Beautiful Boy

Part One

"...and I never knew beautiful til I met you." Aceyalone, I Never Knew

Guess it safe to say he caught my eye from the git go but truth is - be hard not to notice him - he tall, hair red as brick and skin the color a oatmeal with a big spoonful a brown sugar stirred in. He one of them kids you pick out of a room full a brothers you wonder what planet he from, that how far he stick out. He got a little puff goin on, nice trim sideburns just past his ears. Got his own style, for sure. I know he skinny underneath all them clothes, but I bet he strong - bet he hold his own, just fine.

Never knew I like a tall skinny redbone before, but they always a first time. And they something about this one.

Young, though. That might be a problem. Hope not, cuz I’m bout to climb up. We find out, then we decide if it be right. Now, if he interested, we got it goin’ on. If he not interested...well, we think a somethin’ cuz this one I need to see in the daylight, and best way to do that is make sure we be together until then.

There do be 5 or 6 other problems, though, and they all sticking close like they need each other for protection, with him in the middle of the mix more or less. Hard to tell if he with any one of them in particular, boy or girl- and the fact that they acting like a bunch a kids out to get a little dirty in the gritty city make me wonder again if this gonna be a whole waste of a good evening.

I don’t go looking too often, only them nights seem extra long after a week that seems extra dry. So when I do go lookin I hate to be disappointed, but Omar sure as hell ain’t takin no charge for messin with a youngun.

I tell myself not to worry about it, we just gonna have a little parlay see what happen. Ain’t no harm in talkin. So I gets lucky and catch me a stool next to where they all crowded around a table by the window, waitin on their pizza. I see one pull out a bottle, tip it into his soda, then pass it around. When the bottle gets to my pretty copper penny he make like he pours some in, but ain’t more’n a drop or two before he pass it on. He look up, catch me catchin’ him and I watch his cheeks go red. He don’t look away fast enough - they never do. Guess I just got one of them faces hold your eyes longer than you know you should.

So I don’t look away. And he don’t look away. Then the girl next to him lean over, grab some ketchup or somethin’ clear across the table and when she sit back, he lookin all the way to the bottom of the cup, and he don’t look up for a long time. When he do, he look straight at me, and he smile.

And Omar melt inside.

He look away. Starts talkin loud, makin’ faces at the kids around the table, lookin like he the life a the party. I know I’m making him nervous. I can’t hardly take my eyes off him so I gotta force myself to get up and go over to the counter, order me another soda. I’m thinking I should go out and have a smoke, maybe he follow me. But what if he don’t? Omar gotta walk back in there, start the whole dance all over again.

So I make a deal with myself. I turn around. If he lookin, I got no choice but to move in. He not lookin’ - I give him five minutes outside, then I’m down to the club.

‘cept thinkin about them tired booty hos with they coked-up attitude and broke down moufs make me admit to myself after dis I ain’t goin nowhere but home alone.

So Omar know what the deal is.

I turn around.

Catch him lookin.

He smile. He got a mouth you see in paintings - soft and full, shaped like a baby mouth - like a angel. A mouth that always just a little open, ready for any kind a kiss, even ones that hurt for days after.

Omar know exactly how to kiss a mouth like that. This boy gonna save Omar’s life more ‘n once, and he smiling at me like he know it.

I go outside and light a cigarette. I give him as much time he need to make his excuses and pull himself away from that table, and I guess I be lying if I don’t say how happy it makes me I don’t have to wait too long.

He asks me for a cigarette and I give him one, light it up. He taller than me, which normally I don’t care for, but there somethin kinda sweet about the way he bend his shoulders forward, like he don’t want me to notice the difference. Between the moonlight and the glow from the restaurant window we standin in front of, I see just how beautiful this boy is. Omar heart beatin’ so fast I wonder can I even say hello my name is without fallin to my knees on the pavement. But like I said, if I wanna see what he look like with the morning sun coming thru my bedroom window, I better think a something. Something different. Something true.

”I seen you someplace before,” I say.

“I don’t think so. I ain’t really from around here.” He laughin, don’t seem nervous at all. Maybe he a little tipsy - I wish I could get a kiss and find out what they drinkin.

“Nah, I figgered that. But no, I seen your face before. You ever been to that Museum down by Johns Hopkins?”

He wrinkles up his forehead, thinkin. Shakes his head no.

"They got them paintings by Michelangelo and Raphael. That’s where I seen your face before. In them paintings. You’re beautiful. You know it, too, don’t you?”

He don’t get a chance to be embarrassed, cuz one a his peoples pops his head out of the cafe and is shoutin’ him down, tellin him the pizza on the table. He don’t say nuthin, he just nods his head at the guy, turns back to me, make me feel like I’m da man, cuz now I know: we gonna be waking up together, you’ll see.

"Watchu mean you figger I ain’t from around here?” he asks. He drops the cigarette, which he didn’t smoke but a puff or two, and grinds it under his shoe.

“I don’t know. You different. Thinkin you from Italy or sumthin.”

“Italy!?”

“Yeah. You know who they are, right? Michelangelo....Raphael...”

“Yeah, I know. They Ninja turtles.”

We both crack up. Seem like we been movin a little closer to each other. I got my back to the restaurant doorway so I can’t see what’s goin on with his peoples, if they mindin’ they bizness inside or they keepin an eye on him, but every now and then he looks over my shoulder, shakes his head or makes a gesture with his hand: go away.

Then one of them calls out his name: Brandon.

“Fuck, I’ll be there!” he yells. “Fuckin save me a slice.”

I ask him can I have a kiss. Figure it’s worth a try, and right now I really do want one, even though I'm thinkin may be plenty of time for plenty of kisses later.

Yeah, I guess I’m a little surprised he don’t get all perturbed, call me a faggot and shove me away. Instead, he say, “Right here? Front of everybody? You trying to get my ass kicked?”

“They gonna do that over a little kiss? What kind a friends that be?”

“What kind you think?”

“BRANDON! WE GOTTA GO.”

He looks over my shoulder, back at the doorway. Puts his hand out. I turn around, see they all coming up, gonna rescue their homeboy from the big bad nigger wit his do-rag and baggy pants. Minute I look at them they stop in their tracks. But one of em don’t shut up - she all whining and swearing. She screamin, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, BRANDON LET’S GOOOOOOO.

“Tell em you buyin weed.” I say. “Go get some money off em, I’ll hook you up. You be they hero.”

“You got weed for real?” he ask.

“What u think?”

He nods his head. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Smiles big, make me all weak again. He run up on them, I watch em negotiate, every one of em put some bills in his hand. I been moving further away to the corner, away from the street light.

He bring me a handful of money, and I pass him a bag a shit I bring along night’s like this for boy’s who got a taste.

“Don’t get in no trouble,” I tell him. He says he ain’t no dope fiend. He give me his cell number and I memorize it right away.

“How bout you?” he say. “Can I have your number?”

“BRANDON!” It’s that bitch again, or one of them.

"Your girl callin you. You better go.”

“Can I have your phone number?”

“Ain’t got one. Sorry.”

“Ya ain’t got a phone number?”

“Nah. Sorry.”

“Oh I see. You one of them niggas on the downlow wit yo wife and kids at home, go lookin’ for a boy to fuck on Friday night.”

“No. I just ain’t got a phone. And you got a dirty mouth, don’t you?”

“BRANDON! MOTHERFUCKER, WE LEAVIN YO ASS.”

They really mean it, too, a bunch of em gettin into a mini-van parked down the way, the girl standin her ground on the sidewalk, wailin at him to come on.

He still lookin at me, but he moves towards them.

"Yall gonna call me for real, right?"

“For real. Fo sho’.”

“And she ain’t my girl. Don’t have a man, neither, that what you thinkin’.”

“Never?” I ask.

“I didn’t say that,” he said. Then he turns around, runs down the street. I watch him get in the van. Watch the van pull away, turn the corner. I wait about 2 minutes, then I go round the corner, find a payphone, call his number.

He answer on the first ring.

“My name Omar,” I say.

“My name Brandon,” he answer.

“Come round here in 30 minutes. I’ll be waitin.”

Then I hang up. First I get my ride and park it on Baltimore Street, then I go back around the corner to the pizza place, do what I can in the restroom to make my breath fresh. Gonna be tough not to smoke about 2 packs a cigs waiting on him. Hopin like hell he don’t take the whole 30 minutes to work his way back here.

I go to the Chinese restaurant across the street and get me a table by the window. Order me a big bowl a noodle soup but I can’t eat nuthin, I’m too nervous. I wonder why I got these butterflies in my stomach. Had plenty a boys in my time, a lot prettier than him. Light-skinned, eggplant-skinned, boys from around the way and boys from the county. Had white boys, Mexican boys, and young ones, too, back in the day before I realized they more trouble than they worth.

Brandon. Nice name.

Time seem like it passin awful slow, and I start to worry he don’t come. Then I remember I got his cell, I call him a hunnert times if I have to and he better answer. I done drink two pots a tea when my heart about leap outta my throat, I see a tall boy with a red afro walk into the pizza place. I watch for a while, wishin I didn’t all the time have to be so goddamn cool - why I can’t just throw my ass on the street and wail his name outloud.

I go and pay my bill at the counter, we both walk onto the sidewalk the same time. He nods his head at me. I nod back. And we both just stand there. Screw it, now ain’t the time to play this game - I cross the street. I want to hold his hand. I want to pull him in close and hug him, push his head down on my chest and smell his hair. I don’t do any a that, but I do ask him if I can have that kiss now. Plenty a all kinds a people on Baltimore Street at midnight, specially the kind don’t appreciate a brother luvin up another brother, so he knows I’m just kidding. But damn if he don’t lean forward, anyway. I catch his chin in my hand, and he tilt his face down, press his lips into my palm. Leaves a nice wet spot for me to taste.

I tell him follow me and we walk to my ride. I can smell the herb on him, so I ask if he high. He say the kids lit up in the car, if he got high it’s cuz he don’t have no choice since he gotta breathe. I tell him I’m gettin’ high just smellin the herb on him, and that do be what it feels like, walkin with him in the dark, knowin we headed straight for my bed. I feel stoned.

He laugh when he see my ride - a big old heap of a cargo van need a paint job and some bondo.

“You the ice cream man, ” he say, but he sound okay with it. I unlock the driver’s side, ask him to climb in.

“You mind drivin?” I ask him. He gets a kick outta that, gets behind the wheel.

“Show me your driver’s license,” I say.

He pulls out his wallet, digs around, shows me his license. It say he born in 1981, got an address across the Bay. I ain’t sure about the year, he look a lot younger than that, and the city don't match his honey-drippin' drawl. I'd a placed him souther than that. But standin next to him, he about to get into my ride, knowin that when I shut the door he ain't turnin back and neither am I, I ain't exactly seein' no warning signs.

I hand him the keys, and he pulls out onto the street like he been drivin this monster all his life.

I give him some directions and he follow them exactly. I hate to drive, specially the beast. Even though he don’t know exactly where we goin he anticipates real well. Already I’m thinkin how I’m gonna tell John Bailey we into goin into bizness with this kid from the county. We been needin a driver, and this one got a talent for it. There’s a reason for every thing, right? Some things just meant to be. Anyway, John Bailey don’t like it he can walk. Me and Brandon be a crew all by ourselves.

That scare me a little, my mind racin ahead like that. I already got me and him growin old together terrorizing the West side till we gray and toothless.

“What you laughin’ at?” he ask.

“Turn up here," I tell him. "You know where Loudan is, the big cemetary?”

“How I know where that is, dog? You done told me I ain’t from around here.”

I give him a couple more directions.

“So what you laughin’ at?”

“What you tell your friends, they cut you loose.”

“They wouldn’t cut me loose. I had to jump outta the fuckin’ car. They all holdin on sayin Brandon he a hoodlum. Are you?”

“Nah, I’m the ice cream man. Ain’t no fear.”

“Oh, I ain’t afraid.”

“When I get that kiss, then?”

He manhandle the steering wheel, use all his muscle to get the van in a sharp turn onto somebody driveway. He put it in neutral and gimme a look I don’t never want to forget. Lotta space between him and me, even more space between him and the steering wheel, so I come on over to his side. Put my right knee between his legs and balance myself there, my other leg still on the passenger side, my foot on the floor. I put my hands up under his coat and sweatshirt and 2,3 other shirts, search for skin. I work my hands up his back, find his shoulder blades, pull him toward me and we kiss. His lips parted, my mouth open, my tongue inside a him, tasting cinnamon. He breathing thru his nose, I feel little puffs of breath against my cheek. We spendin quite some time explorin for being in such an uncomfortable position, finally somebody gotta catch his breath and pulls away. Doubt it was me.

He lookin at me with his eyes half shut and his mouth half open. “How much farther ?” he wanna know. Not far, I tell him. Get back in my seat and a few minutes later we in the projects, home sweet home.

We park the van and I put my arm around his shoulders, we walk side by side real close. He don’t ask how come we gotta walk another two blocks to my house. He don’t say anything for some time, then he start laughing. “Michelangelo?” he say.

“Yeah. The painter, not the turtle.”

My house in pretty good shape. Not as good as the neighbors' - they’s a window could use a new pane and the stoop done lost its railing. Unfortunately, I’m not much of a housekeeper, so the inside do look a little ghetto, and I ain’t expectin to bring somebody home this particular night, not somebody worth cleanin up for. I’m thinkin maybe I can get him to stay downstairs for awhile, I run up to the bedroom and put on some clean sheets, make sure the toilet flushed. Then I wonder if I even have any clean sheets, and if I do, where I keep them things? Again I get that funny feeling - why I care what he think?

I open the door and just like that the good vibes of being with this beautiful kid who can’t wait to get Omar’s hard-on inside a him gets left on the doormat. Bailey here somewhere. I smell cooked heroin and whiskey and vomit. I ain’t sure whether or not to let Brandon follow me into the house. If Bailey awake no doubt he packin, and he don’t like strange faces when he high. Whenever this happens I can be pretty sure I’m gonna walk up on Bailey and a loaded 9.

But I hear snoring, so I guess it safe for now. He follow me into the living room, and there Bailey spread out, half on the sofa, half off, his buckle open and his belly hanging out. Don’t look right, his belly all swollen like that, and he got some pink foam comin out the side of his mouth. I ain’t seen Bailey for a few days so maybe he been drinkin all this time. He smell like it. I open his mouth and see he bit his lip pretty bad. Brandon helps me get him up onto the sofa. I tell the kid to look around for a gun, and if he find one, or two, go hide em somewhere. He find one, alright, and heads for the kitchen. I start slappin the hell outta Bailey’s face, callin his name loud. I hear Brandon opening and closing doors in the kitchen.

Bailey start to mumblin, builds up a little more energy till he telling me what a faggot I am get the fuck away from him, where his gun he gonna blow my faggot head off, so everything cool.

When Brandon come back in the living room I tell him go on upstairs, I’ll be up in a minute.

Then I takes care of John Bailey, tell him if he mess this up for me I will put a bullet thru his sorry dome put him outta his misery once and for all. He sobbing into his hands, talkin about some woman, like he don’t have a half-dozen to choose from, one go wrong, move on to the next. I know tomorrow or however long it take him to sleep this one off, he ain’t gonna remember a thing. And that good, cuz he about the worst friend a man can have, but he a good partner in crime. And now I got Brandon, I don’t need nuthin else.

Get that damn feelin again about this kid - how I be making up this whole life together we ain’t done more than flirt and kiss? But he upstairs right now, and so far he ain’t said one thing that we in the ghetto, that there’s a half-dead junkie in my crib, or that my bed ain’t had clean sheets in a month or so.

Before I leave him I count how many empty vials Bailey done gone through. They quite a few uncracked ones under the sofa. Them I toss out the front door, and just to be sure, go on down the stoop and smash em into the ground.

Bailey's eyes closed. I listen to him breathing for a while, seems ok. I go into the kitchen, find Bailey’s pistol inside the fridge wrapped in paper towels, tuck it into my belt, and get my ass up them stairs.

He done took off his coat and sweatshirt. He sittin on the edge of the bed, untying the laces of his Tims. He looks up, give me that sunny-warm smile. So that your man, he say.

That my partner, I tell him. He got a lotta problems, but he a good man. You’ll see when you meet him.

“But he ain’t your man?”

“No. Don’t worry about that. He shoot my faggot ass if we weren’t partners.”

“He sure tore your room apart. He lookin for drugs?”

I had to tell him it always look like this. “Hmmmm,” he say. But he’s still pullin off his shoes, and now he’s taking off his socks. He watches me take the gun out my pants and put it in a dresser drawer, but he don’t say nuthin.

Before he take off anymore clothes, he starts testing the bed, rocking back and forth. It ain’t more’n a mattress resting on springs and some milk crates, but it sturdy enough. I’m sure he ain’t gonna have no complaints come morning. And they always the floor. And the bathtub. Couple more options, too, if Bailey weren’t here. Maybe we try those out tomorrow.

He starts scooting back towards the pillows, careful not to rattle anything.

Just to show him he ain’t got nuthin to worry about, I jump up onto the bed, land right next to him. It do make a big creak, but hold up just fine. I put him on his back and lie down on top of him. We kissin’, and I start feeling him from his neck down to his knees. He so skinny I can count his bones through his clothes. He got his hands up under my shirt, diggin his fingers into my back, pulling me even closer, which ain’t possible. He feel my hardness, I feel his - we rubbin against each other, deep-kissing. He moaning real soft, his voice high and gravelly. I move back a little and he help me pull off my shirt. His eyes tell me he like what he see, and his hands all over my arms, measuring. I’m gonna show him just how strong I can be, but for right now all I want is to lie beside him, my skin touching his, kissing him inside and out.

I pull his shirt over his head. His skin so smooth, not a hair on his chest or belly. I loosen his pants and pull them down to his knees. He smooth all over. There’s a little patch of reddish brown hair just above his cock, no more than a couple inches. His belly so flat, the knot of his belly button stick out, look like it winking at me. I reach under, bring up his balls and play with one, then the other, moving em around in one hand. They beautiful, too, the skin not much darker than the rest of him. All this play making me hungry for what’s between his legs, but I know I gotta wait if I want this night to last more’n a hour.

Meanwhile, he got my pants open. I lift up my hips so he can pull em down. They get caught on my sneaks. I try to kick em off, but they laced too tight. He sits up, bends over my legs, and unties them. I thank God for the opportunity to slide my hand down that silky back. Yeah, he skinny alright, but I can feel the tension and the strength in the muscles of his back and obliques. I press my lips between his shoulder blades and it’s all I can do not to push him forward onto the bed so I can get a taste of a part of him I want the most.

He gets my shoes off and finishes pulling down my pants. I lay on my back against the pillow and pull my knees up. He lean down and puts my dick in his mouth and swallows a inch at a time. When his cheeks are full a me, he pulls his head back a little bit, using every part of his mouth. He noisy, slurping and moaning and breathing hard through his nose.

I dig my fingers into his hair, start combing through the curls, maybe a little rough. I tickle the inside of his ears, move on down his neck, massage his shoulders. He gettin more and more of me inside a his mouth, make me think he wasn’t lying he said he had a man before. Don’t know why that make me a little sad, why I gotta be the first. He start to choke and I pull out of him, but he presses his hands on my hips, laying me back on the bed, sayin “I can do this”. Start takin it in again, move his mouth down the shaft, sucking loudly, lift his head all the way up, finish me off with a kiss to the tip of my dick, swallow it back up again before it slip all the way out.

I figure, he gonna have his way with me, it only fair I have my way with him. So I push his head back, turn him around so his rear in my face, his face in my lap. His ankles and feet are still tangled in his jeans, and I kinda like that he caught up like that. His legs long enough he can still straddle my chest, prop himself up with his arms straightened, his hands gripping the mattress. I rub my hands around and around his cheeks, pull em apart a little, lick both sides of his round booty, suck hard till purple bruises swim to the surface of his pale skin. I give him about 4 of them bruises, then I slap his cheeks hard, pull em apart again, wider this time. Ain’t no hair, and his pucker light brown, no more’n the size of a dime. I barely touch it with the tip of my tongue and he moan, my dick fall out of his mouth, he turn his head, spread himself open, I put my tongue on him again, see how far I can get in. He moanin, getting louder. It tight, though. I lick the skin under his balls all the way up his crease, and back again. Don’t have no problem gettin water in my mouth, just lookin at his face pressed against my thigh, lips parted, the tip of his pink tongue parked to one side stimulatin enough. I moan out loud I remember the cinamonny taste of that tongue. Can’t get much harder, but I do. Oh, I got plenty a water in my mouth, lick and suck him until his ass shiny with spit and purple with love bites. But as wide as he stretches hisself and as strong and wet as my tongue be, I can’t get him to loosen up enough to let me in more’n a inch. I pull his dick between his legs, suck him backwards. Every now and then I try my finger, and he do his best to receive it, but it hurt, I know, and that ain’t what I want at all. So I suck him, until he warn me that he comin. I let him go, help him slide forward onto the mattress, turn him over so we lying side by side. We play with each other and he come first, then me. He catch my cum in his hand, bring it to his face and look at it close. I reach over, comb his hair with my fingers.

“This what you taste like, Baby Boy,” I say, and bring his face up to mine, kiss him deep. Kiss him long. Hold him close, my hands on his rear, my fingers inside his crack, let him know we not done yet, don’t worry. No need to rush things.

I listen to him breathing. It so quiet we can hear Bailey snoring downstairs. After a while we both crack up. He turn onto his side, prop himself up on his elbow. I look up and down his body - he still got his pants around his ankles. I sit up and get him properly undressed, havin a good laugh.

“Never did get any pizza,” he says.

“Spose you hungry. Now you think I gotta make you a bowl a soup or somethin.”

“Y’ain’t got french fries in the freezer?”

“Nah, just some 9s and 38s.”

“Yeah, you funny. You got some interesting things up in here. ”

“Man gotta have protection. Ya never know.”

“Yeah. Never know them Taliban come take over the projects.”

“Sayin, I gotta protect what’s mines. Right?”

“You don’t have no peanut butter? Crackers? Got any hot dogs - yo, G, forget I said that.”

We bust up laughin. I'm thinkin I ain't laughed this much in a long time. Make me laugh, make me hard, make my stomach do flip-flops. Sumthin seriously wrong here.

I tell him maybe Bailey give him some heroin, that help him with his hunger pains. He tell me again he ain’t no dope fiend. For real? I ask. You don’t do NO drugs? And he say life hard enough as it is.

He stretch out on his back, rub his chest with his hands. Then he flip over onto his belly, get his face real close to mine. I figure he ready for some more kisses, and I don’t disappoint. After a while, he pull away, get this serious look on his face.

“You and Bailey ever...?”

“Course not,” I say. Just the thought make me laugh.

“You bring a lot a boys here?”

“You soundin’ a might jealous. That okay, I’m a little jealous, too.”

“bout what?”

“Whoever taught you to please a man like that.”

“Nobody taught me. I just made it up.”

“You lyin’.”

“I ain’t. You inspire me.”

That make me so happy I smile ear to ear, he reach out and pinch my nose between his knuckles. Then he lean forward, kiss my nose, kiss my mouth, kiss my forehead. He hold my chin in his hand, give me a good hard look.

“Why somebody want to cut your face in half?” he ask. Up til then, I wasn’t even sure he noticed the scar. (Yea, right.)

I shake my head. “Crazy world out there. Brothers gotta stick together.”

“Like you and Bailey?”

“Bailey all I got.” I want to finish that sentence up, but I can’t. Can’t give up too much a your heart, never know somebody say no-thanks and hand it right back to you.

“I don’t believe you never been with. You too beautiful.”

“Be surprised. And ain’t nobody ever use that word to describe me. Never. Anyway, where I’m from - I guess I'm too white for some and not enough for others.”

“You got a crew.”

“They ain’t my crew. We just hangin’ out.”

I reach for him, he move into my arms.

“Bailey won’t cap me?”

“I got his gun. I give it to you. You know how to shoot?”

He move away just a little, and I think maybe I go too far. He don’t wanna hear this shit. I pull him close again, tell him I’m just kiddin around. Kiss him, he kiss me back. He move on top a me, I get my hands around his rear, give him a good massage, open him up, play with him a little. He kissin my neck, move his lips down onto my chest, catch my nipple between his teeth and give it a suck and a little bite. I tell him how good that make me feel, and he do get inspired, start doing some things with his mouth make me wanna crawl outta my skin, make my toes curl under.

So I gotta return the favor.

I put him on his back, sit up straight and hoist his legs over my shoulders, use my mouth on them beautiful, smooth balls. Now and then I let my tongue slip between his crack, really give his pucker a good sucking, no matter I can’t get my tongue in there, I know he feelin it. He gettin loud again, gettin a little crazy. He start callin out to me, sayin he want me to eff him. Sayin he want me inside a him. I let him go, spend about a split second ripping the dresser apart lookin for a rubber and some lube. Come back to the bed, squeeze the whole tube inside a him, rub it all over my dick. I ask him he ready, and he takes a deep breath, asks me to kiss him first. My hands slick with lube, I get my fingers all up in his hair thinkin how much pleasure it be sittin in the tub with him,soaping up them beautiful red curls. This kiss the longest one yet, he pumpin my dick with one hand, got the other one on the back of my neck makin sure they ain’t space between our skin. I keep one hand in his curls, the other slip down his back, massage his thigh, reach over between his rear and slip a finger inside a him. It easy now he all lubed up. I push it in and out, in and out, wait for him to break the kiss. When he do, I put him on his back again, lift up them long legs, put his knees over my shoulder, and slow...so slow...I move inside a him.

We takin it so easy, he lookin down, me lookin into his face. If it look like he in pain I stop, back up a little bit, he push himself forward, I help him. Got a good grip on his rear, don’t let him push too hard. Deeper. He put his hands under his thighs, openin himself a little wider. I take his knees, press forward far as I can, press his thighs up against his ribs. And I’m in deep enough that I can pull out, push back in, pull out, push in, out, slow, in control, he gettin loud, his breath heavy, his moan high, make me move inside a him a little faster, a little deeper, a little harder, in and out, the bedsprings creakin, sweat pourin off my forehead, my neck, my shoulders, big drops of sweat splashin onto his chest, into the hollow a his throat, I know I gotta be hurtin him I got his knees pressed hard into his chest, and the bed rockin, I know it gonna fall off a those goddam milkcrates, ain’t never loved a boy like this, never, even I be moanin now, no, not moanin, I’m crying, I’m shoutin, screaming out this boy’s name. My dick poundin into him now, the slap of my bones against his bones so loud, maybe that why he cryin, I’m killin him, he killin me, and there ain’t no way I can stop. Let me loose, he screamin, let me loose, oh god o god, and I let go his legs, they fall open, press his knees against the mattress, the mattress still on the milk crates and that a miracle because the whole room bouncin up and down. I turn him onto his side, don’t ask me how, get a hold a his dick and pump it, pump his ass, pump his dick, got my other hand in his hair, pull his head back, fall on top a him, get his head turned around, we kissin, he cryin’, I feel his cum on my fingers, thick and smooth, smear it up and down his dick, find his mouth with mine, he saying my name, I swallow his breath, I bite his lip, I rub my cheek against his, wet with tears and my sweat and his sweat and when his lip starts to bleed I lick that up, too.

I don’t think I can come, I’m too excited, too confused, too full a energy and violence and love and hardness, but I do come, it pour outta me, into him, into the condom I know, I wanna pull outta him, tear off this stupid piece a rubber and ram my dick back into him, mix my cum and my sweat with his blood and shit this our blood ritual, our ceremony, our death we repeat night after night after night.

Maybe.

Maybe we be together like this forever.

Sittin up, lookin down at him, lyin on his back, his legs open, his arms crossed over his chest, his hands, his thighs, his lips trembling like he been electrocuted, I feel somethin, call it possession, love, marriage. We got somethin’, Brandon and me. And he lookin up at me like he know it, he even nod his head, yes, like he read my mind. So I gotta say it out loud, and I do. I tell him I love him. And he still breathin so hard, he can hardly say it back, but he do, he tell me he love me.

I go in the bathroom, find the cleanest towel I can, bring it back and swab him all over. They's some blood, but nuthin for worry. That’s about all the juice I got left in me, otherwise I strip the sheets off, go on a treasure hunt for the clean ones. But he don’t look like he mind much, in fact, he already close his eyes and his breathing starting to slow down. I turn the lights off and lie down next to him, let him roll into my arms. We don’t talk. Hear Bailey snoring. Hear the dogs outside, hear the bums rolling they shopping carts over the pavement lookin for scrap. Hear a buzzing comin from somewhere in the room, realize I been hearin it the whole time now and then. His cell phone vibrating. I wonder was he lyin about not havin a girl - somebody sure as hell been trying to reach him.

I tell him in the morning I don’t care to be lied to. But right now...I fit myself into the curve a his back, kiss his shoulder gettin a last little taste a skin.

Soon enough we asleep. Talk about this and that in the morning.

return to lovesexeros

Beautiful Boy part 2 in progress