his little cunt was being ravaged. What an utterly sexual little boy he was. When he went to wipe his hand on the grass, I stopped him. I caught his little hand in mine and turned it over. Then I lowered my face into his palm and licked it clean, devouring every last trace of his little boy spunk. It was still warm, sweet and sticky and I savored every drop, feasting on the transparent liquid with all the vulgar relish of a gorging vampire. I looked into Yura's eyes as I did so, showing him how much I loved him, how much I loved every part of him, including this precious fluid that his little body had arduously given up in the heat of our coupling.

For some reason, seeing that Yura had spunked into his little hand just made my cock get hard all over again. I was on fire, and his cuteness, his overt sexuality and sheer fuckability was too hard to resist. I was still as horny as hell and I still wanted him. He was lying there passively. I saw the way my spunk was painted across his back in a thin, watery streak – the spunk that his beautiful preteen body had so deftly wrenched out of me – and I saw how it glistened in the sun, contrasting against the silky smoothness of his creamy young skin. There was still a smear of it on his butt cheeks, and the rest was now leaking out of his tender little boyhole, dripping down his perineum and saturating his hairless little balls. His pretty little body, splattered with my spunk, was a symbol of his ultimate subjugation. This boy was just so sexualized, at that moment it was as though I could subject him to anything I wanted. What I wanted was to defile him. I wanted to totally corrupt him. I wanted to soil his hairless little preteen body and fill it up with spunk. I wanted to break him, possess him, consume him. I wanted to experience that ultimate thrill once again, and I knew that I could carry on until I had extracted every last grain of pleasure from his tiny little frame. I rose up, my cock inordinately stiff, aching to burn its hardness into his already punished boyhole once again. And as I mounted him once more, I leaned in and whispered into the back of his head the very words I had heard him mimicking that morning:

`I love you little buddy. You're really fuckin' special, you know that?'

And with that, he closed his eyes and buried his face in the grass, valiantly bracing himself for yet another hard fuck.

******

The Midway Plaza was one of those hotels that was always a popular rendezvous spot. It was a well known downtown landmark, and ironically not very far from the Saxon Club, where Anton and I had first arranged to meet. The dιcor of the hotel was slightly intimidating. It was swanky and plush and seemed to allude to a lifestyle that was characterized by finery and money. The lobby had a highly polished marble floor interspersed with deep velour carpets, and there were ornate carvings and bronzes on pedestals dotted about the place, and decorative pillars with elaborate crystal chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling. The whole place had a hushed, businesslike air to it, as though all undertakings in such surroundings were expected to be conducted with the corresponding etiquette and discretion. It was exactly the type of establishment I used to frequent when I was with John. We chose to meet Roman at the Midway Plaza not just because it was an easy landmark to find, but because it could also afford us some anonymity without a feeling of isolation. It was an indication of Roman's commitment that he had been prepared to fly in all the way from Saint Petersburg for the meeting, which represented an investment of considerable time and money on his part. Since he was leaving again the next day, it was destined to be a rather hectic twenty-four-hour round trip.

The paternity test had established that Roman was Yura's father beyond doubt. There would have been little point in things proceeding any further if he wasn't. That being the case, Yura was going to see this man for the first time knowing that he really was his father. He asked me to fix his hair for him before we left, and even asked me what clothes he should wear. It was clear that he was anxious to secure his father's approval. I was pretty sure his father would approve of him no matter how he looked.

Roman was already there when we arrived. He was sitting well forward on one of the sofas in the lobby. As we approached, Roman spotted us, and stood up immediately. Yura stopped a few feet away and I was very close behind him, with Anton, Elena and Vladik out to the side somewhere. Roman smiled and immediately focused on Yura. I guess it was one of those moments when it was difficult to judge what kind of greeting was appropriate, but it was pleasing to see that Roman came forward and held out a hand to Yura even before he greeted the rest of us. He smiled, very clearly moved to be setting eyes on Yura for the first time. I nudged Yura forward. He hesitantly stepped towards Roman and Roman leaned over, not just shaking Yura's little hand, but closing in to give him a quick check-to-cheek hug, with a passing squeeze of his shoulders. It was an appropriate and affectionate gesture, without being overly emotional. But I could see that Roman's eyes were moist and maybe he was struggling with the momentousness of this meeting.

We all greeted Roman in turn with the usual formalities and sat down with him, surrounding him on the sofas and armchairs that formed an intimate little huddle amidst the to-ing and fro-ing and general commotion of the hotel lobby. We arranged ourselves so that I was on the sofa with Yura and Elena either side of me, Roman in one armchair, nearest to Yura, and Anton and Vladik sat together on another sofa opposite us. There was a very low, broad table between us. We ordered coffee, tea for Roman, and juice for the boys. Ordering the drinks broke the ice somewhat, and there were further formalities as we passed around the cream and sugar. In true Russian style, Roman drank his tea black.

In the flesh, Roman looked very distinguished. His face was a variation on Yura's familiar features, with the same arrangement of nose and lips, and of course those very distinctive cobalt-blue eyes. He had that same thick head of wavy black hair, although slightly shorter and rather more carefully groomed than Yura's. He was an extremely handsome man.

From what I surmised, Roman worked as a doctor back in Saint Petersburg. He was a pediatrician, in fact. He was clearly very educated and highly accomplished in his field, and had reached quite a senior level for someone of his age. He was warm and receptive and seemed quite attentive, with good eye contact and plenty of positive gestures and expressions. Something told me that this man was well versed in the art of conversation. His mannerisms and choice of words were very much in keeping with someone who was obviously advanced in the social graces and who could no doubt interact effectively at all levels. He was confident, self-assured, intelligent and personable.

The discussion was slightly tentative to start with. But it was delightful to see that Roman spoke both English and Russian, and he seemed to have no difficulty switching from one to the other. For Yura's sake, we all settled into speaking in Russian. I could see Roman really making an effort to talk to Yura. He seemed surprisingly composed, and extremely well informed about things that Yura might want to talk about, like the types of video games he liked. It was clear that he was comfortable talking to Yura on his level and I had no doubt that stemmed from having another son back at home. He and Yura chatted quite animatedly for a while, just getting the feel of each other, to begin with not exchanging any words of great value. It was mostly polite pleasantries, very superficial, not contrived, just relaxed and unpretentious.

A little way into the conversation, Roman pulled out a large envelope that he had strategically placed by his side on the armchair he was sitting in, and he gave it to Yura.

`This is for you,' he said, `Nikita made it for you.'

Yura looked at it, then tentatively accepted the oversized envelope. He opened the flap, which was not sealed, just tucked in at the tip. Curiously, Yura pulled out a handmade card. It was unevenly cut, and folded crookedly, with a childish drawing of two little hollow figures on the front, heavily scribbled into the card in erratic crayon. Inside was a message, written in Russian in spidery, childish letters. Yura held it up for me to read.

`For my new brother. I love you. Nika.'

`Look Mark,' said Yura, with a look of wonderment, `It's from my brother!'

I smiled encouragingly, genuinely touched that a little six year old boy on the other side of the world, whom Yura had never even met, could be so thoughtful. It was a lovely gesture.

Yura looked at Roman, visibly moved by the card.

`Thanks,' he said, `I wish I had something to give him too.'

`I'm sure you will have plenty to give him when you see him,' said Roman, prophetically, `He loves the idea of having an older brother.'

There was a pause, then Roman reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a photograph.

`I have something for you too,' he said, and handed Yura the glossy picture.

The photo was of a bicycle, propped up against a wooden picket fence.

`That bike is yours,' said Roman, `Call it an early birthday present. I'm sorry I won't be around for your birthday.'

Yura grinned happily and showed the photograph to Vladik.

`I couldn't bring it with me,' Roman went on, `But it will be waiting for you when you come to Saint Petersburg.'

It seemed Roman had it all worked out. Frighteningly, he had already resolved the entire matter in his mind. He seemed so sure that he had even bought Yura a new bicycle. He seemed to already know how it was all going to pan out. Yura would go to Saint Petersburg and, if all worked out as Roman intended, that's where he would stay, with him and Natalya and little Nikita.

`So what do you think?' Roman asked him, `Would you like to come and visit us in Saint Petersburg?'

Yura looked up at the ceiling, as though considering it, then looked back towards Roman.

`Yes. I would love to.'

Then Yura turned to Elena.

`That is okay isn't it?' he asked her.

Elena nodded.

`It's up to you,' she replied, `You don't have to do anything you don't want to.'

Yura nodded affirmatively.

`It's okay,' he said, sounding positive, `I want to.'

Inevitably, the conversation moved from small talk to the more meaningful stuff, and this was where Yura really impressed me. He had said that he would have a few questions to ask his father, and he did not let the momentousness of the occasion get the better of him. He remembered exactly what he wanted to ask, and the first question was to do with why his father had abandoned him.

`The truth is, I didn't know about you. Do you think I would have abandoned you if I did?'

Yura shrugged.

`I don't know. Maybe you didn't want me.'

Roman smiled, letting Yura know that that wasn't the case.

`No,' he said, `I was young and reckless in those days, but if I had known I had a beautiful little baby son, I would have been there for you. I would never have abandoned you.'

Yura seemed reassured by that.

`So you really didn't know?'

Roman shook his head in confirmation.

`No. I didn't even know your mother was pregnant. It was a short, casual relationship and we weren't together for very long. So all this time, I didn't even know you existed. The first I knew of you was when Anton told me about you. It was one of the happiest days of my life when I found out I had been blessed with another son – you.'

Yura blinked, his long seductive eyelashes betraying his surprise. He seemed taken aback by his father's sentiments.

`I only wish I had been there for you,' Roman went on, `if only to save you from all the awful things you have had to go through.'

`You know about that?' Yura asked.

`Some of it,' Roman replied, nodding.

Yura looked disappointed, perhaps wishing that his father had been spared knowing about his past as a porn boy.

`Tell me about my mom,' Yura asked, changing the subject slightly.

Roman looked uncomfortable.

`You want to know about your mom?'

`Yes,' said Yura, nodding, `Why didn't she want me?'

`I think your mom did want you,' said Roman, `But she couldn't look after you.'

`Why?'

Roman took a deep breath, visibly discomfited by Yura's questioning, but resolved to tell him the truth.

`Your mother was a junkie,' said Roman, with a hint of revulsion, almost as if the words left a bitter taste in his mouth, `the only thing she loved was angel dust.'

`What's that?'

`It's a drug that makes you do crazy things. She was out of her mind most of the time.'

`What happened to her?'

`She became psychotic,' said Roman, `You know what that is?'

Yura shook his head.

`It's when people lose touch with reality, they have delusions and hallucinations, that kind of thing.'

`She was crazy? said Yura, questioningly.

Roman nodded, vaguely amused.

`Kind of,' he said, `She was disturbed. The drugs just messed up her mind.'

`Is that going to happen to me?' Yura asked.

`No,' said Roman, with a good natured laugh, `You can't catch it or pass it on.'

`What about you? What do you do?'

`I'm what is called a Pediatric Oncologist,' said Roman, `You know what that is?'

I wasn't sure whether I even knew what that was.

Yura shook his head, waiting attentively for the explanation.

`I treat children with cancer,' Roman said.

`Children who are dying?' Yura asked.

`Some of them,' Roman nodded, `But I cure most of them.'

That sounded grand and heroic – a much more honorable profession than mine.

`Isn't that a hard job?' Yura asked.

I could see Roman was visibly impressed by the maturity of Yura's questions.

`Sometimes it's very hard,' Roman confessed, `But I also get a lot of satisfaction out of it. The best thing is that I get to meet a lot of very sweet and very brave children. Very special children.'

That was the nature of the conversation that afternoon, which resolved some of the fundamental questions about the course of Yura's life, and why Roman had not had the opportunity to be a part of it thus far. It seemed to answer a lot of questions for Yura. There was still a lot more that needed to be clarified. I was sure it would in time. By the time we left the hotel, a tentative rapport had been established between Roman and Yura. So much so that when we all got up to leave, Roman's parting hug was more substantial than his greeting, and he pulled Yura to him tightly in a very affectionate embrace. It was clear that this man was determined to make up for lost time, given the opportunity. In his turn, I could see Yura hugging him back, his little arms squeezing with all the strength he could muster, but his apprehension still apparent from the way his hands were clenched into little fists as he did so. Then Roman did something which I thought was especially sweet and endearing – he gave Vladik a little hug too, just so he wouldn't feel left out, acknowledging him as Yura's best friend. What a lovely gesture. Like I said, it was gestures like that which told you what was in people's hearts.

For my part, I had put my feelings aside throughout the entire meeting. This was something that Yura wanted, and I had no intention of trying to influence him one way or the other. That was not to say that I had no view. I knew exactly what my feelings were as we bade goodbye to Roman. The truth was, I only wished I could say I hated him. I wished I could claim that he should not be allowed anywhere near Yura. I wished I could say that he was inept and ineffectual, and that he was totally unsuitable to be Yura's father. But that would just be downright selfish and mean. Not only mean, but also untrue. In fact, he was a decent man. He loved Yura. Yura had bonded well with him. They had established a good rapport and had genuine affection for each other. He was able to be the father Yura never had. He was a hero. A pediatric oncologist, no less. He saved children's lives. Even I couldn't compete with that. He was successful, learned, accomplished. He was able to provide a stable, loving environment and look after Yura for the rest of his life. And why shouldn't Yura have that? Why shouldn't Yura at long last be rewarded with a proper family with a father, a mother and even a little brother? God knows, after all he had been through, he deserved it. It was what everyone wanted for him. It was right that he should be with his natural father. Who was I to deny him that? I could not be a surrogate father to him in the same way as John was to me. Of course I loved Yura, and loving Yura meant wanting to do the best for him. But if I truly loved him, I knew I would have to let him go.

Meeting Roman was the first definitive indication I had that I was going to lose Yura. Of course, I had always known at the back of my mind that my time with Yura would have to come to an end some day. But even so, now that it was almost a certainty, and that day was finally drawing closer, the prospect filled me with profound sadness. That day was no longer a distant blur on the horizon, but had now become actual and menacing. The prospect that I would be separated from Yura, to the degree that he would go off to live the rest of his life in peace, with people that loved him, was almost too painful to acknowledge. Yet I knew it was the only logical outcome. There was no future for me in his life. I had served my purpose, and I knew then that the days I had spent with this very special little boy would soon be over. It was with that knowledge that we gathered up our things and prepared to go. Having said our farewells to Roman, we headed for the door, stepping out of the plush air conditioned tranquility of the hotel lobby into the noise and bustle of the street, back to where we had parked the car. Behind us, Anton and Vladik walked with Elena, talking about how well they thought the meeting had gone. Beside me, Yura was quiet and thoughtful. As I walked with him, his diminutive little body striding confidently along the sidewalk next to me, I knew that this was now the beginning of the end of my time with Yura. I extended an arm affectionately around his precious shoulders, as we had become accustomed, and I couldn't help pulling him closer to me in a gesture of solidarity and love. It was almost subconscious, a token gesture of defiance in the face of that cruel inevitability. He noticed it, and turned to look up at me, as though to ask why I had done that, and he smiled sweetly, accepting my loving embrace. At that moment, feeling the love he had for me, I smiled back, looking down into those magical, beautiful eyes of his, acknowledging his loving glance. And as I did so, I struggled to keep my emotions at bay and a silent little tear escaped from the corner of my eye. I knew that I was going to lose him and although I was outwardly smiling back at him, looking pleased for him, inside I could already feel my heart breaking.

 

******

 

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