Date: Mon, 18 Sep 2023 15:25:39 +0100
From: AP Webb <pjalexander1753@gmail.com>
Subject: D'n'M Part 6 Chapter 13

All the characters and events in this story are fictitious.  Any
resemblance to real people, either living or dead, is entirely
unintentional.

The story is copyrighted and may not be reproduced in any way without the
express permission of the author who can be contacted at:

pjalexander1753@gmail.com

PJ

From Chapter 12:

They stood there, the two of them, on opposite sides of the room, neither
one moving, neither one speaking.  Dan was struggling to hold himself
upright.  All he wanted to do was slide down the door into a heap on the
floor, but something inside told him that that would be just about the
worst thing he could do.  Milo wanted it all to go away, but he
instinctively knew that that was not going to happen, that this was make or
break.

*****

Chapter 13:

"It's not you, D.  It 100% isn't you.  I promise you.  It's me.  I know
that's a tired old cliché but it's true."  Milo took a breath.
Perhaps there was a way of making things better without having to tell the
whole truth.  "Everything that's been going on lately, all of it, it's all
down to me."

"Explain what you mean."  Dan knew that if he softened the tone of his
voice, looked and sounded anything less than strong and determined, that,
somehow, M would avoid telling him the whole truth.  "And don't come any
closer," he said as a little part of him withered away inside.  He didn't
know how much longer he could keep up this act but he knew it would be
impossible if M was close enough for him to touch.

If Milo had known, even just a little, about the battle that D was fighting
deep inside then he would have given himself a better than even chance of
rescuing this situation and coming out on the other side with his marriage
intact, but he was too focused on trying to win his own inner conflict to
have any energy or insight left over to think about what might be going on
with D.  After a few more seconds of near silence he gradually began to
find the words that might make a start on putting things back together
again.

"I should have listened to you but I didn't," he said.  "I was so arrogant
and single-minded.  I convinced myself that I knew best, that Nico was
family and that he had to be brought here, and that, together, we'd make
this his new home.  I suppose I wanted to be the hero of the story."  He
looked directly at D and saw that he was still listening.  He started to
feel just a little more hopeful.  "I was gonna be the determined uncle who
would rescue that boy from a life of total shit and degradation.  Everyone
would tell me how great I was and that I'd saved Nico's life.  Me, dull old
Milo de Beer-Reed had saved his nephew's life.  But it hasn't turned out
that way, we both know that, not even close.  It's been a disaster, I can
see that now, a disaster for you, for me and for you and me together.  And,
most of all, for Nico.  And I just can't forgive myself.  That's why I've
been such a shit these last few weeks."  As Milo heard himself speak he
realised that everything he'd said was completely true, every word of it.
He wondered if he had the guts to go one step further.  To say more.  `Oh
well,' he told himself, `In for a penny, ....'

Dan heard what M was saying, followed very carefully, and couldn't disagree
with any of it.  M had been an arrogant shit, and was quite right to blame
himself for all the crap that had happened since he and Nico had got back
from Argentina.  But that didn't go all the way to explaining why he'd been
so distant and had rejected every attempt at support and comfort.  And
love.  There was something else, he just knew it, and he wouldn't let M off
the hook until he'd been told what it was.

`... in for a pound.'

"And on top of everything there was the guilt I felt about Kate, living
that unspeakable life so far away.  The drugs and the prostitution, and
having a kid all on her own, thousands of miles from her home and the
family who should have been taking care of her.  And I did nothing.  For
all those years, nothing.  I was still totally angry with the way she'd
outed me to my mum and for getting me thrown out of my own home, and I
couldn't see past that.  So I told myself that, as she'd rejected me, so
I'd do the same to her.  And because I did nothing, she died.  She died, D.
Because of me my own sister died in squalor, drugged up and wasted with
no-one there to even see she had a proper funeral.  I'll never forgive
myself.  Never."  Milo had run out of words and his whole body was shaking
with sobs, his head had slumped forwards and his arms hung limp at his
sides.  He had to concentrate really hard to stop his legs from folding in
half beneath him.

There were more tears running down Dan's face.  He knew exactly how much
effort it had taken for M to own up to his selfish actions and, even more,
to his shattered feelings.  He went to take a step forward, determined to
go to his lovely man and convince him that everything would be fine, that
everything with Nico would work out and that he had no reason to blame
himself for any of the crap that Kate had suffered.  But something stopped
him from taking that step.  Something still didn't add up.  Yes, everything
that M had said went a long way to explaining the way he had been acting
for these last weeks, but there was still the question of why Nico wouldn't
speak to anyone except Mrs. Bolton.  Okay, so he was traumatised by his
mother's death, and he had to be so confused by the sudden appearance of a
whole new family, and having to relocate half way across the world to a
brand new country must be totally messing with his head.  So yes, all that
was certainly true, but it didn't fully explain why he was always so wary,
so distant, and silent.  It was almost as if something had happened after M
had arrived in Buenos Aires, something involving the two of them.  Why else
would Nico be so determinedly hostile?  Dan knew he had to keep pushing if
he was going to get the whole truth.

"But that's not all, is it?  There's still something you're not telling me.
Something about you and Nico."

Milo looked up.  He didn't say anything but the horrified expression on his
face was all the confirmation Dan needed.  There really was more that M
hadn't told him.  What could be so bad?

"You need to tell me or I'm out of here, and I can't promise that I'll ever
be back."  D knew this was pretty heavy-duty stuff and he definitely didn't
mean it, and it took every ounce of his remaining strength and acting
skills to say it, but he hoped the possibility that he was serious would
shock M into, finally, putting the whole truth out in the open.  Then they
would be able to sort out whatever the problem was, go back to bed and get
everything back to normal.

The look of horror on Milo's face turned to one of panic.  Surely D didn't
mean what he'd just threatened.  Milo had thought, had hoped, that he'd
said enough to reassure D and put things right between them.  But somehow,
and he had no idea how, D had worked out that there was more that hadn't
been said.  Did he have any choice, now, but to tell the whole, shameful
and humiliating story?  Would D be able to forgive him?

`You should have thought about that before,' said one half of his mind with
an I-told-you-so tone.

`You got yourself into this shit and there's no-one else you can blame,'
the other half accused.

"So what was it?  You need to tell me now or I'm gone."  D's voice sounded
steely hard.  There was no softness.

As an image of the inside of the bedroom of the Recoleta Royale filled his
mind, Milo's legs finally lost the battle and he collapsed onto the floor.
The next thing he was aware of was being back in that room.  He remembered
showing Nico into his own, separate bedroom and closing the adjoining door
between them.  Then, in his head, he saw himself stepping out of the shower
and partially towelling himself dry before walking back into his own room.
He knew, absolutely, that he didn't want to see what was coming next and
tried desperately hard to block it out.  But he failed and the image reared
up into his consciousness like an inescapable tsunami wave.  Kneeling on
his bed he saw Nico, leaning backwards and supporting his upper body using
his hands behind him.  He was stark naked and, in the subdued lighting, his
skin shone as if it had been rubbed with oil.  His hard teenage dick stood
out from between his open legs as if it was standing to attention.  It took
just a few seconds for Milo to take in this totally unexpected and shocking
picture, and a few more to realise something else -- that the boy was
completely and stunningly beautiful.  In the half-light he looked like a
young Greek god who had somehow travelled from Mount Olympus and
materialised in his hotel bedroom.  Nico's newly-developing muscles
glistened, and written across the face of this god was an expression of
unapologetic wantonness.  Then, as if he hadn't already made his intentions
clear, he brought one hand from behind his back and wrapped it around his
throbbing dick.  He began, slowly, to rub up and down the shaft.

Milo was mesmerised by the utter beauty of this boy god.  Memories of Dan
at fourteen filled his head.  He could barely tear his eyes away, but
something made him momentarily glance up.  He caught sight of himself in
the mirror hanging on the wall on the other side of the room and was
instantly appalled.  The expression on the face looking back at him, his
face, was very openly filled with lust and desire.  Yes, it was his face
but he barely recognised it and was instantly shocked back to reality.  He
shook his head as if trying to force himself back to normal, back to sense
and responsibility.

"Nico, what the hell are you doing?"  His scream was a cocktail of fear and
panic and disgust, not at Nico, but at himself.  At the desire that was
flooding through his body.

Nico didn't reply, instead he simply opened his eyes wider and tipped his
head to one side as if daring Milo to touch him.

"You can't be here.  Get the fuck off my bed and back to your own room."
There was so much desperation in Milo's voice but Nico ignored it.  Instead
he began to stroke himself faster.

Milo couldn't think what to do but he knew he had to do something.  Then he
saw the cotton throw that was folded across the foot of the bed.  He
reached out and grabbed it and immediately started wrapping it around
Nico's naked body.  He knew that he was being rough but he didn't care.
His main, no his only priority, was to get the boy covered up and back to
his own room.  Nico tried to resist but Milo was too strong.  Although the
oil, or whatever it was that had been smeared all over his body, made him
unexpectedly slippery, in less than a minute Milo had Nico firmly trapped
in a coil of fabric and was pulling him off the bed and onto his feet.
Suddenly it was as if all the fight had gone out of the boy and he didn't
even try to push back as Milo steered him across the room and through the
adjoining door.  It was with a near-overwhelming sense of relief that he
slammed it closed and turned the key.

Milo stood with his back against the door, bent over, with his hands on his
knees and breathing heavily.  Did that really just happen, or had he
imagined the whole scene?  Could he actually have been propositioned by a
fourteen-year-old boy?  His own nephew.  He knew that he had.  And worse,
he knew that he had been aroused and tempted.  Shit!  What the fuck was
that all about?  He straightened up and walked over to the mini-bar across
the room.  Two neat whiskeys later and Milo was finally aware of his heart
rate returning to something like normal but he felt as if nearly every
ounce of strength had drained out of his body.  He managed to make it to
the bed, rip off the towel he'd had wrapped around himself ever since
getting out of the shower and collapsed.  He couldn't even pull the covers
over himself but just lay, exhausted, ashamed and horrified.

Suddenly, like a mental time traveller, Milo was back in the bedroom of his
own apartment.  Almost no time had passed since D had issued his ultimatum.
He was still sitting on the floor and D was still standing, just a few
short steps away, arms folded across his chest, waiting for Milo to finally
admit the whole truth of what had happened in Buenos Aires between him and
Nico.  But he couldn't.  He daren't put into words the scene he had just
revisited in his head.  He knew that D would never understand.  Their life
together would be destroyed.  But he knew that if he said nothing he ran
the risk that D would carry out his threat to leave and that, he realised,
would amount to the same thing.  For twenty, thirty seconds (it seemed like
forever) Milo said nothing.  Then he began to speak again, to recount the
awful events that he had just revisited in his head.

When, finally, he finished retelling what had happened in the Recoleta
Royale he dared to look up for the first time.  At first he couldn't make
sense of the expression on D's face.  Did he believe him?  Had he said
enough?

Suddenly he was being pulled up off the floor and wrapped in two strong
arms.

"M.  M.  It's okay.  You're okay.  Listen to me."  D's voice was soft and
consoling.  His hands gently rubbed up and down Milo's back.  "I understand
now.  You weren't to blame for any of it.  And nor was Nico.  He was just
acting out, doing what he thought you expected of him based on all the
other experience he'd had of men who took advantage of him and abused him,
year after year."

Milo felt himself begin to relax.  Maybe it was gonna be all right after
all.

"But why didn't you tell me all this before?  I would have understood.
You've got nothing to be ashamed of."

At the mention of the word `shame' Milo felt himself stiffen again.  `If
only,' he thought.  `If only.'  Then he knew that he couldn't hold back any
longer, that he had to reveal the final piece of the jigsaw.

"You don't understand, D.  There's more."

Dan stopped rubbing Milo's back and moved his hands to his shoulders and
took half a step back, looking directly at him.  Concern was evident in the
furrows on his brow.  "More?  What do you mean, more?  Wasn't that enough?"

Milo gulped and then said, "It's just that, once I'd got Nico back into his
own room, once I was lying in bed, I couldn't sleep, even though I'd had
two whiskeys."

"Okay, so you'd had a shock. I wouldn't have been able to sleep either, if
it had happened to me.  That's totally understandable."

Milo continued, almost as if he was on automatic pilot.  "All I could see
was Nico, kneeling on that hotel bed, jerking himself.  I couldn't get that
picture out of my head."

"Okaaay."  There was a note of doubt in Dan's voice.  "So you'd just seen a
very sexy, naked boy who was inviting you to fuck him.  That's a picture
that would get stuck in anybody's head.  No biggie."

Did D actually believe that?  Milo couldn't tell.  "But you don't get it,
D.  Seeing him like that, well, it made me sooo horny.  I had to jerk off
before I could get to sleep.  Twice."

Dan slightly increased the distance between them but kept his hands on M's
shoulders.  He was trying very hard not to get weirded out by what he was
hearing.  "That's not so bad."  It almost sounded as if he was trying to
reassure himself.  "A horny boy got you horny too.  Of course you needed to
get rid of the tension.  I hope I was doing something really sexy in your
JO fantasy and you had an amazing cum."  The smile on his face was almost
convincing.

"But that's just it, D.  It wasn't you I saw in my fantasy.  It was Nico,
and I just can't get that picture of him out of my head."

Dan's hands dropped to his sides.  He stepped backwards.  "You mean ... you
mean Nico is the reason you won't let me touch you.  He's the reason why
you can barely look at me or speak to me?"  He took another step back.
"You've got the hots for a fourteen-year-old kid who just happens to be
your own nephew?"  Dan drew a breath.  He needed time to think.  To work
out what he felt.  Then, like a light coming on in his head, he knew.  It
was as if he'd been doused with a bucket of iced water.

"Un-fucking-believable!"  He turned, walked over to where he'd dropped his
clothes earlier, picked them up and opened the bedroom door.  Even before
he heard the sound of the front door slamming shut, Milo had become a heap
of despair on the floor.  He curled himself into a ball, almost incapable
of coherent thought.  The one thing he knew and the single thing that made
sense was that the only man he had ever loved had just walked out of his
life.  D had walked out on D'n'M forever.

*****

And that, folks, is the end of Part 6 of the story of Dan and Milo.  The
very first chapter of D'n'M appeared on Nifty on September 18th 2019,
almost exactly four years ago.  My original idea was for it to be a short
story, maybe five or six chapters long, with a focus on the
fourteen-year-old Dan's obsession with building a ripped teenage body.
Well, regular and devoted readers will know how that plan turned out!  I
guarantee that there will be a Part 7 in which you'll find out what's next
for Dan, Milo and, of course, Nico, but I don't know when it will be posted
to Nifty, certainly not this year.  So, until `our boys' next cross our
paths, stay safe, be happy and keep supporting Nifty.

**********

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