Date: Sat, 03 Mar 2001 17:58:05 -0600
From: Eric N Draven <ericdraven10@lycos.com>
Subject: Nicholas And Mark Part 1

This story is intended for those over the age of 18. If you are not 18,
please leave. The story depicts sexual acts between men. If this offends
you, then don't read it. All other disclaimers apply.

Comments are welcome. Please send all comments to ericdraven10@lycos.com
Copyright 2001 Eric Draven

Nicholas and Mark
By Eric Draven

Part 1

The telephone woke me from a great dream. I reached over to answer it, and
I knocked it off the dresser. I blindly searched the floor, sifting through
the close that I had hastily taken off when I got home from my parents
house.
	I found the receiver and put it to my ear the wrong way the first
time, so I didn't hear anything.
	"Hello," I said, after I turned it the right way.
	"It's me," Mark said. I could hear him breathing into the
phone. "You awake?"
	"Mmm," I rasped. "I think I am."
	I leaned back against the headboard of my bed and stared out into
the darkness. I didn't know why Mark was calling so late, but I figured he
would tell me if I just remained quiet.
	Mark is my younger brother. He and I are four years apart, and we
rarely ever talk. It's not because I don't like my kid brother. I just
don't want anyone in my family to know that I'm gay. I know how much my
family would disapprove, and my family is important to me. Hanging out with
Mark would be a bad choice. He would surely figure it out if we spent a lot
of time together.
	"My clock says that it's four in the morning, Mark," I said after I
had waited for him to say something for ten minutes.
	"Yeah," he said. His voice was real low, and I was having a little
trouble hearing him. "That's what the clock says here, too."
	"So, what do you want this early?"
	He didn't say anything for a while. I could still here him
breathing into the phone, so I knew that he was still there. I could also
tell that he had been trying to be quiet. I didn't want to push him, so I
just waited for him to talk.
	"Can you meet me at the diner later for breakfast?" he said. "I
really need to talk to someone, Nick, and I don't have anyone else."
	Mae's Diner was what he was referring to. We had eaten there every
Sunday after church. These days, I didn't eat there much at all. I stopped
going to church the day that I got my own apartment.
	"What time?" I asked, looking at the clock and thinking that Mae
would be opening her door in just a few hours.
	"Like nine," he whispered.
	"Sure, Kid," I said. I could tell that something was wrong, but I
knew that he wasn't going to tell me on the phone.
	"See you," he said, and then he hung up.
	I decided that it was too late to go back to sleep now, so I slid
my hand inside my shorts and thought about the dream I had been having
before the phone shattered it to pieces.
	I closed my eyes, and I could see Pete Morris in my mind. I could
see him spreading himself out on his bed, tangling his body with his
sheet. I had long since memorized every detail of Pete's body. I'd seen
enough of it over the years, half dressed, undressed, soaking wet, tanned,
covered in sweat. I'd even seen Pete's dick hard the morning after we'd had
to share a bed.
	I'd known Pete Morris almost my whole life, and he had been the
object of my fantasies since puberty. We have been best friends since I can
remember, but as much as I always wanted it, nothing has ever happened
between us. Pete doesn't know that I'm gay, and I plan never to tell him.
	I pushed my shorts down to my knees and gripped my stiff dick in
one hand, my balls in the other. I stroked and squeezed and let my
imagination take over. I could see Pete, his dark hair in his face as he
hopped out of bed and ran for the bathroom. I imagined his dick bobbing up
and down as he headed toward the bathroom.
	I closed my eyes and remembered watching him get out of the pool at
swim practice when we were still in High School. He was a sight to see
getting out of the water. The white bikini swim trunks that our swim team
wore clung to his body, and I could clearly see his dick through the fabric
outlined by his thick black pubic hair.
	My toes curled, and every muscle in my body tightened as I began to
feel my orgasm burning in my balls. I pictured myself with Pete. I imagined
Pete's hands all over my body. I tightened my grip on my dick and stroked
it faster. I heard myself groan loudly as my cum shot all over my chest and
stomach.

	Mark was sitting in "the family booth", the one we sat in every
Sunday that I could remember. He was playing with a napkin and staring at
the table with one of the most pained looks on his face. I could tell that
what he wanted to talk about was going to be bad.
	"What's this?" asked Amy the waitress as I slid into the
booth. "Emergency Corbin Family meeting? Where's the folks?"
	"It's just breakfast," I said, looking at Mark as he reached for a
menu.
	"Honey," Amy said. "There ain't nothin' in there that ain't been
there for most of eternity."
	"Yeah," said Mark, absently.
	"You want your usual, Mark?" she asked.
	"Sure," he said, not looking up from the table.
	"And you?" she said, looking at me. "The missing Corbin son."
	"I'll have the same thing he's having," I said.
	"Well, that's easy," she said, smiling at me. "I'll be right back
with coffee."
	"You look like shit," I said when she was gone.
	"I didn't sleep at all last night," he said, still not looking up
from the table.
	Amy returned with two cups and filled them with coffee. Mark pored
sugar in his cup and stirred it for almost an eternity. He patted his
pocket like he was making sure that his car keys were still there. He
sighed like a man who has led the longest life in the history of time, and
put his hands in his lap.
	"What's up?" I asked him when he finally looked at me.
	"It's hard," he said quietly. He looked out the window and sighed
again.
	"Are you alright, Mark?"
	"Is it that obvious?" he asked as he dragged his gaze away from the
window.
	"You look scared," I said. "Whatever it is, we can talk about it. I
don't know if I can help, but we can talk."
	Mark was silent. He sat there looking like the devil was coming for
him, and I didn't know what to say to him. I had a feeling that it was
something to do with Dad. I knew from experience that Dad could be a real
hard ass when he thought you weren't doing what was right.
	Amy returned with our food, and she ruffled Mark's hair. He didn't
even look up from the table. After she was gone, we ate in silence. I kept
looking at him from time to time, but he never looked up from his plate.
	After I'd finished with my eggs, I pushed the plate away and put my
foot on the bench next to Mark. He jumped like I'd kicked him, and his face
when white as a sheet.
	"Dad threw me out," he said quietly.
	"What did you say?" I asked, thinking I hadn't heard him right.
	"I said, 'Dad threw me out,'" he said again. "He told me that I had
to be out of the house before he came home from work today."
	"Mark, what the fuck happened last night? Everybody was fine when I
left."
	"That was before we had the talk," he said. He looked up at me, and
I could see the agony in his eyes.
	"What talk?" I asked.
	"You sure you want to know?" he asked. He suddenly had a guilty
look on his face, and that worried me.
	"What happened?" I asked.
	He stared at the table for a few minutes, and he fidgeted in his
seat. I could tell that he was having trouble telling me about whatever
they had talked about after I left. I kept racking my brain trying to think
of something so bad that Dad would throw Mark out of the house.
	Mark was only 16. I couldn't believe that Dad would just throw him
out. What was harder to believe was that Mom had let him do it.
	"Mom agreed with Dad?" I asked.
	"Mom didn't even say a word," he said, miserably. "She wouldn't
even look at me."
	"Mark, what the hell is going on?" I asked.
	"After you left, Dad started talking about Mr. Fenwick," he
said. He looked back down at the table again, and he started playing with
his napkin.
	Mr. Fenwick lives next door to our parents. He is the only gay man
that I had ever known until recently. Dad always talked about him like he
was the scum of the Earth.
	"He always talks about Mr. Fenwick," I said.
	"This time I told him to shut up," said Mark. He looked up at me,
briefly, and then went back to shredding his napkin.
	"Dad threw you out for telling him to shut up?" I asked. I had no
trouble picturing Dad throwing a fit, but I didn't think that was enough to
get Mark thrown out of the house.
	"No, he asked me what right I had to tell him to shut up," said
Mark.
	"And you said?" I asked. I could tell that getting the entire story
from Mark was going to be like pulling teeth.
	"I'm gay, Nick," he said, stunning me.
	I had no clue! The very thing that I was afraid that Mark would
find out about me was the reason for Dad throwing him out of the house. I
couldn't believe it.
	We sat there for a long moment. Neither of us said a word for a
while. I'm sure that he thought I was going to get up and walk out on him,
but I couldn't say anything. I was still too shocked.
	"You hate me, too, now, don't you, Nick?" he said. I could hear the
anguish in his voice when he spoke, and I nearly cried.
	"Oh, Mark," I said.
	"It's all right if you do," he said. I could see one tear slide
down his cheek, and I felt horrible.
	"Mark, I could never hate you for that," I told him.
	He looked up at me, and for the first time all morning, I saw hope
in his eyes.
	"You couldn't?" he asked. I could tell by his tone that he was
trying to believe me, but he was having trouble.
	"Dad is a narrow minded fool," I said. "And Mom is no better if she
just let him do this."
	"You don't hate me?" he said. Clearly, he had expected that I
would.
	"No, I don't hate you, Mark," I said as if that was the silliest
thing in the world for him to think.
	"I . . ."
	"Mark, I'm gay, too," I said. Then I heard myself sigh. I couldn't
believe the relief I felt after I said those words. I had wanted to say
that out loud to a member of my family for so long. I couldn't believe that
Mark was the one that I had finally said them to.
	He sat there and stared at me. The look on his face was complete
bewilderment. I know that was the last thing he ever expected to hear me
say. It was definitely the last thing I ever expected to say to him.
	"Nick," he said, and then he stopped. He looked down at the table
again.
	"Look," I said, thinking that I'd said too much to let the
conversation slip back into silence. "What we'll do is go to Mom and Dad's
and get your stuff. You will stay with me until Dad cools down."
	I paid the check and walked Mark outside. After a few long silent
moments, we agreed that we would drive to my trailer first. He would drop
off his car, and we would go get his stuff in the truck. We didn't have a
lot of time before Dad would get home from work, and I was hoping that we
could avoid him.
	"You're gay," he said as we drove back down the gravel road from my
trailer. He had been staring out his window, and I had thought that this
would be a silent trip.
	"I wouldn't lie to you about that, Mark," I said, thinking that he
assumed that I had said it to make him feel better.
	"But you never . . ."
	"I never let anyone know," I said. "The last thing I ever wanted to
happen was to be found out. I knew how Dad felt about homosexuals. I didn't
want him to look at me that way."
	"The way he looked at me last night," he said half under his
breath.
	"Mark, I'm so sorry that you had to go through that," I said,
thinking of how close Mark and I could have been if I had been honest with
him sooner.
	"Are you going to tell them?" he asked, looking at me for the first
time since we had gotten in the truck.
	"I'm not sure," I admitted. That thought hadn't even crossed my
mind.
	"Dad is not going to be happy about you taking me in," he said,
turning his face back to his window.
	"He always taught us that family was the most important thing in
the world," I said. "I doubt that he would hate me for taking you in."
	"I didn't think he would throw me out, either," said Mark.
	I was quiet for a while. The thought of Dad throwing Mark out of
the house was still unbelievable to me. I hated to admit it, but Mark was
right. If Dad had thrown Mark out of the house, then all of his lectures
about family being so important probably wouldn't stop him from forbidding
me to take Mark in.
	This thought made my stomach turn. I didn't want a showdown with my
parents, but there was no way I was going to let Mark stay on the
streets. I knew that he had a circle of friends, but knowing Dad, the first
thing he had done today was to call all of Mark's friends and warn their
parents.
	Dad hated homosexuals enough to do just that.

END OF PART 1

(to be continued)