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    Carlos Hazday
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Summer - 2. The Broken Hearted

Thursday, 16 May 2013 - continued

“Asshole!” César’s greeting was echoed by CJ. He mumbled it as both rose from the couch. Father and son looked at each other and again laughed.

“Well, I see two of my favorite men are in good spirits. That’s always a treat. What’s with the laugh attack?” The man walking through the door wore a United States Marine Corps’ Officers’ Service C Uniform―a short-sleeve khaki shirt with trousers―his garrison cap tucked under a shoulder strap, and a ball cap with the Corps’ eagle, globe, and anchor emblem on his head.

“What do you mean, two of your favorite men? We better be on top of the list or you’re gonna be in the doghouse.” César walked up to the marine, removed the ball cap, and ran his hand over the cropped dark blond hair. While staring into the deep blue eyes which always made his knees weak, he kissed the man hello. “This is a nice surprise, Jarhead.”

“Hi, Papa Brett, it’s good to see ya.” CJ extended a hand the Marine swatted away. Instead, he enveloped the teenager in his arms, and pulled him tight against his hard chest, kissing the kid on his forehead.

“Dude! I’m so stoked you’re here earlier than we expected. I love we’ll get to spend so much time together this summer.”

“Yeah well, I think we’ll all get to spend a heck of a lot of time together with him. It seems he’s in town to stay.” A confused-looking Brett made to talk, but César held a hand up to quiet him. “Anyway, stomach grumbling started us laughing, why don’t we go grab a bite to eat and everything will be explained. I hope. Want to walk over to Clyde’s? And what time do you have to head back to the base?”

Brett released the youngster, staring at him with a smile on his face, before replying. “Don’t hafta. Got today and tomorrow off in honor of my spouse bringing a child into our world.”

“Asshole!” CJ and César spoke simultaneously, causing all three men to chuckle.

“Should I change into civvies?”

“Nah…” César wiggled his eyebrows. “I love to watch all the girls and gay boys drool at my handsome military stud. I know he’s mine, though, and later tonight…“

“TMI, TMI, too much FUCKING information.” CJ faux covered his ears as they headed out the door. “I’m an impressionable little kid, and you’re discussing unnatural sex acts between sodomites in my presence.” César could see the boy was fighting the urge to crack a smile while concentrating on maintaining the shocked look on his face. He was happy the sadness in the kid’s face had disappeared, even if it was temporary.

“Fuck! What’s with all the fuckin’ quarter words, dude? Have you nerded out on me over the past six months?” Brett’s exaggerated facial expressions were hilarious―sounding gruff was not making up for the cheap soap opera acting.

“Just repeating what one of the teachers said during religion class…”

“Don’t tell me you’ve been paying attention to those religious idiots running your school. Oh no, you’re not going to church on Sundays, are you?” The marine clutched his hands to his heart in mock agony, throwing his head back, in a bad femme fatale impersonation. He probably knew he looked ridiculous, but having CJ around always made him act silly, and everyone knew he enjoyed it.

“I had to once in a while. Part of the prison sentence. Although I didn’t pay attention most of the time.”

“What the fuck are you doing in church anyway? Don’t you know it’ll cause permanent damage to your psyche?” Brett was now back to his hyper-masculine, military man, husky voice, with a tinge of levity beneath.

I’m fairly certain it’ll require a miracle, but could my partner and my kid try to act a bit more mature? I expected the two of you to have settled down a smidgen by now. And what’s with all the damn fucking swear words?” All three snickered as if they were little kids.

 

The verbal sparring continued unabated as they walked down the Exorcist Steps towards the eatery they had agreed upon. While visiting his father in D.C. for the first time, CJ had learned the steps connecting Prospect Street on top and M Street at the bottom, which were adjacent to their house, were made famous in the book and movie The Exorcist by William Peter Blatty. The author attended Georgetown University, and as most students there, probably walked up and down them repeatedly. In his story, a demon throws the priest attempting an exorcism out of the house on top. The clergyman stumbled all the way down, breaking his neck, and landing at the bottom of the stairs.

Their destination, the venerable Clyde’s of Georgetown, had occupied the same premises on M Street since 1963. The old-time saloon boasted a massive oak bar and some of the best burgers in town. The restaurant was also known for its chili, crab cake sandwiches, and weekend brunch―a tradition. Almost a year since his last visit, CJ found the menu familiar: steak and eggs, omelets, and waffles, with an assortment of sandwiches, burgers, and salads thrown into the mix. The foodie in CJ loved the variety, while the teen in him loved the quantity.

Their server was young, efficient, and handsome; CJ kept stealing glances at him. He guessed the smiling waiter was a student at GU; he knew many Hoyas, as the school’s sports teams and students were known, found employment in the bars and restaurants scattered throughout the old Washington neighborhood.

 

After placing their order, the conversation was at first lighthearted, while they waited for the meal. Brett had looked surprised when told CJ’s presence in Washington was most likely permanent but seemed less so at the moment. “If you’re staying in Washington for good, I don’t care what happened to bring it about, but I’m in. Whenever you two are ready, fill me in on the details.” He kept smiling, talking about plans for the summer, while frequently poking CJ’s side with a finger, ruffling the boy’s hair, or just simply reassuringly touching the youngster. His actions and general mood made it clear he was honestly excited about having the kid move to Washington.

César could tell the CJ had settled down somewhat from his earlier emotional outbursts. He looked at his partner lovingly, acknowledging to himself the calming effect his man had on others. “So, CJ, you think you’re up to telling us a bit more about what happened back in Miami?”

“Sure... I guess it started last summer when I was here visiting. In the back of my mind, I began to accept I was gay.” César squeezed his partner’s knee under the table, and Brett’s raised eyebrows were the only visible reaction to CJ’s revelation. “I’d kinda figured out girls did nothing for me already, but a sexy guy always made me look. The way the other boys at school talked about girls and stuff just didn’t interest me. Most kids would probably have freaked out at that point, but having a gay father living with another man, I didn’t. Spending time with you two and your friends kinda made things easier for me.”

In between sips of his Dr. Pepper and bites of his burger, the teen bared his soul to the two men. César realized he and Brett would be playing a gigantic role in the boy’s life. From that day forward, they were to become full-time parents. CJ would need both of them to serve as his anchors, and help steer him in the right direction in the future.

“All the time I spent at the museums, at the mall, or visiting the monuments those days you two had to work and I was on my own, helped me finally accept I was interested in guys, not girls. I’d always look at the good-looking guys. I could tell when a girl was cute, but that was it for me.

“I decided not to say anything to anyone. You guys wouldn’t have been a problem, but I was about to head to Miami, and didn’t want to start a conversation that would’ve been interrupted by me leaving town. Back home, at the Rich Peterson Military Camp, the appearance of a newly minted gay boy would’ve caused pandemonium. That was proven three days ago.

“Coming out at school was not an option. I was a lowly freshman at Christopher Columbus; the Catholic Nazis running the joint would’ve gone berserk trying to counsel me. I only knew a few kids who would be starting the ninth grade with me, so I didn’t have anyone to talk to.

“After you two left Miami, following your Thanksgiving Weekend visit, I finally found someone I felt comfortable sharing my secret with. A fellow student at the school. We were both on the JV Football team and had gotten friendly during the fall. We hit it off, started spending more and more time together, and I slowly realized he never brought up girls in our conversations. Paying closer attention, I started to notice he’d kinda look at the good-looking guys like I did.

“One thing led to another, and following semester finals, we ended up coming out to each other. We were scared and didn’t do much of anything. We wanted to practice what we read on the internet, but stealing a couple of kisses here and there proved to be less than satisfying. Finally, on New Year’s Eve, we went to the same party, and then I was spending the night at his house. Ritchie was staying at our grandparents, and Mom and Rich had gone down to Key West for the year-end bullshit. Adam’s parents—that’s his name—invited me to stay a couple of days at their home.”

“We had both wasted enough time on the internet, reading stories and watching porn, so the mechanical part of doing it was not a mystery. That night, early morning actually, we returned to his house after the party, took showers, and changed into boxers before heading to bed. Only one of the beds in his room was used; Adam climbed in with me, and started kissing me.”

“Sleep finally came around three in the morning; we spent most of the night making out and messing around. By then I was sure. Ummm… we kinda gave each other hand jobs a lot after that. But honestly, that’s all we ever did.” The boy looked at his shoes, blushing.

“That’s cool, dude. You don’t have to be scared, or embarrassed, in front of us. Hopefully, talking to us about sex will get easier.” Brett’s glance flittered between CJ and César. “How about we take a little break from the serious conversation? We can finish lunch, and head back home. We can continue our chat there. CJ, you better know you’re very welcome to live with us. Not a single doubt in my mind. This is home from now on.”

“Yeah, CJ, we’re both gonna love having you under the same roof all the time,” added César.

“Oh, man, this rocks! It’s gonna be so damn great to have you around all the time. I’m sorry about the way this came about, but looking gift horse in mouth and all that jizz. Ooops, I meant jazz!” Brett smiled, sipping his espresso, as César chuckled, and signed the credit card charge slip. He left a generous cash tip for the friendly server.

“Ok guys, let’s head home. I want to hear the remainder of the story. Then I want to call your mom, CJ. I want to discuss what I have in mind with her, but I want your opinions on how we go about it. The conversation with her and Rich may get a little nasty, but the outcome should not be in question. You’re ours, and we’re going to make sure there’s no way that can be changed.”

They strolled back to the house, enjoying the pleasant, late spring weather. The humidity, which would make the next few months miserable, was not around yet. Unlike South Florida, D.C. did not have the ocean breeze to help keep things somewhat comfortable. Summers in the nation’s capital were hot and muggy.

 

After brushing their teeth, and changing into shorts and t-shirts, the two men joined CJ in the family room, so they could finish their conversation. The teen had changed into a pair of loose basketball shorts and a gray Mickey Mouse t-shirt. He settled himself on the floor, with his back to the large, black leather sectional couch. He stared out the windows, facing the street in front of the house, waiting to complete telling his tale.

“Alrighty then, ready to finish your story, bud?” Brett apparently liked ruffling the teen’s dark hair. He did it once again.

“Sure, Papa. There isn’t much more to tell. On Monday, I got home from school, and found a young soldier in our living room. He stood up when I opened the front door, so I walked over and introduced himself.”

CJ remembered thinking how hot the guy was, and how sexy he looked when he smiled. He also remembered their conversation…

Hi there, I’m CJ.

Nice to meet you, man. I’m Ben; you must be the Lieutenant Colonel’s son, right?

One of them, you work for him?

Not really, I’m just a glorified errand boy. I’m waiting for some papers I need to take back to SOUTHCOM. I’ve been assigned there since I returned from Afghanistan. I work for one of the other officers in your dad’s department.

SOUTHCOM was the abbreviation for the United States Southern Command which was headquartered in Miami.

Right as they were finishing their introductions, CJ heard his step-father calling for him, so he headed towards the study. The military man must have been working from home that day, he was wearing civvies, and his desk was crowded with files and papers. He asked his son to offer the soldier something to drink and to hang out with him for the next hour or so.

“I offered to take him up to my room to play video games, and Rich just grunted his agreement. We got sodas and headed upstairs. I asked him to sit at my desk while I went to the bathroom to change out of my school clothes. When I came back he was smiling, and clicking on something on my computer; without turning around, he asked me if I thought the guys in the Bel Ami movies were hot.”

“My breathing stopped. I panicked, and wanted to run and hide, but the sound of his laughter made me look up at him. He said he thought those boys were real hot and rubbed his crotch. A minute or two later, we were kinda sitting next to each other, on the bed.”

CJ remembered how the lump in the guy’s pants grew; he thought it resembled a large cucumber, as it slithered down his pant leg. The young soldier opened up his fly, and pulled out a good-sized dick that wasn’t fully hard, but was already about six inches long. Motioning CJ over while waving the hardening cock, the soldier gently grabbed the kid’s neck, pulled him close, and lowered his head until their lips met. Their tongues battled as they rubbed against each other.

Timing is everything, and it was at that moment Rich opened the door to the room. The courier suddenly pulled back and tried to quickly rearrange his pants.

“The sound of the door opening made the soldier look up to see Rich standing there, and he panicked. Rich remained very calm when he found us in such a compromising position; he told us to get straightened up, and that he would see us downstairs. When we got to the den, he handed the soldier an envelope to take back with him, and told him to keep his mouth shut about what had happened, unless he wanted to be court-martialed for having sex with a minor. I was told to go back to my room, and wait until I was called.”

“I heard Mom come home sometime later, and about an hour afterward, Rich yelled for me. Mom was sitting on the couch, arms crossed, looking as if there was nothing strange going on. I think she may have been a bit scared of him. The homophobic bastard told me no faggot would be allowed to live under his roof. Mom didn't even bother to stick up for me. It felt as if she couldn’t give a shit about me.” The broken-hearted boy closed his eyes, not wanting to cry again.

“Assholes,” whispered César and Brett.

Copyright © 2015 Carlos Hazday; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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