In All Your Heavy Blue - 2. Writer's Block

Samuel sat silently in an empty office room, gazing at the window when the door finally opened. An older man, well-presented, carrying a notebook and a pen in his hand, came in and sat opposite him.

"Sorry for the delay Samuel. Traffic was chaotic." The man apologized.

"It's ok." Samuel uttered, his eyes still latched on the window. The man took a deep breath as he fidgeted in his seat. His body finally came to a stop as he opened his notebook and took a pair of glasses from the pocket on the side of his shirt.

"How have you been?" He questioned, striking the top of his pen with his thumb. Samuel finally looked at him.

"Ok, Doc." He stated, his voice lagging, tired. "Considering." He added.

"How's the knee?" The man asked. Samuel looked down at his leg.

"Better." He answered. "Final surgery's scheduled for the end of the month." He informed.

"What about you?" The man questioned, leaning forward in his chair. Samuel sat tight-lipped, his eyes fleeing to the window. "Samuel, look at me." The man instructed calmly. Samuel's eyes twitched and shivered as he tried to contain his tears. "Samuel..." the man spoke, with tactical precision in his tone. "Sooner or later, we'll have to address it."

"I know..." Samuel mumbled, his jaw tightening and his whole body now squirming.

"It's been six months." The man stated before putting down his pen. Then, sensing Samuel's anxiety, he shifted gears. "Have you written anything?" He asked.

"Haven't really...I don't..." Samuel murmured, his voice fitful.

"Remember what we talked about, Samuel: unless you say it, we..." The man explained but was interrupted.

"...can't fix it. I know, Doc." Samuel concluded. Visibly struggling, he bowed his head to face the man who waited for him with an encouraging smile. "I'm still waking up at night. Sweats, heart racing. The pills aren't doing shit." He fired as a sudden glimpse of his old self pushed through his broken self.

"Mind the language." The man politely suggested. Samuel rolled his eyes. "Is it still the same dream?" The doctor probed. Samuel nodded. "Samuel..." The man beckoned, reaching for his attention. "Have you seen David since the funeral?" He catechized. It was as if he had jabbed a knife in Samuel's gut. He shook his head, closing his eyes and fleeing towards the window again. "Don't you think speaking to David would help?" The doctor interrogated. Samuel's body began quivering again. David's name was a trigger. The doctor started to backpedal. "Did you finally sell the apartment?" He questioned. Samuel's demeanor switched immediately, his body decompressing.

"Yeah. Ended up buying a two-bedroom flat, can you believe it?" He jested, forcing himself to make a joke. But even that attempt seemed to deplete his energy.

"What about the beach house?" The man asked, his back reclining in his chair, bracing for the upcoming blow.

"I'm keeping it." Samuel replied with a determination coming through his voice that caught the doctor off guard.

"Ok. Can I ask why?" He grilled.

"I still love that house..." Samuel answered. The man nodded. "Doc...?" He uttered, his fingernails tugging at his trousers, eyes scanning the street outside. "Will it ever go away?... This weight on my chest?" He asked, his eyes clamoring for confirmation.

"Yes, it will." The doctor responded with conviction.

"...When?" Samuel questioned. The man took his fingers to his face and carefully removed his glasses.

"In time, Samuel. In time." The man replied. Samuel turned his head to face him and let out a soft, sarcastic smile.

As he descended the small steps from the building's entrance door, Samuel's right hand slipped inside his jacket to grab a pack of smokes. He had, since the accident, taken up the vice. He went from not smoking to smoking a pack a day. Summer was gone, and cold and cruel weather forced its presence like an unwelcoming visit. Samuel stood on the sidewalk, lighting his cigarette as dozens of people dashed by him in the street when a sense of cynicism overcame him. Everywhere he looked, everything he did or touched just seemed so pointless. Everyone's lives seemed pointless.

Samuel was a shattered man. There was little left of the person he was half a year ago. He walked around, carrying emotional glass shards inside himself, cutting away at his skin as he slowly bled into numbness. The car crash changed everything. Laura didn't survive. Samuel's leg was wounded. And luckily, David scraped by with minor injuries. But as bad as the scars on his body were, they could barely compare to the monumental impact that weekend had on Samuel's soul. The guilt he carried around corroded his insides, leaving little to the imagination as he became the reflection of his misery.

Everything had changed. Samuel was lost.

He walked to his car and sat inside, his hands on the wheel, breathing with difficulty. It was still hard for him to get in the car. Finally, he started the car and steered off, seemingly without destination, straying away from the city's center, over the bridge, out of town towards the highway. He drove for two hours until he finally approached a particularly familiar neighborhood. Samuel had found his way to Laura's in-laws' house. David's house.

He had been secretly doing it for the past two months. Everyday. Single. Day. He would drive there and park his car on the street across from theirs. That would give him a better viewpoint of David's bedroom. He would dock there towards the end of the day as it got darker. David would usually arrive roughly twenty minutes later, walk inside the house and turn the light on in his room. Samuel would sit in his car and watch the boy pacing around his room, doing his daily routine. Sometimes he wouldn't even look at David. Finally, Samuel would sit in the car and fall asleep along with him. Despite what he had told his psychiatrist, Samuel had seen David daily, not to the boy's knowledge.

There were many times Samuel questioned his motive for doing so. Given their short but tumultuous history, one would think this ritual of Samuel's would spark controversy in his mind. But after a while, he stopped trying to make sense of it. Seeing David seemed to lift a small fraction of the weight he felt inside. Witnessing the boy go about his daily life after the tragedy they went through helped clear some of his guilt. Or perhaps David just reminded him of Laura in some way. Whatever it was, Samuel had by now rid himself of the shame of driving his car every day for two hours to sit in front of David's house.

This particular day, David had finished soccer practice. He wore these sports shorts and a black hoodie. Samuel saw when he arrived, opened the front door, and entered the house. A couple of minutes later, the lights in his room on the second floor came on. From the car, Samuel could see David moving around in the room. The boy stripped off his hoodie, lifting the white tank top he had underneath, enough for his smooth and fit stomach to become temporarily exposed. Samuel couldn't help but smile. David's youth and beauty had become a sedative for his pain. The boy wandered around the room for a bit, then took his backpack, placed it on a desk facing the window, and took out a plastic bag. His hand went inside it, and he drew out a book.

Samuel's mouth gaped. It was "his" book. The boy was holding Samuel's first novel. He leaned forward and let his whole body fall over the steering wheel as he stared at David holding his book. The boy stepped back, sat on his bed, and read it. It must have been roughly thirty minutes when David finally fell asleep, his arms stretched along his body, with the book in his left hand, wilting on the edge of the bed. For the entire time since he lay there and while he read it, Samuel sat silently inside the car, body tilted over the steering wheel, gazing at the boy as he went through the first couple of chapters. Samuel had his first novel committed to memory and would mumble the words while David read them, trying to become a part of the experience alongside him. Samuel almost felt sad when the boy fell asleep, but as he glanced at his watch, his eyes flared when he realized it was 2 am. He relied on his seat, took a deep breath, and started the car, driving it back to his apartment.

The next day, Samuel felt on edge. After a routine appointment at the hospital, where he discussed some issues regarding his upcoming surgery, he strolled a couple of blocks toward a posh coffee shop slash restaurant, where he had scheduled to meet his editor, Jonathan. Along his walk and despite going through at least three cigarettes, Samuel felt anxious and knew the reason behind it. He couldn't wait to get back to David's grandparents' house. As he reached the cafe, he halted near the glass window, took one last puff, and tossed the cigarette on the floor in time for a very uptight woman passing him by to fling him a disapproving look. Samuel just shrugged and went inside. Jonathan was waiting for him in the back, his hand already boosted in the air, signaling Samuel his position. Jonathan was 57, a large, bald, tall man. He sat down, slumping on his chair as he smoked a large Cuban cigar. Even though he sat in the smokers' section, the fumes coming from his table were taking up the entire back room of the cafe.

"Jesus, Jonathan. It's like a bomb just blew up in here." Samuel commented in jest as he approached the table and sat down. They were intimate, so the usual shaking of the hands was something they would normally skip.

"Ah fuck it, I come here 'cause it's still one of the few places in this fucking town that lets me get away with it." He voiced as a woman in the back row side-eyed him. "I don't fucking care!" He hollered at her, making her conceal her face in mortification. Samuel chuckled but instantly felt wrong for doing it. Jonathan was old school, and at the end of the day, he always appreciated his brass humor.

"Sam, how have you been? You look like shit." Jonathan remarked, not acknowledging Samuel's mouth that had just opened to answer his question. "Two whiskies, one rock each." He signaled to the waiter coming through. "And I mean one rock!" He yelled again, turning his attention back to Samuel. "Look, I need you to start moving those beautiful fingers. Give me something, for fuck sake." He whispered as he bent over the table, his rounded face almost glued to Samuel's. Then, as the waiter approached, he slanted back. "Thanks!" He told the waiter.

"Jonathan, look, I get it. I'm...trying." Samuel uttered, his voice blatantly unconvincing.

"That's great, man! Trying is great. But I need you to "do" Sam. Write a fucking book. You need the money. Nowadays, if you stop, you drown. Do you know how many amazing manuscripts new writers send to my office every fucking day? I love you, but you're no Stephen King." He coached, and despite his harsh words, you could see on Jonathan's countenance that he cared about Samuel. "Look, kid..." He noted, trying to measure his words carefully. "If I know anything about this business, I know one thing." He sounded as he pointed his fat finger at Samuel. "You're the most brilliant writer I ever encountered, but you're a slacker, Sam. I know things got rough, but pull your shit together." He continued as Samuel's back sank further into his chair. "Your best work has always been when you write about stuff that's happened to you, so...do that!" He said, pausing as he waited for Samuel's retort.

"I'm not doing that." Samuel uttered. "I'm not going to exploit Laura's death." He affirmed.

"Fine. I'm just, you know, saying." Jonathan dodged. "Are you hungry?" He asked, trying to deflect the conversation elsewhere. "Eat something. You look deflated." He taunted. "The barbecue ribs, no salad, mashed sweet potatoes on the side...and some rice." Jonathan threw at the waiter that casually walked by their table.

"I'll have the tuna steak." Samuel informed. They resumed the chatter as they waited for the food. Finally, after about twenty minutes, their plates arrived, and for the next five, Jonathan said absolutely nothing as he munched vigorously on his food, which from Samuel's perspective, felt incredible. But just as Samuel thought it, Jonathan's voice sliced the pleasant stillness like a sharp knife.

"So..." Jonathan initiated carefully. "What about the kid? Have you seen him?" He questioned, chewing on his meat, his eyes scanning Samuel, who just shrugged.

"Awkward." Jonathan remarked.

"What is?" Samuel asked, putting down his knife and fork and carelessly leaning back on his chair.

"Well, you guys went through this trauma together, and now it's like your strangers. I mean, it's weird." Jonathan clarified.

"It's not like we were intimate before." Samuel mocked as he preened his mouth with the silk napkin.

"Still, it must have been rough on the kid. It would have been nice to have someone around who understood whatever the fuck he was feeling." Jonathan sounded as he gnawed on the ribs with his greasy fingers. Samuel sat there on the chair, gazing at his friend. He had never thought of it that way. Suddenly he felt his chest tighten. "Eat your food, Sam." Jonathan uttered, snapping Samuel out of his momentary haze.

"I'm not hungry." Samuel shot back.

"Yeah, well, you're also not writing. Eat your fucking food!" Jonathan ordered, almost like a father scolding his child. Samuel looked at Jonathan briefly before his friend lifted his head from his plate, a slick rib between his sauce-covered fingers, gazing back at him. Then, they burst out laughing, chuckling their way through the rest of lunch as two old friends would. And for a few more hours, Samuel forgot how miserable he had been feeling.

The afternoon flew by when they finally parted ways outside the cafe. Jonathan wobbled his way into his car, considerably drunk. Samuel had purposely managed his drinking, knowing he'd want to drive back to David's house. He had been anxious to do so since the night before when he caught the boy reading his award-winning book. Along the way, Samuel thought about how excited he was when the book first got published and how overwhelming it felt, despite his innate confidence, when it hit number one on the shelves, a time he recalled fondly of youth and wonderment that seemed far behind him, ostensibly unreachable at this point.

Samuel finally arrived at David's. He parked the car in the usual spot, lit a cigarette, and waited. Thirty minutes later, like clockwork, David turned the corner, riding his bicycle. He parked it inside the garage and went up the service stairs into the house. A few minutes later, the lights in his room popped. He stripped to his undies, jumped on the bed, and curved to his right to pick something from his nightstand. When he turned back around, he was bearing Samuel's book again. David almost seemed eager to resume, which made Samuel particularly scornful. He watched as the boy flicked through page after page until he stumbled on a particular one. Samuel, who comfortably slanted on the driver's seat, suddenly propelled forward. David's right hand went down to his crotch as his left hand held the book upwards. He started to massage his cock, a mischievous grin taking hold of his face. Inside the car, Samuel chuckled.

"Son of a bitch." He uttered, shaking his head. "He's reading chapter 4." He stated, sinking himself back in his seat and laughing. In the distance, David's hand became more energetic, so much so that the book kept falling from his left hand. He eventually dropped it at his side and took his free hand to his chest, teasing his nipples as he jerked his shaft vibrantly with his right hand. A couple of minutes later, Samuel saw his body spasm, then his right hand came up and hovered there, opened, cum dripping from his fingers. The boy looked around, attempting to find something to clean himself off, eventually picking up the dirty sock he had dropped over the bed when he came in. He bounced his body off the mattress and hopped inside the bathroom just to the right of his bed. Samuel finally lost sight of him as the steam from the hot water began spewing from the half-closed door. A rush of peacefulness overcame Samuel. Being able to peek inside David's intimacy seemed to bring him some form of understated joy. There was a calming quality to watching David from afar. Samuel recoiled in his seat, and as he waited for the boy to come out of the shower, he unexpectedly fell asleep.

He tumbled into a deep slumber, waking up later, his eyes heavy and prickling tiredly. He glanced at the clock in the car. It had only been twenty minutes since he fell asleep, and as he leaned forward to peek inside the house again, he found the boy's room empty. He scratched his eyes, bewildered. Then, as he straightened himself in his seat, ready to stick the car keys in the ignition, he heard a soft knock on his window glass. Samuel's heart sank into his stomach. He closed his eyes, wishing he hadn't heard it. But he knew. As he turned his head sideways, David stood there, his tall, athletic, and smooth body towering over his window, wearing a black tank top and gym shorts.

"Fuck." Samuel grated, unable to withhold his audible response. Finally, he begrudgingly pushed the button on his left door panel, and the window began descending slowly.

"What are you doing here?" David questioned, a genuinely surprised expression on his face. Samuel invoked every ounce of his writing talent to muster a convincing enough answer but failed miserably.

"I was driving past the house...saw your light on and...I don't know." He said, finally confronting David's eyes. Those plunging, mesmerizing blue eyes. "How are you?" He asked, trying to stir the conversation in another direction. But instead, David stood beside the car, inquiringly into Samuel's eyes. Samuel felt stripped bare, like the boy was piercing his skin and perusing inside his mind, unveiling all his twisted thoughts. "I know how this looks, trust me." He remarked, evading David's gaze. He looked around nervously, finally plunging his body forward and starting the car. But as his left hand went for the wheel, he felt David punch through the open window and grab his hand, laying it over Samuel's, pinning it down. "David, let me go." Samuel pleaded, his voice breaking. But the boy just stood there, his wide arm stretched over, their hands locked. For a brief moment, Samuel could have sworn one of David's fingers grazed the skin on his hand ever so softly.

"What are you doing here?" David asked again, but this time his voice beseeched an honest answer. And Samuel knew he couldn't bring himself to give the boy what he requested.

"Let me go, David." Samuel nervously demanded, finally tugging his arm away and starting the car, attempting to drive away. David's bare feet ran on the cold cement, pursuing Samuel's car down the street.

"What are you doing here??" David yelled. "Samuel!" He hollered, reducing his stride and finally stopping, standing in the middle of the lane as Samuel's car drove away. Ten seconds later, it began to rain.

Inside the car, Samuel steered the vehicle mindlessly out of the neighborhood. His heart raced violently inside his chest, his palms sweated, and his eyes squinted as he endeavored to see through the heavy rain that poured outside.

"Fuck!" He yelled, leaning toward the glove compartment and taking out his pack of cigarettes. How could he be so careless, he thought. The humiliation was overbearing. David caught him parked outside his house. The last shred of dignity inside him had just gone out the window. As far as David was concerned, he was now the weird prowler, the stepfather responsible for killing his mother, and had now become the older guy, creeping through the trees, stalking him. "Jesus..." Samuel uttered, breaking into laughter, surrendering to the surreal nature of the situation. He grabbed his phone, turned on the car's touchscreen, and started to play a set list of classical music, aimlessly driving across the road, chiming the tunes from the music. His voice roared, only muffled by the heavy rain pouring outside the car. Thirty minutes rushed when Samuel realized he wasn't driving home to his apartment. Instead, he was heading towards his beach house, making him slowly lower his speed. Anxiety kicked in as the car approached the site of the fatal accident. As he drove through, he felt a cold surge in his core. Regarding his memories and recollections of the moment that changed his and David's life, Samuel was still hostage to them. Therapy was helping, but his mind felt restless like something was perpetually boiling on the surface of his skin. And every time his memory would revisit that day, all his progress seemed to halt and start regressing. Samuel began to breathe as he tried to soothe himself, finally lowering his heartbeat to a bearable minimum. And that's when he saw the beach house. Despite the tragic remembrances, and unlike other places in Samuel's life, this house still felt like home for him. A haven of solitude. Of peace. As he glanced at it from a distance, he couldn't help but beam. He parked in the driveway and sat inside the car, regaining his footing. He opened the door and jumped out, closing the door behind him as he walked inside the property.

As he stepped inside, the light sensors turned on, coating the living room with a soft yellow layer. Samuel sighed in relief. He felt finally safe, and his awkward exchange with David seemed miles away, metaphorically and literally. All he had to do now was avoid the boy for the rest of his life. Samuel hurled the house keys into a small ceramic dish standing next to the door, pulled his shoes off using his feet, threw them aimlessly to the side, and walked towards the couch in the middle of the living room, tossing his whole body into it. As he plunged in, he released a loud breath followed by a guttural sound, letting go of all the strain he had picked up along the way. Samuel glanced sideways towards the coffee table and grabbed the remote. He turned on the 85 inches 8k TV and lay there, zapping away, adjusting his position a couple of times before he succumbed to exhaustion and fell deeply asleep on the couch.

In the distance, Samuel could hear loud tapping noises. His eyes remained stuck together, but parts of him began to respond as he turned slowly on his side, trying to make out the sounds amid his body's profound numbness. Then finally realized that those thumps were knocks at the front door. He stretched his arm clumsily and grabbed his watch, placing it back on his wrist. It read a quarter past 2 am.

"What the fuck?" He mumbled incoherently. As he got up, drunk with tiredness, he wobbled over to the door and peeked in the hole. Suddenly he froze. His head dunked between the door and his chest, and he just stood there as his arms held his body weight against the door. "Shit." He uttered.

David stood at the other side, wearing the same clothes he was with when he showed up at Samuel's car door. And a drenched hoodie over his head. As Samuel pondered the best action, David kept banging his hand on the door. Finally, Samuel took a plunging breath and opened it. There they were, the two survivors of that fateful day's disaster. David gaped at Samuel, his deep blue eyes piercing from beneath the hoodie.

"David...how...?" Samuel questioned, his voice fluttering slightly. David and his presence brought forth a certain lack of confidence, a state most unnatural to Samuel until now.

"I rode my bike. But I got tired, so I called an Uber. I left the bike...somewhere." David said, his voice feeble and tired. His eyes latched on Samuel.

"You're soaking wet. You're going to get sick. Come inside." Samuel suggested, to his surprise. He wanted to avoid David, but looking at the boy standing there, he couldn't bring himself to send him away. David stepped inside, seeming uncharacteristically ceremonious. "Follow me." Samuel instructed. They walked towards the corridor and into the guest room where the boy had slept the last time he was there. Samuel went for one of the large closets. He opened a drawer and took out one of his sweatpants and a clean t-shirt he had tucked away. "You have towels in the bathroom. Take a shower, then put these on." Samuel ordered, his voice serene yet imposing. "I'll be in the kitchen making us some coffee." He informed, placing the clothes on the edge of the bed. He walked back to the door, and as he turned around to close it, he still had time to glimpse at David's smooth and toned stomach and chest as the boy yanked the soaking hoodie from his head.

Samuel strolled to the kitchen, prepped the coffee machine, turned it on, and just sat on one of the stools in silence as the brewing sound became louder and louder, mixing with David's shower water running in the distance. He took his hands to his head. It seemed inevitable that this moment would come, but Samuel felt unprepared. He had rehearsed it countless times, but now, every word seemed meaningless. Nothing could help suppress his or David's suffering. At this point, he would have to ride it out. As the machine came to a stop, so did David's shower. Samuel could hear him move about in the room. After a couple of minutes, the boy showed up. Samuel took two cups from the cabinet and poured the coffee into them.

"Here." He said, sliding one of the mugs across the counter towards David. The boy took the cup and held it with both hands as he looked at it, his head doused.

"Thank you." He expressed, taking a long sip. They sat there for what felt like an endless silence, the sound of the rain pouring outside helping to fill the void between them. Then David finally broke the wall that stood before the two. "You never reached out...I mean...After the funeral." He said. He seemed disappointed, which shocked Samuel. "I know this wasn't your first time visiting my house. I've seen your car there before." He revealed. Samuel swallowed his coffee dry, his mouth struggling to close. "I wanted to say something before...but..." The boy continued, his voice lacking the arrogance and confidence it exuded in the past. "I was afraid you'd get upset and stop showing up." He mumbled. Samuel's heart plunged.

"David..." He uttered, his mind struggling to articulate his feelings.

"It's just...I needed..." The boy muttered as he twitched his fingers and nails on the coffee mug. His head lowered as he tried to conceal his pain from Samuel's sight.

Samuel's throat locked. He couldn't believe his eyes. The once vibrant, cocky, and even unpleasant young man he knew six months ago now stood before him, shattered to pieces. And he was the one responsible. He was the adult, and he should have handled the situation differently. But he let his arrogant nature get the best of him.

"Why were you there...?" The boy asked, still fidgeting as he concealed his gaze.

"I...I wanted to make sure you were alright." Samuel disclosed, the truth of his feelings finally emerging. "I wanted to reach out to you. Many times. But I guess I was scared too." Samuel divulged. Then he let out a subtle chuckle. "My shrink would be very proud of me right now." He quipped, taking another sip of his coffee. Then he looked at it and frowned. "I think I need something stronger." He confessed, looking at David, who finally raised his head and locked his eyes on Samuel. Those heavy blue eyes. Samuel couldn't help but admire how profoundly alluring they were. "You want something?" He asked, to David's surprise.

"Whatever you're having." The boy replied. Samuel paused momentarily, then walked to the cupboard and took out two big balloon glasses and a bottle of scotch.

"Isn't your birthday coming up? Samuel asked.

"Next week." David replied. Suddenly David's phone buzzed. He glanced at it and then turned it around. Samuel looked at him for a moment.

"Did you tell your grandparents where you were going?" Samuel questioned. The boy shook his head. He picked up the phone and texted something. He then placed the phone on the counter again, the screen facing down. Samuel served David's drink. A small amount, tossing an ice cube inside, gently tilting the glass in circular motions before placing it in front of the boy. "There. That should keep you healthy." He teased, winking. He regretted it immediately once David's eyes pierced through his. The boy's tongue glazed slightly over his plump lips as he did. Inside his pants, Samuel felt immediately hard. A jolt of energy surged along his pelvis, spreading to his abdomen and legs. He stepped back immediately, sat on his stool, and poured some scotch. Then he stopped, looked down, and continued to serve until the glass was almost half full. He took a generous sip and placed the drink on the counter, swirling it with his fingers.

"David, I wish I could take back what happened. But I can't." Samuel said, trying his hardest to make his words sound objective and honest. "She's gone. And I'll have to live with that guilt." He continued, the large glass shaking in his hand. A strong tide of overwhelming grief crept in as Samuel addressed the boy. "But you don't have to. Because none of it was your fault." He stated, his eyes welling up as they escaped towards the large window facing the deck area. His lips trembled nervously. "Fuck, I'm sorry." He apologized, skimming the back of his hand against his tear-soaked eyes. He didn't look back at David, but Samuel could hear the boy's breathing as he tried to cage his pain. Samuel kept breathing, trying to shake off his momentary weakness. As he did, he felt movement from the corner of his eye.

David stood up and walked over to Samuel, whose legs were open, standing in front of him, his pelvis now between Samuel's legs, inches from his cock. The boy took his hand to Samuel's glass, reaped it up, and chugged it, placing it silently back on the counter. Then, to Samuel's shock, David put his arms around Samuel, pulling his head into his chest. At first, Samuel resisted, his head forcing herself out of David's pull. But the boy's touch seemed enthralling. He drew Samuel in and nestled him in his embrace.

"It's ok, Samuel. I don't blame you." David uttered. Samuel's arms stood hovering diffidently around the boy. And as his face rested inside the young man's chest, and Samuel sniffed the expensive shower gel on his skin, he felt the boy's breath coating the top of his head, his words squeezing between the cracks of his dark brown hair and landing on top of his scalp. "I'm sorry this happened to us." David whispered, his voice filled with shared grief. His fingers now weaved inside Samuel's hair. Suddenly, Samuel's arms broke from their hovering prison and circled David's upper body, swathing his broad back and involuntarily bringing the boy nearer to him. Their cocks brushed, honing against each other. Samuel could feel David's hard dick grazing against his throbbing cock. His hands gripped David's shirt, sliding along it and feeling the boy's smooth skin beneath it. "Nobody will ever understand this except you and me." David whispered as he bussed Samuel's head.

Samuel wept from within the boy's embrace. They stayed there for several minutes, lodged in each other, finally unleashing their bottled pain, their dicks pressing together. Finally, David pulled away, and as he did, a transient awkwardness crept in as they dried the tears from their eyes and gazed at each other, both men now exposed. Their fragilities shared in that intimate moment, their true nature momentarily revealed.

"Are you hungry?" Samuel asked. David nodded affirmatively. "I'll order us some sushi." Samuel suggested. The boy smiled, walked back to the counter, picked up his phone, and hopped to the oversized couch, jumping into it and grabbing the remote. As Samuel observed David, he felt a sense of solace. And ripples of sudden happiness washed over him. Maybe it was the moment they shared or just the image of David drooping on his couch in the most mundane manner, but something inside Samuel's heart reignited. A joy he thought lost.

He ordered the food and waited on the deck while he smoked a cigarette. David remained in the living room, watching TV, his body lying sideways. He would chuckle every once in a while, which made Samuel beam. The doorbell eventually rang, and Samuel rushed to the door. He hadn't eaten since lunch and was starving. He laid the sushi on these rectangular-shaped plates and took them to the couch. David immediately sat up, his legs crossed, his bare feet nestled under his legs, and took his plate and the chopsticks from Samuel's hands. He started nibbling on it, making it clear he probably hadn't eaten in a while either. They sat there, watching TV and eating. And as time progressed, a certain coziness took hold. Samuel would peek at David occasionally, observing as he ate. How the boy's luscious lips encased the pieces of sushi in his mouth, delighting at how he moved his mouth, how his moist lips pushed against each other, and how his tongue would slide from one side to the other, grasping every little bit of sauce on them. It was the most tender and sexual image, Samuel thought. And as his dick hardened again, he contemplated on this dubious feeling he seemed to harbor for David. While he never felt sexually attracted to men, as he looked at David, Samuel couldn't help but think how those lips would feel, wrapped around his 9-inch cock, sucking on it.

"What?" David asked, his eyes scanning Samuel, who had stared at him unwillingly for the last five minutes. Samuel's face reddened instantly.

"Nothing..." He mumbled incoherently. David gaped at him, his eyes sparkling with the light reflecting from the giant screen, and his lips started stretching into a smile. "Give me your plate." Samuel uttered, attempting to prompt David's attention elsewhere. The boy obliged. Samuel got up, walked to the kitchen, scrubbed the plates, and tossed them in the sink. He grabbed the plastic boxes from the leftovers and threw them inside the fridge. As he closed the door, he halted, then turned his head to look at David. The boy's eyes were latched on him, his left hand gently massaging his crotch. Samuel turned away towards the deck, walked outside, took his pack from his pocket, and lit a cigarette. Once he puffed, his breath became erratic as he tried to obliterate the image of David touching himself from his mind, attempting to cage the raging erection starting to grow inside his pants.

But David's ruthlessness was unwavering. A few seconds later, the boy was beside him, both standing there looking at the black sky before them, where the sound of the waves breaking on the shore was the only thing heard for miles.

"Can I have one?" David asked. Samuel looked at him for a moment. Despite the boy's bold move, his eyes still revealed the soft and tender side he had allowed Samuel to witness earlier.

"Sure." Samuel conceded. He stretched his arm, offering David one of the cigarettes. Samuel was going to take his lighter out of his pocket when David positioned himself in front of him, pulled his head closer to him, the cig in his mouth, and touched their tips, lighting him with Samuel's. As he did, their eyes locked. And for a moment, it felt as if David was searching for something inside Samuel's gaze. Finally, the boy took a step back and stood next to Samuel again, who took the opportunity to own control of the situation again. But on the heels of their breakthrough regarding the events of the accident, Samuel was apprehensive that it might set back the progress they had made. Both his and David's mental state was still recovering, after all.

"I should take you back, David. Your folks will be worried." Samuel suggested carefully. His tone scanned for David's reaction.

"I thought maybe I could stay here tonight. I'll leave in the morning, I promise." David replied, his voice mellow and soothing.

"I don't think that's a good idea, David." Samuel scolded.

"Please..." The boy implored. "I hate it there." He confessed. Samuel bowed his head to face the boy, whose eyes hid from view. "I feel caged." He continued. "It's like...they blame me." He uttered.

"For what?" Samuel questioned, incredulous.

"For everything. Dad leaving...mom...I'm a burden in their life. Like an itch, they can't scratch." David explained. Samuel stood there silent. Deep care for the boy started manifesting as David opened up about his feelings. He felt almost surprised at how this meeting was peeling away layers of David that he had seen inside the boy's eyes and yet never imagined he would get to experience firsthand. Maybe for that reason, Samuel was utterly shocked when the words flew out of his mouth.

"Well, you're always welcomed here." He stated. David lifted his head but kept his eyes forward.

"Samuel, why were you there?" The boy questioned. His tone was now engrossing.

"I told you, I wanted to ensure you were alright." Samuel stated.

"I know. But why?" David insisted.

Then Samuel understood. Despite having been given access to a fragile side of David, the truth was that the cunning, wiser beyond his years, emotionally ruthless young man he met before was still there, and he was coming for Samuel's candor.

"David..." Samuel muttered.

"Whatever the reason is, I won't judge." David explained. "If it's guilt, I'll understand." He said, his voice reverting to a softer tone, increasingly sadder. "Just please, don't be like everyone else." He stated.

"What do you mean?" Samuel questioned, intrigued yet dreading the answer.

"Don't lie to me." David answered. Samuel looked into the boy's eyes.

"I won't." Samuel promised. "But I can't answer your question, David." Samuel disclosed. "I can't answer it because...I don't know. I don't know why I drove to your house." He continued, becoming bolder, more comfortable in this new territory he and David had unlocked, bound by honesty. "Maybe...I'm looking for meaning...a reason this awful thing happened to us." He finally acknowledged. David remained silent, and as Samuel glanced at him, he noticed the boy was shivering. "You're getting cold. Let's go inside." He suggested. As they walked back inside, David paused.

"I'll get my stuff." The boy stated, walking to the guest room.

"Wait." Samuel said. "Stay. I'll drive you in the morning." He suggested, to David's delight. The boy beamed at him, walked to the couch, sat facing the TV, and placed his bare feet on the coffee table. Samuel's stomach turned, and at any other time, he would have scolded him for it, but today he chose to overlook this minor infringement and let David enjoy a sense of comfort and peace, even if for just this night. "Pick a movie. I'll be down in a bit." He informed.

Samuel went up the stairs, into his study, and stripped naked, hopping on the shower adjacent to his king-size "orgy" bed. As he finished, he dried himself with a towel, wrapping it around his waist, and walked to the closet, picking out some shorts and a tank top. Under normal circumstances, he would walk naked around the house for the rest of the evening. But with David's presence and the indiscernible sexual tension between them, it seemed responsible to dress accordingly. He closed the door to his study and descended the stairs into the living room. As he cornered the couch, he realized David had fallen asleep, exhausted from the night's emotional occurrences. Samuel smiled, walked over to him, and tumbled David over, laying him on his side and covering him with a warm blanket tucked away inside a fancy leather chest just to his right. He then sat next to David's feet, which he carefully sheathed. He picked up the remote and perused a few channels before reclining and falling asleep, his arms spread outwards, his legs spread open, and his feet planted firmly on the ground.

Samuel woke up, his eyes gummed and weighty. He glanced at his wristwatch to find a couple of hours had gone by and that David had somehow managed to scoot over to him and was now nestling his head on Samuel's chest. Despite being surprised by it, Samuel reacted with ease, avoiding sliding his way out and instead remaining there. As his chest pumped air, making David's head rock up and down, he could feel the appeasing fragrance coming from the boy's hair. He instinctively brought his nose close to it and gently sniffed as he closed his eyes. The scent was comforting and intoxicating. Underneath his shorts, his dick tingled, expanding slightly in size but not to be uncomfortable or noticeable. That was, until David moved, moaning slightly and inadvertently placing his left arm between Samuel's thighs, his lower arm grazing his cock.

Samuel knew this was the time to plan his escape, but David's peace prevented him from moving. And the sheer pleasure, against all odds, of having the boy be so close to him as he was right now. David began fidgeting more, still navigating that peaceful space between awakeness and slumber. Each move he made seemed to bring his body closer to Samuel, his feet pushing him upwards as his legs wrapped around Samuel's left thigh. Next, David's left arm started wrapping around Samuel's chiseled tummy, then slowly gliding up onto his pecs, and before long, the boy's left hand was over Samuel's chest, and his fingers were mindlessly teasing his right nipple. The boy's head was still on his chest, his face obscured from view, but Samuel knew David was wide awake. Samuel's shorts burst through the seams, and his raging erection was impossible to hide. David's hand slid down his chest, sneaking under his shorts, clutching herself around the massive, veiny, 9-inch cock.

"David..." Samuel uttered, his breath so hefty that the sound came out muffled and indistinct.

"Shhh...don't say anything." The boy commanded, raising his head but keeping it glued to Samuel's chest, pulling himself further into his body and cradling his face on Samuel's neck, his mouth opening as he started sucking on his skin. He could feel the boy's tongue rolling around it as his lips munched on his neck, his teeth biting gently on it ever so often. The feeling of David's weight on him and the sensation of him rubbing his cock while he kissed his neck was beyond anything Samuel had ever felt. And he considered himself a sexually versed person. But as much as Samuel was enjoying what was transpiring, a part of himself felt detached. Almost as if he was watching himself from the outside, desperately trying to call out his momentary insanity.

"David, this is wrong." Samuel finally uttered, his left hand holding the boy's head close to his neck. His body's motions were in complete opposition to his mind's assessment of the situation.

"Then why does it feel right?" The boy replied, moaning as he tilted his chin and licked Samuel's earlobe. And with those words, Samuel's mind surrendered, fusing back with his body as he took his right hand over David's, guiding his movements while the boy stroked his cock vigorously. "Finally." David whispered, pulling away from Samuel's neck and skating down the couch, his knees on the floor, and his whole body stooped over Samuel's shaft. Samuel's hands went over his face, a part of him still ashamed of his enjoyment. "Fuck, it's huge." David uttered as he yanked Samuel's shorts down and unclothed his cock, which snapped back and stood there, nodding back and forth, the tip glistening with precum. The boy had a grin on him, his beautiful teeth glowing under the room's dim light.

"You've never done this?" Samuel questioned, his eyes peeking through his fingers. David shook his head from behind his shaft.

"I had a couple of guys suck mine. But..." David muttered. Although both found themselves in an unknown situation, as Samuel drew his hands away from his face, he met David's determined expression.

"Maybe we shouldn't..." Samuel recoiled. But the boy's relentless nature cut him off.

"Shut the fuck up, Samuel. You want this as much as I do." He stated, his voice commanding and assertive. He turned his head towards Samuel's cock, grabbed it with his right hand, took his index finger, and touched the leaking tip. "Shit, look at that." He said, an endearing innocence taking over his voice. He reached forward and grazed his tongue over it, swallowing it and unleashing a pleasurable moan. Then the boy released a soft giggle and finally propelled his head forward and slid Samuel's cock inside his mouth.

Looking down, Samuel could see the boy's lips stretching as he tried to take as much of it as possible. But David soon undisclosed his amateurish experience. He began to gag, pulling out every five seconds for air, occasionally coughing. Then, finally, David went back in, hovering there, his mouth opened and roughly 4 inches in, trying to train his throat to the shaft's presence. As his nose breathing increased, the boy's moans became more discerning and pleasurable. He started to rock his head up and down, slow at first. Then, as he began coating Samuel's dick with his spit, his rocking motions became less stiff, gliding effortlessly, and David soon found his rhythm.

"Fuck." Samuel groaned, finally taking his hands down and grabbing David's head. The boy pulled away and lifted his eyes. They gazed at each other, and there, prisoner to David's gaze, Samuel finally surrendered.

Everything that could feel immoral about the situation vanished, and all there was left was their connection. Two grieving souls granting each other the healing only they could bestow. From David's deep blue eyes, a tear emerged. Samuel's thumb slid graciously under and caught it. He took his finger to his mouth and tasted David's salty teardrop. The boy smiled and hauled the tip of Samuel's cock back into his mouth. This time he didn't go down. Instead, he remained there, pulling back the cock's foreskin and skating his tongue over Samuel's prepuce, making him snap his head backward in delight.

"Fuck yeah...That's it, David." Samuel grunted, yielded in ecstasy. His unfiltered words left his mouth and pierced the air in the room, causing David's moans to grow exponentially, vowing to Samuel's dominance. Samuel took charge by bearing David's head in his hands with a firmer grip and slowly but steadily began rocking his pelvis forward, his ass levitating from the couch as he forced his throbbing cock inside David's mouth. Gradually, Samuel's pumps became less accommodating and more forceful, yet his eyes were on David the whole time, always ensuring the boy's enjoyment. "Look at me." He steered.

David peeked up, his eyes watering profusely and his perfectly smooth and soft skin flushed red. This sight sent Samuel into a frenzy. He upped his stride and began shoving more of him inside. David's mouth started to stretch, his lips tightening around Samuel's cock, drool and spit falling from the edges and landing on Samuel's bush. By now, David was taking 7 inches, still struggling, but every time his eyes locked on Samuel, they demanded more. The boy was relishing every single second of Samuel's teachings. As Samuel pushed deeper, David's hands gripped his thighs, nails plowing into his skin. But the sharp pain couldn't deter Samuel's ravaging. He finally leaned back, grabbed David's hair in his fingers, pulled the boy's head slightly up, and started shoving the remaining 2 inches inside his throat. As soon as he did, the boy started mewling, attempting to pull away, pushing his arms away from Samuel, but it was too late. He had David under his rule.

"Stop pulling away...you wanted this. Now take that fucking dick." Samuel rasped, his head back, his face pointing to the ceiling, and his mouth flared as it discharged this roaring, resonant sound. In the back, David's gags, frothing, and slobbering noises reverberated across the living room, giving a melodic cadence to Samuel's orchestration.

Suddenly, Samuel pulled away, bringing an overflowing string of spit attached to his cock. David fell back against the coffee table, unleashing a loud gasp. Both men dwelled there, darting at each other for minutes, breathing heavily. Their gaze filled with astonishment, awe, lust, and unbridled euphoria. Samuel lifted his legs in the air and pulled off his shorts. Next, he yanked his tank top off, revealing his chiseled, fuzzed chest. Then he sat forward, elbows on his knees, peering at David. The boy scoured his spit-covered mouth with his hand, his lips bloated and red. Still sitting on the floor, David tugged his pants, exposing his hard dick. Then he pulled his t-shirt over his head, unveiling his smooth, broad chest. His pink nipples prickled visibly. Samuel grinned at the image of David sitting there, bare and vulnerable to his stare. David was exquisite, Samuel thought. But as much as his heart needed to express it, he couldn't bring himself to say it.

"Get your ass over here." He ordered. David looked at him, nervous. The confidence the boy exuded that night he fucked that random girl in the jacuzzi had somehow shifted into Samuel. Sensing the boy's apprehension, Samuel immediately interceded. "Don't worry. Your game, remember? Your rules." He stated. David smiled at him, blissful. Then after a brief pause, he embarrassingly disclosed.

"I want to taste your cum." The boy confided.

"Ok." Samuel replied, extending his arm. The boy's hand met his, and he pulled David, swiftly lifting himself off the couch and pushing David over to his position, the boy now sitting where he was. Then he stood before him, his knees on the couch and his dick swinging in front of David's face. "It's all yours." Samuel asserted, sounding completely at ease with this newfound intimacy. David glanced up at him and placed his hands on Samuel's thighs, sliding gently over them, admiring their thickness and dark brown fuzz. He paused briefly, gazing at Samuel's knee, where his scar was. Then slanted back on the couch, and placed his arms to the sides, right next to Samuel's legs, his palms facing up. David smiled at Samuel and opened his mouth, tongue rolling out.

Samuel leaned forward and plunged himself inside, all 9 inches of him in one go. And David took every inch like a pro. As the tip touched the boy's throat, he gagged. But Samuel just held his position, enjoying the sensation of the boy's mouth as he waited for him to accommodate his presence. Its walls latched in, tightening around his shaft. Finally, the boy's tongue was placed under it, sliding gently from side to side. And the throat, flaring gradually, trying not to close as precum oozed into it.

Samuel looked down at David's eyes. There they were, those eyes, inviting, like a siren song, dragging him under the depths of a sea of hurt and pain. And beyond it, bliss and healing. At that moment, Samuel learned that inside David's heavy blues resided his hope but also his despair. It was like drowning.
Shock, affliction, and at the end of it, a floating serenity.

"You're going to ruin me, I can tell." Samuel divulged as he began fucking David's mouth relentlessly.

The boy grabbed his ass cheeks, pushing Samuel into him. Not that the extra effort was needed. Samuel pummeled his mouth like a pussy, raising his knees and holding the weight of his whole body on his feet, gaining that extra balance. David's head pounced violently against the couch, devouring Samuel's shaft, his mouth and tongue pressing tighter around it with each thrust. Samuel's eyes began to roll as he got closer to the edge. Sensing his dick tighten inside his mouth, David began to release these whimpering wails, taunting the cum out of Samuel's dick. As their tempo increased, both men began to lose control. Samuel held David's head and pulled it to him, thrusting his dick so fast David only had time to slide his hand between Samuel's legs and grasp his cock as it began to shoot cum, which sprayed upwards, landing on Samuel's ass cheeks and crack.

In the meantime, as his eyes balled to the back of his head, Samuel unloaded his jizz inside David's mouth. His strings were thick and long, and by the look on the boy's face as he swallowed them one by one, delightfully juicy. David's expression was unadulterated ecstasy. The boy's craving had been satisfied. While Samuel unloaded, and as David's warm liquid jizz slid down his ass, he never took his eyes away from the boy. And David never strayed his sight away from Samuel, his moans escorting every piece of cum shooting inside his mouth. Finally, as the rush subsided, Samuel pulled out and sat on David's lap, his hands on his thighs as he caught his breath. David's head rested on the couch as he brought his hand up, gathering the last strings of jizz from his chin and sucking it off his fingers. Samuel lifted his left leg, rolled over, and let himself fall next to David, turning his head to look at him.

"That was insane." He stated, drying the sweat from his forehead with his hand and pulling his hair back. David looked at him, his eyes craving Samuel's physical touch. It was as if the boy's body had suddenly forgotten how to exist independently. He slid over and wrapped himself into Samuel. Samuel's hand hovered over the boy as he nestled, falling gently on his head once he stabilized. He squeezed his fingers inside David's hair and started stroking his head in the most nurturing way. As his erection subsided, his soft cock resting between his thighs as the remaining cum slid from the tip down to the couch, Samuel pondered on the events. "David...I won't pretend this wasn't bound to happen at some point." Samuel clarified. "But I'm still driving you back to your grandparents tomorrow." As he spoke, he felt David's hand grip his chest hairs tighter.

"Why?" The boy questioned, his voice muffled. Samuel could feel David's warm breath coating his nipple. He tilted his head back and glanced at the ceiling.

"It's just too complicated." He uttered.

"I...understand." David reluctantly whispered. Samuel searched for the boy's eyes, but they hid from him. He could feel this exquisite moment they had experienced slip away from their fingers, rapidly becoming a distant recollection.

"The bed in the guest room is set up. You should get some sleep." Samuel suggested. David pushed his hands away from him and stood up. Without looking at Samuel, he turned around and walked naked into the guestroom, leaving his borrowed clothes on the living room floor. Samuel soughed with remorse, knowing he had just broken David's heart. But Samuel knew there was no other way around it. Once he stopped hearing David's steps inside the room, he stood up, picked his shorts from the floor, put them on, and went upstairs to the study, unlocked the door, and went in, walking over to his desk and placing the key next to the closed laptop. Samuel stood there momentarily before pulling the screen up, turning it on, and gazing through the window, the night's gloominess still present. He picked up the remote that controlled the lights in the room and turned the blue glow installation on. The room was enveloped in a deep nostalgic wave, the glow reflecting on the walls and moving around like liquid dreams. He sat at the desk, his hands under his chin.

"Ready or not, here I come." He announced, lifting his hands as he started typing. After a few minutes, his fingers became ferocious, and the clicking sounds on the keyboard resonated across the house. What he and David had experienced had somehow managed to break Samuel's creative block. He suddenly lost track of time but was stopped as he heard a faint noise near the door, pulling him away from his writing strike. He lifted his head and turned around in his chair to find David standing at the door, naked. "I thought I closed the door..." Samuel commented almost to himself as he chuckled inwardly. He had never forgotten to close it, especially when he had company. "Is everything alright?" He questioned.

"I can't sleep." David mumbled. He then raised his eyes to face Samuel. "Can I come and stay with you?" He asked nervously.

"David...I..." Samuel uttered, his old habits creeping in.

"Please. I promise I'll be quiet. You won't even know I'm here." David begged. Samuel closed his eyes and took a plunging breath. And then, he uttered the words he never thought he would.

"Sure." He said calmly.

The happiness in David's eyes sparked a jolt of light into the room. The boy shut the door and walked hurriedly to the empty, king-size bed, almost afraid Samuel would change his mind before he reached it. He jumped in and encased his smooth body with the silk, white sheet. Samuel observed him through the light installation, transfixed by the captivating image in front of him. David adjusted the pillows behind him, slanting his body into them. He then raised a book in one of his hands. Samuel had failed to catch him carrying it inside the room. It was Samuel's book. The one he was reading back at his grandparent's home. Samuel smiled, not at David, but at himself. He never thought he would be able or willing to let someone in. However, this bright, rebellious, incredibly cunning, yet broken boy had managed to creep into Samuel's heart. Through the cracks of the lights on the structure, David's heavy blue gaze pierced through, locking on Samuel. Ultimately gifting this broken man with the peace of mind he desperately craved. And reaching a part of Samuel, nobody had ever managed to before, not even himself.

He spun his chair around and resumed writing. In the background, he could hear David's distracting giggles.
And for the first time in his life, Samuel didn't mind.
He didn't mind at all.