Date: Fri, 09 Mar 2001 05:25:40 -0600
From: Eric N Draven <ericdraven10@lycos.com>
Subject: Nicholas And Mark Chapter 2

This story is intended for those over the age of 18. It contains scenes
involving sex between men. If you are not 18, or if this type of material
bothers you, please leave now. All other disclaimers apply.

Comments are always welcome and encouraged. Please send all comments to
ericdraven10@lycos.com

Copyright 2001 Eric Draven


Nicholas And Mark
By Eric Draven
Chapter 2

	"Do you think Dad will be home when we get there?" asked Mark. I
could hear the fear in his voice. I wondered just what Dad had said to him
last night.
	"I hope not, Mark," I said. "If he is, we will get through it."
	All the confidence I heard in my voice could only have come from
all of the years I had spent pretending to be someone that I am not. I
couldn't believe how easy it was to sound so confident when I was shaking
inside.
	The last thing I wanted was to face our father. I knew that he
would be angry when he saw Mark, and I could just imagine what he would do
when I dropped the bomb about my own sexuality on him.
	It wasn't until that thought had entered my mind that I knew that I
planned to tell our parents about me if it came down to it. The realization
of that shook me. Was I really prepared to lose my parents? Was I really
ready to find out what Dad would say?
	I knew that Mark had already been down this road, and if he was
strong enough to deal with it, then so was I. I looked over at him, and I
could see how scared and hurt he was. I wanted to stop the truck and take
him into my arms and tell him that everything was going to be ok. The
problem was that Mark and I had never been that close, and if I had done
that, he probably would have freaked out on me.
	I found myself wondering just how things were going to work out
with Mark staying with me in my little one bedroom trailer. Would we grow
closer? I hoped that we would. I wanted to make up for all the time that
I'd spent keeping him at a safe distance from the real me. I wanted to tell
him all about me. Sharing myself with him would be one way to let him know
that I was truly there for him.
	When we turned the corner onto our parents' street, my stomach
flipped, and I thought I would lose my breakfast. Dad's car was parked in
the drive. I began to feel a cold feeling creep up my body. It seemed that
the showdown would take place today.
	"He's here," said Mark. I could hear the anxiety in his voice, and
I was willing to bet my life that my heart was racing just as fast as his.
	"I see the car," I said, not knowing what else to say. "We will be
alright."
	I pulled the truck into the drive and parked beside Dad's car. We
sat there for a few minutes after I turned off the ignition. I could see my
mother looking through the living room window, so I knew that Dad knew we
were here.
	Before I could even think of how I was going to go about telling
them that Mark was going to stay with me, my father came out of the front
door. My heart almost stopped completely.
	"You can get out of the truck, Nicholas," said my dad with his
hands on his hips. "Your brother can stay where he is. I want to have a
word alone with you."
	I looked at Mark, who was looking back at me. I wanted to tell him
that I would fix things, but I knew that there was nothing I could do to
fix this. Dad was Dad, and nothing that I could say was going to change
him. What I had to say was probably going to give me the chance to see the
side of him that I had dreaded for years.
	"I've come to get Mark's things," I said, trying to put as much
courage in my voice as possible. I stepped out of the truck and stood face
to face with my father, and I felt like a little boy all over again.
	"Are you thinking that he will be staying with you?" asked my
father. Demanded was more like it. He stood there with a stonewall
expression on his face, and I felt my knees begin to shake.
	"Mark is staying with me, Dad," I said, hoping that my voice didn't
shake. I couldn't hear it, because my heart was pounding in my ears.
	"You come on in the house for a minute, Nicholas," my father
demanded. With that, he turned and walked back to the front door. He looked
over his shoulder once to make sure that I was following.
	"Nick, are you hungry? There's coffee," said my mother when we
waked through the front door.
	"No, thank you, Mother, I'm not hungry, and I don't want coffee," I
said.
	"Did your brother tell you why he is needing a place to stay?"
asked my father, not bothering to say a word to my mother.
	My mother simply wiped her hands on her apron and returned to the
kitchen. Meek and mild. Those were the words that had always come to mind
to describe my mother when it came to dealing with my father. He made the
decisions, and she followed meekly.
	"Yes, Father," I replied.
	"He told you that he is a perverted young man who doesn't respect
his parents, and you want to take him into the trailer that I bought for
you?" demanded my father. I could tell by the sound of his voice that he
was getting angry.
	"Father," I said, choosing my words carefully. "You bought the
trailer, and I paid you back for it. The deed is in my name, and the
trailer now belongs to me."
	My father was silent. His face was red, and his nostrils were
flaring, so I knew that he was not just angry; he was mad as Hell. I had
never seen him look at me like that before. It surprised me that I wasn't
as afraid of this look as I thought I would be.
	"I am an adult," I continued. "Mark is only a teenager. You can't
just expect him to take care of himself on the streets. No matter what he
is, he is still a part of this family, and you taught me that family is the
most important thing in the world."
	I had to almost gasp to get breath back into me. I had been talking
so fast to make sure that I got it all out without being interrupted that I
didn't even stop to breath. Dad simply stood there and stared at me.
	I couldn't tell if he was thinking about what I had said about him
teaching me about family or not. I knew that he was thinking about
something, I just couldn't figure out what.
	"That boy is no longer family," said my father through clenched
teeth. "Do you hear me? He is not family, and I will not have you take him
under your roof. I forbid it, Nicholas.
	"That boy told us last night that he is a filthy homosexual. That
is against God! Now you listen to me . . ."
	"No, Father, you listen to me," I said, practically choking on my
own rage. It surprised me that I was so angry. "Mark is my brother. He is
not a filthy homosexual. He is a homosexual, but that does not make him
filthy, Dad. You have loved him all his life, and believe me, he was born
that way. If it is against God, then I have a problem with a God that would
make a person and then hate what he created."
	"You will not stand in my house and talk to me this way!" screamed
my father. "You will not!"
	"Father, I would never dream of talking to you this way," I said
quickly. "But you should never have said the things that you said to
Mark. I won't stand for it. You raised us to love each other, Dad, and
that's what I am doing. I love my brother, and I won't stand for anyone
treating him the way that you treated him last night."
	My father stormed out the front door. I followed him, because I
knew that he was going after my brother. To my surprise, he got into his
own car without looking at Mark even once. He sped away.
	"I packed some of your brother's things," said my mother, startling
me.
	"Thank you, Mother," I said, and then I realized that I couldn't
just let her off the hook.
	"Why didn't you stop this last night, Mother?"
	"Nicky, you know that there is nothing that anyone can do when your
father puts his foot down," she said, looking at the floor.
	I couldn't believe it. She wouldn't even stand up for her own
son. I decided then that I really did not know my mother at all. I didn't
think that I wanted to know her, either.
	I went to Mark's room and took the two suitcases that she had
packed. As I walked back into the living room, I saw her still standing
where I had left her.
	"We will come back for the rest of his things, Mother," I said.
	"I love you, Nicky," she said.
	I just walked out the door and got into the truck.
	"I got two of bags of your clothes, Mark," I said not looking at
him. "We will come back tomorrow when Dad is at work and you can go inside
with me to get what you want out of your room. For now, I'll buy you a
razor and a tooth brush."
	"Nick, what happened in there?" he asked. I looked at him, and I
could see the concern on his face.
	"Everything will be ok, Mark," I said, not knowing if I was telling
the truth or not.
	When we got back to the trailer, I made dinner while Mark put his
clothes in the two bottom drawers of my only dresser in my room. I had
cleaned them out before starting dinner. I realized just how small the
trailer was when Mark asked where he was going to put all of his stuff.
	"We'll figure it out," I said. "Don't worry."
	We ate dinner in my small kitchen. Neither of us said anything
through the whole meal. I was too busy thinking about the sleeping
arrangements. I only had a small sofa, and it wasn't long enough for Mark
to sleep on. That meant that he would have to share my bed with me.
	There was nothing wrong with his sleeping in my bed with me; I just
didn't know what he would think about it. We had never been very close, so
I didn't know how he would react.
	After dinner, I washed the dishes, and Mark dried them. The kitchen
was so small that we constantly bumped into each other. The only things
that were said between us were "excuse me" and "where do you put these?" I
didn't know what to say to him, and I guess he didn't know what to say to
me either.
	All of the sharing I had planned on was not coming out of me very
easily. There was so much that I wanted to tell him, but I wasn't sure that
he was ready to hear it all. I didn't know what to say or how to start the
conversation.
	When it came time to go to bed, I was really nervous. I couldn't
explain it, but the thought of having Mark in bed with me was kind of
erotic. I'd never once thought of anything sexual regarding my brother, but
the thought of him lying next to me all night long was working on me.
	I let him take his shower first. I had to sort out what was running
through my mind. I didn't like the thoughts about him that I was having,
and I knew that he would think I was sick if I told him any of it.
	I sat down on the sofa and tried to stop thinking the thoughts that
kept running through my mind.
	In my head I can see myself walking into the bathroom. Mark is too
busy washing himself to notice me at first. I watch him through the clear
plastic of the shower curtain, and I love the distorted view that I'm
getting.
	I take my clothes off quickly, and with one fluid motion, I pull
the shower curtain back and slide into the shower behind him. Instantly, my
arms wrap around his soapy waist, and I'm rubbing my hands up and down his
chest and stomach. I can feel my hardening dick sliding up and down his ass
crack, and I'm in heaven.
	Suddenly, he begins to push his ass back against me, and any fears
I have about what he will think of me vanish. I realize that he wants me,
too. I can't stand it. I rub my face into his wet hair and say his name
over and over.
	His soapy hands slide back to cup my ass cheeks and pull us closer
together. We can't get any closer, and my dick begins to slide into his
silky hole. It goes in fairly easy, because it's coated with the soap that
was all over his ass.
	He moans as I wrap my soap-slicked hand around his dick and begin
to jack him in time with my slow thrusts into his warm man tunnel. I keep a
steady rhythm, and I know that I can't hold out much longer.
	Then I feel his dick throb in my hand, and shot after shot of his
cum splatters the shower wall as I unload my cum into his bowels.
	"Nick," said Mark, pulling me out of my fantasy. "I said, you can
have the shower now."

(to be continued)