Author’s Note: Friends, first, I assure you that Preacher’s Son has not been abandoned, I’m in a bit of rut with it (ideas welcome!) plus, again, I’ve been in some pretty dark places mentally. It is not my intention to get into diagnoses and medications etc., but please look after your mental health. Truly, there is no pain worse than what your own mind can inflict upon you.
Let’s talk about this story, though. I wrote it in one sleepless night because of Alex. It felt cruel to ignore his loneliness and his anguish. I typically don’t write in the incest genre and I likely won’t again. I can’t pinpoint an exact inspiration for this piece and it is probably my weakest work with how quickly I cranked it out, so I hope you’re gentle with it. This absolutely will be a one-off. I don’t have the capacity to write an episodic tale and, frankly, I don’t know how I’d continue this story.
Feel free to write to me at [email protected] Your notes and missives give me life, as the kids say (do they anymore?)
This Place We’ve Come To.
By Alistair Hamish Gospelpipe IV.
The nights when Jackson got drunk were the nights I missed Ted the most. A drunk Jackson was a cruel, violent Jackson. It was always the same: if the car ride home from whichever get together we’d gone to was quiet and tense, I knew I was going to get it. We’d enter our apartment, he’d fix himself a drink and then snarl,
“What the fuck was that, Alex?”
That’s how it always started. “What the fuck was that, Alex?” I couldn’t tell you why.
It could be anything: maybe I’d told a funny story about a camping trip where we got lost (“How dare you embarrass me in front of those losers?”), maybe I’d asked him to take a minute to sober up before he drove (“You want those trash friends of yours to think I’m a drunk?”)…who knows? Who could predict it? What was predictable was him shaking me hard enough to make my teeth rattle screaming in my face that I was a waste of space. His fists flying at me? Also predictable. Predictable, too, was the lost, bewildered look he got after he’d hit me, as if he didn’t quite understand what had happened. If I weren’t on the ground writhing in pain, I’d probably gather him in my arms and tell him that everything was going to be okay, he didn’t need to look so sad, so broken. How does that Lana del Rey song go? He hit me and it felt like a kiss? Yeah, that was the vibe. He’d leave the apartment, then. I never knew where he went. I didn’t care. I’d lie on the ground; my cheek pressed to the cold linoleum and think about Ted.
Ted, my brother, always my protector. Ted, who, at 18, had scored a full ride to the University of Michigan. I was 14 when he left for school. I wanted to be him: smart, kind, strong in body and principles. Ted was a wrestler in high school, and I envied and coveted his physique. “You’ll get there, little dude!” He’d say. “But you’re perfect, okay?” If that kind of sappiness between two brothers sounds unusual, it’s because we were in unusual circumstances. Our parents are not bad people, no. They’re simply people who should never have had children. They were too self-involved, too focused on their careers and their professional jealousies that had them bicker over…finance stuff. I don’t really understand their jobs. Theirs was a true enemies-to-lovers story whose sequel was a lovers-to-glorified-colleagues story. They’d fucked twice at least, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they had their assistants arrange it. But, yeah, Ted and I were an afterthought. It was a great upbringing, don’t get me wrong. We never wanted for anything. We went to great schools. We were given every opportunity to succeed. And we took them, too.
When it came to affection, though, I just had Ted. Even when we were kids, Ted would beat up the kids who bullied me. Ted would help me with my homework. Ted was my best friend. I’d openly cried when he was packing up for college.
“I always got your back, little dude,” he’d said. “I’m always a phone call away.”
“Stop with the “little dude” stuff!” I’d sniveled, “I’m fourteen, Teddy!”
“As long as I’m Teddy, you’re little dude, okay?” He’d laughed before he pulled me against his strong chest, his arms enveloping me.
I was in a desert of sorts after he left. We talked or texted often even though I was busy with school, track and field, and he with college and collegiate wrestling. He began to feel distant after a year or two. I didn’t understand it. I also didn’t worry: graduation was coming up and he’d be home again!
“Ted joined the army,” Mom said matter-of-factly one evening over dinner. “I just don’t understand why that boy couldn’t wait one more semester to graduate.”
“Such poor planning,” Dad responded.
“Honestly!” Mom said rolling her eyes. “Anyway, this whole thing with Nguyen fund…”
My world fell apart. How could he? Why did he…? Why didn’t he say anything? WHY DIDN’T HE SAY ANYTHING! My shock turned to anger rather quickly. Have it your way, Theodore, you don’t want to talk? Neither do I. I was never going to text him or call him or talk to him. Never.
Jackson is younger than me. He was 21 and I 23. I had just started my doctoral studies here at Chapel Hill. Neuroscience. Jackson was an undergrad; he worked the front desk of the university gym and flirted shamelessly with me when I’d come to get a workout in. I was both confused and flattered: I’m a decent looking guy: built lean from running, tawny hair…pretty plain otherwise. But Jackson, swarthy, muscled and charismatic, was not just out of my league but in a whole other galaxy.
“I can’t take it anymore!” He’d said in mock exasperation one day when I came up to the front desk. “You’re such an idiot!”
“HEY—” I’d started.
“I’ve been hitting on you for, like, 17 years now and you can’t seem to take the hint!”
“I wasn’t sure…” I said a bit taken aback.
“Ugh, so stupid, so adorable!” He said, shaking his head, a dazzling smile on his face. “Fucking get a drink with me Thursday?”
That’s how it began. It was wonderful at first: he doted on me. A little too much at times, but I didn’t mind. He felt warm, safe. Ted would have liked him, I thought back then. In time, it became clear that Jackson couldn’t handle his alcohol. His debilitating insecurities oozed out in the ugliest of ways and nothing that happened was ever his fault. He could have gone to Harvard, but affirmative action fucked him over. He deserved a prestigious internship, but his asshole dad refused to put in a good word for him. He could have dated hotter, but I’d ensnared him with my “pathetic kicked puppy routine.” Every time he hit me, he’d come home the next day blubbering with the ritual offering of flowers and a heartfelt apology.
In an interesting turn of events, my advisor, Dr. Zhang, called me into his office.
“Sit, Alex,” he said in a genial tone. Too genial. “There’s something I have to ask you.”
“Dr. Zhang, I know I’ve been a bit lax with…”
“Alex,” he said holding up his hand. “I’m concerned, and I’m sorry if I’m overstepping here, but is there…are you—um—experiencing partner violence?”
“What?” I laughed bitterly. “No, sir, not at all!”
“So, the bruises? The black eye from last month?”
“I’m just…such a klutz, sir.” I said and Dr. Zhang’s expression told me that he wasn’t buying it,
“You can always talk to me, Alex.”
“I know.”
A week or two later when Jackson charged at me again, I begged him not to leave a mark because Dr. Zhang had noticed.
“You been talking shit about me?” He yelled. “You’re a fucking snake, Alex, ruining my reputation…”
“I didn’t say anything!” I protested. “He noticed…”
“Fuck you!” He snarled, pushing me to the floor. He landed on top of me, rendering me immobile as he yanked my shorts off.
“Spread your fucking legs, fag!” He commanded.
“Jax, no…” I hated how weak I sounded. What a loser,
“Don’t worry, babe,” He said evilly. “I won’t leave a mark.”
Except he did; he bit me on neck when he came inside me. He took me dry and he took me rough. It wasn’t about pleasure, it was about dominion. I hurt so much: from the savage way his cock assaulted me, the bites, the nasty, degrading words, his spit on my cheek delivered right before he left the apartment for the night. Something broke in me that night. I couldn’t stay with him anymore. I saw with startling clarity that this was a new phase. He’d gotten away with the beatings and he’d get away with…this, if I let him. So the next morning, I got up of the floor and left. It was Dr. Zhang who put me up at his place for a few days. Dr. Zhang helped me file the restraining order. Not mom and dad. Not Ted. Fucking Ted. Ted, who always had my back, allegedly. No, it was a stranger who showed up for me and this very stranger, my boss, banished me from the lab for the summer.
“Come back to the bench refreshed,” Dr. Zhang advised. “Take the time to put all this behind you. Your project will keep.”
And that’s how I ended up home.
My parents, when they were home, were polite but clearly not interested in whatever was going on with me once I’d assured them that I hadn’t gotten kicked out of school. The verdant running trail nearby became my best friend. My days were spent reading (fiction, not neuroscience…well, a little neuroscience!), running and watching TV. I had no interest in catching up with high school friends or whatever. The thought of idle chatter and feigning interest made me want to scream.
It was on an evening run that my cell phone rang and I answered it absently, yet very quickly realizing that maybe I’d stepped into a trap laid by Jackson. Except this was something else entirely.
“Hey.” Oh my God, I’d know that baritone anywhere.
“Hi.” Eloquent as always!
“Alex?” He asked. “That you? This still your number?”
“Yes.”
“How are you, little dude?” There was a catch in his voice; he quickly cleared his throat. “You good, man?”
“Yes. Ted. Fine here.” I said sounding like a bitchier Siri. “What do you want?”
“I’m coming home.”
“Why?” He doesn’t get to do this. He doesn’t get to walk in and out of my life on a whim.
“Um, I’m done. Honorably discharged and all that!” The cheeriness was fake. I knew him. My “why?” had wounded him. “Can I come to Chapel Hill? To see you? Missed you like hell, little dude.”
“I’m not at school, Ted,” I said evenly. “I’m home.
“Shit, voluntarily? Again, is everything okay? You can tell me.”
Oh, Teddy, no, I can’t.
“Yeah,” I responded. “My boss said I was showing signs of burnout, apparently.”
“You always were the hardest worker, little dude!” The pride in his voice was like cold water hitting hot glass. I want to shatter, but in his arms. The pride in his voice makes me forget, just for a second, that I am damaged goods.
“Anyway, I can’t wait to see you, Alex!” He continues, that infectious golden retriever energy bursting through my outdated Samsung. “And you can tell me all about what you’ve been up to, okay?”
“Yes.” It’s all I can manage before hanging up and finally allowing myself to cry.
Dad has booked Ted a car. Both parents had a lot to do at work before heading off to some retreat to decompress or whatever. I hadn’t slept a second the night before Ted was due. All day, I cursed at the sun for not ascending faster and making afternoon happen. The clock was also being a real bitch and not moving fast enough. Finally, I heard a car pull up, a door slam closed and the doorbell ring. I’d raced to the door when I’d heard the car, but I stand before the closed door for a whole minute. Can’t appear too eager.
When I do open the door, a frisson works it way through my whole body. Ted. My brother. My confidante and protector. Finally. The army issue olive t shirt he wears strains at his chest and his beautiful blue eyes are obscured by a pair of aviators. The stubble on his typically clean-shaven face is new, but it accentuates that square jawline beautifully. That goofy guy from my youth had become Captain America. He has a duffle bag slung over his shoulders and his arms bulge enticingly through his sleeves. Like I said, Captain America.
“Alex,” He says grinning. “You haven’t changed a bit, little dude!”
“Meanwhile you seem to have taken some kind of super soldier serum,” I observe drily. “Come on in.”
“You think so?” He laughs. “You think I look buff?”
“Still so vain, Ted.” There is an interpretation of my words that could be read as good-natured teasing, but I am absolutely being mean.
“How was your trip?” I try sounding normal.
“Not too bad,” He smiles from the couch. “Short layovers.”
I’m standing stiffly over him and I make things even more ridiculous when I say “I’ll see about lunch.”
“You do that,” there’s a twinkle in his beautiful blue eyes. Super serum or no, he’s still Teddy. “I need a shower.”
I make him a Croque Monsieur because I know he loves it and probably hasn’t had one in years. By the time I bring a plate up to him, he’s in shorts and a t shirt that dates back to his high school days. It is ridiculously tight over his thick pecs. It’s hard not to stare.
“Here.” I say setting the plate down and make to leave.
“Don’t go.” He says softly.
I awkwardly perch on the edge of his bed and watch him positively devour the sandwich. I did good, clearly.
“That really hit the spot, Alex!” He says. “Thank you.”
“Do you want another?”
“No,” he responds. “Stop trying to leave, man. Stay a bit.”
“Sure.”
“I sure did miss you a lot, little dude.” Ted says breaking the awkward silence that had descended between us.
“Did you?” I say icily.
Anger flashes across his handsome face and is quickly replaced by remorse.
“I did.” He says sternly. Defensively.
I want to tell him that I missed him all the time. I missed him when I graduated college because he would have been in there in the stands on graduation day cheering me on. I missed him when mom and dad forgot my birthday (again) because he would have made the day special just by being there. I missed him when Jackson visited his terrors upon me because he would have kicked his ass.
“Not one phone call or text over four years!” I say through clenched teeth. “Four fucking years, Ted.”
“Alex, little dude…” He starts, unable to meet my eye.
“I’m not your little dude.” And with that, the unkindest cut of all, I storm out of his room.
Ted and I live like roommates over the next few days. Civilly occupying the same space, but clearly leading lives that do not intersect. When mom and dad return, they treat him not like the son who has come home from war, but like a houseguest. With perfunctory politeness they ask all the right questions and express approbation when he tells them that his upcoming plans entail finishing up his undergrad and getting his Master’s. Oh, where? Chapel Hill. My head snaps in his direction when he shares this information at dinner. He winks mischievously. I’m very, very annoyed with myself for rewarding him with a smile.
“Have they gotten weirder?” He asks after dinner, referring to our mom and dad.
“You’ve been out of the game too long,” I respond and start to make for my room trying to avoid banter. “Anyway…”
“Hey,,,” Ted says grabbing onto my wrist. “Can I say something? Please?”
“Fine.”
He leads me to the basement which is currently a hodgepodge of books, a sofa and TV, and Ted’s dumbbell collection. We settle on the sofa like we used to as children watching R-rated movies in secret.
“I’m sorry, little dude,” he says. “Please. I’m really sorry I left you, man. I wish I’d done things different.”
“I know you’re sorry,” I say softly. “I want to understand why, why did you just disappear like that?”
“I felt worthless,” he says after a pause. “I’d stopped going to my classes, I’d started drinking a lot. No, like, A Lot. I was sleeping around, new girl every night. I flirted with coke, meth…man, I wanted to die.”
His eyes, blue as can be, are shining with tears.
“I joined up hoping the army would either straighten me out or it would kill me.”
“Oh, Teddy…” I want to hug him so so bad. “Why didn’t you talk to me?”
“Nah, man,” He says wiping his tears before they fall. “I couldn’t put that shit on you, little dude.”
“So your solution is to join the army?” I punch him in the arm. “Did you consider, I dunno, THERAPY? Jesus Christ, Teddy…”
“You’ve forgiven me, haven’t you?” He says smiling wide.
“I have done no such thing.” I declare huffily.
“Yeah, you have!” He teases.
“Have not!”
“Teddy,” he says suddenly bashful. “You wouldn’t call me Teddy if we weren’t all good.”
I hated him so much, the goofball!
We fall into a habit of going running together in the morning. It’s a fun, competitive time, but I live for the moments when Ted peels his sweaty tank top off, revealing his exquisite body. His thick pecs with a smattering of hair on them make my mouth water. His abdomen isn’t as six-packed as it was during his wrestling days, but it looks firm and I long to touch, to follow his treasure trail down to…I’ve fallen into a habit of jerking off to these images of Ted. I squirm in bed, shaking my cock, whispering his name, imagining what it would feel like to have his weight on top of me, his cock stretching me open, what was his cock like anyway? These thoughts are wrong. They are taboo. I shouldn’t be thinking them. The very idea of being with Ted like that should fill me with disgust. Why doesn’t it, though?
He catches me staring one morning.
“Like what you see, little dude?” he says laughing and flexing. I want to touch the hard peaks of his biceps.
“Get over yourself.” I roll my eyes.
“I’m not ashamed to say that I like what I see!” He retorts. For me, at least, time stops.
“I’m serious, dude,” he continues. “You’re in phenomenal shape, all lean and shit. I’m really impressed by you.”
“Don’t be.” I mean it. There’s nothing impressive about someone stupid enough to keep going back to his violent rapist of a boyfriend. There’s nothing impressive about a grad student so useless that his boss must pack him off home to heal or whatever.
“Well, I am and you can’t stop me!” He says affectionately squeezing my shoulder. “Seriously, Alex, you’re doing so great. I’m gonna be calling you Dr. Little dude one of these days!”
I don’t say anything.
“Say,” Ted suggests. “Wanna eat back all these calories at Joe’s?”
“It’s eight in the morning!”
“Ice cream has the perfect macros for breakfast!”
That feels incorrect, but I don’t question it. Of course, Ted is impulsive enough to choose ice cream for breakfast. I love him for it.
“You are a horrible influence!” I say exiting the ice cream place having stuffed myself on two mighty scoops of rich double chocolate ice cream.
“And you are a slob.” Ted says sweeping the side of my mouth with his thumb and licking up the smidgeon of ice cream that was had lingered there.
My eyes meet his. He just shrugs and makes for the car.
“Can I say something sappy?” he says later that day as we take a break from video games. We’re back in our sanctuary of a basement.
“Oh, God…” I act exasperated, but I am curious.
“Don’t be mad at me for saying this, but I love having you back. Like, back to yourself, you know?”
“Stop being weird.”
“No, for real! There was something off about you, little dude,” Ted elaborates. “First I thought that you were just mad at me, but it went deeper. You were kinda wounded, I guess? Quiet. Scared, even. I don’t know what that was, I’m just happy that you came back to me.”
It was time.
“Jackson,” I say softly. “My ex. He’s why I was the way I was.”
“Oh, shit, bad breakup?”
Yup, it was definitely time.
“Teddy, I’m gonna tell you some things, but I need you to not interrupt me, okay?” I say. “Please it is very important that you let me say it all because if I stopped, I don’t know if I’ll be able to finish, okay? Okay?”
“Yeah, Alex,” Ted says nervously. “Totally okay.”
I launch into the whole violent saga with Jackson: his drinking, his need for control, his rages, the black eyes, the bruises, my ritual reward of flowers, apologies and a cold pack, the rape, Dr. Zhang’s intervention…all of it. There are times in the telling where I want to defend Jackson, downplay his actions, but I actively talk myself out of doing so. I tell the whole story without falling to pieces. I tell it like I’m reading someone else’s ordeal out loud from a book. I see Ted’s countenance grow stormier and stormier. He is literally shaking with anger.
“Where is he?” He demands his voice low and dangerous. “I’m going to rip his balls off and feed ‘em to him.”
“Don’t,” I say. “It’s all over now. I’m just sorry I let it go on as long as it did.”
“You didn’t let anything happen!” Ted is vehement. “A situation like that…you were in survival mode, little dude! And that fucking chode was only making it worse!”
“I told mom, you know?” I share. “She told me that she didn’t have any ideas for someone who was being a doormat and not standing up for themselves.”
“Fuck.” Ted mutters sharply.
“She’s not wrong, though,” I say matter-of-factly. “It took me a whole year to leave him. I was stupid to keep giving him chance after chance…who does that?”
“Come here.”
I approach him and Ted sweeps me up in his powerful arms.
“You’re not stupid, Alex,” He says before kissing my forehead. “Don’t talk shit about my brother—my little dude—okay? You’re not stupid. You’re strong. You did it. You kicked his ass to the curb. I’m proud of you.”
A dam breaks within and I am, embarrassingly, wracked with sobs.
“E-e-evrytime h-he hurt me…I m-m-missed you…so…much,” I am barely coherent. “T-t-teddy could make it s-s-stop…b-but you were…w-w-where were…y-you w-w-weren’t there!”
“I know, I know,” He’s rubbing my back. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, little dude. I love you. I’m sorry.”
Maybe they’re right when they say that the truth will set you free. That invisible wall between Teddy and me which we were slowly chipping away at dissolved completely once we’d told each other our truths. We still did the same things: running, video games, movies, talking late into the night, but unencumbered now of weighty secrets.
“You think you’ll ever date again, Alex?” he asked. We were in the balcony that projected from master bedroom, our parents’ bedroom. The gloaming sky was creamsicle-colored. Ted, leaning against the balustrade, capped shoulders bulging from his t-shirt looked distractingly sexy.
He must have thought of my silence as me being startled or offended by the question because he began to apologize.
“No, Teddy, it’s fine! It’s a great question, actually,” I assured him. “I hadn’t thought about it until now, but you know what, yeah. Yeah, I do want to date again.”
“Cool,” he said. “Cool, cool, cool! We’ll have to find you a nice guy. I’ll vet him myself!”
“What about you?” I countered, turning the question around. “Any special ladies in your life?”
“Or guys.” He amended nonchalantly.
“Gu—Teddy! Are you serious?”
“The army changes you, little dude, what can I say!” He winked mischievously.
“I don’t even wanna know!”
“You do, though!” he teased, “Maybe just a little bit.”
“Stop!” I laughed and strode over to him. We stood side-by-side: I looked to the sky and he seemed to be looking at me.
“So,” he said. “What kind of guy are we looking for for you?”
YOU! I wanted to scream. THERE’S NO NEED TO LOOK! HE’S RIGHT HERE!
“Someone kind,” I said carefully. “Protective, goofy…”
“Yeah?” When had he moved so close to me? The heat of his breath against my ear was driving me crazy.
“Yeah,” I said turning my head towards him, our faces almost touching.
“How many inches?” He whispered sensuously.
“What?”
“Biceps!” He said shrugging, but the knowing glint in his eye spoke volumes. “What did you think I was talking about?”
“You’re such an asshole!” I said punching his shoulder. Solid to the touch. He probably felt nothing.
“Ow!” His cry was far too exaggerated. “I guess I deserved that.”
“You deserve worse, actually.”
“Holy shit, little dude! Give a guy a break!” He was grinning broadly. “Okay, how about I make it up to you by taking your sexy ass to Blackport tomorrow? It’ll be just like the old times. Maybe even better!”
“I’d love that.”
His smile could have reversed the sunset.
Blackport is the most adorable coastal town in the country, and I will fight anyone who says otherwise. Our parents used to take us there when we were young but, when we got older and no longer interesting to our parents, we’d jump on the commuter rail and go ourselves. For a town called Blackport, it is crazy colorful. All the fishing shacks on that beautiful harbor were in scarlet, pea green, azure…One of those azure ones, in fact, was where you could buy giant scrumptious lobster rolls. It took us forever to find it this time because Ted refused to look up where it was, convinced that his adolescent memories would just lead him to it. We did look it up after all.
If you got lobster rolls, you had to get soft serve after. To look at us, we seemed like grown men. But we were dumb carefree teenagers again, stuffing our faces and spending money on kitsch. Ted did take his shirt off to try on a t-shirt and that caused quite a stir. I, feeling bloated, hated how flat his stomach was despite all the (very unhealthy) food we’d eaten.
“You were never going to buy that t-shirt, were you?” I teased as we walked along the beach. “You just wanted to show off.”
“You’ve got no proof!” He said ruffling my hair.
“Unbelievable!” I sighed, “It’s getting late, though…” It was.
The sun had begun to set. I had no idea where the day had gone.
“Don’t you want to check out the tidal pools, little dude?” Ted asked sweetly. “Maybe you’ll finally meet that starfish of yours!”
I could have kissed him. The tidal pools were my favorite part of coming to Blackport. I was kinda superstitious about starfish in the way some people are about shooting stars: if you sight a starfish, things are about to change for you and for the better. Don’t ask me how I came up with this: I was a kid. Kids are dumb. But over the years, finding a starfish in one of the tidal pools became a bit of a bucket list item for me. I searched every time we came here and always left disappointed.
The search today was beginning to feel futile, too, and it was getting dark. It wasn’t all that bad: it was cool seeing all those anemones, mussels…tidal pools, in general, are amazing little universes unto themselves.
“Alex…”
I looked over to Ted pointing at this regal five-armed starfish: a deep blue body but with a border of reddish gold.
“He’s perfect.” I said.
“He’s amazing!” Ted gasped. “What do we do? You wanna take him home, little dude? You think of a name for him?”
“No, Teddy,” I said smiling at his enthusiasm. “We’re gonna leave him to get on with his life and we’ll get on with ours.”
“So what big changes d’you think are coming now that you saw him?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “But I have a good feeling. And, man, we should start getting home. It’s almost dark.”
“So?” Teddy says. “Let’s stay on the beach little bit longer!”
“At night?”
“That’s the best part!” He says squeezing my shoulder affectionately. “It’ll be quiet. We can hear the ocean and, look, full moon tonight.”
I relent and I’m glad I do because soon we’re lying on the cool sand, the salty ocean breeze igniting my nerves as it delicately caresses me because I’m wondering what it would be like if Ted touched me like that.
“Teddy.” I say.
“Hmm.”
“Thanks for today.”
“Any time, little dude,” I can hear the smile in his voice. “I had a blast!”
“I wish it were always like this,” I say willing myself not to cry. “I’ll go back to school and so will you.”
“But for now, we’re both right here.” His warm calloused hand covers mine. “Come here.”
He pulls me to his chest and I don’t resist.
“Hi.” He says smiling, looking deep in my eyes. I blush.
“Hi.”
“You’re a hell of a guy, you know that?” His thumb caresses my cheek. It feels wonderful.
“Thanks.” I squeak. His laugh is like warm honey.
“And a looker, too,” His thumb traces my jawline. “When did you get all handsome, little dude?”
“I…don’t know…” I can barely breathe.
“Hey, little dude?” Ted says, his voice low. “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay? Is that okay?”
I nod. I want so badly for him to possess me completely.
His lips meet mine, softly at first: they’re warm, wet and taste mildly like the Big Red he’d been chomping. But his kissing grows urgent, intense, and I match him. I have hungered for him for so long. He presses my palm against the crotch of his jeans, his shaft hard and thick as thrusts against my hand. He pulls away, only to return to my lips almost immediately. He kisses me and he kisses me, until we break apart laughing. He runs a hand through his hair, the moon illuminating the planes of his face: he has never looked more handsome.
“Wanna get outta here?” He says suavely really playing up the cliché that that phrase is.
“Yeah.”
We walk to the car holding hands. He has me pressed against the car door now.
“I gotta kiss you some more, little dude,” He says before crushing his lips against mine.
“I like kissing you,” he says between kisses. “It’s my new favorite thing to do.”
“Mine, too.”
“There’s lost of other things I’d like to do to you, too…” he says wickedly.
“Really?” The heat flares in my cheeks but I must know. “Like what?”
My hand is against his hard cock again, its heat radiating through the denim.
“I’ll let you wrap those pretty lips around my big cock,” he whispers in my ear, his voice suffused with desire. “And I’ll fuck you. I’ll fuck you deep and slow. Sound good?”
That fucking starfish really came through for me.
Driving an hour back home was not gonna happen. We couldn’t wait that long. I began to worry that my first time with Teddy was going to be at some shitty Motel 6, but my brother had a different idea. He drove us 5 minutes to an old lighthouse.
“I used to bring girls here,” He says cheekily as he gathers a large bulky blanket and a bottle of lube from the trunk. “Pray they didn’t board it up or whatever.”
They hadn’t.
As soon as we are inside Ted’s hulking form has me pressed against the stone wall. He crushes his lips to mine and kisses me ravenously. His big hands are under my clothes. His touch is warm and makes my body sing. I moan and shudder when he presses the hard nubs of my nipples down. Now his hands are in my pants, squeezing my ass.
“Nice ass, little dude!” He murmurs. “Been going crazy for that ass all summer…”
He kisses me again, biting my lower lip gently. He has me on my back now, on that blanket. It doesn’t do much to ease the hardness of the floor, but I don’t care. Ted is fumbling with my pants. I tremble and hiss when he reaches into my boxer-briefs and his skin makes contact with my hard cock.
“Oh, damn!” He says looking at my cock. “I gotta stop calling you little dude, little dude!” He winks before he takes me into his mouth.
“Oh God! Oh…TED!” His mouth is hot and wet. He runs his tongue over the length of my shaft and then swallows me whole, all the way to the back of my throat.
“Teddy!” I squeal.
His eyes flicker up at me. He holds my gaze as he bobs up and down sucking me. It’s the sexiest thing I have ever experienced. I run my hands through his thick, wavy hair. He moans against my cock when I tug at it. He slows down as if giving me permission and I take it: I thrust upward fucking his face, my cock hitting the back of his throat. Teddy’s hands ride up my shirt again: he teases my nipples, caresses my sides. My orgasm builds. I want to shoot so so bad.
“S..swallow?” Is the best I can do. I can see a twinkle in Teddy’s eyes and he gives me a thumbs-up. He places both his hands around the base of my cock and bobs up and down, spreading the spit. The effect is electrifying,
“Oh, FUCK!” I shoot my first volley of cum. “Oh, fuck fuck, FUCK!”
Ted comes off my cock, dregs of my cum dribbling down his chin.
“You look content!” He teases.
“That was amazing!”
He pulls my shirt off and I lie before him completely naked. With Jackson, I was always a little embarrassed of my nude self. I mean, Jackson was an Adonis. I have no such misgivings around Ted. He looks at me as if he’s ready to devour me. The tent in his shorts proves this.
“You’re beautiful.” He whispers, his gaze drinking in my body.
I feel beautiful.
“Why aren’t you naked?” I demand.
He laughs and starts to strip. No matter how many times I see him shirtless, I gasp at the perfect squares of his meaty pecs, covered with a light fuzz, the engorged veins in his thick arms…but his cock is another story altogether. He’s uncut which is a surprise since I’m not. I can’t put a number to the length but it’s long. It’s not beer can thick…more like a remote control. It’s so very veiny, though. I want to trace each vein with my tongue. Memorize it.
He practically pounces on me and kisses me deeply while I touch the muscular planes of his upper body: his wide lats, his broad back alive with muscle.
“I’ve wanted you for so long, little dude…” He sighs.
“Me, too,” I agree.
“I’ve been hinting pretty strongly!” He says between kisses.
I can’t respond because his fingers are rubbing the outside of my hole.
He’s on his side now. “Spread your legs, little dude.”
Every time Jackson said that, it sounded like a threat.
He puts a spit-slicked finger into me and I shudder.
“Oh, yeah?” And he slips in another.
He’s stretching my hole and my cock starts to rise again.
“I wish you could see the hungry look in your eyes…” Ted says continuing to finger me.
“Teddy…”
“What’s up, little dude? Tell me what you want.” He’s smiling wickedly, the fingering continues and is driving me out of my senses.
“Your cock,” I manage to intone. “In me.”
His fingers slip out of me and he grabs me by the legs and pulls me towards him. He places my ankles on his wide, capped shoulders. The lube he rubs into my hole is cold but I know it won’t be for long.
His cock is pressing against my hole now and Ted bears a serious expression. “I’ll fuck you so good, little dude.”
I feel a burn with the stretch as my hole welcomes his hardness. He goes slowly, pushing in inch by inch. Every inch makes me gasp. I look down between us and see that he isn’t halfway there. Maybe he is very big after all…
“Give me all of it, Teddy!” I beg. “Please!”
“You sure, little dude? I don’t mind.”
“I’m sure.”
“You did say “please””
And with that he plunges into me.
“TEDDY!” I grip his substantial biceps hard.
“You okay?” He says, but his question is lost to a deep moan that emanates from deep within him.
“Perfect, perfect hole…” He says before he starts to move.
His cock alive and throbbing in me feels correct. I feel like my hole was molded for him, like I was especially made for him.
He’s fucking me in earnest now: hard and fast, hitting my prostate so often that I can see stars.
“Teddyyyy…” I whine in an uncharacteristically high-pitched voice when he truly begins to pound me. He cries out when my nails dig into his muscular back.
“Get on top of me!” He huffs and rolls us over.
He grips my hips with his big, calloused hands and guides me onto his hard cock. My erection slaps against his stomach as I start to ride him. My hole is stretched tight around his girth.
“Teddy…” I cry out, a sheen of sweat beginning to form on me. “Teddy…”
“Yeah?” He asks from below. Damn, he so handsome.
“I love your cock.” I say jerkily for I have not stopped riding him.
“Thanks, I grew it myself!” He chuckles.
He takes control. He grips my hips hard and starts to thrust into me. My eyes roll back into my head.
“This what you wanted?” He pants.
I can’t respond because I’m on the verge of cumming. A few more thrusts later, I come undone and I shoot a load covering Teddy’s torso.
“Hell, yeah, little dude!”
His thrusts pick up pace.
“Oh…” He groans. “Oh, shit. Oh, shiiiiiiiiiiit! Alex! AAAAAHHH! AH-AH-AHHHH!”
The sudden heat in my hole tells me that he’s marked me with his seed. I look down at him: his muscles shine with sweat. He’s perfect. He’s mine. When I get off his cock, cum seeps out of me and pools around his cock.
“You shot a lot!” I exclaim.
“All for you, little dude!” He sighs, wiping his sweaty forehead with his hand.
We lie together after wiping down. Me against his imposing form. He was, obviously, big spoon. Maybe this is what post-nut clarity is because as the endorphins start to ebb away, it hits me that we’ve violated a major taboo (why does that make what we did hotter?). Like, we did it. It seemed less scary when it was tucked away in my fantasies. But this was real. We actually did it. We fucked. I can’t discern the way forward. I don’t want to give him up, not so soon after getting him back, not ever.
“Teddy?”
“Little dude?” He kisses my neck.
“What happens now?”
He pulls me tighter against him. I can’t see his face, but I know he knows what I’m asking.
“I don’t know, Alex.” He says, his voice steady, determined. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”
“Okay.”
“And little dude?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll always protect you.”
“I know.”
