Date: Tue, 16 Oct 2001 18:00:31 +0000
From: Darren Talbot <davidtalbot50@hotmail.com>
Subject: my brothers keeper, chatper one

My Brothers Keeper
Chapter One


*all cautions regarding the legality of this story and the fictionality of
it's contents are applicable.

_________________________________

The only sound in the hallway was the half-thud, half-click, of thick soled
shoes on concrete floors. The man stopped infront of a door, adjusting his
tie. He reached up and put his hand on the doorknob: it was cold.

The door swung inward and immediately he saw the boy. Sitting on the far end
of a wooden table, his hands cuffed together. He looked small, compared to
the empty room. His black hair moving at crazy angles. His thick lips parted
slightly as he breathed. The eyes looked up and the man was stopped: He'd
never seen a more striking blue in his life.

He stepped inside, and closed the door behind himself. He walked to the
table and set the breifcase on top, turning it around and unlocking it.
Opening it as he sat gave him a moment to collect himself. It hid the boy
from him. He removed the tape recorder and a manilla folder. Setting both to
the side, he closed the briefcase, setting it on the ground at his feet.

The boy stared at him. Those eyes cut and sliced at him. He found it hard to
catch his breath. He pressed down the button marked record and a small red
light came on.

"Before we begin, would you state your name for the recording?" The man
asked.

The boy leaned forward, hunching his slim shoulders, resting his elbows on
the table, "Christopher Taylor."

"And have your rights been fully explained to you, Christopher?"

"Chrissy."

"What?"

"Chrissy. Nobody calls me Christopher."

"Okay. Have your rights been fully explained to you, Chrissy?" The man
continued.

"Yeah."

"And so you don't want a lawyer here?"

The boy looked up at the man from under his eyebrows. The man moved slightly
in his seat to hide his growing erection. The man pretended to study
something written on a notepad sitting next to the manilla folder to hide
his shock.

"No."

There was a long pause. The boy leaned back in the chair, sliding down so
that his shoulders touched the top. The man adjusted how he was sitting, as
one of the boy's feet touched his. The man fidgeted with his tie.

"And your age, Chrissy?"

"Thirteen."

"Do you know who I am? What I'm doing here?"

"Yeah. You're a Fed."

"Something like that. I'm here to conduct the initial interview."

"Yeah, like I said, you're a Fed."

The man stopped the tape. He leaned forward. The boy looked down at his own
lithe torso. The boy's shirt had come up a bit, exposing a tiny bit of his
waistline. The smooth, pale skin there. The man forced his eyes not to go
there. They did, anyway.

"Listen, son, Things would.."

"I'm not your son." Chrissy said.

"Fine. Christopher, things woul.."

"Chrissy, I told you."

The man leaned back. His hand came down over his face, rubbing.

"Chrissy, then. Things would go a lot easier for you and for me if you would
cooperate."

"In what? Helping you put my brother in jail? No way. Screw that." The boy
said, slapping his handcuffs down on the table top for emphasis.

"We're not asking you to help us in putting.."

"You're kinda cute for an old guy." Chrissy said, interrupting.

The man was taken aback at the compliment. He'd been so busy admiring the
boy's beauty that he couldn't even think about what he was here to do, let
alone whether or not the feeling was reciprocated. He blushed, but tried to
hide it by rubbing his face, again.

"Like I was saying, we're not asking.."

"What's your name?" the boy asked, interrupting again.

"Look I see what you're trying to do, and..."

"What am I trying to do? I just asked what your damn name was? You know
mine." The boy said, leaning forward again. There was something predatory in
those eyes. For a second, the man wanted to walk away, but then reminded
himself who he was. Where he was. What he was doing.

"My name is Special Agent Walters."

"Special is your first name?" the boy asked, smiling. Again, Special Agent
Walters felt like leaving the room. He felt intimidated by that look. But
turned on, as well. His erection was now pounding against his slacks.

"My first name isn't important." Walters said.

"Fine, don't tell me. You can just call me Prisoner Taylor, then. That has a
nice ring to it, doesn't it?" the boy said.

The man could see where this was going, "John. My first name is John."

"Nice to meet you John." the boy said, that gleam in his eye going away as
he sat back. Walters felt more comfortable as the sexual tension that had
nearly choked off all air faded.

Walters reached over toward the tape recorder, "Do we have to have that?"
the boy said, nodding in that direction.

"Yes, we do. This is an official investiga..."

"Fine, but can I stretch a bit, first?" the boy interrupted, already
standing. If they were both standing, the boy's head would come up to the
man's chest, he noticed, still sitting. Dressed in a gray long sleeve shirt
and faded jeans with rips, the boy put his arms behind his head and
stretched, his shirt lifting all the way up. Walters had to look away; the
boy had an outie. His pale skin stretched tight over his bones, his flat
stomach. Walters could see the elastic of the boy's boxer shorts.

And the clear outline of the boy's own erection against his jeans.

After the long half-grunt, half-groan the boy let out, he stood there, arms
behind his head, hands still tightly bound. He was looking directly into
Walter's eyes. The look was back. Still stretched back like that, "Do you
want to fuck me, John?" the boy asked.

"umm...What?" The man asked, swallowing hard.

"Do you want to fuck me, John?" the boy asked, again, without even a hint of
hesitation. The boy walked over to the table and then got up onto it, laying
down on his back. His blue converse pressed against the legs of the table,
his hands up on his chest.

Without even realizing it, Walters was already at that end of the table, key
in hand. He unlocked one of the boys handcuffs, relocking it to his own
wrist. He then began to fumble with the button of the boy's pants. He heard
a light thud, then another as the shoes came off. He got the button undone
and, grabbing boxers and jeans at the same time, moved them off in one fluid
motion, dropping them. He then threw the boys legs over his shoulder and
flopped his cock out. It was throbbing. He hesitated.

As if reading his mind, "It's okay. I like it rough." The boys said, using
his feet to push Walters forward. Without lubricant, Walters shoved his cock
into the boys ass. The boy visibly bit his lip as his eyes rolled in the
back of his head, "Fuck me, John." The boy whispered.

He wanted it to go on forever, but Walters pumped once, then again, and a
third time into the boy before his hips took on a life of thier own. He
shoved once more into the boys tight hole and then lost himself as he shot
load after load, flexing again and again into the boy. And the boy tightened
and released with each pump, milking the man.

Heart racing, the man came back to himself to find he was panting
desperately for air. He kissed the boy's ankle and then moved to pull out of
the boy. The boy wrapped his legs around the man's lower back suddenly, "No.
Please. Stay in me for a minute."

Laying there, his clothes in disarray, his body covered in a light gleam of
sweat, his hair messed up again, the boy was the most beautiful thing
Walters had ever seen.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Did I hurt you? I'm sorry." He just kept repeating,
his hands touching the boys feet, his calves, his thighs, his stomach.

The boy smiled, "No, you didn't. You're so warm." he said, flexing again. A
wave of pleasure passed through the man. He kissed the boy's ankle again,
then pulled out. The boy's face seemed to fall.

"We have to...ah..."

"I know." The boy said, sitting up, "But will you do something for me?" he
asked.

"Sure," the man said, pushing his cock back into his pants, "What is it?"

"Will you kiss me?" The boy said, his shoulders drooping, his eyes looking
down at his knees.

The man hesitated for a bit. Then he reached up, cradling the boy's chin in
his palm, and pulled the boy's face to his, gently. Lips closed, at first,
then slowly opening to each other, they kissed. The boy threw his arms
around the man's neck, and the man grabbed the boy by the hips, pulling him
closer.

The kiss ended, though. And the room seemed to shrink. To grow cold, again.

The man helped the boy back into his pants. Then put the boy's shoes back on
him. Finally, he unlocked the handcuff from his own arm and placed it on the
boy's other wrist again, clicking closed. The boy was silent. The man guided
him by the shoulder back to the chair.

"Thank you." The boy said, as the man sat down.

"For what?"

"No one's touched me like that in a long time. I needed it." The boy said,
and he did seem to be calmer. Softer.

"Oh. We ah...We have to.."

"Get back to the interview, I know." the boy said, his eyes down.

And the man realized at that moment that he'd do anything to see those eyes
shine as they had a moment ago again.

________________________________________

End Chapter One
More to come!

questions and comments welcome!