Date: Mon, 31 Aug 2009 14:34:19 -0400
From: Cole Angicent <colebph@gmail.com>
Subject: Unintended Consequences Part 4

Things fell into a sort of surreal routine.

Both Kyle and Chris returned to their normal lives. For Chris, there
was a lot of extra anxiety. Being a sex offender on probation was an
incredibly difficult, anxious experience even for someone playing by
all the rules, but now Chris was actively breaking Rule #1: Don't have
sex with kids again. His monthly check-in with his probation officer
now felt even more like walking into a trap, wondering whether she had
been performing surveillance at just the right time to see Kyle enter
or leave his apartment, or whether anyone in the neighborhood had
called to report it. One of the rules required him to be home by 10PM
unless working a late shift, and the first time his officer knocked on
the door to check that he was home after curfew (an event that was
previously less anxious and more annoying, seeing as how she had a
tendancy to knock on the door at 2AM), he was sure that he was being
arrested. And then there was therapy, where he was sure that
everyone's eyes were constantly drilling into his head, trying to pry
the truth out of him.

As for Kyle, his newfound confidence, stemming from his conquest and
power over one of the supposedly all-powerful adult population, was
tempered by his ever-growing paradoxical guilt over his use of
coersion to get what he wanted out of Chris, and the results pretty
much cancelled each other out, leaving few people at all the wiser
that anything had changed.

Except Joel. Whilst perhaps not the sharpest knife in the drawer when
it came to the ways of the world, Joel was a boy with a kind,
sensitive heart, and moreover, Kyle's best friend. It took him all of
ten seconds on Monday morning to stare at Kyle putting all of his
books from his backpack into his locker and know almost everything
there was to know about the essentials of the situation.

"You did it," he told Kyle. "You got laid." It wasn't a question. He
said it with such certainty that denial seemed impossible, so Kyle
didn't try, merely nodded his confirmation. That single nod told Joel
even more. "And you weren't going to tell me," he added, staring at
his friend like a scientist stares into a microscope. "You're ashamed
about it."

Kyle gave Joel a dirty look, slamming his locker shut. "I'm not
ashamed," he protested, turning towards their homeroom. Was it even
possible that just a week before, he was standing in this spot showing
his dick off to some skanky chick in a desperate shot for a blowjob?
He rubbed the spot on his face where he'd been slapped, a lifetime
ago. He was glad she'd said no. She probably wouldn't have done as
good a job as Chris did, what with his experience.

"It wasn't a girl, was it," Joel remarked, his tone betraying nothing
of his opinion, save his desire to puzzle it out. Kyle's silence, of
course, was as damning as a confession. "A boy here at school? No, if
it was a boy at school you wouldn't have needed me to cover for you.
Which went great, by the way, your mom seemed almost eager to get you
out of the house."

Kyle sighed. "Seven years of brain damage from sniffing glue in
kindergarten and you choose /today/ for it to wear off," he
complained, slipping past Mrs. Neilsen's desk and taking his usual
seat.

"You sniffed the glue too," Joel retorted, taking his seat next to his
friend. "C'mon, tell me."

Kyle looked around; as usual, Derrick seemed to be far too focused on
their conversation than he had any right to be. Not for the first
time, Kyle wondered irritably whether or not that kid was too pathetic
to have a life of his own and stop eavesdropping. "Not here," he told
Joel, casting a meaningful glance in Derrick's direction, to which
Joel obediently nodded. Kyle secretly hoped that that would be the end
of the matter; that perhaps Derrick's snoopy ways were something to be
thankful for after all, and Joel would forget as the day wore on. But
best friends are relentless, particularly preteen best friends on such
taboo topics as sex and sexuality. Joel, who would normally have
already been on his bus home, was leaning against the school's outer
wall, one Ked planted firmly under his butt, his arms folded, waiting
for Kyle to jump down the stairs and out of school for the day.

With a sigh, Kyle finally took the other boy around back and told him
the truth.

"You're kidding," Joel said, staring in shock at his friend after he finished.

"Nope. Pretty cool, huh?"

Joel shook his head. "It's messed up, man."

Kyle had been prepared for this opinion, or at least he thought he
was. "Look, man, I told you, it ain't gay if you're just receiving."

"It's not about the gay thing, dickwad," Joel asserted. "It's an
/adult/. A sex offender, for fuck's sake."

Kyle smirked. "I didn't find it very offensive," he quipped. He wasn't
ready to admit to Joel that it had taken any pressure on his part to
get Chris to perform. "He seriously knew how to work a kid's cock."

Joel held up his hands as if to push the thought away. "You just don't
get it," he grumbled, turning to walk away.

Kyle put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Wait." Joel turned his
head to look. "We're, umm... we're still cool, right?"

Joel smirked, though the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "We're
cool," he conceded. "I just... let's not talk about this for awhile,
alright? I need to really think about it."

That relieved Kyle, as he hadn't wanted to talk about it in the first
place. There was nothing to talk about.... he had a need, he was
getting that need met the only way he knew how, right? Certainly no
one would fault him if the desperate urge he were feeling was hunger
or thirst, and he was finding that his sex drive was an urge with just
as much power.

Chris was aware of this, and it was not an irony lost on him that the
therapeautic techniques being taught to him in sex offender therapy,
inapplicable as they were to his very deliberate and loving
relationship with Darwin, would likely have been very helpful for Kyle
to learn in order to control his lustful desires without having to
resort to coercion of another human being. But he didn't see Kyle as
likely to be an apt pupil in that regard; it had taken enough
convincing to even get the boy to come into his apartment by going
through the underground storm cellar and through his basement instead
of brazenly knocking on the front door. It still was incredibly risky,
but at least it was less likely for the wrong person to see him coming
and going all the time.

And so when Chris came home from work every night, he was unsurprised
to find Kyle already there, eagerly awaiting his "servicing". The
first couple of nights were the worst; the boy would barely say hello,
drop trousers, get what he literally and figuratively came for and
leave with barely a thank you, leaving Chris feeling truly used and
discarded. As before, only the sweet memories of how loving and
affectionate Darwin had been allowed him to cope with the experience,
such that Kyle could feel the passion and the fervor with which Chris
attacked his cock whenever the fantasies of Darwin played out in his
head. On the third night, the man had even moaned ferally, his sucking
motion intensifying, as he felt Kyle's fingers pressed against his
head during orgasm and remembered when Darwin used to play with his
hair, tapping his little fingertips playfully against the back of the
man's scalp. Detaching himself from Kyle's wilting penis, Chris fell
back against his pillow, panting, the memory so intense that he'd
almost come himself. He was glad that they'd moved their sessions to
the bedroom, so he could at least lay back and recouperate.

This time, Kyle didn't run away afterwards, laying down next to Chris
without even pulling his shorts back up, propping his head up with his
arm to look serenely into the man's face. "You loved him a lot," the
boy commented.

It wasn't a question. Nor was there any need to clarify who Kyle was
asking about. "I did," he admitted, smiling softly. It was nice to
have someone else he could say that to, if nothing else.

"I can feel it." Kyle looked as though he wished to say more, but
elected against it, the silence stretching between them for a full
minute before he finally stood up, pulling up his shorts. "I should
go." He started to leave, but stopped at the door to the bedroom,
looking back at the tired man. "Chris?"

"Yeah?"

Kyle smiled sadly. "He was a very lucky boy."

For the first time since he'd met Kyle, Chris smiled genuinely at the
youth. "I hope he still thinks so." He bit his lip. "Kyle, can I...
ask a favor?"

"Yeah?"

Chris sighed. "Could you maybe... y'know, not come over this Friday?
You can still come tomorrow, but, well... Friday's ten years. Since
the day they locked me up. I'd kinda like to be alone that day."

Kyle paused only a moment before nodding. "Sure. Sure, I guess I can
skip one day."

"Thanks."

============================

Short update, I know. Must've been the lack of feedback. ;)