Tag: beards

Gallery
by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Master Abdul won’t stop staring at my slave. It’s making me crazy. I
admire my slave’s ability to not appear annoyed, but it not professional
for one man to be oggling another’s slave so shamelessly.

“Master Adbul,” I ask, popping a date into my mouth. “Are you here during this meeting or not?”
He
blinks, but manages to tear his eyes away. “My
apologies… just your boy, he is captivating. Where did you find him?”
“An
auction. In Persia. A nomadic boy, captured in war times…so many stray men,
and not enough villages to go back to, unfortunately.”
“Doesn’t he resent you for that?”
I
chuckle and eat another date. “Goodness no. He is very loyal, because I
also bought his sick brother and gave him to my sister. She healed him. As long as he knows
where his twin is, he’s very obedient.”
Master Abdul chuckles. “Why on earth do you give in to a slave’s feelings? That’s what the whip is for.”
“What, so he’ll resent me more? I think not.”
Master
Abdul did not like my answer. “Honestly, I think you should show the
boy that the world is cruel and unfair. The sooner he learns that the
better.”
Shah Mohammed speaks up. “Can we continue the meeting please?”
“Master Abdul,” I say, “He already experienced war. I think that’s cruel and unfair as is.”
“You should sell him to me…I would make him into an even finer slave.”
I scoff. “So you can fuck him and make him scrub your floors like a scullery maid just so you can watch his ass?”
He stands up, red in the face, “How dare you-”
Shah Mohammed stands up too. “Sit down.
Master Abdul, you’re acting a fool, openly coveting a man’s property
like that. How he trains his slaves is none of your business, and
jealousy is unsightly.”
Master Abdul grumbles and sits.

I
glance over at my boy. I can see the panic in his eyes, but not on his
face. He’s kept his position, his posture, his composure. My heart
swells.

We finish our meeting on taxes and then Master
Abdul excuses himself as quickly as he could, no doubt to find a whore
for the evening.

Shah Mohammed watches him go.
“Good heavens, he leaves such a bad taste in my mouth.”
“I have to agree… no manners, what so ever.”
My slave is busy making us a fresh pot of mint tea.

“Well, taxes are rather boring…maybe he wanted to escape that.”
Shah Mohammed chuckles. “Perhaps so.”
I sip the fresh cup handed to me. “Mmnn. Say, Shah…do you still like to watch?”
A smile curls under his mustache. “Oh very, very much so.”

I glance up at my slave. “Come here boy. Kneel before me. Please me.”
My slave does not flinch or hesitate. He simply passes me a cup of fragrant tea and kneels onto the soft carpet under my slippers.
“Any requests Sir?”
“Not too fast…take your time. Make me nice and hard.”
My slave parts my robes and finds my cock hidden inside. “Anything for you Sir,” he murmurs, nuzzling my thigh. His beard tickles my skin and one of my testicles. A moment later, he starts.
Across from me, Shah Mohammed sighs and sips his tea as he slides down into his seat. “Praise the heavens, that is a beautiful sight watching him suck you like that.”
I close my eyes and tilt my head back. “I’ll have to take your word on that, but let me tell you Shah, it feels marvelous.”

______________
Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

undiefangallery:

How adorable is this?!

I listen to him cough and hack. I rub his stomach and he groans. “I’ve been taking medication, why won’t the coughing stop? My muscles are so sore,” Per laments.
“Oh you’re awake. My poor baby, you can’t even nap. I’m sorry cleaning out my mom’s attic gave you bronchitis.”
“It’s not your fault. It was fun, and I love your mom.”
I chuckle. “She loves you too.”
He interrupts in another coughing fit. I wipe away the tears from his eyes. Per breathes slow and hard. “Ow,” he whimpers.
I pat his back. “There there.”
Per sighs. “What are you doing in bed with me anyway? Isn’t bronchitis contagious?”
“I’ll take my chances. Besides, you’re helpless, vulnerable, and also shirtless. You’re also stuck, and weakened, unable to fight me off. So, the cuddle monster got you.”
He chuffs. “Is that so?”
“Yess. You are stuck. You are so damn active all the time that you rarely sit still long enough for me to cuddle the hell out of you. So, I’m getting my time in now.”
Per thinks. “Yeah that’s true. Half the time we spoon at night, we either fall asleep right after or end up fucking.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Ha! No, that’s a very good thing. Matter of fact, when I get better, the first thing I’m gonna do is make up on all that sex we’re missing.”
“Are you now?” I ask, intrigued.
“Hell yeah. But maybe somewhere other than the bed. I’m gonna be sick of spending the day in bed by then.”
“Maybe outside? In a nice meadow somewhere? On a picnic?”
Per stretches, then curls again. “That’s a nice idea. I’ll ask my brother if we can borrow his horses and may–” his lungs seize and he begins hacking again. I comfort him as he spits into a tissue. “Uuughhhh…”
“My poor Per. Why don’t I draw you a hot bath? It might help loosen up all that crap in there.”
“A bath?…That sounds really wonderful actually. Will you bathe me?”
I pause. “Why is that idea so hot?”
Per suppresses a cough. “I dunno. I wouldn’t mind being treated like a King for a day though.”
I swat him on the shoulder. “Just because you have a Prince Albert, it doesn’t make you royalty.” I feel his body tremble with laughter, but that triggers another fit and I assure him through it.
“I miss having normal conversations that aren’t interrupted,” Per grumps.
“Ok, big boy. Let’s get you into the bath.”
“Can I have a cup of chocolate milk too?”
“Anything you want.” I kiss him on the same spot I swatted.
“Alright, get me up.”
I sit up and coax him upright. “Which part up?” I tease.
“Uh, both please?”
“Want me to jerk you off in the bath too?”
Per twists around to look at me. “That’s an option too?”
“Yep, as long as it doesn’t make you cough too much.”
He blinks. “I need to get sick more often.”

_________________________________
Text is fictional. Per is a Swedish name.

Gallery
by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

I strolled into the kitchen, bright-eyed and busy-tailed, whistling the latest pop-tune. I always slept well at Cyrus’s house. His guest room mattress was really comfy. He had called me last night and begged me to sleep over. because he’d just had another break up another other hot guy. I didn’t need a second excuse. It was that, or stay and listen to my roommate have sex with her boyfriend. She was a screamer.

“Mornin, Benji.”
“Mooor~ning,” I replied. My eyes lingered on the outline of his cock in his tighty whities. I always thought it was adorable that he still wore them at his age. He needed to get on my level – jock strap undies. My gaze roved up his bare chest to…“Are you eating ice cream for breakfast?”
“Yes. No. Maybe.’
“Cyrus,” I clucked. “You can’t eat ice cream for breakfast.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s unhealthy. It has no nutritional value. It’ll make you pudgy.” I pried it out of his hands. He pouted, and hung up his head while twiddling his fingers in his lap.
“Aww baby,” I cooed.
”"Why did Mark break up with me? I really liked him.“
I put the ice cream back in the fridge. "He wasn’t good for you. I’m sorry he left you sweetheart, but you and I know he would have driven you crazy with his obsessive cleanliness.”
Cyrus thought. “I’m going back to bed and having a pity wank.”
“No you’re not. I’m making you breakfast, then we’re going on a hike.”
He blinked. “Why?”
“Because sulking and masturbation are short-term fixes. You need to get out, get some fresh air. Move on. You won’t feel any better wrapped in soiled-sheets with dairy curdling in your stomach.”
Cyrus screwed up his face and shrugged.

I dug around in his fridge. I pulled out some ham, his last eggs, and some spinach. I found half a box of waffles shoved in the back of the freezer. Cyrus sat there watching me make breakfast. Once in a while I’d hear an occasional sigh. I poured him a glass of iced tea from the fridge, and he sipped it mournfully. table.

When I was all done, I plated his meal and handed it to him with both hand. “Here you go. Scrambled eggs with spinach and ham, plus waffles and syrup. I put Sriracha on your eggs just like how you like it.”

Cyrus stared at the offering. He took it and smelled it. “Wow,  it looks delicious, thanks.” He suddenly sat up straight. “…Jesus.”
“What?” I asked, plating my own food and taking it to the table.
“I just realized something, Benji. I’ve been totally oblivious. Through-out all my break-ups, you’ve been the only constant thing in my life. You’ve been my best friend since day one of college, and even then you’ve always taken
care of me, just like you’re doing now. Mark said I was ‘distracted’,
and I didn’t know what that meant, but now I get it. I was distracted
because of you. Even when I’m dating other guys, I’m thinking of you. I
want you to come with me, to go out with me… At clubs or bars, I look for you,
hoping you’ll show up. I did it last night too!”
“Cyrus, don’t tease me.” My heart began to flutter. 

“You know, out
of all my boyfriends, not a single one of them made me breakfast like
this. Jake made me eggs once, but they were terrible, and they didn’t
have Sriracha. I’m sitting here whining and pouting, while you made me a big beautiful breakfast
with your butt half-hanging out of your underwear, like you’re god’s
gift to twinks, and Jesus, I never told you what a cute butt you have.”
I bit my lip. I could feel it quivering. "Cyrus, what are you saying?.”

“What I’m saying is…” Cyrus hopped off the counter, then set his plate and glass down on the table. He then walked over and put his hands on my shoulders.
“I’ve had this good thing this entire time, I was just too dumb to realize it. We should have been a couple a long time ago, Benji. Would you go out with me?”
I gave him my most radiant smile through wet eyes. “Absolutely yes. I never thought you
would ask me, and I would have to settle for unrequited love forever.”
“I’m
so sorry Benji,” Cyrus said, pulling me into his arms. “I’ve been ignoring
you, taking advantage of you. I’ve been such a jerk. And a dense one at
that.”
I wrapped my arms around his chest and buried my face in the crook of his neck. “No, it’s alright, Cyrus. Just because we’re both gay, doesn’t mean
that you should automatically fall for me, just because I did for you. I
just hoped some man would make you happy one day. It was killing me though,
watching them break your heart.”
“Christ, I’m sorry, Benji.”

We held each-other for a while, rocking back and forth. I was crying a little. Eventually, Cyrus dried my eyes with his thumb, then he lifted his head and kissed me. My knees went weak, just as I always hoped they would.
Cyrus tasted me again and then said, “Why don’t we go eat our food before it gets cold? And um, when we go on our hike together, you think we could call it a first date?”
“I’d like that, Cryus.”
“Me too.”

He squeezed my hand. I squeezed back. We sat down at the kitchen table together and began our future together. It was long over-due.

_____________________________________________________________
Text is fictional. I wrote this entire story and then I accidentally lost it, so I had to rewrite in a hurry. Sucks. Lemme know if you find typos.

Gallery
by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

“Alright, cat. Talk.”
“Mraow.”
“Don’t be coy with me. Where is it.”
“Mraaaoow.”
“I know you know where it is. It was sitting right here. My ring, I wear it all the time. You know, on the hand I pet you with? Where is it.”
“Mraow.”
“What did you do with it? What do you want? Money? Catnip? Power? Well, you won’t get a lick of it without my ring back!” Ethan insists.
Mrs. Fluffington licks hers paws.
“Don’t you pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about!”

I watch from the recess of the hallway, smothering my giggles behind one hand while filming the scene with my phone in the other. Ethan smacks the table with his palm. “Where is it! Talk damn you, or I will make you talk.”
The cat jerks her head up at the noise, looks at Ethan, then stands up and headbutts him. Ethan sighs and begins to scritch her behind the ears. “Yeah, yeah you like that huh? Feels good huh? Right in that spot. Weellllllll now you won’t get anymore until you tell me where the ring is!”
“Mraaaaow.”
Ethan growls in frustration as Mrs. Fluffington rolls to her side to show off her belly. He narrows his eyes
“They taught you well in cute school. You won’t break easily. Crafty cat. Wait…did you eat it? Did you eat my ring?”
“Mew.”

I know I should really just step in and give Ethan the ring back, but this is far too entertaining. I had taken the ring to measure so I would know what size band to get for his engagement ring. It’s going to be the big surprise for Christmas. Thing was though, Ethan never takes his father’s high school ring off, which made it difficult to measure. When I saw that Ethan had left the ring on the table before he went outside to clean out the gutters after last night’s storm, I made my move. I hadn’t expected him to come back in so soon though, and now I had inadvertently framed my cat.

“Purring are we? That’s a bold move, Mrs. Fluffington. If that even is your real name. You aren’t even married. I know this, I have your file. Talk, kitty, it’s for the best. If you talk, I won’t have to take you into the medical room. Mwuahah. Is that what you want? You have ten seconds to talk. Your adorableness won’t save you this time.” Ethan said in a cartoon-villain sort-of-voice.

I can’t contain myself and my laughter catches his attention.
Ethan swivels his head around until he spots me. “How long have you been standing there?” he asks, sheepish.
“Long enough,” I reply with a smile, tucking my phone into my pocket. “You’re good at that, I think she was about to crack.”

Ethan picks up the cat and snuggles her like a baby. “I seriously think she ate my ring though.”
I make a show of sauntering into the living room holding up his ring in one hand. “I have your ring. I took it to polish it. She was sniffing at it, didn’t want her to eat it or knock it on the floor.”
Ethan’s face melts in relief. “Thank god. Scared me there. I always get so nervous when I take it off.”
“Sorry love.” I kiss his cheek. “I didn’t expect you to come back in so soon. Are you done already?”
“Nah, I had to use the bathroom.”
“Aah. Do you forgive me?”
“I think I can,” Ethan says with a smile, kissing me on the lips. I show him the ring I polished. It only looks marginally shinier.

“Man, I’d go insane if I lost it. I still feel the hole he left behind.”
I cup his bearded cheek. “Your dad would be so proud of you, all your accomplishments. Your weight loss. He’d be pleased that you grew up into such a handsome man.”
Ethan lets the cat down so he can pluck the ring from me and turn it in his fingers. “I would hope so. I often wonder how he would feel if he knew I was in a relationship with a man.”
“Hm. I think he would be a bit freaked out at first, maybe a bit hostile, but once he got to realize you were the same son, I think he’d be ok with it. Besides, I like football, I think we would have bonded.”
“You think so?”
“I know so. Your mom likes me doesn’t she?.”
Ethan nodded. “Yeah she does. Joel?”
“Mm?”
“You know…” he slides the class ring on and off his finger, distractedly. “I wouldn’t mind wearing your ring next to this one day.”

I smile, my heart aching for how much I love this man. He’s making it very hard to keep my secret, well, a secret. I almost crack and propose right there and then. I take his hands into my own.
“I think we are moving in that direction for sure, Ethan,” I say slowly. “That’s something we can absolutely discuss more after Christmas, when we can look at our budget and see just how much we spent spoiling your nieces.”
He makes an exaggerated wince. “Yeah I think we bought the whole toy store…”
I chuckle, and nuzzle him. Ethan returns my affection and kisses me. I volley it back. He smells kinda nice, all outdoors-y. One kiss turns into two, two into four, four into… well.

After some time of standing there, with our hands roving over each-other’s torso’s, Ethan breaks the connection.
He sounds breathy. “Hey uh…you know, I really need to go finish cleaning the gutters before it rains again tonight…”
“…but?” I pry.
“But I was thinking, I would much rather have sex with you right now,” he admits, looking sheepish.
I suppress a groan. I love it when Ethan announces his intentions so bluntly like that. It didn’t use to be this way. His history was mostly with women, and it took him a long time to come around to his lust for me.
“Jesus Ethan,” I sigh. “I would love that. We’ll just do a quick one, alright? So you can get back to those all important gutters.”
“Juuust a quick one,” he agrees.
“Maow.”
We both look down at the black and white fuzzball weaving around our legs.
“And that means keeping the door closed so you can’t get in.”
“Man it’s so weird the way she likes to watch us,” Ethan says. I laugh, and then I take his hand and escort him upstairs.

I can barely wait for Christmas. He’s going to be so surprised.

___________________________
Text is fictional. Sequel is here!

Gallery
by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

“God that was off the hook!” Josh exclaimed for the sixtieth time that night.
“I’m so glad we got tickets,” Morgan agreed.
“Nice of you to come out with us, Morg, we don’t see you much anymore.”
“Sorry dudes, I’m just so busy with my job ‘n school ‘n all. I’ll try and make an effort to get out more.”
“I think we’re gonna try and scrap together a beach volleyball game if you want in on that,” Rob notes.
“Sounds great, sure,”
“Hey,” Rob speaks up again, “Why do you keep rubbing your neck? Did you get new ink or something?”
Morgan is glad no one can see him blush in the dark car. “Oh um, my boyfriend got me this silver necklace that I’ve been wearing a lot and it feels weird to not have it on. I didn’t want to lose it at the show.”
Rob makes a ‘huh’ noise.
“Ah,” says Josh, “Was wondering that too. Well, we’re here.”
“Awesome. Thanks for driving, Josh.”
“No problem. Bye Morgan, see you ‘around.”

Morgan exchanged farewells and fistbumps with his friends and then got out of the car. He looked fondly at the house in front of him, with its neat lawn and well kept gardens, then turned and waved the car off.

Morgan went inside and shut the door quietly. He turned on the overhead light and sat down on the landing to take off his shoes. As he worked the laces, Morgan noticed that the kitchen light was on. He smiled. Out of the humid summer air and into the cool place, Morgan was suddenly aware of how sweaty and gross his shirt was and so he peeled it off with great relief. The clicking of toenails announced their little French bulldog waddling into the room.
“Hey Porridge. Aw, you’re a sweet girl. Hello, did you miss me?” He gave the dog a few pets, amused at her excited snuffling.

After removing his shoes, Morgan stuffed his socks into his balled up shirt and left it on the landing. He stood up and reached for his collar on the table by the door. When his fingers touched the cool metal accents on the leather, he felt the nagging sense of loss he had carried all night melt away. It was satisfying to hold it in his hands again, to know he was close to returning to his proper place.

“Boy, are you home?” said the voice from the kitchen. Morgan felt an additional sense of peace at the low, velvety voice. He knew that the kitchen light had not been left on by accident.
“Yes Sir, I’m home.”
“Did you put your collar on yet?”
“No, Sir.”
“Bring it here, after you take off your shoes.”
“Yes sir.”

Morgan clutched it with both hands and strolled into the kitchen. He could see the scene before he even stepped foot in the dimly lit kitchen – his Master in his old, worn blue bathrobe, hunched over the kitchen table drinking tea out of a mug emblazoned with fading letters spelling out “Oingo Boingo”. He’d had that mug since he was a teenager, and Morgan lived in mild fear of dropping it.

In one swift motion, Morgan knelt at his Master’s feet and offered his collar with both hands up above his bowed head. Internally, he was begging for his Master to hurry up and just put it back on him already so he could feel right again. He heard the sound of the mug being set down on the table and the swish of the bathrobe fabric as Master Buford turned in his chair.

“Did you enjoy the concert?”
“Yes Master, thank you very much. I cannot …I cannot even put into words how incredible it was. The production, the sound, their stage presence! So much energy. Franz Ferdinand’s bass player is very talented.”
“I’m pleased to hear you enjoyed your reward.” Master Buford said, without a hint of displeasure. He yawned. Morgan tried hard not to smile at that yawn. 
He knew if he ever brought this up, he’d likely be spanked for it, but it didn’t make it any less true. The blogs and industry mags called Master Buford ‘the Bull of BDSM’ for his broad figure and gruff nature, but the fierce exterior hid a deeply sentimental man who hated to sleep alone. Buford loved to cuddle and hold his boy close in his thick arms as he slept. Bucroft scoffed at the old-fashioned idea of having your slave or sub sleep on a cot in a disused part of the house. God, did he love waking up horny and being able to have Morgan in arms length.
It wasn’t just a preference, it was engineering at this point. There’d be no sleep for Master Buford without his slave in his rightful place. Morgan loved knowing his Master had been waiting all night for his safe return.

The boy realized he’d been waiting for the familiar sensation of the soft leather and metal band to be strapped around the neck, but nothing happened. Instead a hand caressed his check. “Stand up. Go sit in the chair across from me. Get yourself a mug.”

The boy was confused and slightly alarmed. My collar! he thought. Still, he rose and found himself a less important mug and joined his Master at the table. It felt odd to be sitting across from him as an equal. To offset this, Morgan refilled his Master’s mug from the teapot before his own. He sipped at the hot liquid filling half his mug.
“Look at me, boy.”
Morgan raised his head. “Sir?” He didn’t understand the expression on Buford’s face. He seemed a tad perplexed, lost in thought.
“God, how bizarre,” Buford said after a long moment of reflection.

Morgan looked down at himself.
“What’s wrong Sir?”
Buford kept talking as if Morgan hadn’t said a thing. “It’s amazing to me how different you look without your collar. It frightens me a little to see you like this, to see you looking so …normal. I know we signed a little contract together, and you live here, but when I see you sitting there like a normal person, in your shorts and all, it scares me a great deal, because you could just be any normal person. You could decide you never want to put the collar back on again and walk away, and there isn’t a damn thing I could do. I would never again lay eyes on your tattooed form in all its naked beauty.”
Morgan stared at his beloved Master wide-eyed, feeling deeply privileged to be hearing his inner thoughts. “I would never–!”
“But you could,” he interrupted. “I mean, when I gave you permission to go to this concert tonight, you were just a normal guy hanging out with your friends. You went not as my boy, my sub, but as Morgan, a normal young man who has a job and a boyfriend like any other person. It’s bizarre to think there’s almost two of you.”
“I don’t – I don’t understand Sir, I’m …I’m just me.”
“Yes, you are you,” Master Buford agreed, sipping tea. “It’s like a magic spell. Don’t you agree there’s some magic in your collar? Like it’s enchanted or something?”
Morgan leaned over the table and put his hand on it. “Yes. I absolutely feel that. I miss it when it is apart from me. I feel that it connects me to you when you’re not here.”
“And if we broke the spell, then what? You’d be gone from me forever,” Master Buford said mournfully.
Morgan felt a bit caught off guard. Plus, the adrenaline from the concert had crashed, leaving him tired and blurry headed. “Sir, what inspired this? I am not leaving. I couldn’t wait to get back here and put the collar back on. Rob mentioned, in the car, why I kept rubbing my neck.”
“That…pleases me, a great deal actually. But I don’t understand why a boy of your age would choose this life over his friends.”

Morgan suppressed a yawn and took a big sip of tea. “I can have both, in proper doses. I like winning your attention and approval. The discipline and patience I’ve learned here has helped me so much in life. You’ve taught me how to respect other men, older men, and it’s improved my relationships with my teachers, bosses, even my father.”
Master Buford eyed Morgan over his cup. “Really? I did all of that?”
“Yes,” Morgan insisted, wondering if he’d fallen asleep and was dreaming this. “And you have more to teach me, I just know it.”

Master Buford was quiet. He then yawned so hard his eyes watered. “You flatter this old man. I think it’s time for bed.”
“You’re not o- …Yes sir,” Morgan replied, quickly drinking the rest of his tea. “I’m exhausted. I need a shower too.”
“Take one in the morning after I’ve fucked you.”
“Mnn yes Sir.”
Buford stood up, holding his boy’s collar. Morgan fixed his eyes on it as his Master walked toward him, polishing it on the hem of his bathrobe sleeve. He abated behind Morgan and strapped the collar around his boy’s thick neck. Morgan exhaled in relief. “I missed this so much.”
Buford cupped Morgan’s chin, then ran his hand down his boy’s neck, over the collar.
“Yes. It belongs here. A place for everything, and everything in its place. Good boy. Come on, it’s bed time. You can tell me more about the concert tomorrow and what reward you want to work toward next.”

Morgan nodded. He rinsed the empty pot and cups, carefully handling his Master’s mug with two hands until it was safe in the drainage rack. He then dried his hands on a towel. He detoured to the entryway to pick up his damp shirt bundle, then followed his Master upstairs, turning off the lights as he went. Porridge trailed behind, and the family of three went to bed.

_________________________________
Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

“Oh hey, there you are,” I say, climbing out of the window and up to him on the roof.
“Shit,” he mutters, immediately trying to hide his cigarette.
“No no, it’s ok. You can smoke.”
“I can? You hate when I smoke.”
“Just one,” I say, settling next to him. “You’re under a lot of stress, but I don’t want you hooked again.”
He takes a long drag and exhales. “Thanks.”
I sit next to him in silence for a few minutes.
“What am I going to do?” John asks forlornly, “I am totally fucked.”
“You’re not fucked,” I assured him.

“Yes I am! I totally am, and I deserve it all. I finally, finally got the courage to admit the reason my marriage wasn’t working was because I’m gay. I found a great man, a man I could love, and I had the audacity to think I might actually be happy. I thought Sharon would be happier too, but then…” he taps the ashes off the cigarette and inhales again. “She gets pregnant. From the time I meet her to the day I marry her, she goes on and on about how she hates kids, doesn’t want kids, detests motherhood, etc, etc…and now she’s like "oh I want to keep it.”
I don’t know what to say.
“And she did this on purpose.”
“Why on earth would you say that?”
John puffs out his cheeks. “Because her brother told me she suspected I was cheating. And so when I took the trash out, I dug that nasty condom out from the bottom of the trash bag – there was a hole in it.”

“Jesus christ, John,” I gasp.
“So now! Nooow. We have to raise a kid she doesn’t want, and that kid will be raised by parents that don’t love each-other. And I’m going to lose you.” His voice cracks.
I rub his back in soothing circles. “I am not going anywhere.”
“But…but why?” he sniffles. “I’ve been a horrible person. I don’t deserve you.”
“Because I love you,” I say, kissing his temple, “And you’re going through a very hard time and you’re all alone. You need someone for support. And honestly, I think you should leave her. Poking holes in condoms is psychotic. Children are not bartering tools. Once you tell her you’re breaking up with her, she’s going to realize she’s gonna deal with that kid all by herself and she will…will…” I trail off, realizing the mess I’ve gotten myself into.
John’s voice is very small. “I can’t let her abort it.”
“Then let’s do this. Wait until it’s too far along to abort, then tell her you’re breaking up with her. She’ll have the kid, she won’t want the kid, and we’ll raise it.”
John blinks at me. “What?? Us?”
“You always wanted kids didn’t you? You love kids, you get along with my niece fantastically.” I’m pleased to see him blush a little. “We’ll give her an exit.”
“But you haven’t even known me a year yet…”
“But we have our whole lives ahead of us John,” I reply. “And hey, I sort of gave up on the idea of being a dad when I found out I was gay. This can benefit all of us, if we play the cards right.”

John just looks straight ahead, trying to keep his emotions in check. I take the cigarette out of his fingers before it burns his skin and stub it out on the roof. He sniffles. “I’ve never felt so fucked, and so lucky at the same time. Ugh, I should save that condom, for evidence.”
“eew…but you’re right,” I chuckle. “Don’t worry, it’s gonna be ok.”
He leans against me and sighs. “It’s going to be alright.”
“Yes, it’s going to be alright.”
“Eli?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
I put an arm around him and snuggle him close. “I love you too.”

__________________
Text is fictional.