Date: Mon, 22 May 2017 00:57:24 +0000 (UTC)
From: Tague Micheals <tag.michaels@yahoo.com>
Subject: Unlikely Muse

This story came from a dream. The set up is both long and necessary so if
it's just sex you're looking for then look elsewhere. The second chapter is
half way completed and of course it starts with sex. So, just N-joi it.

Hugs,
Tag_m

~~~~~~~		~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~		~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~		~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I settled into my first-class suite on Singapore airlines, kicked my shoes
off and reclined the more than comfortable seat. I pulled my laptop out and
plugged it then fired it up.

"Would you like champagne Mr. Dubois," my flight attendant asked.

Please," I responded. When she asked if I'd care for caviar to go with it I
responded with a head nod. When she left to retrieve the items, I proceeded
to type in the series of complicated passwords that my system required. I
got through the firewalls and other protective programs about the time she
returned. I sipped the champagne, dabbed at the caviar and checked the news
feeds.

As anticipated it was the top news story, at least in that part of the
world. It would take a few hours before the other half of the globe picked
it up and began retelling the story. Also, as anticipated, the police had
no clues or leads in what they were calling an accident, a freak
accident. With luck, and not a little skill on my part, it would remain
just that; a freak accident.

I was perhaps the best in the world at what I did and I got to be that way
through meticulous risk assessment and planning, ingenious cunning, and a
set of balls that rivaled a cricket.

 "What" you say, "why those balls aren't big at all." Oh yes they are if
you considered balls proportionately to body size. The Tuberous
Bushcricket's testicles make of 14% of his body weight. And that my friends
is one hell of a set of balls. Now, if you want to go by sheer size then
it's a Northern Pacific Right Whale's sperm makers at around 500 kg a
piece. Regardless of which way you went; I had an oversized set of them.

Along with those other, uhm abilities, was also the sense to know my
limitations, what I could and could not get away with and the fact that
after each assignment I went over the whole operation from beginning to
end. Post service evaluation was as valuable as the planning and the
execution, you should pardon the expression, and it was a stage that most
people didn't even consider, let alone do, in most of life's
endeavors. What did I do?

I was an assassin. Yup, that's right, I killed people. But not just any
people. I killed important people, typically famous people and equally
typical they were politician's or persons of commerce. And, I killed for
money, a lot of money. Sometimes the killing was to appear an accident
while other times it was to send a message. People had all kinds of ways
they wanted things done, generally speaking, and I always provided what
they wanted. Oh sure there were a few maiming's but generally it was a
body, or lack of a body, that was desired.

After reading a half dozen different news feeds I checked to see if I'd
been paid the balance owing and sure enough I had. After bouncing around
the globe a few times and through 2 dozen different banking institutions
and being split into a dozen smaller amounts the balance of my 5 million
dollar contact was safe and sound where I expected it to be.

About the time those tasks were completed the plane started to move and I
went about reviewing the assignment. It had been challenging, I'll admit
that, but I pulled it off. Having advanced degrees in chemistry and physics
helped. Having an IQ in the neighborhood of 160 helped get those degrees
shortly after my first score of years.

What I'd done is created an explosive compound that was put into aerosol
cans and then set off in an enclosed room like a bug bomb, operative word,
bomb. It had the ability to not only coat surfaces, a part of it remained
airborne. I rigged a small explosive device into what looked like your
average pen and I made it heat sensitive then lay it on the carpet where
the target couldn't miss it. When picked up and held for more than a few
seconds body heat set off the explosive creating a spark which in turn
ignited the particles that had been scattered all over the room via the
aerosol cans. Yes, cans, plural. I had used 3 of them.

Because the particles were on every surface of the room it caused the room
to explode in the same manner as if there had been a gas leak and would
destroy everything including the pen which was the only real piece of
evidence. Like a bug bomb, I had set my cans off and left the room then
retrieved them when the contents had all been delivered. The contents of
the cans were essentially harmless and had barely a slight odor similar to
the cologne the target wore. See, that's part of the meticulous planning.

By the time my evaluation was completed we were airborne so I closed the
laptop and lay back and began dreaming about being in my lover's arms in18
hours. Archer was not just my lover, he was my partner, my friend, my muse
and an unlikely muse at that. We'd been together for 4 years. I loved and
adored him beyond measure which was as much as he loved and adored me. We
hated being apart but he simply couldn't go on my jobs with me. It was too
dangerous and besides he had duties to attend to.

I thought about our last night together some two weeks past and felt myself
stir in my pants. Our sex could become violent at times but generally in a
loving way and not malevolent. Biting and scratching weren't uncommon when
the boy was well up into a fog of hotness. Archer was also very vocal and
could string together a line of curses that was both creative and vile.

"Fuck me harder Remy you worthless cock sucking bastard. Grandpa Garcon is
a better fuck than you are. Make me cum goddammit or go find me a beast."
And yes, he meant the part about a beast, preferably a large dog. On my
behalf, I could, and sometimes did, fuck the 13 year old for an hour or
more, taking him to the edge then backing off multiple times. Archer
eventually got to where he was begging me for release. When he finally did
cum on that particular night he was practically sobbing then literally
growled as his young sperm shot out onto his belly. My own orgasm was also
quite powerful, something I'd experience quite a bit with him.

Afterwards he was always very lovey dovey. That night he ran a hot bubble
bath for me then led me by the hand to the bathroom and dabbed medicine on
the bite marks on my shoulder and the claw marks on my back then gently
bathed me. Archer cooed sweet things to me as he groomed me, telling me
what a strong virile man I was, that I was a lover that put Casanova to
shame, that my cock was the most powerful spear on earth and that my sperm
was potent enough to impregnate a rock, and lastly how proud he was to be
my boy.

"Of course Remy," he said quite casually, "should you decide to take
another boy I would cut your precious balls off and stick a blade so far up
your ass it would split your tongue like a myna bird." Yes, my adorable
young teenage lover was quite comfortable with words. He was equally
comfortable with the blade that he referred to, which was part of how I met
the boy.

It was at the Paris metro station having just gotten off the train and
returning from an assignment. I was waiting for the porter to unload the
baggage when the boy bumped into me in attempt to dip me, to pick my
pocket. Of course, I knew what he was trying to do and caught him by the
wrist quite firmly. Quick as a flash his other hand had a knife in it but
just as quickly so did I and mine was bigger.

"Look down," I told him and he did, then gasped. A 4 inch steel blade shot
out from the tip of my boot and it wasn't difficult to see that both edges
were razor sharp. "I'll kill you where you stand if the blade doesn't go
away," I said quietly but sternly. The expression on my face told the kid I
wasn't playing. He put the blade away but the defiant expression didn't
leave his face.

"Let go," he said, his voice the melodic sound of a preteen. The boy was
small and impossibly cute. I guessed him to be 9 or 10 years old which was
not in the age range of my preference but certainly more than worthy of a
second glance. His face was rounded without being fat and was framed by a
thick mop of pitch black hair that was half way to being curls. His face
was smooth as cue ball and without any blemishes that I could see. Huge
dark eyes watched me warily. Said large orbs were framed by thick brows
that were partially hidden behind the bangs, and lashes that would almost
touch the bottom of his orbital socket when he blinked. The boys' lips were
slightly pink, full and highly inviting and framed what appeared to be
perfect teeth.

People milled about us unaware of the drama that was unfolding. About 15
feet behind him I saw a pair of men approaching through the crowd, one of
them pointing at us. I didn't know them but they looked pissed and looked
like they meant serious business. I could see a small gun in one of the
men's hand and held against his chest just under the edge of his coat. The
boy saw that my attention was elsewhere and he turned his head. I felt his
body tense.

"If you want to live come with me," I said and headed quickly in the
opposite direction. I didn't bother to see if he was following because I
could hear that he was. I dodged through the crowds, out of the station and
into a dark alley, stopping just inside of it. I pushed the boy against the
brick wall and told him to stay there then moved toward the center of the
alley. The two men came barreling around the corner and I saw that they'd
picked up a 3rd man. As soon as they saw me, then the boy, they fanned out.

"We got no problem with you mister, we just want the kid."

"Why," I asked. "What'd he do?"

"Not your fucking business buddy but he's going in the river." To one of
the men he said, "get the little bastard." The 3rd guy peeled off and I
watched the boy cower in fear and whimper,

"Please mister don't hurt me I didn't do nothing." I knew right off the kid
was acting. His eyes didn't reflect fear, they reflected feral cunning. He
crouched slightly and raised an arm as if to ward off the man's hand as it
clutched for him and just before it caught his arm the boy
struck. Lightning fast he leapt forward and plunged the knife into the
man's stomach and dodged to the left. I was on the other two before the boy
had cleared his victim. The man with the gun fired but it wasn't even close
to me.  A round kick with my boot knife caught him in the upper thigh and a
rapid set of punches to the face put him down. As his friend was trying to
react the boy put a wicked knife slash in the guy's side. The boys' arm was
quickly coming back with a follow through that would have been a killing
strike.

"Stop," I yelled and to his credit the boy stopped immediately but kicked
the guy in the balls. "Put the knife away and follow me." He did as I asked
but as we headed back out onto the street he asked me why he had to go with
me.

"As if you didn't already know those 3 work for the Hawker which means
you're in deep fucking shit. You'll be safe with me."

"I can take care of myself," he retorted. Without skipping a beat I turned
quickly and cuffed him hard up alongside the head causing him to stumble.

"No, you can't. If you could, you'd have seen that coming and stopped it. I
won't say it again, come with me." I turned and hurried off. I could hear
the boy following and cursing under his breath. Back in the station I
collected my luggage and went out a different exit where a Mercedes limo
was waiting patiently for me.

"Chop chop Pierre," I said. My driver saw that I was rushed, grabbed the
bags and tossed them into the trunk while the boy and I got into the back
seat. Within moments we were speeding away from the station.

"Where are we going," the boy asked.

"To my estate outside of the city," I responded.

"Then what," he asked.

"I just saved your ass boy. You know it and I know it. You're welcome.

"Thank you," he said albeit not very convincingly. "Then what," he demanded
repeating the question.

"Then, I don't know. We'll figure something out." I turned to face him. "My
name is Remy," I told him and offered my hand. He took it and offered a
limp shake in return.

"Archer," he said, seeming just a little more contrite.

"So," the little hottie said, "are you planning on having me suck your cock
or letting you fuck me for saving my life?" He said the last 3 words with
sarcasm.

"I prefer my boys to be older, more mature and more experienced," I
responded, my own voice dripping with sarcasm. Archer seemed to take that
as a challenge.

"Yeah, well I can suck cock with the best of em and my asshole is tighter
than a camel's ass in a sandstorm." That my driver Pierre was privy to the
entire conversation didn't seem to bother the kid one iota. I elected not
to bite.

"You seem pretty good with a blade Archer," I said, and meant it.

"Yeah, I like knives," he said. And in a softer voice said, "I killed my
first man with a knife when I was 6 and I've loved them ever since." There
wasn't a bit of brag in the statement but I did detect some sadness. I also
knew that he wasn't lying.

"I'd like to hear that story sometime."

"Yeah, maybe," he replied then turned his back to me and curled into the
corner of the seat. I let him be. Within minutes he was snoring softly. I
reflected on the boy and what I knew about him.

He was without a doubt the cutest, most cuddly looking boy I'd seen in
years.  He seemed almost fearless and just as ferocious; but there was a
soft sensitive and even a little fearful side to him, he's been hurt
horribly and doesn't trust the world.  He's cunning, could plan ahead, he
was a fair actor too. That fear scene would have fooled most people.  He
was very fast on his feet both physically and mentally, could assess a
situation quickly, he could follow directions, he was bold to a point of
daring, and I would bet he'd be honest and loyal. Once a friend always a
friend; unless you fucked him over then you better step back.  He was
damned good with a knife; not afraid to kill and has likely killed before
and that means he'd have a higher tolerance to what I did for a living
should I choose to share that with him. Hell, he might even relish the
fact.

Did I mention that he was cute as all hell? That he had a tiny boy-ish butt
that appeared glorious inside his black denim jeans. That his voice
reminded me of springtime and hummingbirds and cotton candy. As I worked
through all that I began to think about Archer in the longer term.

At 42 year's old I regretted never having had a steady partner and never
having had a child. Part of the problem was that I didn't want to do what
it took to have a child. Living with anyone, particularly a woman, wasn't
something I was willing to do. But a child, maybe. That I might be able to
treat as my own. Someone I could do things with, toss a ball with, take to
games, teach him stuff like how to drive, how to shoot a gun, a dozen
different ways to kill a person. Well in Archer's case, perhaps learning to
kill with some panache. And I loved his name, it fit him perfectly.

Forty five minutes later we had pulled through the gates to my estate and
had stopped in front of my early19th century villa. I shook the boy to wake
him and Archer shook my hand off. I tried again and he kept on snoring.  I
went around to the driver's side where Pierre was standing and wondering
what I was going to do. I opened the car door and gently shook Archer again
and again, he shook me off and stayed where he was.

I gave Pierre some instructions and he took off while I bent down and
wrangled an arm behind Archer and the other under his knees and lifted him
out of the car. The boys' arms went around my neck and stayed there albeit
loosely. He didn't weight a thing it seemed but then I was a physically
strong man. I headed for the opened front door then up the sweeping
staircase and down the hall to my suite of rooms. I passed through the
sitting room and into the bedroom where Pierre waited for me. I set Archer
on the bed but had to hold him up because he was a limp as a rag doll.

"Help with his jacket Pierre then you can go and I'll and meet you in the
kitchen." We got his worn jean jacket off and noticed 4 or 5 bracelets on
his right wrist. They were mostly cloth ties but there was on that seemed
to be made of leather with stones in it. Pierre left while I got Archer's
t-shirt off then removed his shoes and grungy socks. I undid his wide black
leather belt, undid his jeans and began to gently work them down under his
little butt while trying to keep his underwear in place and keep the knife
that was inside his jeans in its scabbard.

I got his jeans down and decided the underwear had to go as well. I think
they were white cotton briefs but they were quite dingy and there were
plenty of urine spots on the front. "I'm sorry Archer but these have got to
be washed," I whispered to myself. I got them off and took a moment to
admire the boy while I got his belt and knife off the jeans.

The beautiful youngling was nicely hung for his age, at least I thought
so. His cock hung lazily to the side, his foreskin completely over the head
and his balls, fully dropped it seemed, hung between his pale thighs. His
belly was slightly rounded like boys his age but all of the right crevices
and creases were in place and identified and highlight parts of his body,
including the classic V that narrowed down to his glorious boy parts. And
of course, there wasn't a hair in sight lower than his eyelashes. He was
pale, smooth, and a sight to behold.

I lifted his legs and tugged the covers down then pulled them up over his
body. I put the knife and scabbard under his pillow, knowing that when he
slept he would always keep it close. I figured that he was smart enough to
know that I'd put it there knowing there was a risk of his killing me in my
sleep and a bond of trust would likely begin. I bent and brushed his hair
from his eyes then kissed him gently on the forehead.

"Sleep well sweet prince, I hope you have pleasant dreams," I whispered. I
shut the bedside lamp off but turned a low lumens night light on in the
bathroom, picked up his clothes and left the room grabbing my clothes
hamper on the way. Downstairs Pierre had already pulled a roast from the
oven and set the table while I started the laundry. Five minutes later we
were seated and preparing to plate.

"What are you going to do with him Remy," my houseman asked. Pierre was 15
years my senior had been with me since I'd saved his life some 15 years
prior. He knew me well, knew my predilection for boys, knew my weak spots
and my strengths and loved me like a son. I knew beyond a doubt that the
man would give his life for me.

"I don't know Pierre." We ate in silence for a few minutes before
discussing household matters and then business. I had another job in the
works that would take me away for a few weeks the following month. The
washer finished its job and I switched them into the dryer then Pierre and
I sipped on Louis Royer and continued our discussion. When the dryer went
off I folded the clothing then took it, along with a tray that held a
sandwich and a glass of milk in a bucket of ice, upstairs. I set the food
and drink on a side table, Archer's folded clothing in a chair by the
bed. I looked down on the sleeping boy who was on his side curled up with a
large pillow. He looked so peaceful and serene and innocent. It was to
imagine him as a killer. I gently touched his face with the back of my hand
then left the room and took a hot shower before climbing into bed.

Within moments of the bedside lamp going out, Archer moved and was soon
snuggled up to me with his head against my shoulder. I wrapped my arms
around his compact little body and reveled in the warmth of him, of his
soft penis against my hip and mine against his leg. He was indeed a cuddly
bundle of boy and I smiled to myself as I drifted off to sleep thinking, "I
could get used to this."

A slight noise woke me in the night so I slowly squinted my eyes open. From
the corner of my eye I saw that Archer was at the table and going after the
sandwich and milk as if it were his last meal. I chose to leave him be. I
heard him go into the bathroom and then the sound of his stream hitting the
toilet. I rolled onto my side so I'd see him when he returned to the bed
and a moment later her did.

Archer was still naked but stopped and looked down at his neatly folded
clothing, picked up his underwear and sniffed them to make sure they were
clean. I thought he'd put them on but he didn't, he folded them and put
them back then crawled under the covers. The moved right up to me and into
my extended arm.

"Hold me Remy," he said in a barely audible whisper. Of course my arm was
already moving to envelope him as a reflex of his laying on it. I moved my
top arm over to drape across his waist then moved it to his tiny butt as if
to cradle him. Archer didn't move my hand. His head just under my chin,
resting against my chest and I knew that he was feeling my heart beat. Our
cocks were pressed up against each other but it didn't seem to bother him.

"Why are you doing this? Why are you being so nice to me?" Again, his voice
was barely audible and I knew he was simply talking out loud, not really
asking me the question. "What do you want from me?"

"Because I can," I whispered just as softly. "Hush now, go to sleep little
one." I gave the boy a quick but gentle hug then relaxed. To his credit,
Archer didn't react to my voice at all. He did, however, heave a deep sigh
then relax against me. He did acknowledge me with as little a hug as I'd
given him.

When I woke in the morning Archer wasn't snuggled up to me but he was lying
close, propped up on an elbow and just looking at me. I rolled to face him
and asked how he slept.

"Good," he said, his melodic voice music to my ears. "Thank you for
rescuing me last night, and washing my clothes and putting some food out
for me." And then in a smaller voice, "Thank you for holding me while I
slept." That alone reminded me that despite everything else Archer was
still a little boy.

"I'm still trying to figure out why. I'm also wondering why you didn't even
touch me or try to do anything with me. Every other asshole I've been
around in my whole life as tried to do stuff with me."

"Why is because I can and you needed help. Not everyone is an asshole. As
far as touching you goes if that's something you want then you'll let me
know but until then I won't."

"Are you saying I can stay here for a while, with you?"  I nodded my
head. "What if I don't want to?" I told him he didn't have to, it was his
choice.

"However. I don't know what you did to piss off the Hawker but I know that
mother fucker pretty well and he's not going to let it go. If he or his
boys find you on the street he'll finish what he started and he'll do it
with a great deal of pain." Archer gave that about 2 seconds thought.

"And if he finds out I'm here?"

"He won't bother you." When Archer asked me how I knew that I told him it
was very simple. "I'll make it quite clear that I'll kill him. The Hawker
is a tough mean nasty son of a bitch with no morals but he knows better
than to fuck with me."

"Why can't you just tell him that and let me go back to the streets?"

"You know it doesn't work that way Archer. Any number of accidents could
happen and The Hawker could easily plead innocence and even if I didn't
believe it, without proof he knows that I wouldn't touch him." When Archer
asked why I told him. "Because, despite whatever else I might be, I am a
man of honor and the Hawker knows that."

"And if I stay here, then what?" I asked what he meant. "What will I do? I
never had a regular house or a regular bed. All I know is how to hustle to
stay alive and I don't mean sex although I do what I need to do to live."

"Honestly, I don't have all the answers Archer so how about this. How about
if you stay for 1 week, see if we can live under the same roof without one
of us killing the other. After that we can decide." The boy seemed to
consider that then nodded his head and said okay. That out of the way I
told him I needed to take a shit then a shower and rolled out of
bed. Archer of course eyeballed my stuff and as I headed to the bathroom he
said he needed to take a shower too so I had him follow me to the
bathroom. I showed him how to get the water going then I went into the
toilet room and did my business and when I got out Archer was still in the
shower so I joined him.

The shower was platonic although I offered to wash his back and in doing so
massaged his narrow shoulders causing the boy to moan and groan in
pleasure. "Fuck, I'd stay here just for this Remy," he said. I stopped at
his butt and he asked why.

"I told you that I won't touch you without permission and I meant it."
Downstairs 20 minutes later I introduced Archer to Pierre and my cook
Angelina who had a full breakfast prepared. Archer attacked it with a
vengeance and in the process showed me that his table manners would need
work. I asked him about any belongings he might have and he started to
answer around a mouthful of food. I stopped him, told him to finish what
was in his mouth first, which he did. The bottom line was that he didn't
have much and nothing worth saving. So, our first order of business would
be to buy the boy some clothes.

Pierre had other duties to attend to so I loaded Archer into my recently
purchased "fuck me" red DB11 and off we went. "You're pretty rich aren't
you Remy?" I down played it but did say that I wasn't too worried about
where my next meal was going to come from. Since I didn't know how long
he'd be staying with me I chose to get him inexpensive bare
necessities. New jeans and shoes, a few shirts and 3 sets of socks and
underwear.

From there it was a quick trip to a drug store to get some basic toiletries
that he could keep in the event that we parted ways at the end of our week
trial period.

I elected to stop for a mid-morning snack at one of my favorite bakeries. I
ordered what I wanted and allowed Archer his choice but of course he had no
clue what to get. As the boy explained to me, he'd never had anything more
than a regular donut or a maple bar, and those typically stale. He asked
for coffee and I allowed him to have it. It was fun watching the boy eat
his pastry as he'd gotten a jelly donut with plenty of powdered sugar on it
so it ringed his mouth. For just a moment I envisioned it being my sperm
that was coating those gorgeous lips but quickly pushed the idea out of my
head.

Back at the house I led Archer to a bedroom next to mine. "This will be
your room Archer. It has its own bathroom and walk-in closet." I showed him
his built-in dresser drawers in said closet and told him to go ahead and
pull the tags off things and stow his clothing and then took him on a tour
of the house and grounds.

As I said, my home, which is more a manor house than a villa, is in the
countryside and sits on 15 hectares' and has been in my family for 9
generations. Much of the land was lightly wooded with a creek running
through it. The area immediately surrounding the home are formal garden's
that were a hundred years old. The house contains 10 bedrooms and almost
that many bathrooms and has the usual array of other rooms including
library, game room and music rooms and servants' quarters on the 3rd
floor. I had the pool renovated and covered 5 years prior to allow for
swimming all year around and at the same time added an exercise room.

That evening Archer watched while Pierre and I played chess. I provided the
basics of the game and the boy asked plenty of appropriate questions. We
went to bed around 10.

"Remy," I heard Archer whisper causing me to wake immediately. When I
responded he said, "Can I sleep with you?"

"Of course you can," I said and tossed the covers back. He trotted around
the bed and as he climbed in I saw that he was naked. Once under the covers
he moved right to me.

"Can you hold me?" I opened my arms and the boy snuggled in facing me and I
held him to me. His arm draped across my side and my top arm went over his
waist in a repeat of the night before. He sighed heavily and whispered
"thank you." I chose to kiss him lightly on the top of his head and said he
was welcome.

"Why did you kiss me?" I explained that it was what my mother did to me
every night when she put me to bed and it's a simple gesture among friends,
or, adult to child."

"I never been kissed before and I never kissed anybody," he said
softly. "Men wanted to and wanted me to but I wouldn't. To me, kissing is
for people you like and I damn sure never liked any of them."

"Well, thank you for telling me that. I won't do it again."

"Oh no Remy, I didn't mean you," Archer said quickly. "I... I like it when
you do it besides you don't do it on my mouth." Something was out of sorts
about that statement so I clarified that I'd only done it once. "You did it
last night too after you took my clothes off and before you left the room."

"You were awake?" He nodded his head then went on to apologize for lying to
me like that but that he'd explain it in the morning if I wanted him to and
in moments he was asleep. At least I thought he was asleep. I fell asleep
wondering about the different layers to the boy.

The next morning I chose to hit the pool and exercise room, something I
generally did daily but having Archer there off my schedule. I returned to
the bedroom to find him the boy still asleep however he was on his back and
the covers were off. What I saw was a very delicious little boner and his
smooth balls at full hang. No, he wasn't in my age range preference but
that wouldn't stop me from playing with if given a choice. I headed to the
bathroom to do my morning ablution and came out to see Archer in the
shower. He waved and beckoned me.

"I was hopin to get another massage Remy," he said with a grin.  After I
washed his back it wouldn't do but Archer wanted to return the favor and I
was okay with that. Afterwards I followed him to the bedroom and watched
Archer climb on the bed with his tiny butt pointing in my directions and
his small balls hanging like a pair of un-ripened apples. He was bent over
looking for something and happened to look backwards at me. The boy grinned
and wiggled his very tender little butt.

"Nice view Archer." He responded by saying he thought I'd like it. He found
what he was looking for, a tie bracelet that had come off in the night. He
asked me to tie in on his wrist and sat patiently while I did it, his free
hand between his legs absently playing with his balls and when I was done
he stood up to go to his room to dress I saw that he was half way to having
a full hard on. Archer simply grinned and headed out my room. I wondered
briefly about jacking off resisted the urge. It had been 2 weeks since I'd
cum and I needed the release but I didn't want to do a hurried job.

The next 3 days were much of the same but uneventful. I had work to do as
did Pierre so a good part of the time Archer was left to his own devices. I
finally convinced him that there were no wild animals in the forest that
would harm him so he spent time exploring the property. At night, he
watched Pierre and I play chess, seemed very interested in the game and
asked plenty of questions. On the 4th night he wanted to try his hand at it
and I got my first glimpse at the degree of his intellect.

Having only watched 2 games and played none, the kid gave Pierre a run for
his money. His focus on the board was as intense as I'd ever seen. I
watched his dark eyes dart from place to place. Once when he was
contemplating a move I started make a comment and he waved his hand as if
angry and told me to "shush". He contemplated a moment longer then made the
move that I was going to suggest. Pierre looked at me with a raised
eyebrow.

Archer woke me again on the 3rd night then cuddled into bed with me and on
the 4th night after his first chess game he simply went to bed with me when
I went.

"Taking up residence are you Archer," I asked with a smile as we undressed
in my room. He nodded his pretty little head, curls bobbing.

Snuggled up close in his usual manner he giggled and said my hairs were
tickling his dick. I started to move and he stopped me sharply. "It's okay
Remy, I like the body contact with you." After a moment's silence he said,
"my earliest memories and best ones are of being carried and of being held
at night by my mother, at least I think she was my mother. I remember
feeling so safe and secure and, well, loved. I don't remember feeling like
that at all by the time I was 5 or so." Archer backed up a little so he
could see my eyes.

"That's why I faked being asleep that first night. I wanted to see if you'd
carry me and not just wake me up and drag me by the hand. I let you undress
me because I wondered if you would like, touch me or try to do something
with me and you didn't. Even in the night you haven't tried to do things to
me and believe me even if I was asleep I'd know.

"So, I said softly, "you're feeling some sense of trust with me." He nodded
his head then informed me that his knife had remained in his drawer all
this time. "Thank you Archer; your trust means a lot of me. I'm very proud
of you." He was quiet, then his body shuddered slightly and I knew he was
crying. I chose to remain silent.

"Nobody ever said that to me Remy," he finally whispered. "Nobody ever said
they were proud of me." Archer feel asleep with his smooth young body held
tight to mine. Not for the first or the last time did I revel in the feel
of him. I was beginning to hope that the boy would choose to live with me
because I was certainly going to invite him. On the 5th night a major shift
took place.

We lay snuggled together having talked a little about life and what it
might be like if he lived with me. We talked him getting and education, his
behavior, what some of my expectations might as well as his
expectations. After a good minute of silence during which I thought he'd
fallen asleep, Archer said,

"Remy."

"Hmm," I responded

"Will you love on me?"

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