Tag: young men in love

Gallery
by ccallenreese

I lean against him, one hand around his waist. He’s mostly quiet now, except for his sniffles punctuating the silence of our living room. The warm Florida sunlight streaming in through the windows is making me sleepy. I close my eyes, doing my best to emanate calmness and serenity. It took me nearly twenty minutes to get him to calm down, my boyfriend was that upset.

I was just congratulating myself on my ability to recover from such a turn of events when Quint’s thin facade crumbled again. I felt his shoulders tremble first. I opened my eyes and turned my head slightly him, just enough time to see his bottom lip tremble but not enough time to react.
“My gecko,” he wailed through a tight throat, and fresh tears began to fall. “My poor little Shovel.” He burst into fresh sobs.
“Oookay come here,” I cooed, using my hand on his waist to guide him sideways and into my arms. Quint crawled into my embrace and set to work on soaking my shirt again. I held him tight, wishing I could do something – anything – to lessen his pain.

The shock of coming back from a trip to the post office to find the little guy deceased had sunk in now, and Quint was now ruminating in his grief. I kissed his temple and rocked him. “Oh my poor baby.”
“I already miss him so much,” Quint babbled. “I am never gonna see his smiling face when I come to see him again. I’m never going to feed him another mealworm again, or watch him climb up the glass like Spiderman… he was just such a bro. Watching TV is never going to be same without him. He loved hockey.”
I try not to laugh. It’s not the right time. “Aww honey. Shovel had an excellent life with you. You said he was old wasn’t it?”
Quint nodded as he blew his nose with a tissue he pulled from the box to his side. “He was old for a leopard gecko. He was 17. I had him since I was 11. He was my birthday gift for getting straight As in school. I spent more of half my life with with-” At the end of that sentence, Quint’s voice goes up into a falsetto and clings to me hard, still crying. Shit, I shouldn’t have said that.
“There, there,” I say, knowing my words won’t do a thing.
“I had gotten him some new stuff for his terrarium for Christmas. What do I do with it now?”
“You can donate it to a reptile rescue, so some other lizard will get a nice life in Shovel’s name.”
I can’t tell if that upset Quint or made him happier, but the waterworks are in full gush mode right now. I hug him until I’m worried his ribs are going to break. My heart hurts for my boyfriend and I feel a little helpless that I can’t make this suck less.

Quint sniffles. “Two days before Christmas…why…”
“He just decided it was time,” I explain. “Shovel was very lucky to have you. I don’t want you blaming yourself now. He knew your schedule well. I think he passed when you were out at the post office because he couldn’t do it while you were around. Shovel knew how much you loved him.”
“Y-you think so?”
“Yes,” I say, with a nod. “He was an old gecko. He just took a nap and went. I’d say that’s the best you could have hoped for right? No pain, no lingering illness…”
“I loved that gecko.” Quint pauses for a loud hiccup. “I knew this was coming one day. I just thought there would be a sign…”
“Being 17 was a sign, love.” I insist.
“Still. I wanted more time,” Quint whines. He still hasn’t let go of me.
“I know, baby, but that wouldn’t be fair to Shovel. Shovel couldn’t give you more than that. He gave you all he could.”
Quint is quiet for a long moment, thinking about his beloved pet. “You are such a wonderful boyfriend, Marcus,” he says, surprising me. “I am blubbering like an idiot and crying all over you and you’re just putting up with me.”
“It’s part of loving you,” I say. “Being in a relationship means that you don’t just get the fun times and good sex-”
“Yeah the sex is pretty damn good,” admits Quint.
I chuff through my nose. “It is. But it also means being there when you need someone to get you through hard times. Shovel was part of our family. I’m not a total dick. I will put black bunting on his terrarium in mourning, if you want, and we can have a lovely funeral for the little guy.”
“Oh, I’d like that! I’d like that a lot.” Quint kisses me on the lips, then rests his head on my shoulder. “You are getting so many good boyfriend points right now.”
I smile. “Does that mean I’m getting extra Christmas presents?”
“Oh, it definitely does. And I’ll even let you be the little spoon in bed when we sleep.”
“Oh ho, I am a good boy on Santa’s list this year huh?”
Quint nods once more. “Uh-huh. Very good. God, I love you, Marcus.”
“I love you too, Quint. Why don’t we get you something cool to drink and you can wash your face?”
“Oh vodka. I need vodka.”
I laugh. “11 am vodka it is. A drink in Shovel’s memory?”
“To Shovel,” Quint agrees, all red-eyed and drained of energy.

I pat my lover on the shoulder, help him get up, and walk him to the kitchen. Again, I applaud myself for how well I handled the situation. I had been dangerously close to thinking Quint might be “the one”, but there were a few last tests to be done before I could make such a declaration. I was pretty sure we passed this one. There were a few more tests left, like talking about having children, and then I would know for sure if Quint could be mine for good. I was looking forward to them, because I was confident everything would work in our favor. I was confident in our love, because nothing could stop me from feeling the way I did about Quint – on good days, or bad ones.

___________________
Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

“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

We nuzzle, intoxicated by the warmth of eachother’s cheeks. We kiss. We’re on a public street, a little sidewalk cafe, but it feels like we’re the only ones in Paris, like the world revolves around us. My fingers are so intertwined with his own that I cannot even pull my hand away to pick up my glass. So I keep grasping, and kiss him again.

He’s wearing this cologne – just a dab – made of flowers grown specifically in France. He’s so French, so painfully French, and so fashionable in turquoise and leather slippers. I feel worthless and uninteresting in a grey suit, another American businessman bumbling through Paris trying to make a name for himself. I know I only have value to my company because no one else wanted to get on that plane for this three week assignment.

Yet, I am not angry that I got pushed into this trip. It’s been the best three weeks of my life. My head is still full of images and scenes from yesterday when I spent the night.

“Please don’t go back,” he begs, his voice full of so much hope and pain. I was so shocked that he would say those words to me. What does a Parisian boy need with an American lover? Aren’t we on a lower rung, in the ladder of accomplishment? Isn’t it usually the other way around, the boring American pining for a romantic European heartthrob? We kissed more, our ice melting in our glasses.
When I dodn’t answer, his voice grows tight with need. “Please…stay here. I cannot put you on that plane to Washington DC. I cannot, now that I know you exist.”
“Jean Luc…” I breath, weakened by his accent which was heavy during his confession. “Do you mean it?”
“Yes,” he whimpers, looking oh-so vulnerable. “You would crash with me. We’ll get some place bigger. Some place with a better view. Your French is getting better every day. You said your company wants to extend your visit right? Offering you a job here right? For gods sake, please, take it, or my heart is going to break.”

I think for a moment about what this all means. It is not a deep, philosophical event. I had already weighed these options in the shower this morning, because I suspected I would reach that state of lunacy by lunch. I had been right. It would mean packing everything up in my apartment and sending it overseas. It meant not seeing my family as often, but they would likely visit. It meant starting over. New cafes. New barber. New doctor, new optometrist. It meant breakfasts with fresh pastries and tiny coffees. It meant learning all the dirty French words first. It meant holidays around Europe and trips to the country-side where we would spend most of our time screwing in lavender fields, no doubt. It meant a life with Jean-Luc. I had known him for three weeks. He rescued me after I got lost after taking the wrong train, and he’d been by my side ever sense.

“Oui,” I say with a smile. “Yes.”
Jean-Luc gasps. “You really mean it?”
“Well, I have to talk to my office and tell them I accept their offer to extend my temporary assignment into a permanent post. Then, there’s visa issues to work out.”
He kisses me hard and squeezes my hand so hard I fear it might break. “We’ll work them out!”
“Jean Luc, just remember – I’ll have to go back to DC to pack. I have to give 30 days at my apartment. What if you fall out of love with me then? What if, after a week of not having me here, that you come back to reality and our chemistry is gone?”
“That will not happen.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I am going to come back to DC with you.”
Now it is my turn to gasp. “Can you?”
“I have time off work, and I can telecommute for a bit. I want to see your American life before I steal you away.”
I gawk at him, my heart throbbing. It is true, what people say about the French being romantics.
“Yes,” I repeat. “A million times, yes.”

I am a lunatic. Maybe that is the American way, to confuse passion with irrationality. Maybe so, but right now, I am so happy I can’t even speak for fear of crying. Because it is the right answer. I am moving to Paris. I will be his.

_______________________________________________________
Text is fictional. From photographer Braden Summers’ All Love is Equal Project.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

My sister stuck her head in my room. “He’s here!” she hissed, a huge smile on her face. “Hurry!”
“He’s here?” I repeated, jumping up.
“Yes! Hurry!”
I grabbed my sunglasses off the nightstand and picking up my leather bag from behind my bed. “Has mum seem him yet?”
“No, I don’t think so,” she said, looking around. “Here.” She thrusted a basket in my hands. “Going away present – your own picnic basket set. I packed you two a lunch so you don’t have to stop for a while.”
“Oh Samantha, you’re a darling,” I cooed, kissing her on the cheek.
“How often do I get to be a part in a dashing escapade like this? It’s soo romantic.”
I can’t help but laugh a little. “But life is not a fairy tale.”
“It can be if you try! Come on, stop dawdling. He’s waiting”

I followed her to the upstairs landing; she stopped there and watched me go down the grand stairs to the lobby. Then, we heard our mum.
“What the heavens was that ….is that the Culver boy? I’d recognize that hideous orange automobile anywhere. Americans! No taste! Walter, call security, I told this man he is not allowed on my property and no where near my son! The things they did at boarding school! Soiling my precious boy’s reputation. He’s a heathen!….Aldred, honey, where are you going?”
“Out, mother,” I say briskly, my heart caught in my throat. I just had to keep moving, I reminded myself, one foot in front of the other. Down the stairs. Out the door.
“Out?” she cried. “With that boy? I won’t allow it! I forbid you from seeing him again!”
I forced myself to pause. “Mother. I’m 18. You can’t forbid me to do a thing.” I enjoyed the stunned look on her face. I delicately picked up her hand and kissed the back of it. “Good day, mother.”

I heard Samantha whoop upstairs as I stepped out of the house and onto the cement walk to the driveway. My leather soled shoes made little noise. For the first time in my life, I felt like an adult. “There you are,” Mathias said, his face lighting up. “Oh gods I missed you.” He looked so stylish  in that his navy slacks and combed back hair, posing against his beloved car. I sighed, smitten. He was marvelous. Dashing, even.
“What are you staring at …?” he says with a smile.
“You. Just…missed you so much since my mum pulled me out of Essex School.” I stepped up to him and nuzzled his cheek. “Thought I’d never see you again.”
He put a hand on the back of my head and kissed me. My knees felt like gelatin. Mathias whispered in my ear. “Wait until you see what I’m going to do to you tonight. Then you’ll known how much I missed you back.”
I had to resist just pouncing him right there. God, did I love American boys and their Yankee accents.
“WALTER! CALL SECURITY!” My mother’s screeching voice snapped us out of our cuddle.
Mathias rolled his eyes. “Get in the car before the calvary arrives. What’s in the basket?”
“Lunch! Samantha packed it for us.” I threw my bag into the backseat and slipped into the front seat with the basket. Mathias joined me on the driver’s side and made the engine roar to life.
“Oh your sister? I’ll have to meet her sometime. Seems like a nice lady. I should introduce her to my cousin. Perhaps she could come for Christmas?”
“I think that’d be delightful, Mathias.”

We sped off down the street, bound for the main road to the highway. We had planned to head up the New England coast where we would eventually take a ship to London, where my aunt was waiting for us there. The window was open. I couldn’t help but whoop myself as the wind cut through my hair. My mother was likely furious, but I felt not a drop of guilt. She was going to be even angrier when she found out I turned down acceptance at Yale to go to the School of Oriental and African Studies in the UK. But her life was no longer my life now. I was free – finally, finally free, with a boy I truly loved.

_________________________________
Text is fictional. Source: Drykorn Fall/Winter 2013

Gallery
by ccallenreese

I wake up quite suddenly to screaming. I flail in my bed, gasping, suddenly awake and confused. My heart is jackhammering from the surprise. The screaming deteriorates to raw shouts, and the sheets are moving around me like turbulent waters. The shouting turns into words, “Neil! Neil! No don’t go! Neil! NEIL! Wait! Don’t go!” The fog clears from my head as I awaken, although my pulse will not calm. It’s my boyfriend. He’s waking from a nightmare.

“Grady! Grady! Grady, wake up!” I bark at him. I reach over and grab his flailing wrists, trying to calm him. “Grady, wake up!”
He’s still fighting me, begging for Neil. I give him a gentle smack across the face.“GRADY.”
His eyes shoot open. His chest is heaving; he’s covered in sweat. Grady stares at me, trying to process what was happening. “…Rowen…?” he says, sounding entirely baffled.
“Yes, it’s me. It’s Rowen. You were having a nightmare,” I said firmly.
“Rowen….” he says, his voice cracking. “I- I saw Neil. He – he spoke to me – and-” Grady’s throat closes and be begins to cry.
I bite my lip to prevent from getting emotional. Grady needs a rock. I pull him into my arms; he squeezes me tight and buries his face in my neck. I can feel his tears running down my shoulder. I lean backwards and we fall back onto the pillows. “Shhh…it’s ok…deep breaths. Deep breaths, in…out…in…out…very good,” I murmur trying to keep him from hyperventilating. He is soon hysterical, sobbing loudly in my arms. I rock Grady and let him vent.

“Grady you need to breathe. Come back to me, honey.”
He groans against me, then hiccups loudly. “Rowen, I saw him. I saw Neil! He smiled at me, he spoke to me.”
“What did he say sweetheart?”
“He said that I looked happy. He said…he said that he missed me, and he was sorry he left me.” Grady sniffled, “and he said, he was relieved I’d met someone.”
“He mentioned me?” I repeated, intrigued.
“Yes,” Grady sighed, “He liked you. He said it was going to be ok. He just wanted to check on me. Oh god, Rowen, he looked just like the last day I saw him before – before…”
I kiss the back of Grady’s head. “Today is the 8th anniversary of his death isn’t it?”
He nods and sniffs again. “I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful, but …gawd, Neil, I miss him.” Grady goes still against me, exhausted.
“Oh honey, I’m not upset. You and Neil were married; his death left a big hole in your heart, love. No one is expecting you to "get over” that. Certainty not me. There is a place for Neil in our lives, but don’t forget I am here and I love you.“
My shoulder feels wet again. It’s a moment before Grady speaks again. "Neil was right. About you, I mean, Rowen. I am really lucky, to be loved by two fantastic men in my life. I need to…I need to let Neil go and move on. He was ready to go. I need to move on.”
I kissed him again. “Whatever you do, I’ll support you.”
He sighed. “I’m sleepy.”
“Go back to bed, love. I’ll hold you. I’ll be here when you wake up.

Grady lifts his head and kisses me on the lips. "I love you, Rowen.”
“I love you too.”

_____________________
Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

Abraham lingered on the curb, letting the noise of the carriages and horses and pedestrians fade away to a background buzz. He clutched his gloves in his left hand, not putting them on again despite the cold chill of approaching winter numbing the tips. Instead, he glanced down at the apple creating a noticeable bulge in his front coat pocket. Abraham had been residing in Italy and had a special fondness for winter and the produce it brought. He’d made it a priority to grab an apple from any cart he saw when out conducting his affairs. He’d just bought one from this young man…

Abraham made his decision and turned back around. He strode down the block with a straight back and steady gate, despite the limp from a childhood accident. The young man didn’t see him coming. He was restocking fruit from a crate.

“Excuse me.”
Ethan looked up and he blinked at the stranger. “May I help – oh you were just here.” He set down the create. “Is there something wrong with your apple Sir?” He puffed warm air out of his cheeks into cupped hands, rubbing them together.

Abraham couldn’t tell how old he was. A young man, clearly, still dressed like a boy. They were almost the same height, but it was impossible to see his shape under that stretched sweater he was wearing dotted with holes and trousers patched far too many times. Abraham felt embarrassed standing next to him, because he felt foolish, like a ponce. He envied the natural beauty of this fresh-faced pauper.

“Here,” Abraham said, a bit too loudly, straightening his arm. “Please, take these.”
Ethan’s jaw slackened. “I – I can’t Sir I -“
“I"m not asking. I’m tell you. Take them.”
Ethan hesitantly took the gloves out of Abraham’s hand, as if this were a mean trick. When Abraham didn’t mock him or pull them away, the young man dared to inspect them. They were fine leather – calfskin, maybe. They were hand-stitched and lined with wool. Ethan slipped his hand into one and was surprised at how warm it was, and how well it fit. It was if it had been custom-made for his own size. His hand began to tingle from the sensation returning.

Arbaham saw the happiness on his face, and it occurred that it was the first true, earnest emotion he’d seen in a while. It made him feel contentment he didn’t know to be possible. He nodded, tipped his hat, and turned to leave.

“Wait!” Ethan interjected.
Abraham turned.
“…I can really keep these?”
“Yes. I’ve bought apples from you before, and you’ve always been pleasant. It’s getting cold, and it’s nonsense that a boy your age shouldn’t have a pair of gloves in this city. I have an extra pair. It’s no bother.”
“My god, thank you Sir, these are – these are – I can’t even form words to describe my gratitude.”
Abraham smiled. “I hope better fortune finds your way soon.”

Ethan nodded eagerly and watched in awe as Abraham went. He watched Abraham go. He was a handsome fellow, and even with his uneven gate, had a commanding presence. Ethan felt a knot of arousal flair up low in his hips but quickly pushed it away. It wasn’t nice to lust after a man who just gave you a present, even if he was handsome. He was a dandy, and his mother said to be wary of men like that. Still, Ethan doubted a man of such fine standing would court a boy of such low standing such as himself.

When Ethan slid his hand into the other glove, his fingers bumped against something. He’d missed it before because the glove had been on the bottom and folded in half. With confusion on his face, he pulled the heavy thing out – it was a half sovereign coin. Ethan softly gasped. It was his weekly wage in the palm of his hand.

He looked up for the stranger but found him gone.

___________________________________________

Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

randomuncguy:

Love is you holding me close when I don’t feel good, watching me sleep while I’m sick, and being their smiling when I wake up. Love is you and me.

“Hi.”
“Hey lover boy.”
“How are you feeling?” Daniel asks.
“Like shit.”
“You still look cute.”
Jesse smiles. “Thank you. I still feel like shit.”
“Do you need a wastebasket to vomit in?”
“Ugh don’t say that word. No…I think it’s all out.”
“I’m sorry you got food poisoning on your birthday.”
“Me too. I want to open my presents but I don’t wanna get up.”
Daniel squeezes his hand. “Alright, I’ll go get you one to open. You can do the rest later.”
“You’re fantastic,” Jesse murmurs. He still pouted as Daniel pulls away from him.

A few moments later Daniel returns with a glass of cool water and a thin package. He doesn’t give it to his boyfriend until Jesse’s drank some of the water. Jesse settles back into bed with the flat, rectangular package. “I think this is a DVD.”
Daniel smiles and doesn’t say anything as Jesse destroys the paper.
“Ohh it is. Which one which one which one….ahhh it’s Velvet Goldmine! I haven’t seen this for years, it was my favorite movie in high school-”
“And then you lost the VHS tape you recorded off the TV in that house fire right?”
Jesse nodded, a fond look on his face. “You remembered.”
“Of course.” Daniel kissed his forehead. “Want to watch it now?”
“Hell yeah I do! I feel better already.”
“Good. You better, cause if you think food poisoning is going to get you out of birthday spankings you are sorely mistaken.”
Jesse laughed and swatted at him until Daniel escaped to put the DVD in the player.

They settled on the bed together, spooning. Daniel nuzzled under Jesse’s chin and felt his heart beating through his back. Even sick, he couldn’t stay away from this boy. This was nice. It was good to be in love.

____________________
Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

livingundersexualthirst:

“Come up!" 

Pierre sat on the edge of the bed and stretched. Then, he heard a click. Then another click. He turned and looked at the window, and saw a pebble bounce off of it.

He jumped up and peered out. Lucas was standing on the sidewalk below. Pierre opened the windows. "Good morning Lucas! Nice to see you, but what are you doing here so early? You have class today don’t you?”
“I do but – I just wanted to see you. I was hoping we could make love before school started?”
“Shhh!” Pierre laughed. “The whole street can hear you.”
“I don’t care,” he said back with a smile. “I’m mad about you. Can’t stop thinking about you. Every curve of your naked body fills my dreams, I see your smile when I blink, and I yearn for the warmth of your skin when you’re not here. I woke up this morning craving you.”
“Awww….Lucas!” Pierre blushed a bright red. “That’s- that’s just so sweet. But, love, people can hear you, sshh.” Some strangers on the sidewalk had stopped to see what was going on.
Lucas didn’t seem to care. “Please allow me to see you this morning? To make love to you so I can pretend we live together and I am greeting you with the sun?”
Pierre couldn’t shake the goofy smile on his face. Even if his entire block was getting an earful of this, he still loved dating a top that was also a romantic. “Oh for goodness sake.”
“Come on down, Pierre.”
“I’m not wearing clothes,” he admitted.
Lucas laughed. “Now who cares what the neighbors think?”
“Well, they’re gonna hear us soon anyway! Come up, my bed is still warm.”
Lucas made a noise of victory and ran up the stairs after Pierre let him in.

Once back in the room, he wasted no time kissing the lad and letting his hands roam over his Pierre’s nude body. He was still warm from sleep, and Lucas wanted in him immediately. Lucas cupped Pierre’s low sac in his hands, massaging and pulling while he kissed his mouth. He manipulated and teased the boy until he’d forgotten all about those people gossiping on the sidewalk.
“Bed, Lucas, please,” he gasped.
Lucas tore off his clothes in a hurry and pulled Pierre back into his own bed. He ignored his own cock, more fascinated Pierre’s own. He parted the boy’s legs and put his tongue to work, lapping at the swollen skin and pulling each testicle in his mouth. Pierre was soon moaning and wrapping his legs around Lucas’s head. He pushed the tip of his cock through Lucas’s lips and thrust his hips forward, desperate for the sensation. Lucas put his hands on Pierre’s thighs and held him still as he suckled, getting him nice and randy while he slid a finger between the cleft of his buttocks.

Lucas parted his lover like a flower opening its petals, sliding two digits into his interior with just enough oil for it to not be too slick. Pierre cooed and swore at the wonderful sensation rippling outward. “Oh Lucas!”
“Shh shh…” Lucas lapped at the fluid beading on the head of Pierre’s little fat cock.
“Enter me,” Pierre pleaded.
“Not yet.” Lucas took his time to enter two more fingers and work them to stretch his lover.
When Pierre warned Lucas he might shoot at any moment, the fingers and lips withdrew. Pierre unbraided his legs and let Lucas pull himself. He dipped his head to kiss Pierre, then lifted his legs and pushed the tip of his cock into his body.
Pierre gasped and clutched the bedsheets.
“Relax sweetheart,” Lucas murmured. Pierre tried, but Lucas was misreading the situation – he wasn’t tensing because it was painful but because it felt so good to be full that he tried to clamp down as hard as he could. A reassuring hand massaging his stomach got Pierre to relax, and Lucas pushed the rest of his cock in. Despite the early morning hour, he was already sweating from the effort. 
“God I needed this, I needed this so badly. You’re the antidote to my insanity, Pierre.”
“Lucas, you will always be a little crazy, but I love you anyway.”
Lucas chuckle and kissed him. “Can I move now?”
Pierre nodded.
Lucas kept his thighs up and watched himself disappear in and out of that perfect lily white ass. “Yes… yes…oh god, Pierre, you feel fantastic. You needed this as much as I did.”
“Be quiet and fuck me,” Pierre demanded, in one of his rare bossy moments.
Lucas felt a growl of possession rise up in him. ‘Yes sir.“ Their lovemaking took an intense turn and Lucas took Pierre as hard as he could, pushing the boy up the bed and into the nest of pillows. Both ignored the open window, allowing their cries to spill out to shocked passerbys. Their fornication seemed to go on for hours, and even the most puritanical pedestrians had to wonder if there was something special about heathen sex.

Lucas demanded Pierre stroke himself, and his eyes darkened as he watched his lover pleasure himself as he stimulated him from inside. "Good boy… you are so beautiful Pierre.”
Pierre blinked at him, his eyes wet. “I’m going to cum!”
“Come with me!”

Their lips met at the same time as they peaked, spilling their cries of passion down eachother’s throats. Lucas dug his toes into the bed and emptied his seed into Pierre’s tight velvet passage. He moaned deeply as the climax came in deep, throbbing waves. Pierre whimpered as the tingly sensation in his balls became a knot in his stomach, then the whole thing turned inside out and suddenly his belly was splattered in cum.

They rested there, locked together, until both of their cocks were soft and spent, but even then Lucas didn’t want to pull out. He wished to stay in Pierre forever, and Pierre felt the same. They were panting hard, flushed and pink.
“Oh Pierre…” Lucas murmured. “Oh my sweet Pierre…god, you just unravel me.”
“You were right Lucas, there are few better ways to greet the day than being thoroughly taken.”’
He snickered. “It does feel good doesn’t it?”
“Mmnn…but you know, I never cared for this type of penetration until you.”
“Really?”
Pierre yawned. “Yes. Something about you…makes me just fly.”
Lucas gave him a fond look. “Oh Pierre, keep talking like that and I will have to marry you.”
He raised his head. “We can’t marry, the church won’t allow it.”
“Oh fuck the church!”
Pierre gasped.
“God created us in his image right? Then God must have put us on this course. If the church won’t recognize love, then that’s their own fault.”
“Lucas, when did you get so bold?”
“When I fell in love with you,” he admitted.
Pierre knew he could be won over with pretty words. He smiled. “Well if you want to marry me, do the proper thing and give me a ring.”
“Can I put it on your cock?” Lucas asked.
Pierre threw his head back and laughed. “Oh you and your ideas!”
“One for your finger and your cock then?”
Pierre playfully punched him in the shoulder. “Can you afford that?”
“I’ll make them out of bread.”

That sent Pierre rolling again. They continued laughing and touching for the next half hour, until grumbling stomachs and their ripen scents caught their attention. A bath and homemade breakfast capped off the morning. Lucas showed up to class exactly one minute late, a very smug look on his face.

__________________
Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

bzork:

But it’s such a nice day!

You just mean it’s sunny.  Remember when there was that thunderstorm and you stayed in bed with us all day?  That was a nice day.

Exactly!  So I’ll save you for a rainy day!

All of us?  But we are so many!  Anyway, why get hot and tired and sweaty?  Stay in!  We’ll look after you.

But I want to go places.

We can take you places.  Middle Earth, Earthsea, Anarres, Flatland, Wonderland, Utopia.

Real places!

You mean like Alaska or Shanghai or Glastonbury or Constantinople or the Sea of Tranquility?  Because you won’t actually go to those places if you go outside, if you’re being honest with us.

I suppose not.

But we can give it all to you.  Just trust us.  Don’t leave us.

OK.  I guess.  I’ll stay in and read today.

You know it’s what you want.

I suppose.  Maybe I’ll go out tomorrow.  Did you — did you say Constantinople?

We did: come, let us tell you of illustrious Belisarius, the last true Roman.

I realized I’d been illustrating for nearly three hours and decided to take a break before my back cramped. I leaned back in my chair and stretched. I cleaned my paintbrush and tucked away my beloved watercolors. My client would be happy with this piece. I tilted my head and I listened for the sounds of Clark around the house. Silence. I wondered where he was.

I push away from my desk and stood up, seeking Clark. I check the kitchen, pausing for a glass of sweet tea, before inspecting the living room. I check our bedroom and found him there. He was so immersed in his books, he didn’t even hear me enter.
“Clark,” I say softly.
He glances over his shoulder, “Oh hi,” he said, with a smile, “You done with work?”
“Taking a break. You been reading?”
“Yep,” he says, matter of factly.
“Are any of em good?”
“Two in particular, I’ll leave them on your night stand later.”

I nod and lean against the door frame, watching him in passive wonder. There have to be at least a dozen books floating in mid air, all suspended in an open position. After a moment, all the pages turn at the same time. When you date a telekenetic, you have to adjust to fantastical sights and behavior because your boyfriend needs to have a place he feels normal and safe, where he doesn’t look like a freak. Clark’s brain requires insane amounts of stimulation. When bored for long periods of time, he can feel physically ill.

The library system in our town gave Clark a limitless library card so he can check out massive amount of books at the same time. He goes through about a hundred books a week. Two is a particularly low return rate for this bunch. He gives his favorites to me, so I can make a list of the authors and to read them for myself. 

“Is it still raining Clark?”
He pauses reading to lift the blinds and peer out. “A little. Wanna go for a rain walk when it’s over?” Clark loves the scent and sight of our rural neighborhood after it rains.

“I’d love to, babe,” I say, and set my glass on a coaster on the nightstand. Clark nods and turns his attention back to his task.
I walk over to him and sit down behind him with my legs crossed, and wrap my arms around his warm torso. He sighs in contentment as I rest my head against the back of his neck. For a moment, I’m content to listen to his heart beat and feel the heat radiating under his skin. Then, my hands start to wander over his abs and his thighs.
Clark mutters a half-hearted protest, “Benjamin,” as if scolding a misbehaving child. I ignore it and continue on, pushing up his shirt with one hand. My fingers find a nipple and thumb it; Clark gasps and one of the books falls to the floor with a bang.
I snicker and rub the crease between his thigh and his crotch with my fingertips, enjoying feeling him shudder and squirm under me..
“Ben,” he protests again, a bit more breathy this time. Another book slowly descends and rests on the floor.
“mm what?”
“You’re very distracting.”
“I love the way you smell,” I say instead. “You smell like warm mint tea. And a hint of sandalwood, and your own scent. It makes me horny.” I oh-so-gently cup his unrestrained bulge in his shorts.
Thud.
“Ben!” he gasps.
I chuckle and begin to kiss his neck and nibble on his ear. “How about you save your books for bedtime and we kill some time before the rain ends hm?”
“Goddamn,” Clark whispers, closing his eyes as he enjoys me fondling him between the legs. After a moment, he says, “Ben?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t know if i ever told you this, but you know when you touch me – like how you are now – I can’t multitask anymore. It’s like you shut that part of me off. It’s so strange and liberating. Hey, maybe that’s your super power.”
I scoff. It’s be a long-running inside joke that I had an undiscovered superpower too, we just hadn’t found it yet. “I don’t think so, Clark. I think it’s just being a good boyfriend.”
“Mmnnf it feels good,” he admits.
I watch as the other books begin to sink toward the floor. I press my fingers on either side of his cock still tucked in his shorts and stroke until a wet strain starts to flourish. Clark leans back in my arms and I slide my hand into the leghole of his shorts and cup his balls.

Two of the books crash to ground, one bouncing off the bed. Clark’s eyes fly open at the noise. He curses. “Shit, Ben. Hold on.” He closes the literature and organizes the books in a neat pile on the floor. When the last book is in place, I feel the tension in his body melt away and that barely audible hum stops as well. I liken it to the sound of leaving the cable box on when the TV is off, only the off button for Clark is between his legs.

Clark lifts his legs and shimmies out of his shorts; his half hard cock bounces upward and I catch it in my hand. He groans and reclines against me, allowing me free reign to explore. I unfurl my legs and scoot up so he’s pressed flushed against my front so it’s less strain on my back and arms. His skin is so hot, especially his testicles, and despite that it almost feels uncomfortable to be in contact with such high temperatures, I can’t resist the heft of them. I roll them between my fingers between gentle tugs while holding the base of his cock in my other hand. I press kisses up the side of his jaw.

Soon, Clark is begging me to stroke him. A bead of sweat forms on his temple, and there’s a soon a sheen to his hairline. I begin to work his cock slowly, waiting for it to full harden and push out the ridges of veins hiding under silky skin. He whines in impatience until I start to piston my hand. He arches up into my fist, begging for me not to stop. I swipe my thumb over the slit to wipe away the seed leaking and he moans loudly.

My own erection is pushing into his back but I don’t stop. I continue to seduce him and draw out his pleasure until he’s panting ragged breaths and his cock begins to twitch.
“This – this was a good idea,” he hisses.
“You’re going to cum soon,” I reply.
“Yeah I am.” He chuffs through his nose. “Don’t stop, Ben, please. I wanna cum.”
I don’t answer and instead nibble on his earlobe. I rub his glans between my fingers while stroking his shaft with my cramped fist fixed around it, faster and faster until Clark’s body vibrates and he erupts. I watch in fascination of the cords of muscle twitch and tense; his balls rise high and taut in their sac and his cock jumps in my hand. Milky fluid shoots out of him and splatters onto the wooden floor.
“Ben!” he exclaims through gritted teeth as the orgasm courses through him. “Don’t stop!”
And I don’t, even as he begins to descend. I push up from the base of his cock to wring the last drops out of the tip. He gasps and mewls as it becomes more sensitive, but I don’t stop touching him until Clark puts his hands on top of mine and begs me to abate. I let my hands retreat to his thighs and he rests against me, trying to catch his breath.
“Good?” I ask.
“Feel wonderful,” he replies. “You’re still hard.”
“Mmhmm.”
Clark reaches behind himself until he finds my cock still in my pants. He gives it a few squeezes; I hear that hum again. The pressure feels fantastic, and I gasp as cum floods my underwear.
“Oh wow, Clark! Oh!” I feel a bead of sweat drip down my back. We both sit there a moment, recovering. The hum stops again.

“I think the rain’s stopped,” Clark says after a moment. I watch the blinds raise themselves and the scene outside confirms he’s right.
“Why don’t we go clean up and go for that walk you wanted?”
“Sounds wonderful,” he replies, nuzzling me. “I love you Ben.”

I freeze, not exactly sure I heard him right. “You…you do?” It’s the first time he’s ever said it to me. It’s hard for Clark to trust people and I’ve had to learn to be patient being in a relationship with him.
“Yes, I do. You make me feel human.”
“You are human,” I remind him. “My human. I love you too Ben.”
“Not as much as I love you.”
I wrap my arms around him and give him a hug.

After a moment he says: “….Will you be weirded out if I telekinetically move the cum off the floor into the trash?”
“Yes!” I laugh, “Don’t be gross. Go get the shower ready, I’ll be in there a minute after I clean up.”
Clark laughs too, relieved that I understand his sense of humor. He twists around and kisses me, and I can see the love in his eyes.

____________________
Text is fictional. Source NA.