A Shot of Bourbon - 2. Chapter 2

chapter 2:

: distilled by viv :

As I glanced around the room, my eyes focused on a pile of clean, folded bike gear. Next to it were Rusty's clothes, also folded neatly. He shoes lying in front of them with the socks mated inside. Then I noticed the blanket covering us. It was the duvet from the guest bedroom.

"Morning," I heard him whisper from my chest as his short hair brushed against my bare skin.

I looked down at him and smiled lightly. "Dude, I thought you locked the door,"

Now, I have never seen anyone go from a glowing dreamy state to completely awake so fast.

Rusty bolted from the bed beside me, his naked body whirling around as he stumbled around the room dragging his clothes from the neat pile, trying desperately to throw them on.

I understood his panic, truly I did. I quietly freaked out at what I found when I opened my eyes, but not Rusty, his being there was perfect. The fact that everything was folded and neat, the jersey and 611 pressure shirt that were left downstairs, the blanket from the guest bedroom. Despite that, I was even more freaked that at least one of my parents saw something they haven't seen in a good nine years. Not to mention the circumstances they saw it under. I just wasn't ready to show it to the world.

I watched silently as he pulled on his jeans and fastened them closed. I liked the way his trim hairline was still visible above the waistband. I liked it even more 'cause he had skipped his boxers.

I knew it was more because he couldn't find them, than anything meaningful. Hopefully Dad took them to get washed. Oh God, I hope it was my dad, I don't know what I'd do if my mom saw me like that. That thought scared me enough to get me out of bed, that's when I remembered my little accident.

"Damn," I gasped with a sharp breath as pain shot up my right side.

Before I knew it, he was right beside me, his soft hand on my bare shoulder letting me know that he was there. I looked at him and smiled, a smile that he returned through worried eyes.

"I'm fine," I answered the question he couldn't ask. "Just sore, really sore." His smile was brighter but his eyes were still dark with worry.

"Bourb," he sighed. "I gotta run, think about some things."

He didn't even give me a chance to respond as he turned quickly and was out of sight. He left me there nude, with only the thundering sound of his footsteps as he rushed down the stairs, the front door slamming behind him.

I can't lie and say I didn't understand why he bolted. I mean, who wants to wake up that way? Who wants to be naked in front of his own parents much less someone else's? It still hurt though; it felt like my heart suddenly turned to lead and dropped.

I managed to sulk in my now colder empty room for about five minutes when the shadow of my father loomed in the doorway. I didn't look up at him, but I knew he was watching me closely.

"You okay in there kiddo?" he questioned warily.

"Yeah," my empty voice lied, as I heard him move softly through the room.

He slowly kneeled before me, his concerned eyes searching out my own. Wanting the truth behind my protective lies, he slowly placed a hand on my shoulder steadying me.

"You're okay?" he questioned again, only one thing concerning him.

I couldn't help it. Shame, sadness, and relief all mixed together at an overwhelming pace. My swollen red eyes betrayed me as tears squeezed past. I quickly reached out and hugged him to me. Christ, I was such a child, weeping like a baby. All the while he was there silent, letting me do what came naturally. His hand gently rubbing the back of my head, telling me that he was there and always would be, just like he had always been.

At that point, I realized the man in my life that I had always taken for granted, through all his jokes and kidding around, was the greatest father a kid could ever get. I don't know why I didn't know it before. He's compassionate and understanding to a fault. The perfect blend of fun and stern, like that Brady guy, only fifteen times cooler.

"Hey," he said, pulling from my grasp. "Get cleaned up and come downstairs." I could only nod my head meekly as I wiped my burning eyes. He ruffled my hair playfully as he stood. "Bourb, definitely do the cleaning thing," he said as he rubbed the fingers on his hand together.

I chuckled lightly at his mocking assessment of my greasy head. It was a truthful one though; I hadn't showered since before we left for the track the day before. So, heeding Dad's advice, I trudged across the hall to the bathroom.

The shower did me good, washing more than the dirt and grime away. By the time I had finished and dressed, my little episode was the furthest from my mind. The warmth of the cascading water helping me realize that what happened had for been a reason.

I reached the kitchen and found Dad sitting at the table woofing down a large bowl of Froot Loops, the cordless phone rested easily by his glass of OJ.

"I just got off the phone with Greg," my dad commented while absently stirring his cereal. The name he mentioned grabbed my attention, and.I turned from the cabinet where I was reaching for a bowl.

Who's Greg? Only the most kick ass Dirt-Bike Mechanic in the state. Trust me this guy can fix anything you throw at him. He's truly a god when it comes to those things.

"What did he say?" I questioned as anticipation wracked my body.

"Well," my dad tried for the dramatic pause, all the while grinning evilly, "he said you really made a mess of it this time. And that it would probably take a couple of weeks for the parts and to get everything working."

Weeks, the word screamed like an obscenity through my mind. I didn't know if I could handle that. I was always riding; I felt lazy when I wasn't. He might as well have told me I'd have to go without certain vital parts of the male anatomy for two weeks. I must have looked as dejected as I felt in that particular moment.

"But, he talked to a friend of his. He's a manager for a professional racing team that just finished their racing season. He's lending us a few bikes while yours is being fixed," he was grinning ear to ear as he said it, like he was proud of himself hiding it for so long.

I just hooted and hollered my way around the kitchen, ecstatic with the knowledge that I wouldn't be bikeless for half a month.

"You want to go with me to pick them up?" he asked laughing at me: already knowing the answer.

"Shit yeah!" I replied, excited and ready to be on a bike again.

Dad just looked at me sternly and stopped laughing, while I grinned sheepishly, and lowered my head, giving him the 'I'm sorry' Bourbon puppy dog eyes.

An hour later, we were in my dad's gray Sierra heading up Interstate 15 to Victorville. We made a pit stop at a Mobil station in Ontario. Of all the luck, my dad managed to find the slowest pump in the place. Good thing, too, because the needle was resting on empty. I don't know about your experience, but twenty-six gallons takes forever to fill up on a fast pump. This one seemed to be flowing like molasses in January. I passed some of the time by watching this strange lady bathe her car with a window squeegee.

You ever notice how you always meet the most interesting people at gas stations? It's sorta like hopping on a city bus. You have the okay, normal people, and then the ones a few gears short of a shifter. She had made her way inside and was asking the poor annoyed cashier the price on everything.

I felt sorry for the guy, and I had only entered to use the restroom and grab a Coke. She looked like she was sketching, her body giving an involuntary twitch every now and again.

"How much is the ice?" she requested as she leaned out of the open freezer door.

"Dollar forty-nine," he answered dryly, giving me a smile as I set the bottle down on the counter.

"Hey," I said as he grabbed the bottle and scanned it. He was about to answer when her voice carried across the room again.

"How much is the big bag?" she asked, annoying the guy as his face changed from relaxed and easy going to strained with frustration.

"It's not for sale," he called out and then quietly apologized as he told me the total.

"Then why is it the freezer?" she questioned her long neck popping around the candy rack.

I saw it coming, a flash in his grey-blue eyes followed by a sly smile. I couldn't help but smile back. I think it only encouraged him more, because as soon as I did his full lips opened.

"To stay frozen," he shouted back the answer to her while he kept smiling at me.

I couldn't help it, I started rolling. It was the perfect answer for her question. She didn't find it one bit funny. She flew around the rack screaming like a chased chicken, calling him a smart ass and demanding his manager's name and phone number.

I just shook my head and gave him my apologies, as I grabbed my Coke and made for the door.

"Aww man c'mon don't leave. I need reinforcements," he said laughing as he scribbled down the name and number of his boss for her. The last I saw of him was his spiked hair as he leaned on the counter scribbling more information for the insane crack whore. Shame too, he was kinda cute all done up in that Mobil uniform.

The drive up Cajon Pass was uneventful, scary at times, but uneventful. I caught my dad looking at me from the corner of his eye every now and then, just watching me. I was a little freaked. I mean I know one of them found us, I don't know which though, so I was sweatin' the trip a little bit.

It was all history as we rolled up to the ranch where the team manager lived. My dad introduced me to Kip and we chatted about bikes for a few, where I liked to ride, what I wanted to do in my life, and about school. Basically just shot the shit for a few. That's when he walked us to his garage.

Garage, right, the damn thing was more like a warehouse. Toys from one end to the other, all neatly lined up and in their place. I stared intently at the sand rail in the corner for a few moments before my dad motioned me over to where the bikes sat. Kip and my dad loaded the bikes into the truck while I just stood by and watched. I really just wanted to hop on one and blaze into the distance, but Dad didn't think it was such a great thing to do as he reminded me of my Icarus move yesterday.

Oh well...

Why is it when you're going somewhere the trip there isn't bad but the trek home is the most awful, boring task ever? The ride back home was horrible, really the spontaneous awkward glances from my dad continued, like he had something on the tip of his tongue that he was refusing to release. Those stares, compounded by the fact that my ass was going numb on account of the seats getting uncomfortable, made it worse.

The porch light was the most beautiful thing I had seen in almost five hours. Don't get me wrong, I loved the fact that we had two pro bikes strapped in the back of the Sierra. Likewise, I knew it would be a few days before my dad would let me ride again. I groaned as I hopped out of the truck. The Vicodin was wearing off and the ride had done a good job of making my muscles stiff.

"Bourb," my dad called out. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I sighed. "Just a little sore."

"Why don't you head on in and take it easy. I'll get the bikes out," he said as he began undoing the knots in the strap-down.

"You sure?" I asked as I leaned against the bed of the truck.

"Yeah, I got it bud," he said, smiling at me.

I grinned lightly and walked away slowly, the soreness not allowing my usual sprint to the door. My mom was sitting on the bottom step of the staircase as I entered the door. She looked at me and smiled.

"How you feeling?" she questioned already knowing the answer, having a glass of water and a single pill ready.

"Bad," I said as I took the glass and pill from her gratefully.

"Rusty stopped by today," she said nonchalantly, causing me to stop in mid gulp.

I finished swallowing the water and wiped the excess from my lips. "Yeah?" I said my voice quivering.

Giving me a light smile she continued, "He's a good young man, but he got awful quiet and wanted to leave pretty quick when he found out you were out with your dad," she smirked. "I wonder what that was all about."

I felt the color drain from my face and a cold sweat break out on my forehead. I had never really had 'the talk' with my parents; it just never really came up. Sure they had said numerous times to 'be careful' with implied meaning when I went out with friends. But the good old parent-child sit-down never happened. I guess they trusted my judgment and knew any such talk would be foolish in the way today's society worked.

It's true, everything a child needs to skillfully navigate a sexual existence is provided by his circle of friends, and the media. With all the government funded public service announcements. Yes the state shouldn't raise children, the parents should. But those ads help in a situation that would ultimately be left unsaid when all involved find such a topic embarrassing.

My face had grown visibly pale and my mom spotted it like a hawk. I guess good parents have that keen ability even when sitting in the dusk-darkened room off the foyer. I really was willing to talk things through with them. I knew they would understand. It's just that theory and practice are two totally different things.

"Hon, you look like shit," my mom said as she rose off the stair steps. "Why don't you go rest for a while," she said, slipping past me giving me a quick kiss on the cheek.

I slowly trudged my way up the steps and into my room. It was weird. I swore I could still smell Rusty in there. It was probably just the meds kicking in because I was starting to get the disturbing vision trail. As soon as I hit the bed I was gone, lost in the drug induced black void. I had a recollection of first my mom, and then my dad, trying to rouse me for dinner. Neither was successful as I only groaned in irritation. I was too busy fading in and out of consciousness and having good dreams to get up. Somewhere in the night, I thought I heard Rusty.

"Bourb, you awake?" he whispered, as I felt his presence as he hovered about the bed but was unwilling, and unable, to roust myself. "Bud, I need to talk with ya. You gonna wake up please?" Through the fog I could hear the pleading in his voice and my mind screamed for me to get up and hold him. My body however was locked in the paralysis of rest and I couldn't break free.

"Bourbon, I missed you today. It... it felt like part of me was lost," I felt him sit lightly on the bed next to me and place his hand on my shoulder in an effort to shake me awake.

No such luck...

"Alright, I'll catch you tomorrow," I heard him sigh as he bent down and lightly kissed my cheek. He didn't make his exit quickly, opting, I guess, to linger and watch me sleep. I slowly drifted off again, aware of his warmth.

When my head cleared a bit, the room was cold. I forced my heavy eyes open to find blazing red 3:30 screaming at me. I didn't take long before my eyes shut again and I slipped back off to sleep. The next time I woke up the sun was streaming through my window. I remembered Rusty, but discounted it to an odd Vicodin induced dream, or nightmare rather, seeing as how I didn't respond to him. The house was still as I groggily made way through it. Silence is golden, and unnerving, when you wake up in the morning. It happens rarely, and I hate it. A house isn't a home with out some kind of noise letting you know it was inhabited.

I slowly made my way to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. I stood there easily as I pulled the orange juice carton out and took a healthy swig, relieving myself of that odd form of morning cottonmouth. Satisfying my thirst, I sealed the carton, slid it back into its place, and shut the fridge door. That's when I noticed the note, reminding me that it was Sunday, my parent's usual community service day at the local shelter. No, they aren't required to do it by a court order; they're just a little bit different; they enjoy helping those less fortunate every now and again.

My mom had also let me know she left a pill on her dresser should I need it for pain. Er, no thanks, two of those things yesterday and I was about done with them. What good are drugs if you sleep through them? I'd rather deal with the pain personally. A quick shower and shave later I found myself bored in front of the TV set, idly flipping through stations.

How can a person have a hundred and fifty channels and still find nothing decent to watch? I was so bored I found myself watching the Two Fat Ladies on the food network cooking some English dish called bubbles and squeak. If you're wondering, the dish should be taken with a healthy dose of Beano, thus the interesting name.

By the time The Naked Chef came on, I couldn't take it anymore. I was already talking to myself in an English accent. Too much more wouldn't reflect well on my sanity. Besides, all this talk of food was going to make me hungry, so I decided to end the torture before it began. With a press of the green rubber button, the television fell silent and the images disappeared. I pulled my self off the couch feeling restless. My body was tired of lying around, wanting some activity.

So, I did what any normal bored teenager would do. I went against my parent's wishes.

I stood in the cool dark garage and watched as the door slowly rose under the whining of the door opener. In a matter of moments, I had the loaner bike pushed out of the garage and started. The vibrations of the motor were relaxing as I stood astride it, just letting them tingle their course up my spine. The day was gorgeous, the sun was shining and the skies were perfectly clear and free of the brownish haze of smog, a rarity for Southern California. I pulled the loose t-shirt I was wearing off and tossed it onto the lawn before I took off down the street.

Motion is good, just the thrill of speed, even if it did take you nowhere and back again. This little trip was destined to take me nowhere. I would end up back where I started, but the rush of wind slipping round my chest was the sensation I wanted the leisurely ride would take me somewhere though. It would take me back to where I belonged; that curious little place in space and time where I was meant to be.

I stopped the motor at Reed Park; a pair of shorts catching my eye. Not just any shorts; golden yellow ones. I knew the color well; it belonged to the uniform of the Corona Stingers, the local soccer club.

I wanted to dump the bike and move closer, but I couldn't. Instead, I watched as he dribbled the ball between his cleats. My eyes lingered on his feet for a moment, before they traveled up his sock covered shin guards to the gently swaying nylon caressing his thighs. There was a hint of bright white from what I assumed were a pair of boxers that crept up from his waistband, begging further investigation.

I was lost in the way his muscles rippled beneath the glistening skin of his back. I couldn't help it, but I was caught in this visual rapture. So I continued to watch as he kicked the ball aimlessly around the emerald field.

I couldn't stand just watching him anymore. As I saw it I had two choices, grab his attention. Or ride the bike over to him. I didn't see many groundskeepers being crazy about the second option so I whistled and yelled his name through my cupped hands.

He turned on his heels almost immediately. Even from a hundred yards, I could see his face lighten with a huge smile. In a matter of seconds he was running up to me, the lone soccer ball left wandering, forgotten.

"Hey," he said sounding winded, as he stopped before me.

"Hey you" I offered back, watching his hands as he hooked his thumbs on the waistline of his shorts.

We stood there for a moment each looking for the right words to say. What do you say? Nice weather? Hell no, a little under forty-eight hours ago I had his dick in my mouth and now I'm speechless. Christ, I hate being a teenager sometimes.

"Bourb," he started.

"Rusty," I fumbled over him as we both began to speak in unison, only to be quieted as shy glances multiplied by knowing smiles continued the conversation for us. I wanted to speak, but the simple fact was that I was content in his presence. The world could erupt into a seething ball of flame; I would know no fear as long as he was here.

"Bourb," he started after a pause. "I'm sorry for runnin' out like that the other day. I just freaked, it's the first time anything like that has ever happened." His eyes searched the ground as he kicked the grass lightly. "It just freaked me 'cause one of your parents saw me," he said, emphasizing the last word he spoke.

I wanted to say so much to him at that point. I wanted to confess unwavering devotion. I wanted to tell him I loved the way we woke up, and that if we could, I wanted to wake up like that until I never woke up again, but in the end none of those things left my lips.

"Take me home," I heard myself say, the words leaving my mouth on their own.

Rusty looked shocked at first, but an evil smile replaced it quickly. "Let me grab my ball and bag," he said as he turned to run down the slope.

"I think you have plenty of balls." I yelled, my voice carrying on the afternoon breeze, eliciting stares from the milling crowds at the park. Well fuck em' if they don't like it, I could really give a rat's ass for their opinions.

In a matter of moments Rusty was back, gym bag slung over one shoulder his jersey over the other.

"Put that away," I said as my eyes watched the matching yellow shirt. He gave me a curious look but didn't fight the command.

With a practiced and graceful ease, Rusty whipped the jersey down and stuffed it into his gym bag.

"I want to feel you," I muttered, watching him stash the jersey in his bag.

Rusty stood up with a grimace on his face. He didn't say a word, just tapped his knuckles on the athletic supporter that protected his groin. I frowned at his athletic support, not liking this turn of events at all. That was until a grin crossed my face as an Idea broached my mind. Not saying a word I lurched myself off the bike.

"You drive," I said, thrusting the Renthal handlebars towards Rusty before I snatched his bag and threw it over my shoulder.

"You sure?" Rusty asked as a look of apprehension spread across his face.

"Boy, you better get your ass on that bike," I said, smiling and giving him a quick slap on his golden encased rear.

Rusty had the bike revving like a pro in no time at all. He stood there looking proud, legs spread as he straddled the bike with the engine throttling loudly beneath him. I never wished I had a camera more in my life. Rusty looked so damn sexy standing there astride the bike, like he was David after conquering Goliath. I could have watched him all afternoon, but I had better ideas running through my dirty mind. My hands slinked around his waist as I hopped on the bike and pulled and pressed my crotch into the cleft of his ass. He got the idea as I pulled his slick back to my moist chest.

We got off to a slow start as he rocked the bike a few times getting used to the difference a duet makes. Soon enough though, he was zipping down the streets like a pro. I seized my opportunity as my left hand slid down his smooth abdomen landing easily in his exposed lap. He pulled the bike up to a stop sign and steadied it with his legs.

"Dude, if your hands fall any further you'll be cupping my jock," he commented, mimicking one of the first things I'd ever said to him.

I slid my exposed nipples along the flesh of his back, moving from the right side of his head, to his left ear.

"Yeah," I breathed heavily in his ear. "And so much more..." I said, sliding my hand under the waistband of his shorts, eliciting a slight yelp from him as my palm rubbed heavily over the rigid plastic barrier.

Rusty's head glanced from side to side before his gaze fell to his own crotch. He revved the throttle excitedly as my hand pressed the protective sheathing into his groin. We sat there oblivious to the world around us, me pushing his cup into him; he in turn was pressing it back into the palm of my hand. My free hand wandered across the flat of his stomach, letting an occasional finger slip inside the shallow of his naval.

He groaned absently and thrust his hips up off the seat. Just at that moment, a car unnoticed by us blew its horn, blasting us from our trance. My head spun around, catching sight of a puff of gray hair and eyes that barely saw over the steering wheel before Rusty raced away.

I had half a mind to give the rude ol' bird the bird, but my hands were otherwise occupied. The bike halted abruptly, smashing my chest harder into his back. I didn't realize we had made it to my driveway. My hand reluctantly slid out from the warm confines of his shorts as I jumped off the bike.

I watched him prop the bike up on the bike stand in the garage as I pulled off his bag and dropped it to the floor. He walked easily over to the door to the house and stood veiled in the shadows of the garage, forcing me to move closer and out of the sun. Those eyes again, burning like fire. Speaking words his mouth couldn't form. They glistened brightly in the shallow light of the garage, speaking of trust, acceptance, and above all else, passion.

They were like a beacon in a storm, pulling me forward with each twinkle. How could I resist the temptation? Within moments, we stood face-to-face, chest-to-chest. Every breath our bodies demanded caused nipples to rake sensitive flesh. I could feel his hot, ragged breath wash over us. I stepped into him, pressing his exposed back to the rough surface of the wall. My lips sought out his all too receptive ones. I teased him, pulling back quickly and moving my aim to his collarbone. My lips lingered there tasting the salt of his sweat before I moved and caught his mouth.

A rush of wind left his nostrils as I grabbed his ass and ground his flesh into mine. It all seemed to happen so fast, his arms wrapped around my neck and I was holding him aloft by the ass as I slowly ground my aching crotch into his shielded one.

My hands slowly slipped under the waistband of his shorts and boxer briefs. They fought with the restrictive fabric, pushing it towards his thighs. He moaned into my mouth as the cool air of the garage swirled around the newly exposed flesh of his cheeks.

Rusty broke the kiss only long enough to gasp for air. His lips however didn't return to my own. He began to lick his way around my jaw nibbling lightly every few inches, the grunts of my pleasure resounded off his rapidly slicking flesh.

As much as I didn't want to tear a hand from him, I had too. The hand felt odd, devoid of the flesh of his ass. As unnatural as it felt when it was denied the grip of a handlebar. He moaned his disappointment as its grasp left him. I smashed my abandoned free hand down on the cool plastic of the garage door opener.

The electronic hum of the motor and the metallic clanking of the paneled door covered our animalistic pleadings with each other. What little I could see of his body evaporated into the dank blackness of the garage.

The loss of the light had robbed me of one sense; but in turn amplified the others. His body raged like fire against mine. All I could smell was him; the muskiness of his skin, and the fresh scent of his deodorant. The two smells combining in an assault on my nostrils. His moans and whimpers seemed to reverberate from every fiber of my being.

In the void, I couldn't tell what belonged to whom. It all felt like a massive twist of pleasurable flesh. Our bodies, entwined like pretzels, were beginning to take actions in tune with the heat of the enclosed room. Even though my own body was now wet with perspiration I felt droplets of his fall and slide down my chest.

My free hand slid down the wall where it had been perched since I closed the garage door. I maneuvered my way between our stomachs until I found his drenched soccer shorts. Hope soared, thoughts of my hand diving in easily searching out his dick raced through my head. The soaked mesh fabric had other ideas. My excited fingers fumbled in the clenching fabric, pushing the hard protective cup to one side.

I heard him growl through clenched teeth as his head hit the wall behind him. Instantly my lips left the tender flesh of his chest as I gazed up trying to see him in the dark. Just how he got this high in my arms I couldn't begin to say.

"I'm sorry, Babe," I cooed as I let his slick body slide down mine until he was again on his own feet. He surprised me by nuzzling into the nape of my neck and hugging me tightly.

I must admit, I figured the embrace signaled the end of our fun for the day. Yeah it would have been frustrating, considering I had the house to my devilish self, but if that was what he wished then that's what I'd do. Hell, I was fine just holding him again; somehow, in our brief tryst, I had become addicted to his flesh.

Did I say I was devilish? I quickly learned I was no such thing. The realization also struck me as to who was really in charge of our little rendezvous.

A delightful tingle swirled its way up my spine. Its path curled up and over my shoulder and halted on the skin Rusty's lips danced upon. The tingling on my spine shattered, dissolving into a million points of light over my body as his hand brushed my nipple. A low groan resounded from the depths of my chest as my head dipped back on my shoulders. He was amazing. Moments ago, I was pawing him like mad and didn't receive such a response.

Rusty's fingers tweaked the stainless silver balls that surrounded my nipples, getting a louder moan. "Let's go inside," he whispered as he pulled his lips from my collarbone.

I didn't answer; just let my hand worm its way through the darkness until it found the doorknob. The garage entrance was washed in filtered light from the house as cool air offered reprieve from the sweltering heat of the garage.

Rusty turned and led the way into the empty house, pulling the back of his shorts up as he passed the threshold. He turned his head slightly so I could only see the left side of his face. What I saw could be described as no less then an 'are you coming look'.

We were both quiet as we climbed the stairs. Anticipation? Apprehension? Hell, I was feeling a million things with each step climbed. I couldn't possibly list all of the emotions I was feeling, or why I felt them. I only knew my longing for him.

He led the way to the foot of my bed where he turned and smiled. His eyes grabbing mine, and not letting go, even as his hands undid the buckle of my belt. With the belt undone, the heavy denim shorts fell in a puddle around my feet.

They say eyes are the windows to the soul. I'm not fond of that saying. Often, if you're lucky enough to make eye contact, the eyes are dead. The product of a monotonous, fast-paced life I guess. Rusty was different; he savored the contact. Through those Hershey pools I could see his soul; all of his dreams and fears as clear as day. They spoke everything he thought he didn't need to say. I could only hope he found the same in mine, 'cause I meant all of it.

My dick jumped as his hand gently brushed over the thin cotton of my boxers. He smirked at the lustful reaction. Slowly, his hand encircled me and he pressed his thumb firmly down on the growing wet spot, causing me to shudder. Slowly he rubbed the flat of his thumb over my sensitive glands, his simple touch acting like a short circuit, halting my breath.

When he finally allowed me to breath again, I slowly turned him around and pulled his back to my chest. In the action my dick had found its escape through the fly of my boxers. It was wrapped in silky warmth as it slid between his thighs coming to a stop at the solid base of his cup.

My hands grasped his pecs, giving his nipples a quick tweak, before they slid down the taut skin of his chest and belly. I hesitated at his waistband, not out of fear, only long enough for my fingers to fight their way underneath.

The heat emanating from him was intense. The more I explored the hotter his skin felt. My hands easily slid under the firm ridge of his cup aided by the moisture there. A rush of hot air escaped his lungs as my fingers curled firmly around his aching flesh. Rusty leaned back, his weight resting against my chest as I jacked him in the confines of his shorts, my hand moving over his dick with ease, aided by his sweat.

"Damn," I murmured into his ear. "You're all sweaty. Was the garage too much?" I asked with caution.

"No," he said with a groan, but his voice shifted as he continued to speak. "Its all you."

"Yeah?" I was a little shocked at the notion that I could derive such a response.

"Every time," he said breathlessly as he peeled his skin away from my chest, causing my hands to loose grip on their prize.

I stood and watched as the cold rushed over me. I felt more naked without him pressed against me when we were alone than I would standing bare in a crowded auditorium with him. Rusty removed his cleats and peeled off his socks and shin guards, tossing them all in a pile.

He slowly hooked his thumbs under his boxer briefs and pulled them along with his shorts down his legs. Rusty gave me a sly smile before he tossed the tangle of fabric at my face. My fingers caught the knot of fabric curling into the athletic supporter, just before the tangle hit my face. There he was, naked in all his glory on my bed. He looked so lonely there that I had to join him. His face washed with a look of desire. A playful grin spread across his face as I advanced on him. Rusty's eyes trailed over my body and I could feel him stop at my groin.

"Umm, aren't you forgetting something?" he said giggling at me.

My eyes followed his gaze to the waistband of my boxers. I only grinned as my hands grasped the sides of the fly opening. The thin cotton cried as it fought a losing battle against the muscles in my arms. With a final screaming tear, the boxers fell in tatters at my feet.

"Better?" I asked, giving him a cocky grin.

"Fuck, that was hot," he smiled as he scooted his body up on the bed.

"Want to see it again?" I asked as I climbed up over him on the bed.

"No," he said laughing as his hand curled around the back of my head, pulling my lips to his.

As he sucked on my tongue, my body melded to his, trying to maximize the skin-to-skin contact. He groaned as I broke the kiss, his lips trying to follow mine as I moved my attentions to his neck and downward. I paused long enough to give each nipple a broad lick and quick suckle, eliciting moans of pleasure.

As I continued to go down, his hand brushed through my hair and urged me on until I planted a final kiss in the pubic hair above his cock. I could feel his excited dick throb against my neck just under my chin. I looked up and found his eyes waiting, the moment we made eye contact his dick spasmed, smearing a trail of slime on my neck.

My hands roamed their way back up his torso as I maneuvered until his head was resting against my lips. Another drop squeezed its way past the rubbery violet head as he purred. The tip of my tongue slid out and lapped up the single droplet before the whole head slid past my lips. Rusty moaned as his hips lifted off the bed, wanting to get as much into me as he could. He slowly began to fuck my mouth as my tongue swirled around his engorged head.

"Yesssssss," Rusty's fists scrunched the sheets, then released them, his head falling back, accentuating the strong lines of his neck as the word slithered off his tongue.

My hands caressed his stomach and chest as he continued gently pushing his hips towards my mouth. I would erratically tweak his nipples every so often causing him to groan and rock his head between his shoulders. I let my hand wander up to the sinewy tendons in his neck, stroking them blindly.

He grabbed my attention when his hot mouth enveloped my fingers and began suckling them. He added an occasional nibble at the tips once or twice to change things up. It was only a matter of minutes before I felt him swell inside my mouth. My eyes sought out his as their gaze ran past the contracted muscles of his stomach and the heft of his chest.

Rusty's eyes were screwed shut and his jaw had relaxed letting my fingers fall from his open mouth. I curled my hand around the side of his neck as I felt it vibrate with a guttural moan. His first shot spread across my tongue in a fiery sensation. I was rewarded with a second as I gulped the first, before being able to completely pull off him. His following volleys left a pearl like trail of droplets from the inverted V of his breastbone, down to his groin.

My hand pulled away from his neck as I pulled myself away. I sucked the fingers into my mouth tasting his mouth on them as he looked up at me with a contented grin. "Good?" I asked letting the pair of now thoroughly wet digits slip from my mouth.

He only meekly nodded his head. Unable to resist, I leaned in and tasted his mouth again, parting his full lips with my tongue. As I kissed him, my hand sought out a path to that forbidden place between his legs. Lightly I rubbed a wet finger over his constricted bud causing him to moan into my mouth. The vibrations that his moans flooded my tonsils with were out of this world, pushing me to explore this newfound sensation further. My finger continued to rub across his hole, applying more pressure with each pass.

I broke the kiss, smiling at him as I grabbed the small bottle of lotion every self-respecting teenage boy kept stashed in his room. Smearing a healthy amount on my finger, I went back to kissing him, enjoying the shudder that raced through his body as my fingers slid the cool cream along his ass.

His moist lips separated with a soft smack, quivering; wanting to taste them again, I watched his full lips as they glistened with sheen of saliva. His eyes remained closed as my fingers danced across his bud, the gentle, constant stimulation forcing his nose upwards, his head pushing further into the confines of the firm pillow.

"Trust me?" the warmth of my words washed over Rusty's lips giving him a kiss of their own.

"Oh God yes," his breath rushed up, colliding with the supple flesh of my lips. Even though the rush of his breath felt amazing, those words felt so much better.

Rusty's body tensed as my finger slid past the tight entrance to his body. The clash of the soft skin with the rigid muscular foundation was exhilarating as I kissed down his chest. My lips wandered over the taught skin, grazing over invisible fine hairs. As I kissed my way to his chest bone, I ran across a drop of his nectar. A treasure that my tongue eagerly lapped up as I slowly fingered his tight hole. He gave an occasional groan, its chorus laced with a mix of pleasure and pain, as my finger continued to stimulate him.

The broad, raspy flesh of my tongue left a wet trail from the valley of his chest to the tensing flat of his stomach. I swirled my tongue around the rim of his bellybutton as a second finger slipped inside him. His belly jumped forward meeting my lips at the new pressure.

As my lips were grazing his trim pubic hairs, he was fully hard, oozing copious amounts of precum. I stole a quick glance only to find his eyes closed; lost in the sensations that where assaulting him. Grinning to myself, I slid my tongue up the underside of his shaft and engulfed his head, holding him, pinned between my fingers and lips. He murmured incoherently at a slash from my tongue, a second earned me a guttural moan. Before long, Rusty had set his own rhythm, pumping himself into my waiting mouth and in turn, fucking himself on my fingers. As I pulled off him, my fingers grazed that magic spot buried deep within him.

"Fuck," he gasped, his dick spasming.

"Ready?" I whispered.

He only shook his head as he mentally prepared himself. I pulled my fingers out and got up on my haunches, watching his as he spread his legs wider. I glanced at his face as I grabbed the bottle of lotion. Watching him watch me with a mixed look of fear and trust, his eyes locked on me as I rubbed the lotion all over my engorged dick.

I climbed between his legs and raised them up until they rested against my hips. Watching him intently, I guided my slippery prick to his tight orifice. A sharp breath of anticipation escaped him as the head grazed his hole. My fingers ran over the slight ridges in his belly trying to calm him as I slowly ran the head of my cock up and down the length of his slick crack. As the taut muscles in his stomach relaxed, I began to apply pressure to his rectum.

Watching in amazement as the head of my dick sank into the cleft of his ass; I felt the fire from within race back along the shaft, spreading warmth through my abdomen. Rusty's face screwed into a tight grimace, the muscles in his jaw tensing tightly as the mushroom head popped past his unsullied ring. His body shook with a grunt as he clamped down on me.

"You okay babe?" thick with concern, the words curled off my lips, my hands soothing the insides of his thighs.

Rusty didn't respond, every muscle in his body straining against itself, holding him like a statue of flesh. Only the pulsing of his heart indicated by the gentle bobbing of his stiff prick gave a hint of life.

A few moments passed before the tight tendons began to relax, stealing the rigidity from his flesh, allowing a little more of me to meld with him. He nodded his head in answer to my earlier question. Slowly his eyes opened and he gave me a devilish little half smile that produced the dimples in his cheeks.

I held for a second longer, lost in the constrictions of his velvet crush. It wasn't until he pushed towards me with a soft moan that I got the idea, resuming my inward stroke, pushing an occasional grunt from him.

Okay, let me explain to you the simple fact of shaving supremacy.

In a phrase, skin on skin contact...

Oh, don't get me wrong, pubic hair is great and all but, well, just shave it off and let a nice loose set of nuts rest right where your patch used to be. It's an indescribable feeling that has convinced me to shave until time fades.

I locked eyes with him again, seeing the lines of tension there, I leaned in and planted soft kisses on his forehead, leaving them trail to his eyelids, and finally his mouth. Gently nibbling his bottom lip in between light kisses that he returned, adrift in the soft caress of Rusty's lips, I had begun a slow rhythm. I centered all my attention on his mouth, the rest of me just did what came naturally. Call it animal instinct or whatever, it's the process of feeling out the person your with, using all your senses to gauge when to switch gears and move a little faster.

My biggest clue? Oh, I remember that more then anything else. I knew he was ready to gear up when he slid his hand along the small of my back and rested it there. He didn't pull me to him, just let it rest there as a gentle encouragement.

The frumpy stuffed teddy, which sat as a relic of my childhood, was bathed in a mixed cacophony of noises it should have never heard. The soft crunching of the mattress set the tempo, the sound of flesh rubbing against flesh and hips smacking, topped by the chorus of purrs and an occasional moan all colliding and reverberating off the walls, creating a symphony to the tattered ears and glass eyes.

Steadily, the rhythm increased as the sound of heavy breathing collided to a crescendo. My hips rocked forward and I felt the muscles in my stomach beginning to tighten as that wonderful sensation spread outward from my navel. Knowing the pinnacle was near I slipped my hand in between our flat stomachs, finding his pulsing dick in a puddle of his slick secretions. Using his precum, I deftly slid my hand the length of the engorged shaft.

"Bourb," Rusty pleaded while squirming beneath me. "Bourb, finish me, please," he continued, begging for release as his torso arched towards mine, mashing our chests together.

I gave in to his wishes and slid my thumb over the slit on his head on the down stroke, causing his whole body to go rigid, even the dark passage I now occupied. The added pressure was too much for me to control. My lips dove for his and claimed them as my own, and a warm sensation shot up the length of my dick.

My world exploded, leaving me in the dark as my eyes clamped shut. My lungs emptied, filling his. The used air then trickled back into me, like the foamy water of a beached wave slowly receding to the ocean from whence it came.

The two us lay there for some time, my weight supported by his chest, holding each other tightly, smearing his hot cum across our bellies until it cooled. Dreamily, I raised my head, and gazed upon an expression that mirrored my own.

"Rusty," I whispered. "I love you." I was rewarded with the same chipmunk grin he had given me the other day, that puffy cheeked smile that flashed his dimples. The one he got when he was content. Leisurely, my head came to rest on his shoulder, the steady rise and fall of his chest soothing me.

"I love you more," he whispered, closing his arms around me.