Date: Fri, 7 Jul 2006 00:16:41 -0700
From: Kevin Harness <kevroc54321@tns.net>
Subject: Until Zory Came Along... Chapt 10

The usual diclaimers apply - if you aren't old enough per your laws /
statutes to read this, don't.  If you are offended by gay
inter-generational relationships or by gay material in general, don't read
this story.  If, however, you find boylove an interesting subject, please
read on.  All characters in the story are played by persons 18 years of age
or older, and the story is fictional.  If it were a real story, I would
normally change the names to protect the person or persons involved.

************************

The memories of that night would echo in my mind forever.

That made life easier, and harder at the same time.

I couldn't, of course, just move this 14 year-old boy in with me and tote
him everywhere I went including company picnics, the beach, and to the
market.

In parallel, Zory couldn't go to school and say he'd had full-on sex, was
going steady, or be caught writing love notes to me in his school notebook.

In short, it was a full-on commitment with lots of restrictions.

Was it worth it?

Oh HELL yes, would be the answer from both of us.  But I'm also sure that
we could fill chapters with the misery we went through daily.

We pretty much continued the same sort of relationship for over two years,
with my beautiful Zory becoming a bigger, more confident, and endlessly
attractive blonde with the brightest brown eyes ever to set upon me.  He
was not only a good student, he had a couple friends that he tutored on
math, and English (I know, it blew me away, too!) whenever he got the
chance.

And there was one boy that was just coming into high school at age 13 that
was adorable, gay, and hopelessly in love with nobody in particular.  Zory
would have him over to my place every once in a while to just hang, and
talk, and maybe watch a movie.  His name was Thomas.

It wasn't long until Thomas figured out that Zory and I were more than
buddies, but Zory and I had talked about having this boy over way in
advance of his ever crossing my doorway.  I knew that someone who was gay,
even if new to the world as a gay boy, would put 2 + 2 together fairly
quickly.  My significant other assured me that Thomas had a good heart and
would never tell anyone about us, knowing it could hurt one and all in
short order.

After having the boy over a couple of times, I had to agree that I was
definitely leaning toward Zory's opinion of him, and although I thought
Thomas lacked quite a bit of street-sense yet, I didn't think he'd
purposely hurt Zory or me for any reason.

Nonetheless, we'd come to an agreement that once Thomas sort of did the
math, one of the two of us, or both, would brief him on the consequences of
people finding out about a cross-generational gay relationship.

One weekend afternoon we'd put the movie on pause so I could go to the
bathroom, and upon returning I could hear Zory imparting those exact
importances to Thomas.  I let him speak, and as Thomas looked up at me, I
smiled and sat down to listen to what Zory had to say.

"You see, Thom," Zory said, "gay boy on gay boy is enough of concept for
people in general to try to grasp.  Gay man on gay boy is pretty much not
understood at all."

"Really?" Thomas asked, "why not?"

"For obvious reasons, really, if you think about it for a second," Zory
continued.  "Society's view of a man having sex with a boy is that the man
pushed himself onto the boy, tricked him, or talked the boy into it somehow
so the man could have his dick sucked or plant it in the boy's butt.  You
know?  Imagine for a second that you and your piano teacher really began to
like each other a lot.  More than a lot.  You both developed feelings for
each other, and after discussing it at great length you both agreed that
you'd like to do stuff with each other.  Then imagine your dad found out,
and try to explain to your dad that it was all ok, you gave your ok, and
you loved this guy."

"Shit!  No way!  My dad would pick up a baseball bat and head out the
door," Thomas exclaimed.

"Exactly," Zory said.  "The piano teacher would end up dead or in jail, and
your life would be miserable because of it, not to mention you'd never be
able to see him ever again.  Much less anybody else, probably.  They'd
probably put you in with a shrink to try to fix you or something."

Thomas, slightly worse for the wear on the subject matter, nonetheless took
it all in.

He looked at me, then back at Zory.

"Understand, Zory," and then looking at me again, "understand, John.  I
won't say anything to anyone.  Ever.  You have my word."

We both thanked Thomas and then I had to break it up a little bit.

"Alright, alright.  Which movie were we watching?  Hulk?  Superman?  Spice
Girls?"

They both cracked up, and we were shortly back to one of the Harry Potter
movies.

It was a good time, with all of us laughing and cracking up and making
comments at the characters.  Well, you know.  We'd seen the movie about 3
or 4 times each.  But we each found characters in the movie that we drooled
over, laughed at, and in general made a fool of ourselves over.

Thomas liked one of the oldest students, the one that Harry tried to save
in the last movie, who was actually very, very cute indeed.  The
interesting point was, that he was much older than Thomas.  Hmmm.

Once the movie was over, we were silent for a moment or two (I know, hard
to believe), when Thomas turned to Zory and I and spoke.

"You guys must trust me an awful lot to have me here.... " he said, quite
humbly.

We both nodded.

".... but, well.... " he continued, "I wanted to tell you that it's meant a
lot to me to just be here and have somewhere to go where it didn't matter
if I was gay.  No having to worry.  Just being myself.... "

"Cool, Thom," Zory said softly.

I could only smile.

".... so thanks for that.  I mean, really," he strained a bit.  "But more
than that, you had to know I'd find out about you guys sooner or later, and
still you let me come over and be here.  So that's what I meant by you guys
must trust me a lot."  He paused.  "So thanks for that, too."

Thomas arrived at an end of what he wanted to say a bit awkwardly, and was
fidgeting some.

"Thomas, thank you for even saying that," I praised.  "You owe your
entrance to this house to Zory, as he knew you and judged you to be very
good people.  But you owe your being able to come back again and again to
yourself, because you are good people."

"Wow," Thomas barely uttered, followed by tears and a try at saying
"thanks."

He sat down and put his hands to his face and sobbed a bit.

Zory made a move to console him, but I motioned to him with a finger
upheld, saying to wait a moment and see how it went.

Moments later, Thomas got a grip on himself, and wiped his eyes.

He giggled for a second, then, "Geeze.  Sorry," and he giggled again with a
few tears thrown in.

Zory laughed, "Sorry?  For what?  John, did you hear anything?  Last I
heard was which of those movie characters you thought had the best smile,"
and he poked Thom's ribs a bit to make him laugh some more.

I laughed, and Thomas laughed out loud too.

It wasn't until weeks later that I heard about Thomas again.

I was working from home on a Tuesday and around 11:30a Zory scared the
bejesus out of me and zoomed through my front door, ranting like he'd lost
his life saving in the stock market before noon.

Oh yeah.  He also had a gash on one cheek, and his left eye swollen shut.

Tried as I did, I couldn't get a word in edgewise for quite some time.  He
was really pissed.  So pissed that he'd sit down and begin telling some
part of the story, and then get up and huff and growl and utter phrases in
Russian as he paced back and forth, followed by his sitting down again and
telling some other part of the story.

Finally I went and got another cup of coffee for me, and ice pack and a
soda for Zory, and sat down awaiting an opportune moment.

The phone rang, and I picked it up with fair assurance it would be Natalia.

It was.

"Yes, he's here.  I don't know, I don't speak Russian.  Yeah, other than a
puffy eye, I think he's physically ok.  Um, no, not right at this moment.
Sure.  Ok, I'll ask."

I turned to Zory, "Do you want to speak to your mom now, or call her back
in a few."

He was still fuming, and basically just sort of glared at me.

"He'll call you back in a few, Natalia," and I hung up the phone.

Apparently, three upper classmen (seniors) were harassing Thomas (a lowly,
gay freshman) by pushing him back and forth kicking his books around, and
basically pulling his clothes this way and that, messing his hair up,
calling him faggot and queer-boy, when another student (enter Zory, junior)
happened upon the scene.

By all accounts, it got very serious, very quickly.

Zory (his words) "suggested" that they unhand Thomas.  Or what, the
insolent seniors asked.  There would be trouble, Zory responded.  Oh, is
that so, the seniors asked.  What kind of trouble?  Zory-trouble, was the
deft reply.  One of the seniors replied with adjectives that suggested they
weren't impressed, followed by pushing Thomas against a cement wall too
hard for cool thinking.

What ensued was a modern day version of War of the Worlds, with the good
guy's main weapon being a very heavy back- pack, a few kicks, and many
Russian swear words intermingled with English ones.

It was one of those stories where the person telling the story looked all
beat to hell, but could literally say, 'you should see the other guys'.

One senior was struck with the backpack on the chin, spinning him like a
corkscrew character in a cartoon.  Neck brace.

Another senior, who punched Zory in the eye, was attacked from behind by
Thomas who'd gotten up to help Zory.  Zory jumped onto the senior's back to
stop his progress toward Thomas, but unbalanced the senior badly enough
that he came in contact with said concrete wall rather abruptly.  Mild
concussion.

The third upper classman took the opportunity to kick at Zory's groin as he
careened backwards off the back of the second senior, but caught Zory
squarely in the thigh (that explained the limp, and no, I wasn't about to
ask).  This made Zory scream like a madman possessed, expounding in both
Russian and English the guy's lack of a mother and small penis size, and
was just tossing one of Thomas' textbooks at the senior when the Principal
Of The Universe ran up to see what all the commotion was.

Three days suspension.

What could I say?  Yeah, he could've taken the judicial road and reported
the scenario to the Principal, but surely by the time he'd gotten to the
office and back his friend would be in worse shape, the seniors gone, with
their promise to afflict more damage at a later time.  So I told Zory that
despite the fact that there might've been other options, better or not,
that I was proud of his standing up to oppression, standing up for his
friend, and letting the world know he wouldn't take that kind of crap from
anyone.

He'd calmed down somewhat, and half-smiled at me.

I asked how Thomas was, and he said that he was ok, and was only suspended
for the rest of the day today.

I handed Zory the ice pack and soda, and told him if he wanted he could eat
the ice and pour the soda on his eye.  After all, I explained, it was a
Standard American Recipe for beautiful, Russian boys who wore SuperHero
suits and awaited the cry of the next assaulted gay boy.

If I hadn't burst out laughing as soon as I did, which of course caused
Zory to follow suit, I'm sure I would've had to duck and cover due to
flying ice packs.

After speaking to his mom, who told him to go home and stay there until she
got home, he asked if he could take a warm shower before walking home.  I
offered a ride, but he said it was ok, he needed some time to think and the
walk would help him work out the bruise on his leg.

Two steps down the hallway, he asked if I would soap him and wash him.

Gladly, I said.  And by the way, I have this new wonderful anal
thermometer, did he want his temperature taken too?

He giggled and said he would think about it, but for now he was too sore to
enjoy it.

After much hot water, soap suds, and one fine job of temperature taking,
Zory was smiling again.

He still walked home, and when I spoke to him later he was, predictably,
grounded for the three days of suspension.  But he was also a changed boy,
the oppression and defending of his friend being somewhat of an epiphany
for him.

As well it should be.

It was all I could do to contain myself, really.  This little boy that I'd
met years ago, gone camping with, hired as my grounds keeper, and become
entwined with beyond any scope of imagination - not only was he drop-dead
beautiful, funny, smart, and my love, he was also principled and willing to
fight for the freedom for he and others to continue to be themselves.

You never know, I guess, where a journey will ultimately take you or what
you'll pass by on the way there.

Especially if that journey's name is Zory.

************************************

Thank you for your kind responses.  You may write me at
kevroc54321@tns.net.  Other stories in this same category include "Love Of
My Life", "Hands On My Heart", "A Boy To Remember", "Save The Boy", and
others.