Date: Mon, 10 Sep 2007 22:51:17 -0700 (PDT) From: Mark Adams <mark.stories@yahoo.com> Subject: Temptation of Adam - Chapter 2 Disclaimer ------------------------------------------------------------------------ This story is a work of fiction. It contains sexual content between underage and adult males which may be inappropriate or illegal where you live. I do not condone the actions or choices of the fictional characters contained within this story. If you are offended by this or if it is illegal where you live, please go no further. Why would you? As several authors have done the same, I feel it necessary to inform you that by 'fiction' I mean these events did not take place. I doubt they could. I don't believe they should. Any resemblance to any person is entirely coincidental. Know why? Because it is fiction. Oh, one other thing. This story is probably technically copyrighted, but I could really care less what you do with it. Use as you see fit. Claim it as your own if you find it worthy. Sell it, earn a million dollars with it and I'll congratulate your ingenuity... I expect my stories will almost certainly be painfully slow at times, as life often is. But it's the kind of story I enjoy reading, so I hope this first/second attempt is somewhere in the middle... ....From the last chapter... "Nothing to be sorry about, Adam. I'll tell you what. Why don't we go get your clothes and you can come back and have a shower or a bath, too, if you like." "Ok. Should I leave Casey here?" he asked. "Yeah. Why don't we. Let's get my car and we'll just run by and pick up your stuff. Is your mom home?" I was pushing for a little more information. "Mark," Adam said softly. The mood had somehow changed suddenly. "Yes?" "I don't think I should take you to my apartment." He was looking down at his feet, which were swinging nervously. Temptation of Adam - Chapter 2 ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Why, Adam?" I implored. "Is something wrong? Did I say something wrong?" The mood had obviously changed and I was concerned that I had frightened my new friend away. I had the feeling something was definitely wrong, but I wasn't sure if it was something I had said or done or, more likely, there was something going on at home. Adam just sat there. He started picking at his thumb nail with his right hand, obviously nervous. I stood from my chair and crouched alongside him, placing my right hand ever so gently on his right shoulder behind him, draping my arm along his back. His back was warm to my touch. "Adam," I said, "I barely know you. I know that. But I like you and I'd like to help you if I can." He was looking at me with his peripheral vision, avoiding eye contact. I saw him batting his long lashes as if willing tears away. "And I'm aware you don't really know me very well, at least not yet," I continued, the word 'yet' containing the possibility of getting to know each other better. I was hoping to reassure him-- or was I trying to reassure myself? For goodness sake, I had barely met him an hour ago and yet he was already working his way into my heart. He nodded, a gesture that he understood what I was saying. "Come on, now," I said as I began rubbing his shoulder and back, trying to soothe him. "What's really going on?" And then the waterworks started. Tears streaked down from his lovely blue eyes across his flushed cheeks, but no sobs or moans accompanied his tears. "It's just that," he almost whispered and paused. "It's just that... my mom is dying." Then the sobs began, and they didn't seem to stop. These weren't the soft sobs of a boy who lost his teddy bear. They were the wracking and heaving sobs of trauma and loss. I held him tighter, wrapping him in my arms and he turned into me, grabbing me tightly around my chest and crying onto my right shoulder, soaking my tee shirt with his tears. "Oh, Adam," I gushed, my own tears coming now. I had never lost anyone I loved and, perhaps because of that fact, the prospect of that type of loss scared me more than most. I couldn't think of anything to say at that point and felt it was probably better to say nothing at all. I just held his small body, leaning into me from his seat, and let him cry. Who knows how long he'd held all this in? I felt strongly he hadn't shared this with anyone and he needed to get it all out. I stroked his back with my hand. His body felt considerably warmer than when I first touched him, and his shirt felt almost damp. As his cries lessened, he still remained clamped on to me, but he eventually started loosening his grip on me. Not letting go, just relaxing a bit. I pulled away from him enough to look into his hypnotic eyes. I moved my left hand up to his face and brushed the tears away with my thumb. He was still sniffling, but he seemed to have regained his composure. "I think you needed that," I said, now caressing his right cheek with my thumb. He nodded again, so slightly that it was almost imperceptible. I brushed my own tears away with my hand. "Come here," I said, picking him up and taking his seat. I placed him sideways on my lap and he leaned his left side into my body, nestling his head onto my shoulder, his forehead against my neck. "Oh, Adam," I said again, letting the words trail off. "I'm sorry, Mark." I barely heard him, as close as he was. "Adam," I said, a little firmer than I'd intended, so I softened my voice. "There is absolutely no reason to apologize." I moved my right hand up and stroked his hair. I held him a few seconds, and moved my left hand along his hip, just holding him close. I could feel the bone of his hip under his jeans, and I could smell his sweaty body and his damp clothes. But it didn't repel me. It seemed to draw him closer to me, as if his scent were some distant memory, so deep I couldn't quite recall, but wanted to recapture. I suppose the crying had plain worn him out, because after a minute or two I began to realize he was asleep. His breathing had almost returned to normal, but even in his slumber there was an occasional whimper. I didn't want to wake him, but I couldn't just sit there, holding him in my lap. I moved my right hand down his back, down toward his bottom, joined by my other hand and slowly stood. I lifted him up, his legs on either side of my hip, supporting him by his butt. He didn't even stir. I moved into the family room and laid him on the sofa. I sat beside him for a moment, just watching the angel sleeping. His mouth didn't hang open like so many people's mouths did when they were asleep. And he wasn't snoring. I noticed his lashes seemed even longer when his eyes were closed, and I noticed again his perfect nose and tiny ears. His hair was a bit mussed, but it only made him more endearing. My eyes moved over his body, soaking up every detail. His strong chin and square jaw. His very full lips and button nose. The peach fuzz at the nape of his neck. I noticed that his shirt had pulled up just enough that I could see his tummy, even asleep on his left side, was firm with not a bit of fat. His navel was an 'inny' and as I looked closely, it almost appeared as if the inner part formed a twisting pattern that resembled the yin yang symbol. How interesting! My eyes continued downward and I could see his narrow, bony hip where his right leg was bent up, resting atop the couch. Without any socks on, I could see his ankles, so delicate above the top edge of his ripped shoes... I don't know how long I sat there gazing at this angel, perhaps 10 minutes or so. But when I thought about removing his shoes, it was then that I began to feel I was invading his privacy. I tore myself away from the couch and went to my room, returning with a blanket to cover him. It wasn't cold in the house, but I felt I needed to cover him. Perhaps for him, perhaps for me... I went to the kitchen, cleaning up from our lunch. As I cleaned, my mind kept swinging back to Adam. I pondered what fate held in store for him, why his mother was dying. How beautiful he was... I was starting to scare myself a bit. Where was all this coming from? As I thought about that question, I began questioning myself, my motives. I had never considered myself a pedophile. Far from it. True, I liked children. Well, that wasn't necessarily true. I liked male children-- boys. I was involved with my church youth program, but that was because I had free time and because I had good memories of church camp, my youth group when I was a boy. As a natural extension, it seems, I was involved with the Boy Scout troop my church chartered. BOY Scouts? I needed to sit down for a minute. I moved into the family room, sitting down in an oversized chair near Adam. I tucked my bare feet under me and leaned against the arm of the chair. Almost as soon as I sat down, Casey hopped up into my lap from out of nowhere, startling me just a bit. I thought about my life, occasionally looking over at the boy asleep on my couch. I began petting Casey and she began purring. I guess this cat wasn't so bad. My mind wandered back to my earlier train of thought. I'd never touched a child inappropriately. I don't know that I'd even had an inappropriate thought about a child. Well, at least since I was a child myself. No, I was just making too much of nothing. I guess the media's modern day witch hunts were making us all question our motives. Mine were pure. I looked over to the media center to my right. Perhaps I should put some music on? I noticed some of my video tapes on the shelves. 'Stand By Me' was perhaps my all time favorite. It was one of the few movies I could watch regularly. And then I started scanning some of the other titles. 'Home Alone' and a few other Macaulay Culkin videos. He was such a great actor. He first caught my eye in 'Uncle Buck' where... I stood up from the chair, gently pushing Casey off my lap, and moved over to the shelves. As I looked through the titles, a good many of them were about boys. 'Mosquito Coast' and several other River Phoenix flicks. Even 'A Night in the Life of Jimmy Reardon' which I was certain I alone had purchased... I sat back onto the arm of the chair, and the self doubt returned. I thought about the scene in 'Stand By Me' where Wil Wheaton got the leech in his underpants. The scene I rewound about 1,000 times. In appropriate thoughts? Dear God... I heard a stirring behind me and I turned around. Adam was sitting up on the couch, rubbing his eyes. He looked so small and frail. And my attention was completely refocused on Adam. "Did I fall asleep?" Adam asked in his soft voice. He reached down to pet Casey as she propped herself up on the couch. "Yes," I answered. "You did. I think you wore yourself out." I moved over to him and sat down on the couch beside him. "You want to talk about it?" "Not really." "You sure?" He didn't reply. "I don't mean to pry, but when you said... what you said about your mother?" I was babbling like an idiot. "She's got cancer," he said, almost nonchalant. "She's getting sick." "Oh, no. That's horrible," I said, stating the obvious. "And no," he asserted firmly, "it's not contagious. I don't have it." "That didn't even cross my mind," I said honestly. "Do they know... how long she has?" It was a rude, but valid, question. "She hasn't told me. She says I shouldn't worry about that, but I do." He wasn't crying now, probably because he'd cried out half his body weight in tears already. He filled me in on some of the other details and I put my arm around him again, then pulled it back off just as quickly. "You don't have to, you know," he said. I didn't know. "You can put your arm on me if you like." He glanced sideways at me. I tentatively put my hand back across his shoulders. "When you touch me, it feels good. Almost like..." I could tell he was trying to find the right words, and I didn't have them. "I don't know. It feels special, maybe like someone cares." He trailed off and we just sat there for a few moments. "You know, Adam," I began, "I do care. I don't really know why, except that you're just so special." "You just feel bad for me, though." He glanced over at me again, his brows raised. "I don't want someone to feel bad for me. I want a friend." "Even though we just met, we are friends. I do feel bad for you, but my concern for you is not like you would have for... for a stray dog." I wasn't sure the analogy fit, but I went with it anyway. He didn't respond to that comment, but he seemed to understand and, perhaps, accept what I said as I meant it. "Do you mind if I go wash my face?" he asked. "Not at all. You know where it is." "Could you, you know, come with me?" I didn't answer. I just stood and picked him up, carrying his slight frame with me as I headed toward the guest bath. He didn't protest. In fact, despite all the drama from earlier, he giggled. "Thanks," he said, and he hugged (or held) me as we headed down the hall. "My pleasure," I said, and I meant it. I set him down in the bathroom and he took his shirt off, I suppose so he didn't get any water on it, and turned on the faucet, rinsing his face. As he soothed his puffy eyes, I looked at his wiry back, shoulders, arms, and sides. Was he trying to seduce me? "No, you ass," I thought to myself. "He's ten and a half years old." And that thought took me down memory lane. I was ten and a half myself when I noticed I could give myself an orgasm by playing with my wienie. "Why are you staring at me?" Adam asked, no condemnation in his voice. His question snapped me out of my brief trance and I realized I was staring at him and he was watching me watch him in the mirror. "I'm sorry, Adam. I was thinking of something. I guess I sort of zoned out." Even though it was true, I hoped he believed me. "Are you gay?" he asked me, out of the blue, again without any sort of concern or disgust. "Well, that's personal," I said, but quickly added "but no, I'm not." And I guess he just accepted that. He turned off the water, turned around, and dried his face and hands on the towel. He then picked up his shirt. I reached out to help him pull it on to his body. "Don't take it personally or anything," he said, "but I kinda thought you were." And I pulled my 'helping hands' back where they belonged. I was shocked. "Umm... what do you mean by that?" I asked, incredulous. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings or anything." He seemed sorry. "I just figured you were by the way you look at me and touch me all the time. I'm not scared of you, I just thought you might be." He stood, his weight on one leg, leaning against the counter looking up at me . His luminous eyes peered into my soul. And I looked away. "Why?" I asked. "Are you?" Stupid, stupid, stupid. I was just trying to push the awkwardness away. "I don't know." And with that he bent down and scooped up Casey (I didn't even know she was there) and walked out of the bathroom. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ To be continued... ------------------------------------------------------------------------