Juvenile Care Lovers - 1. Juvenile Care Lovers

Intertwined in each other’s arms they were catching their breath after long, intense and exhaustive lovemaking. Shane, with his somewhat over 60, had gone to the limits of his endurance but was pleased to see that Sven, with his 30 years younger, was drained as well. It had been their first date but for both of them it was clear that the magic “chemistry” was there and that many more would follow.

From the moment that Shane had opened his front door and the younger man had walked in with a beaming smile, he was sure that Sven had something familiar in his appearances. Shane had no idea where that feeling came from: they had never met before! It was not his face; that didn’t ring a bell at all. But his body, the way he moved and his short blonde hair triggered something in Shane’s deepest consciousness. But he had no idea what was triggered.

The impression only got stronger when Sven was beside him in bed, naked. Somehow his body looked familiar: slender and almost devoid of hair, a not too large but delicious, proudly protruding penis and a tight round butt. For a short while Shane continued the digging in his memory for the missing link, urged on by a small voice in his head, that said:

“You know this. You know it is wonderful and that it will make all your dreams come true!”. But very soon he was too occupied to torture his brains with trying to dig up something out of the deepest caves of his memory and surrendered to Sven’s stimulating caresses. But now, with Sven’s regular breathing betraying he was sound asleep with his head on Shane’s breast and Shane staring at the ceiling, the dime fell: Peter! His first boyfriend, when he was still young and wild. Peter had had the same lean body, the same smaller dick that was nevertheless beautiful and tasted and felt even better and the same tight, seducing haunches. His way of moving was equally smooth and sensual. And even Sven’s first searing tongue kiss had the same intensity, greed and ferocity as Peter’s first kiss had been about 45 years before. Yes, the memory was complete now!

 

He remembered the first day when he arrived at the home, the umpteenth home in a row. He had simply lost count of them. He went in and out. When he had been someplace for a period a Juvenile Court order was issued to see if the coast with his parents was clear again. It always ended in another court order to be taken out of their house and to another home for a next time, mostly after weeks, but so every now and then after some months.

But, despite the fact he endured the experience before, this time was by far the worst because it was the most painful and it was filled with anger, an anger with an unknown cause, not aimed at someone specifically or originating from some special event. There was only this undefined and unreasonable anger!

After he came back from the previous home his parents had promised, no..., had sworn by God, the Bible, the graves of both their mothers and all that was holy and sanctuary that he never had to go to another home again, never! And where did he end up?

He felt abandoned by his own mother and father. He felt as if he was old surplus furniture, placed besides the garbage cans on Monday, the day when the refuse truck came along to pick it all up. And he felt utterly lonely. It was a kind of paralyzing loneliness, that caused him to shut off from all contacts with others. That he reinforced his own loneliness with this went far beyond his grasp at that time of shock.

He remembered the first night after the arrival very well, when he had cried in bed. It was the night that he prayed to God for the last time in his life. He had pleaded and begged that God would give him an answer to the question, what he had done wrong, why he was considered such an awful kid or what went wrong anyway, so that he ended up in another home. He prayed for a long time but after a last desperate supplication he gave up. Either God was on holiday or He just didn’t care! There was no answer.

“Fuck you, God!” he cried out, “You’re just another faker!”, thereby severing all his ties to whatever religion for the rest of his life.

 

Although his initial shock subsided, he kept the lonely feeling and his anger became a constant companion for years to come. His self-esteem had dropped to a Sub-Arctic level and he felt little better and at sometimes even less than dirt on the street. He hardly spoke to anyone, limiting it to the utmost necessity. In this way he braced himself for the next stab in the back and for another rejection.

The only one to whom he attached himself was Bear, the home dog, a cheerful golden retriever, whose biggest goal in life was to become friends with everyone. Shane liked being around with dogs. Dogs had no hidden agenda. They liked you or they didn’t like you and they made their preference perfectly clear. And since Bear made it very obvious that he really loved Shane, the two became inseparable.

They took long walks in the woods with the dog running happily around. During rest breaks they had long conversations, that is: Shane did the talking and the dog just listened intently with interested bright-sparkling eyes and ears up, so now and then wagging his tail, as if he had understood it all.

Or Shane just cried with the dog, laying his head on one of his knees with Bear laying his head on the other, as if in an intimate tête-a-tête comforting.

But things gradually started to change in Shane’s mind when his old roommate left for home. There was never any friendship between them. His old roommate was a stiff, unapproachable boy and their only conversation during these months had been “Good morning” at waking up and “Goodnight” when lights went out.

All this changed when Peter became his new roommate. Physically Peter was a totally different type of boy than Shane was. Shane was slim but not slender, had somewhat curly black hair that hung on his shoulders and mystic brown eyes. Peter was the slender type of boy, slightly smaller than Shane, had bright-blonde long straight hair and sparkling beautiful grey-blue eyes, eyes that always reminded Shane of the wild waters of a stormy sea. But mentally they were fully compatible. Both had had their share of problems and disappointments and the longer they were roommates the longer and more intense their talks became, before and after lights out.

But with this growing trust in one another Shane noticed as well, how he felt physically attracted to Peter. In other words: Shane discovered he was homosexual. He loved observing Peter when he undressed when they went to bed, especially the moment when the boy only wore his small tight undies before putting his pajamas on, clearly showing the contours of his perfect bums and the large bump in the front. He marveled at the delicious slender body as a whole. Increasingly Shane had to turn around to avoid that Peter would notice his physical arousal. It was only shame that made him turn around, not the fact that it was caused by a boy. In all his innocence for Shane it was only a natural thing to do.

But he decided to hold back. He didn’t want to jeopardize Peter’s open attitude in their long talks and he was not interested in losing Peter as a friend.

One night, after lights out, Peter suddenly asked:

“Shane, do you have a girlfriend?”

“Man, no!”, Shane groaned in reply, “Don’t even know how to handle them!”

Shane heard his roommate giggle and then the boy said:

“Yeah, hear who is talking. Man, the way you look you can get every chick on her back with her legs spread wide open”

Somehow Shane didn’t like the way it was said, but he considered it as the blunt butch-type remark that boys their age seem to make and ignored it.

“Or eeeuuuhhh…”, Peter inquired softly, “don’t you fancy girls?”

Shane felt how he flushed and was glad the light was out. This was getting hairy!

“I don’t know!” he grunted rude by way of answer.

“Hey Shane, do you really think I didn’t notice, that you observe me when I’m in my undies?”

The flushing turned into a head as red as a tomato. Shane cursed inside, being mad at himself for not being careful enough when he looked at the almost nude Peter.

“Eyes react to movement”, he tried to parry the suggestion, “so when you move, I look automatically”.

He knew it was a lame excuse but he couldn’t find anything better and Peter seemed to recognize for what it was: just a loophole.

“Yeah, sure”, he said in a conspiratorial way.

“I wanna go to sleep”, Shane rudely cut off the talk.

Silence came in the room, but it was a tense silence.

 

It was a glorious Sunday morning in the beginning of September. Sunday was the mandatory day for sleeping in. The boys were expected to stay in bed until 10 o’clock.

Shane woke up when the sun was just rising. Annoyed he looked at his watch and slightly bad tempered he thought:

“Shit, that’s a long time to 10. How do I pass that?”

He smiled briefly. There was a simple solution for that.

His hand slid under his blanket and in his undies. With a soft moan he felt how his already hard morning toy reacted immediately. He let his fingertips play over his temple of manhood, enjoying it thoroughly and moaned again.

Apparently a little too hard: a voice broke through the horny haze and entered his mind:

“Hey, Shane…Shane?”

He startled, looked up and saw Peter’s face with a large grin on it, looking over his blanket. Ashamed he pulled his hand out of his undies and a grimace came on his face, that had to resemble some kind of smile.

“Were you playing with yourself?” Peter asked with the same grin.

“What do you mean?” Shane asked sheepishly.

“Yeah”, Peter shot back, “Play dumb! You know exactly what I mean!”

It was clear that Peter had some kind of intention. He came out of bed, walked towards Shane’s and placed his hand on the blanket, at the place where he suspected that Shane’s crotch was.

“I knew I was right”, he said, a mysterious smile playing around his lips, “Feels great, hey, playing with yourself”.

Caught red-handed Shane knew that further denying was useless so, somewhat uncertain, he stammered:

“Yeah, feels great!”

Peter’s next words were in a low voice, as if he was planning a conspiracy:

“Do you know what feels even better?”

Shane shook his head. He had no idea.

“Play together, play with each other!”, Peter said in the same husky voice.

Shane was dumbfounded, certain that he had heard it wrong or understood it wrong. However, Peter made it very clear he had heard and understood it correct. The boy took off his pajama jacket and dropped it on the floor. It was followed by the pajama pants. Not ten centimeters from Shane’s bed he stood, just dressed in his small undies, his legs slightly spread, rocking his hips seductively, making sure that the even larger than normal bump in his undies was clearly visible.

Because it was a little chilly in the room during the early morning hours, the small hairs on his body were raised, creating his entire body being placed in an aura of light in the rising sun. Shane could only look on fascinated and breathless, to the boy for whom he had longed for so long. He studied the bump in the undies and stuck out his hand shyly and clearly in doubt. Peter gave him the last necessary push of encouragement by taking his hand and placed it on the bump decisively. He started to stroke it, ill at ease but gently. Through the undies texture he felt the big, hard balls and the erected shaft, enjoying the feeling intensely. Peter closed his eyes in anticipation and led the undies slide off his hips in one smooth move.

Set free from its cotton scabbard his young sword jumped into freedom, giving Shane the most desirable what Peter had to offer him.

Shane felt a surge of desire going to his head and genitals and pushed the blanket back as an invitation to Peter to join him in bed, hurrying himself to get undressed as well. Peter readily accepted the invitation and lied down beside him.

The first careful and timid kiss followed. Shane felt a bit confused. His dream of a roommate was naked in bed beside him and made it clearly be known that he wanted to go the whole way.

Peter crawled on top of him, skin to skin, and started to stroke Shane’s breast, softly caressing his nipples, that reacted immediately by sticking up. Shane felt the body warmth, smelled Peter’s scent and felt his breathing on his skin.

“Look at us, Shane”, Peter said softly, “Look at us poor beggars. We can’t be at home where we belong, we don’t want to be here where we are now. But nobody asks us what we want!”.

There was a short sniff, as if Peter was crying softly, but he continued:

“You know, I feel like flotsam so every now and then, just floating on a sea I can’t control. Like being the wreckage of a broken marriage or a marriage, that had better be broken”.

“I know what you mean”, Shane said with a choking voice, “I feel like litter on the sidewalk most of the time, junk that nobody wants or nobody needs, sweeps up and throws in the garbage can”.

“Yeah”, Peter sighed, “Nobody wants us, nobody loves us, nobody cares for us. I really long for someone who cares for me and who loves me”.

“So do I”, Shane whispered, fighting back the tears.

“I just want somebody who puts his arms around me when I feel like flotsam, someone who cares for me and loves me. And I will comfort him when he feels like litter and care for him and love him”, Peter went on.

“So do I”, Shane said softly but with determination.

“Shane…”, he heard Peter whisper, “If nobody wants us, shall we give love and warmth to one another then?”

Shane smiled at the thought and nodded emphatically. Peter’s fingers kept stroking his breast, so every now and then touching the nipples which sent shivers of desire all through Shane’s body.

His hesitation disappeared and he started to stroke the naked skin of Peter’s shoulders tenderly, who bent over and gave Shane his first intense, vigorous tongue kiss. It triggered an uncontrollable urge in Shane to kiss the other boy and he did so in a greedy, fiery way. In the meantime, the stroking continued and gradually their bodies became one, skin to skin, both their pricks pressed between their bellies.

“This is so beautiful”, Shane sighed, “This is so lovely! This is what I want!”

It pushed Peter to even greater efforts in caressing his new friend, becoming more and more intimate.

“Sweetheart”, the boy whispered, “I hoped for this ever since I came here in this room with you!”

Was this sex? Yes! Was it love and tenderness? Yes! It was the perfect combination of both, what two lonely boys had been searching for and what they found with each other.

“I won’t let you go!” Shane whispered in Peter’s ear, fully submerged in his emotions for the boy.

“Suits me, honey”, the reply came, “I wasn’t going anywhere. They won’t let me go. So, I’ll stay with you, to help you, to support you, to alleviate your loneliness, as you will do for me! I will do for you what you will do for me!”

Sealing a deep-felt bond they simultaneously went into the ecstasy of an orgasm.

After regaining his breath Peter wanted to stand up, but Shane stopped him. Peter looked at him in astonishment. Shane just shook his head and asked:

“What are you doing?”

“Get something to clean up!” was the reply.

“No need,” Shane whispered, “Just lie down”.

With question marks in his eyes Peter did as was asked. Once he lied down Shane starting licking all sperm from his beloved’s belly, tasted it intensely and swallowed it all. Peter closed his eyes, intensely enjoying the feeling of the warm, soft tongue tissue on his skin.

After all was cleaned up, they snuggled up against each other and just kissed, caressed and enjoyed each other’s company.

“I hope it will take ages until 10”, Peter smiled, “So we can enjoy this for a long time”.

Shane just nodded in confirmation. He enjoyed every second of what he had experienced with his heart and his mind. Finally, somebody cared for him and he could care for somebody else.

 

Unexpectedly, the home educator staff reports on Shane became jubilant after that Sunday. At last, the boy had attached himself to his roommate and had opened up to other boys in the unit as well, which was considered a very surprising but enjoyable development. How deep this attachment between the two roommates went, was completely overlooked and both boys did their utmost to keep it that way. The two partners in love and “crime” meticulously covered their tracks to ensure that it was their secret and remained their secret only.

The only one who noticed the reasons for the change was Bear. Peter regularly joined Shane when he took the dog for his long forest walks. When they made love in some forest clearing the dog dutifully used his sharp senses to keep an eye on the surrounding area to prevent that anyone would disturb his masters-of-the-moment in what they were doing. And as every good dog, he just kept silent about it!

In one of their next being togethers Peter had pushed his friend over the rainbow again up on a pink cloud, far above the earthly mud of pain and trouble, this time in Peter’s bed. It was a running private joke between them: since Juvenile Care had neglected to provide double beds they had outmatches and home matches.

Suddenly Peter stopped what he was doing. That hadn’t happened before so it startled Shane: what could be wrong?

Peter looked him straight in the eye and asked with a seducing smile:

“Did I ever let you experience what the spiders can do?”

Shane had no idea what he was talking about and his flabbergasted, even somewhat dumb expression made that perfectly clear. It didn’t disturb Peter who laughed with an enchanting smile and softly said:

“About time I do it then. You will love it”!”

Licking his lips he pushed Shane’s foreskin back, uncovering his already somewhat damp dick tip. He opened his hand and started to stroke the tip softly, not from the sides but from the top down, using only his fingertips, who danced gingerly over the tissue like the legs of a spider, putting only the slightest pressure on its surface. It felt as if every cell was stimulated at the same moment.

Never before so much precum had left Shane’s tool but Peter just used it as natural lubricant, spreading it over the skin behind the dick head and expanding the spider’s journey to that by now very slippery area. The fingertips continued their pas de cinq over the tiny blood vessels that trembled in anticipation. It was simply the sweetest art of torture. Every time Shane threatened to spurt the spider legs stopped, to recommence their ballet when the urge subsided. Shane could only close his eyes and endure a wonderful feeling he had never expected that it would exist in the first place.

After what seemed an eternity of excruciating pleasure the spider legs allowed Shane to succumb to his urge. With a somewhat too loud roar he squirted it all out. Peter was just able to stifle the cry by rapidly placing his hand on Shane’s mouth to avoid that he would wake up the whole home.

While the last shocks of the eruption shuddered through his body, Shane opened his eyes and with a grateful smile said:

“Oh, sweet darling of mine…this was so unbelievably wonderful! Where did you learn that?”

Peter didn’t answer but listened intently.

“What are you doing?” Shane inquired.

“Listening for suspicious sounds, to find out if someone woke up by your noise and starts to snoop around”.

“Did I make that much noise?” Shane carefully asked.

Peter grinned and nodded:

“Yeap, you did!”

He kissed Shane’s still dripping tip and smiling he said:

“My pleasure doing it. You’re worth it”.

He resumed his listening, but nothing happened, no intruder came in. They spent about another hour, softly talking, stroking and kissing before they finally went to sleep.

 

The months passed and winter had arrived. Evenings after lights out and Sunday mornings passed in an erotic and intimate whirl and during daytime they became more and more inseparable.

One particular evening after lights out they just lied against one another. There was some kissing and stroking and a lot of whispered talking about future dreams and plans. Somehow these future outlooks turned around the central theme of building a future and a life together, later, when they were outside the grasp of Juvenile Courts and Juvenile Care’s greedy claws.

Without any warning Peter pushed Shane by his shoulder on his side, making his backside end up against Peter’s belly. He was amazed by his own reaction. Normally he would strike out at any boy in the unit or at school who would grab him by his shoulder without permission, his fist ending squarely on the other’s chin or nose. But not now…he didn’t react at all, when he felt a truly agitated cocker pushing against his bottom, only to slide into elation when he noticed Peter’s lips in his neck and a single finger sliding over his ass crack, gradually intruding between the buttocks. It triggered an intense craving in Shane not only to be explored and loved on the exterior, but in his interior parts as well. It was a long-cherished phantasy, maybe even a dream, to be taken by Peter like he was his girl. But even dreaming about it frightened him, let alone ask Peter bluntly to do that. However, after half a lifetime of stubbornly shutting off by denying all contacts to fend off any new pain and rejection he opened up…he abandoned all defenses, lay physically and mentally naked, fragile and expectant.

He whispered his yearning to Peter who only reacted with a groan and a barely noticeable nod of the head. It was more that Shane sensed the head nod in the darkness, otherwise he had not known if the boy wanted it or refused him. But the nod made him clear that he could expect what he had been waiting for for so long.

Slightly ill at ease and clumsy he started to receive his first boy or man. Peter was no less clumsy when he placed his dripping tip between the buttocks against the entrance. On itself it was a new fabulous experience, to feel the hard, slippery mushroom against his tightness. Peter tried to push it in but no matter what he did…it wouldn’t work!

“I can’t get in!” he hissed frustrated, “And I’m dying to get your cunt”.

“Then use spit!” came Shane’s reply, which was charged with intense wanting.

Peter applied a lot of saliva on and in the hole and tried again. Now it worked. Slowly Shane’s sphincter opened up, resulting in a magnificent and overwhelming sensation that made him almost faint.

“Ouch!”, he uttered a short and soft cry.

“Do I hurt you?” Peter asked concerned.

“No, not really”, Shane whispered, “But it is my first time as well!”

Tantalizingly slowly Peter slid in deeper and deeper. He enjoyed the sphincter’s small vibrations around his shaft and the warm dampness of the intestines and carefully he started his first thrusting with a kind of rough delicacy. It solicited an unexpected ebullition from Shane when he moaned:

“I want to have your baby. Make me pregnant!”.

No, he hadn’t lost his mind…on the rational level he knew he would never be pregnant, but common sense was switched off and this outcry came from the uncontrollable depths of his heart. But he felt really embarrassed for crying this out. It scared him to death that he behaved like a girl and he didn’t have a clue in the world how he should handle this.

Peter from his side wanted to remain in his lover for ages, but as most elderly readers will no doubt remember: it is seldom given to a youngster to control his urges for very long. In no time the sperm exchanged bodies. Only barely suppressing a loud moaning Peter remained inside Shane after his ejaculation until his toy slipped out as a small tube.

“Sooooo cool!!!” Peter moaned softly, “Now you’ve become my girlfriend!”

Shane turned around and started to kiss him intently, his tongue making excursions to Peter’s throat, shoulders and breast. At long last they curled up and fell asleep in each other’s arms, tired but incredibly happy.

Intimacy became a constant thing in their liaison while time passed and the calendar already showed January. Their ties were forged stronger and stronger and their lovemaking became increasingly passionate and fierce. And although both had high hopes it would go on forever, it didn’t: a lurking danger from an unexpected direction threatened their relationship!

The disaster started to develop, when Shane returned from one of his forest walks with Bear. The group educator called him and said:

“Shane, the superintendent wants to talk to you. You better go to him!”

“What about, sir?” Shane asked slightly troubled.

“You’ll have to ask him”, the man grinned, “He didn’t tell me!”

In a way Shane sensed that the man’s eyes said, that he was not telling the truth, but what could he do about it? Since he was called in alone, it couldn’t be about his relationship with Peter, because then they would have been summoned the two of them.

Not too overly worried he gave Bear a goodbye cuddle and with a grin on his face he whispered in the dog’s ear:

“Must be about all the classes I skipped last months, boy. Don’t you worry, I can handle that dressing down with ease. Hasn’t been the first time”.

Unsuspecting of the upcoming catastrophe he walked to the superintendent’s office, knocked the door politely and entered the room after a “Yes”.

“Hi, Shane”, the man greeted him friendly, “Sit down, son”.

“It’s not about school skipping”, Shane thought with some relief, “He prefers to do his scolding with the victim standing in front of his desk. But what then?”

“You wanted to talk to me, sir?” he asked after he was seated.

“Yes…”, the man said with a smile, scuffling through some papers and vigorously puffing at a cigar. Shane couldn’t remember a moment in all his ten years in this home that he had seen the man without a cigar, either in his mouth or within hand’s reach, spreading a foul smell while slowly burning up in the ashtray.

“Where is it? Ah, yes…right here”, the superintendent muttered.

He read the paper another time, scraped his voice and said:

“Well, Shane, the judge has decided you are going home”.

Shane stared at him in shock…no, in horror! It was as if a razor-sharp dagger was thrusted in his guts.

“But… what… about…” he stammered, only to stop after these three words. Despite his confusion he knew he couldn’t say what had popped up as very first in his mind:

“But what about Peter?”

That would be too obvious and might cause alarm bells, that were ringing violently.

“About what, Shane?” the superintendent asked.

“N…n…no, just forget it…”, he stuttered, tears filling his eyes.

The superintendent studied him for a few seconds with a look of amazement in his eyes, then he said:

“It seems you’re not very happy with what the judge decided, are you?”

Shane uttered a grunt, that betrayed anger and hopelessness at the same time and said:

“Should I?”

“And why is that, son?” the man pressed the matter gently.

“Because it’ll cost me the love of my life, old fool. Can’t you see that?”

No, the man couldn’t see that, because he was unaware of it. And Shane thanked all deities in the universe that the guy had no knowledge of his love. But he had to give an answer, because on itself the man had asked a reasonable question: why was he unhappy with going home? Thoughts and options tumbled through his brain, but in the end he decided in a split second to spit out what he had kept to himself for at least ten years. With a voice full of cynicism he ranted:

“Why should I be happy? Or do you think it makes me feel good to see my mum beaten up all over the house daily? That I’m pleased when I see the blood running down her face? That I get happy when I’m in bed at night, wetting my pajamas out of pure fear and scared to death that I might have no mum left when I wake up? That it thrills me to see the black finger-shaped bruises at her throat? Or that I might get a kick out of seeing the burn marks on her breasts? But you know, what really turns me on, is when I am forced as a little boy to look on when that swine, that calls himself my father, beats my mum to pulp and when he is satisfied with that he just rapes her, right in front of my eyes. Man, I can hardly wait to go home after all those years. Kind a weird, ain’t it? That is: if you can explain to me what I should be happy about?”

The superintendent stared at him in clear astonishment.

“Surprises, huh?” Shane sneered, “That all this takes place behind the front door of what is ostensibly the most perfect couple in town?”

The man shook his head, sighed deep and replied:

“No, I’m not surprised. Because I knew all that since you were here. It is in your file!”. During the last words he patted a folder on his desk. But then he continued:

“But what dumbfounds me, is that you have told more of what is bothering you in two minutes than you did in the last ten years”.

“Did I? Well, I left one subject out. I didn’t even mention the most important thing”, Shane thought. But he went on with his outburst of emotions with:

“And what reasoning does this damned judge has to send me home? He is sending me back to parents I hardly know. You know, sir, I turn eighteen in two months and of these eighteen years in the hell hole, that they call my life, I spent sixteen in homes, that is: apart from some very short periods at home. My only connection with my parents is, that they fucked hard enough to make me. I’m just collateral damage in a marriage, that has turned into a public show of perfection, but that desperately screams to be broken up! And now that judge thinks I’m going to embrace them as their loving son? Man, the thought alone makes me puke!”

He took a deep breath, then he said:

“Apart from more pain I’ve got nothing to expect from my parents, especially not from my father. And I won’t accept anything from him, most specifically no orders on how I should live!”

“And your mother, Shane?” the man asked compassionate.

The question saddened him enormously. He thought it over for a few seconds, only to reply, a hand sweeping the tears from his eyes:

“My mother…? She is an even larger victim than I am but nobody bothered to bring her to safety. But I guess that, after twenty years with that bastard, she no longer has her wits together”.

His eruption of anger and frustration almost exhausted him and necessitated him to take a few seconds break, enabling to let the outrage to taper off.

“All very well, Shane boy!” he thought while catching his breath, “Nice answers, but it doesn’t solve your real problem!”

So, he tried something, knowing it was a long shot. But better a long shot than no shot at all:

“Is there nothing you can do, sir? Like…just keep me here, for example?”

It was just a hair-raising idea, but he had to try something, didn’t he? But the elderly man made it quite clear it was a dumb proposition indeed. He shook his head immediately and explained:

“No, Shane, that is impossible. I feel for you, don’t you doubt that. But when I would do that, I would break the law. I can only admit you here when a judge decides so and if a judge decides that you have to go home, I really can’t keep you here. I must let you go. But…you don’t have to go tomorrow!”

“When then?” Shane asked suspicious.

“Well”, the man answered with a smile, “I managed to get a small concession. I reminded the judge that you will graduate in June and that it would be a pity to jeopardize that. So, he allows you to stay until after you graduated. But then…sorry, son…then I will have to let you go!”

“About five months stay of execution”, Shane thought grimly. Maybe he…no, maybe they could find a way of their own to solve the unsolvable. But his mind was so empty at the moment that he couldn’t imagine they could.

With open mouth and hollow eyes he just shook his head, unable to say another word.

“Just use these months to prepare yourself for it”, the superintendent said, “See it as a kind of transition period. We’ll support you any way we can! Now…you better go back. If I find something to solve this, I’ll let you know”.

He muttered an absent-minded “Thank you, sir” and left the office.

“And here comes the next problem. How do I tell this to Peter?” he questioned himself while walking back to his own unit.

Yeah, he could sure use some support for that. Problem was: he couldn’t ask anybody!

 

Shane’s last months in the home were a roller coaster of heart pain and sadness for both of them and fears, anxieties and uncertainties for him alone. Both of them searched frantically for a way to dodge the judge’s decision, coming up with the most freakish and bizarre ideas, which were all rejected after thinking and talking it over. It seemed hopeless! It looked as if all escape routes were blocked.

Shane withdrew back in his old shell, cutting off contacts that were so laboriously built in the months since he met Peter. His lover was the only one who could approach him and stay in touch with him.

On top of that Shane’s old nightmare returned regularly after an absence of some years. It was the nightmare of the small boy, who was cornered in the master bedroom, his pajama pants wet, looking with large, terrified eyes at all that was taking place, including the large, fleshy predative monster that rammed into his mother without any mercy, constantly repeating the drunk-hysteric chant “Look at that whore, boy…that is your mother! Look at that slut!”. Mostly he woke up sweating and trembling, sometimes even screaming “It wasn’t me! I didn’t do it!”, but the comforting hands and soothing voice of Peter always put him at ease, each and every night the nightmare occurred:

“It is OK, my love. It is just a nightmare…relax…I’m here to protect you. You can sleep safely”.

The day after his graduation, which meant the day before his departure, he said to Peter:

“Don’t get me wrong, honey…but I need some time alone. Don’t be mad at me, please?”

“I understand”, Peter sighed, “Then take that time on your own…I guess with Bear. But you have to promise me one thing, sweetheart: don’t do dumb things!”

Shane stared at him with questioning eyes, not understanding what his lover meant.

Peter giggled nervously and said the most cryptic thing he had said during all of their time together:

“I’ve got nothing against dumb decisions. But only if we do it the two of us!”

Shane pressed a kiss on Peter’s forehead, called out for Bear and started a walk in the forest, just feeling like shit, thinking about possibilities to escape fate but turning up empty-handed on all of them.

Somewhere in the woods he sagged against a tree. Bear sat beside him. At long last he let his despair go. Between the sobs he spoke to the dog:

“Bear, they have taken my childhood, they have taken my parents and now they are going to take my big love. They even take you away!”

He simply collapsed. In uncontrolled crying he laid his head on his knee. With his beautiful dark-brown eyes having an intense sad look the dog laid his head on the other knee.

Shane was so absorbed in his grieve, that he didn’t notice that someone approached him and the dog. Bear didn’t react or it must have been his wagging tail. Shane startled when he felt a hand in his neck, that stroked him in comfort, expanding the soft strokes to his shoulders. And he heard a young, soothing voice, who continuously repeated the same mantra:

“Cry it out, love. Don’t eat it up. Throw it out. Peter must have been very happy with you and I’m sure that in your later life you will make other boys and men happy. But don’t think about it now. Just cry out the pain, don’t swallow it! Just cry!”

It felt so good not to be left alone at this moment. It felt so damned good!

After a while whoever it was left, leaving the boy and the dog in peace.

They sat there until dusk fell.

Realizing that Peter must become worried he rose, swept the last tears away and said to the dog:

“Maybe this is the most stupid decision I’m taking but come on, boy…Peter must be eating his fingernails by now. Let’s go back before they start looking for us!”

 

And then their last night together came. No, it was not what people might expect. They were too sad and depressed for that. They just lay in each other’s arms, crying their hearts out. Both tried to kiss the other’s tears away, but it was a lost battle from the beginning. There were simply too many tears!

Around three in the morning Shane suggested:

“Peter…can’t we just bug out, the two of us? I mean…right now! Make us a life, no matter how poor and how abnormal it may be? But at least we would be together then! I don’t want to lose you!”

Peter shook his head in dismal and whispered:

“Sweetheart…the thought that I’m going to lose you tomorrow breaks my heart. But…we’ve been over this time and again and were unable to find even the remotest solution. Hey, how should we bug out? We have no money, we have no schooling, we hardly have clothing…we have nothing! We would end on the street and yes…we would be together, but we would die together from starvation and exhaustion”.

“But…”, Shane muttered, feeling a tiny glimmer of hope when he got a new idea, that was not explored earlier, “at least we would die together! And maybe…this might solve it…take a look at the both of us…you’re a hot boy, so am I. We could make a lot of money easy enough with that!”

“Sweetheart…get real…”, Peter sighed, “I think we can only accept our fate, so let us try to enjoy this last night together”.

“I don’t want to live without you”, Shane muttered.

“Neither do I”, Peter replied, “But it seems to be preordained. Once you’re borne as flotsam you never become a sailing yacht. I guess not much will change until our dying day comes. So just come in my arms and let us try to be happy for the very last time”.

“I love you!” Shane moaned, voice choked, his heart thumping in anguish.

“I love you too”, Peter muttered softly, his voice betraying he was fighting to keep the tears back.

They just lay there, burning each other’s body scent in their memories, taking in the softness of their skin’s textures with delicate fingertips so that both of them would never forget, kissing to get the right imprint of each other’s lips in their subconsciousness. While doing so, Shane felt, how the destructive butcher’s knife kept ripping at his heart, until it was shredded to tiny strips. They were only in each other’s arms. Periods of crying interspersed regularly. They did so until the sun rose and the fateful day broke.

 

Outside the home’s main building a car was parked. A man was walking back and forth with some boxes, but then the moment came that Shane wanted to avoid so desperately. He walked out, carrying a bag, tears flooding his eyes. He knew damned well it was over, on orders from narrow minded authorities high up.

Incredibly slowly he walked to the car as if he tried to delay fate. Just before he stepped in the car he turned around and looked up to the window of what once was his, no: their room, fully in the expectation that his lover would be there. And he was there! Shane did the only thing he could do: he sent a kiss hand. He saw the grievous sadness on Peter’s face who looked down and returned the kiss hand.

“Come on, son”, the man said, “We better get going”.

Shane took one last look up and waved. He saw his lover wave back and stepped in the car. Continuously waving and staring backward through the rear window and obscured by the watery veil of his tears Shane saw the silhouette in the window becoming smaller and smaller, making his first big love unreachable for the rest of his life. In some kind of stupor he didn’t even notice that the car was leaving the home’s premises. There was only the image of the sad boy in the window he saw. He was so preoccupied with preserving Peter’s last image in his memory that he didn’t notice the void in his heart, that grew with every passing mile on the way to his home town. Another experience, that only consisted of pain, was added!

 

The memory gradually faded and retracted back to its dungeon in Shane’s mind. Since he had tears in his eyes, he noticed he had cried without knowing it and swept them away with the back of his hand. As some loose afterthought he remembered, that he had never been able to find out who the mysterious owner of the comforting hand and the soothing voice in the forest was.

This night it seemed to come together. Sven had the same kind of body, of moving and the same greediness and passion in lovemaking. It was as if the man beside him had the ability to fuse past and present in one single time span.

Shane laughed silently. It was a totally absurd thought: time machines only occur in kid’s comics.

Or had Peter at any time in the 45 years, he hadn’t seen him, passed away and was Sven his reincarnation? That was a more sensible thought: millions of people believed in reincarnation.

Sven was still sound asleep, his head on Shane’s chest. Very carefully, so that he wouldn’t wake the younger man, Shane kissed him on the forehead and stroke through his blonde hair.

“I love you!”, he whispered.

But that gave him a new question to answer: did he love Sven? Or did he love the one the young man represented? Did he still love Peter? Or did he love them both, in his memory and in present times?

He never got the chance to ponder over that question. Exhausted as he was, he was hit by sleep with the speed and the ferocity of an onrushing freight train and his eyes fell close. Orpheus even denied him the opportunity to switch off the bedside lamp.