Date: Sun, 23 Sep 2001 18:59:43 +0000
From: Darren Talbot <davidtalbot50@hotmail.com>
Subject: the library, chapter five

The Library
Chapter 5

*thank you, again, to all who've written. As I've said, I may not be able
to respond, but your comments and questions have been wonderful.

*all cautionary statements about laws and reminders that this is a work of
fiction aare applicable to this tale.

----------------------------------

Feeling him against me, his gossamyr frame, my eyes filled up. A hitching
breath caught in my throat.

He pulled away from me "What's wrong?"

I brought my hand up and touched his cheekbone, so small. My thumb touched
his forehead.

"If you've been here all this time, then why haven't you talked to me. Let
me know, somehow?" I asked. It was all so beautiful and fantastic that I
couldn't believe it. My mind kept questioning.

"I dunno. With you not knowing, it was safe, I guess," he said, his head
turning up so that our eyes locked again, "If you didn't know, you couldn't
say that you didn't love me, so I could be with you and not be afraid."

I kissed him lightly on the lips, those soft little red slashes, tasting
myself mingled with him. Our kissing became more and more passionate, until
I couldn't control myself anymore. I grabbed him by his hips and put him up
on the table, pulling him so that his head was away from me and down, and
his smooth, creamy clean little ass was up in the air, his delicate feet
hanging off the table. I hurried to undo my pants and let them fall,
spitting on my hand and touching his hole with my finger. Smearing it on my
cock, already protesting from being overused, but more than willing.

I pressed that finger into him, feeling the warm resistance of that little
muscle. He let out a sigh and it relaxed, so I pushed it further in;
pressing downward to find that sweet little button. He let out a moan as I
pressed downward on it, drawing my finger backward, then pushing forward,
never letting off of his pleasure spot. Two fingers went in, his hole
widening just a little to let me in, and both began their massage. I
started to lick his tight balls, and he was grabbing the table,
white-knuckled. His forehead on the surface, his eyes looking back at me,
he mouth open.

I couldn't resist any longer. Already slick with juice, I brought my dick
up and shoved it all the way in in one single thrust.

"nnnn...gawd, yeeeah....fuck me, Daniel."

I brought it all the way out, pausing for a second, only to plunge it back
in to the base. His sounds a mixture of torture, relief and ecstacy. His
breathing ragged. Still, I dove in and pulled out, dove in and pulled
out. His toes flexing, his feet arching like his back, in spasms. I slapped
his ass, then rubbed the mark.

"Oh, my god...fuck me, Daniel."

I couldn't keep control of myself. I began to fuck him wildly, grabbing his
hips and ramming him back into my crotch as I pushed forward. The speed and
violence of my love was in danger of turning the table over. His sounds
were one long exhalation of pain and pleasure. His eyes closed, his
shoulders hunched in; he was listening to songs from other worlds in my
thrust, in my release.

And the knot began to form in my stomach. That sweet knot that means the
end and the beginning. I had control of it until he stopped moaning, and,
with a what seemed almost like pain on his face, turned to look at me over
his shoulder and said "I love you, Daniel".

I let loose every fluid in my body into him. I pushed my hips into his as I
pulled his into mine and flooded him. His eyes closed, and he was lost in
the moment as I was.  I have no idea how long that wonderful spasm occured,
only that the universe made ultimate sense, and he and I were united
there. And that I could feel his heart. And that when he breathed, it was I
who took in air.

My juice was running out of him. Though my body wanted nothing more than to
collapse, I felt unfinsihed. I pulled out, and he made a slight sound of
disappointment and relief. I bent down and began to lick myself from his
pink end. This brought a new arch to his back. His head dropped to the
table. His little muscle contracting against my tongue, resisting
intrusion. I tasted myself mingled with him. It tasted like perfection.

I slipped my tongue into him, and he made a sound of near protest. I slid
it out and pushed it right back in, again. I started to fuck him with my
tongue. His cock slapping against his stomach as he tensed each time I
penetrated, relaxing each time I released. I grabbed his ass and spread it
wide to get more of me inside him, pulling his skinny ass to my face.

"Oh, gawd..I'm gonna...I'm gonna..." He kept repeating, until, as I pushed
in, his shivering hole caught my tongue in a death grip, and his legs
seized, his toes flexing wide.

He was cumming as I ate him.

He was pressing his forehead practically through the table as his hips
bucked in rhythm. I finally let go, and pulled away to see the puddle of
his juice on the table. He collapsed onto his side, his hip resting in it.
His eyes closed, his cheeks flushed. He never looked more like an angel to
me than at that moment.

He sat up quickly, and kissed me again. Tasting us on my tongue. We
mingled.

"I love you." I said, my mouth still covered by his.

"I love you, too." He said.

I picked him up, limp and exhausted, and carried him back to the place the
blanket was layed out. I covered him by folding it in half over him, and
sat down on the cold floor. I began brushing his black hair away from his
forehead. His eyes fell closed.

"I've always had this fantasy about you that...nevermind...it's stupid" he
said, his eyes still closed, his voice sleepy and muffled.

"What is it?" I asked him, soft fingers through hair. His small skull under
my palm.

"It's stupid." He said.

"What is it?" I asked.

His eyes opened, and he moved to look me in the eye. My hand stopped,
waiting.

"Will you read to me while I fall asleep?" He asked.

My heart melted all over again. Mort had always read to me in the shop when
I'd come in, his voice steady and deep, like the thrumming of an air
conditioner, and I'd always ended up, head resting on my forearms on the
counter. It had made me feel safe in a way that my father never could. He'd
let me sleep for thrity mintues or so, then wake me, ruffling my hair
gently.

I picked up the book, still face down and open to the page he'd left off
on. His eyes got huge and seemed to fill with tears. I brought the book up
to my lap, reaching down to touch his forehead soft fingered, then gently
closing his eyelids, I began to read where he'd left off. Admittedly, this
is not the book I would have chosen to read to someone to make them feel
safe and loved, but it was already here. Naked, my hand still brushing his
hair back, I read to him in that same voice that Mort had used.

Normally, I am a busy person. My mind running all the time on what to do
next, what to do after that. But, I found, as I read, that this was the
only moment. There was nothing else but this. The words, the voice, my
fingers in his hair, his delicate dreams.

After about fifteen pages, I looked down to find his face slack. His thumb
in his mouth. I lowered the book and just watched him.  I knew it at that
point, then. There was nothing wrong with loving him, at that point. Our
age difference, the uncertain future, our chance meeting, my fears.
Nothing. All that existed at that moment was him, his breathing, my fingers
in his hair.

His delicate dreams.


-end chapter five-
Questions and comments, as always, are welcome!