Date: Wed, 13 Jun 2001 19:22:33 +0200
From: Lange <lange.ruegen@t-online.de>
Subject: a little lamb - chapter two

Okay, legal disclaimer: do not read if under 18, not allowed in your area,
you are disgusted by such stuff or generally don't like it. you know what,
i don't force anybody to read this...

Copyright 2001 by n-c-g. all rights reserved. don't post this somewhere
without informing me. well and if you MUST post it somewhere, make sure the
people don't have to pay for reading it, alright? Hmm...I'd still like to
be informed, so drop me a line. although I VERY highly doubt people even
like this...

The things happening in the story should never, I repeat NEVER happen in
real life.

This was edited by bill watts. a very huge thanks to bill for all the work.
I nearly forgot about this, the title of this story is a line in the song
'walk unafraid' by r.e.m

if you want to read other stories by me on nifty:

"betrayed love" in young friends - on-going - last posted on April 2nd, 2001
"us" in highschool - finished - posted on April 1st, 2001

---------
notes from the author(that's me):
hi. i know it's been really long...well, at least in my opinion...
since i have posted the first chapter to this story, but well,
there this thing called real-life :-) umm, i've just re-read what
i have been saying in the 'notes from the author' part the last
time and i can assure you, it doesn't apply anymore. Well, that
there won't be any sex scenes in this story still applies, but
that thing with somehow being disgusted a bit and stuff...this
story is like fast on the way to become the one i love writing
the most right now. I just wondered why everybody says that
they'll ignore flames... hmm, yeah, tell me what you think off
the story, please. would be very nice
----------
~~~~~~~~
~~~~
~

chapter two - unintentional harm

I look down ashamed. I have just lied to my dad, my lover? I
mean, has it been a lie? I really do love him, that's for sure. But
this other boy... Why does everything have to be so complicated?
Why can't it just remain simple? With the tears springing to my
eyes once more, I embrace my dad, burying my head in the crook
of his neck. Well, if he doesn't know by now that something is
seriously wrong, I don't know what else to do.

"Hey baby, what is it? What's bothering you? And don't say
'nothing'. What's going on?"

"I don't want to talk." I held onto him just so I didn't have to look
him in the eyes. Why does he have to pry? Why does he have to
dig deeper and deeper, making me more miserable by the minute?
I don't want to talk and I won't. No! Why should I talk, there's
nothing to talk about. I only have some weird infatuation with
some weird boy I meet daily...okay, he is cute. And? That doesn't
mean I'll just go to my dad like: 'Sorry Dad, I meet this boy every
day and I have just decided I might love him.' No, I can't do that,
can I?

"Christopher, look at me! Now!" Okay, that makes me look up. He
rarely calls me by my name. 'Don't make this so hard on me Dad,
please,' I think. I meekly lift my head from his shoulder and
immediately his left hand takes hold of my arm to keep me from
curling up against him. His right hand goes to my chin to keep me
from looking away.  I can't bear to look him in the eye. I know I'm
hurting him by not looking at him and he senses that I don't trust
him. After working up some courage, I look into his eyes and I see
the deep hurt I've helped to put there. His eyes are also tearing up.
What's this, my dad is crying? I look at him kind of disbelieving,
and slowly I reach up with my hand, which seems so small
compared to his, and wipe the tear away.

I made my dad cry. It's my fault he's hurting now. I feel bad, really
bad. I never wanted to make him cry. Believe me, I...  Of course,
seeing him crying does not help to soothe my conscience. And my
sobbing makes him even sadder, or so it seems. I can't stand to see
him crying, so I make the decision to leave my place on his lap.

Hmm, I guess it wasn't the right decision, but excuse me, I'm only
13, dammit! (Sorry!). I'm not supposed to be responsible for
another human being yet. I'm only supposed to live. All right, I
know this is turning out badly, and it seems very negative. It's not
like I don't want this relationship, it's really not like that. I swear
by God that this relationship is all I ever wanted and I'm really,
really happy with it, but that does not change the fact that I have
more responsibility to carry than other kids my age and sometimes,
like now, I don't know how to act the right way. I don't want to see
my dad hurting. I promised to never hurt him, so what have I done
now?

I have reached my own room, but I realize that was probably the
wrong decision. Foolish.

I have not lied to my Dad. Well, it was no lie. It was no lie! No. I
love him. I love only...  Crap, I don't know what it is about that
kid.  But why haven't I told him?  Why don't I tell him? Why? He
should know about it. He HAS to know about it, dammit (sorry
again. That's already the second time, right?). I can't just keep it
from him. Even if it's only a crush or something, it is something
that obviously influences our relationship. I have to talk to him and
hmmm...  I already hear his footsteps. Can I talk to now?  Can I
face him after having hurt him? No!

I crawl into my bed and pull the cover over my head to...well,
somehow hide from my dad. I know, it's foolish and silly and
whatever, but hey, I'm a kid. I'm not supposed to be mature. Okay,
I know this sounds childish, but I can't help it okay? Okay! Fine!
That doesn't keep me from feeling real bad though. I have caused
him pain. Me! I'm not worth his love when I lie to him or don't
appreciate him. I'm worth nothing. He shouldn't cry because of me.
It is not right and I'm not worth his tears. I'm...

Sobs wrack my body and then I feel his hand through the cover on
my back. The hand disappears and I only hear some movement
next to the bed. Suddenly the mattress shifts and I feel a body next
to mine. He lifts the cover and slides under it, pressed against me
from behind. He is nearly naked and despite my tears, I struggle
out of my clothes as well (if you must know, we still have our
underwear on) and lay back with my back to his chest. He folds his
hands in front of my body and holds me tight against himself. I
totally relax in his grip and eventually my tears stop falling. It's not
like I'm forgetting about everything and I'm pretty sure my Dad
isn't either, because he'll surely want to talk about it soon. Right
now we don't talk at all though.

After a good twenty minutes I was nearly asleep, and my dad
moves for the first time, as his hands on my tummy separate. One
remains there and strokes the area around my belly button, while
his other hand wanders up to caress my hair. He doesn't need to
say it, but his movements show that despite my earlier actions or
non-actions, he still loves me.

I am content. Totally...well, at least for the moment. I feel safe in
his arms and I feel great, although I know he'll want a talk.
Honestly, I'm more than just a bit scared of that talk, well...it's
more like scared shitless (you know the drill!). It could mean the
end of our...relationship, as lovers, that is. He wouldn't stop being
my Dad or anything, but it could mean so much. I don't want to
lose him. Not like that. I love him, and I have no idea how to get
this back to normal. Normal...well, what is normal anyway? But I
mean, what would it be like if we just went back to some father-
son relationship? Would it even work? Gee, I'm sick of thinking
about all of this. It never does you any good. You always go on
analyzing everything, and you don't even know a single thing more
once you're finished, I guess. I snuggle back against my dad and
enjoy the warmth and the feeling of being loved and then loving in
return. Then, after another few minutes, I turn around and embrace
my Dad, kissing him softly on the lips. I let my tongue trace the
curves of his lips and he pushes his tongue out also, making them
meet, touch, and caress each other.

After a while it begins to tickle and I suppress a giggle, so I won't
destroy the kiss. When I feel that I can't hold it anymore, I just
have to break our connection and look at him grinning. He grins
back, and then turns somehow serious again.

"Christopher, we have to talk. You know that."

"I know, but now? I don't want that talk right now. I mean, we are
like laying here all nice and that would be destroyed if we started
talking now.  So I really do not want to talk about this. Okay, I
know it's important and all and I know it has to be done,
but...uhhh...I'm not that keen on talking about all this relationship
stuff."

"Now, let's get out of bed and dressed."

"Can't we...?"

"No. Get up." Geez, I'd like to keep lying here, but nooo, we have
to get up. That sucks! (um, sorry, I guess!) That's so really typical
for adults: always acting exactly the way that satisfies kids the
least, so that they always have the power. And I was not satisfied. I
hate it when we get down to the father-son mode. Well, it was not
quite f-s mode, but still bad enough, really. And I hate this 'we
have to have a serious talk' voice.

Unhappily I comply and get up, putting on my clothes grudgingly,
trying to stay mad at my Dad, but as always, I can't do that for
more than a minute. I simply can't stay mad at him. I love him too
much, I guess. Not that it's a bad thing, but arrgh, sometimes I just
*want* to be angry with him. Sometimes something he does or
says just pisses me off (hm, I *had* to get that out). I mean, I
guess it's pretty normal that sometimes you don't want to talk to
someone.

Well, whatever, my father stepped out of the bed also and I think
he is smirking at my hard-tried-anger, as always. Okay, it's not as
if he's making fun of me every possible moment, not by a long
shot, but he generally seems to have good idea when I'm really
serious or when I only pretend to be. Mostly.

I have already gone to the kitchen and sat down delete in the
kitchen, our place for serious talks and hmm, I wait for my dad to
come in there, and he does. Well, he waits in the doorway. I look
at him...somehow confused, I think. He smiles at me tenderly and
I'm nearly melting.

"It's not that kitchen today, babe. Let's make ourselves comfy."

"Cool." I smile widely at him and embrace him, standing in front
of him. He takes my hand and leads me into the living room. I
somehow feel like his wife or something. Hm, in a way I am, I
guess. He sits on the sofa and begs me to sit on his lap. I happily
comply.

Once I'm sitting there, I feel slightly better. Usually, when we're in
the kitchen and have one of our serious talks I kind of get easily
frustrated. I mean, my dad might be able to simply switch modes,
to go from affectionate lover to educating father, but it's harder for
me. And yeah, he's explained to me why it's necessary to not
always be my lover, but I've forgotten the reason already. I mean, I
just don't see it, okay?

So now, while I'm leaning back against him, he brings his arms
around me again and places them under by t-shirt, on my tummy.
Despite his sweet caresses, I'm soooo tense because I know he'll
start the talk any minute. When he takes one deep breath, I know
the time has come. Gee, if that doesn't sound dramatic...

"Babe, you know we have to talk."

"But Dad..."

"No but. Hey, you know I'm not doing this to embarrass you or
make you feel bad or anything else, but I see that you're hurting or
that you're at least uncomfortable."

"I'm not."

"Chris, you usually are not running out crying. And you did that
twice already today."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you mad. I really...didn't, I'm so
sorry..."

"Babe, shhh. Just listen to me. I'm not mad at you, how could I
ever be?" He softly lays my head against his strong chest and
strokes my hair gently.

"But you said..."

"I'm sorry if it sounded like I'm mad 'cause I'm honestly not.
Still...there must be something that's troubling you. "

"Troubling me, what do you...?"

"I mean there must be something that makes you cry, something
that bothers you."

"Do I really have to tell you?"

"Babe, if I were only your father, I'd probably say something like,
if you think it's nothing major, then try to solve it on your own.
But obviously, I am asking you. Baby, I love you and it affects me
as much as it does you. We are...well, lovers. Considering you as
my son, I possibly wouldn't even want an explanation, but I'm your
lover, as weird as that sounds, and it hurts me that you're not
telling me about it. And I interpret it like you don't trust me and
that really hurts here." The hand that was stroking my hair,
momentarily leaves it and is placed on his heart. I did it all wrong.
I didn't want to hurt him and I'm hurting him even more now.

"I'm sorry, I..."

"I know it has not been your intention and I'm not saying it was. It
still hurts, that's why I think this is important."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Well, such talks are really pretty important for couples. You're
now learning that earlier than other people, I think. Do you
remember the talk we've had after the first time we kissed and
slept together at night?"

"Sure."

"We talked about how important it is for us to trust each other and
we talked about not hurting each other and this is exactly what I
meant."

"I know Dad, but I feel like I'm doing more wrong than right
things trying to follow your lead. I can't seem to get anything right.
I guess I'm simply not worth your love and trust and..."

"Stop Chris, I don't want to hear such things. You're supposed to
make mistakes, because that's how we all grow. It's a perfectly
normal thing.  You're growing up and that's why...well, I guess
that's somehow also the reason for this talk and that's why this is
important. You know that, too."

"Yes, Dad, and honestly, I do want to talk to you about it, 'cause I
just need to get it out and, yeah, I know I probably shouldn't have
made such a fuss about this."

"Babe, I'm not accusing you or anything like that. I never would be
able to do that. And well, let's not dwell on things like that. I'm not
mad at you, I'm not disappointed, and I definitely will not stop
loving you. Just tell me please."

"Dad, I know you need to know such things. It's just that I'm so
afraid that it will change everything and you'll stop doing all that
stuff with me. I know it's foolish, but just to imagine that makes
me feel really weird. I don't think I could take it if you said 'that's
it!' It seems so unbearable."

"Sweetie, I couldn't ever stop loving you, no matter what you tell
me. I'm only human, so I have no idea how I might react, but I
promise, there's nothing you can do or say which would disgust me
or make me turn away from you."

"I know. Still..." I was still hesitating, especially after he told me
that he could never stop loving me. Gee, this makes it so hard. I
don't want to hurt him, really I don't.

"Please, talk to me." And then I looked into his eyes and saw that
he really meant this seriously and honestly, so I think it's about
time I get this out in the open.

"Dad, this is so hard to say for me, it's...well, you know the way I
take when I go to school? And well...during the past two months or
so there is always this kid going in the other direction at the same
time. He is blond and...and I look at him longer than at other boys
and...he is really cute, Dad and gee..." That's when I look up and
see big tears rolling from my dad's eyes over his cheeks and chin,
and immediately regret having let him persuade me to tell him
about it.

"Dad? I...I'm sorry. I didn't want..."

"Chris, would you get up from my lap? I...I need some time to
think."

He shoves me from his legs almost roughly, making my heart feel
like it was going to break.  From there he goes into his bedroom,
and then he closes the door behind him and locks it. I'm sitting
there just staring at the now-closed door, kind of dumbly, until the
tears begin to roll again. I really did it this time, didn't I? I really
messed it up.

I sat down on the floor, right on the spot that I had previously been
standing on, and just let the tears flow freely. I do not quite bawl
or anything, which is somehow weird, because usually I'm a pretty
noisy crier (if you want to put it like that). Maybe it's because I just
feel so empty...just like earlier when I was lying on my bed. I feel
like I've lost everything that has any importance to me, and only
because of some stupid kid.

I crawl over to my dad's...once it has been our...bedroom door and
just lean against it, wanting to be close to him somehow. I know
this is stupid, as he probably lying on the bed inside the room,
which is like in the middle of the room and only about five meters
from where I'm sitting, but I don't care, okay? I. Do. Not. Care. I
miss him. The tears have become a steady stream, while my
thoughts continue like a hurricane in my head. I want all this to
just go back the way it was yesterday. I hate that kid. I want my
Dad back. And then I fall asleep, just like that, laying weirdly
sprawled out against the door.

A sudden movement violently awakens me and now I lay sprawled
at my Dad's feet. I don't even want to meet his gaze, knowing it's
my fault I really screwed up our relationship, but then he bends
down and makes me look into his red, swollen eyes. I'm so totally
sorry about this and carefully touch his cheeks letting my
fingertips linger on his still damp skin. The realization that I have
made him cry...again, send me into hysterics and I shy away from
him trying to scramble out of the room before he gets to me or
before he gets even madder at me. He has been crying because I
have disappointed him. I'm supposed to be faithful when in a
relationship, right?  And what did I do? I go out and look at the
next best kid, getting all my fantasies in high gear.

Before I even get a few feet away, he grabs me around the waist
and kind of like tackles me to the ground. Now he's going to scold
me and...

"Daddy, I'm so sorry...I didn't want to...don't be mad at me...I
didn't intend to...I'm so sorry..."

"Baby, Chris, Chris, Christopher, listen."

While I'm babbling somehow...hmm...incoherently, I think you
call it, he tries to calm me down. He...he tries to calm me? He is
still talking to me? I mean...

"Chris, I'm so sorry. It was so wrong of me to react that way. I'm
really sorry, baby..."

He is the one apologizing to me? I mean, actually it should be the
other way around, shouldn't it? I mean, gee, I have just destroyed
our relationship, it was me who...

"Dad, I'm so sorry." I get up from the floor and jump on him, now
really sobbing into his chest, nearly tearing his t-shirt. I don't think
he wants me to have one of my crying fits, as he leads me over to
the bed and sits me down beside him.  He leaves the room, I don't
know why, but the second he's gone, my sobbing starts to get
stronger again.  I don't quiet down until he comes back with some
wet washcloths to cool down my skin and make the wet tear traces
disappear. He is still so gentle with me, but HOW is that possible?
I've just taken something from him that is so important to him.

"Chris listen, I..."

"Dad, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"Chris, please be quiet for just one minute and let me talk, alright?
I don't mean this in a bad way, but I think that I owe you an
explanation and an apology."

"But..."

"No but. Chris, I'm really sorry. The way I acted is unforgivable. I
didn't think I could ever be that selfish, but obviously, this
situation just proved me wrong. I'm so sorry to have put you
through this. It was really very irresponsible of me. I'm supposed
to be understanding and there for you when you come to me with
your problems, but I totally failed there. If you don't want to be
with me anymore, I will understand. I'm so terribly sorry, Chris."
He let his head hang down and I couldn't believe this was
happening. My Dad is apologizing to me? I mean, did somebody
not get this up to now?  It was my fault that all this happened, and
now he's...I don't get it.

I take the washcloth he has carelessly thrown onto the carpet and
use it on him. I try to do it as soothingly as he always does to me,
and I gently lift his chin with my hand, making him look up into
my eyes. He has this...hmm...look of disbelief about him, like he
does not think everything that's happing is indeed real. I slowly lift
the washcloth to his face and touch his cheeks with it...gently, as I
hope this will make things better. When I have touched every part
of his face, I stop what I'm doing, but the washcloth is still in my
hand and against his cheek. I timidly lean in to kiss him, not quite
sure whether I am allowed to or not. Only our lips are touching,
but just barely. It's like our first kiss all over again. I sneak my
tongue out and beg for entry. I feel how he struggles against me,
trying to decide what he should do. See, he is still mad at me and
doesn't want to let me in. I'm pulling away already, when he
slowly opens his mouth and lets me enter. The washcloth slides
from its resting place on his cheek and finds its way to the back of
his head again. He is sitting on the bed, just on the edge, so that his
legs are comfortably touching the ground, and I'm on the bed also,
kneeling between his thighs. My other hand joins the one on the
back of his neck and we really get into the kiss. Gee, I'm even
getting hard. It's now kind of difficult to imagine that this is only
a...how do you call it...a make-up kiss.

He releases my lips and somehow shyly smiles at me, until his
look drops to my pants. I guess he does notice the small bulge in
there.  He reaches up and strokes me with gentle, feather-like
caresses, gazing at my cloth-hidden thingy with amazement in his
eyes.  Hmm, I didn't know I am that exceptional. His caresses are
not really intended to make me have an orgasm (whew, does that
sound clinical!), but I don't know. I don't know why he is doing
that, but to me it feels...re-assuring...somehow. Like I know he is
still there. So after a while he just stops and looks into my eyes
again.

"So, what about that kid, baby?" Immediately my eyes cloud
again.  That kid is the one who started all this stuff. Of course my
dad notices, but he does not react to that though.

"Chris, tell me about him. What is it that made you notice him?
Why him? Did you talk to him? I really want to know."

"But an hour or two back you didn't want to hear about it."

"Two hours ago I was a bad father. What do I always tell you, I
have to be a father as well as a lover and, well, back then I forgot
about the father part." What did that mean now? I don't really
*have* to understand that, do I? I mean, I'm still worried that
something bad will happen again once I talk about this kid, but it
seems as if he wants me to talk about him.

"Umm...yeah, like I said before we are like meeting everyday and I
really don't know anything about him. It's just that he is kinda cute,
having blonde hair and blue eyes and stuff. He is definitely cute.
Especially in that tight outfit he sometimes wears and well...on the
other hand, sometimes he just has this look about him that makes
me worry whether something is wrong with him. He looks so
really, really sad and, as soon as I see that look, I feel sad too.
Then today he smiled at me."

"That sounds nice. Have you ever tried to talk to him?"

"No...I don't know. It doesn't feel right to just go up to him and
start talking or whatever, and I would feel so weird if I did that.
Do you know what I mean?"

"Do you...do you have any fantasies about him?"

"Like...umm...what?"

"Well, don't play all innocent with me, babe." Wow, it's good to
see him smiling again. "You know, do you think about him when
you're playing with yourself?"

"Umm...no. Actually I don't think about him like that at all. I mean
he really is cute and all, especially his butt when he's in that very
tight leather stuff...it's so cute, but I don't know. He doesn't seem to
be somebody I would ever...do something with...I don't know."

"Do you love him?"

"Dad, who taught me to not talk about 'love' when all I know about
a person is the way he looks."

"That would be me, I guess?"

"Yeah, so no...no love...or...I don't know. It's weird. He really is
cute and I'd love to get to know him better and all, but I'm not like
all hot for him or anything... And I only love you."

"I only love you two, babe."

And then we're kissing again. By now we're laying in the middle
of the bed, he has his arm around me and I'm by his side, listening
to his heart beating through his chest. After we stopped kissing, we
just lay there in complete silence, and then I must have drifted off,
knowing everything was okay again.  The only thing that wasn't
quite right was the washcloth, which had slipped under me and
was making my t-shirt all wet.