Date: Tue, 12 Aug 2008 22:12:51 -0500
From: Cameron Maxx <cameron.maxx@gmail.com>
Subject: Growing Up Josh 5

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This story is a work of FICTION. While actual people and/or events may
inspire some characters and situations, no implications are intended or
should be drawn. Any similarities to actual events or persons are strictly
coincidental.

THIS STORY CONTAINS GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF CONSENSUAL SEXUAL ACTS BETWEEN
TWO ADULT MALES. IT IS INTENDED FOR A MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY! IF YOU FIND
THIS TYPE OF MATERIAL OFFENSIVE, IF YOU ARE UNDER 18, OR UNDER THE LEGAL
AGE TO VIEW SUCH MATERIAL THEN PLEASE READ NO FURTHER.

Copyright 2007-2008 All original material contained here within is
copyrighted by the author, Cameron Maxx, and may not be reproduced in any
form without express written consent. The Nifty Archive is granted a
non-exclusive, worldwide, royalty-free, perpetual, and non-cancelable
license to display this work.

PLEASE NOTE: Feedback, both positive and negative, is welcomed and greatly
appreciated. Abusive correspondence or flames of any kind will, of course,
be strictly ignored - cameron.maxx@gmail.com
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

INTRODUCTION

Well, ladies and gents ... here it is. Just a few months late. Thanks for
all the many kind words you've sent me. This year has proven to be a bit of
a curve ball for me. Time has been short I just haven't been able to commit
the hours I would like to the story. Some distractions have been good, some
have been bad. Since we last spoke, I met someone. That's right; I have a
kinda-sorta-boyfriend. Needless to say he takes up some time that might
otherwise be devoted to writing. So, blame him and his cute ass!

But, please believe me when I say that I'm more committed to this story and
to the characters of Josh and Alex than ever before. I have a clear vision
of where their paths lead and what happens on the journey. It is my goal to
have the story completed and posted before year's end over what will
probably be about 10 chapters in total.

I hope you enjoy it and thanks, again for your patience and support!

-Cameron


CHAPTER 5

It had been an hour since Joshua had turned in and I was still sitting on
the couch. I nursed the now tepid bottle of beer and stared blankly at
nothing in particular. My mind wondered. Branching off down one path only
to double back on themselves and head down another, my thoughts here
fragmented, both exciting and troubling. It had been years since I'd spoken
about Ryan. Years even since I'd given all that had happened any great deal
of thought. It was an ancient wound, a scar, just another cross to
bear. Perhaps not. Perhaps it was still much more raw than I had ever
imagined. How can one person, one bad ending, do so much damage?

And then there was Josh. Exactly what the fuck was going on? I repeated
several things he said over and over in my head. Was I reading into it? Was
it the beer? Had I begun the slow, eventual slide towards having the mind
of a dirty old man? This was Josh for Christ's sake! He was like my little
brother. He liked girls. I know he did. He was straight. He was Abbey's
kid. Think of Abbey. She'd kick my ass if she could read my thoughts right
now. She should kick my ass.

With that troubling image, I finally rose from the sofa and turned off the
lights, stumbled up the stairs to the hall and hung a left into my
bedroom. My head hurt. I pulled the shirt over my head and dropped it on
the floor. I stood beside the bed and fiddled with my jeans; fucking button
fly. After a moment I got the top three undone and slid the pants down over
my ass, past my knees, and then to the floor. In nothing but some humble
Gap boxers I all but fell into bed, barely managing to pull the covers back
before doing so.

Laying half covered from the waste down one thing Josh had said replayed
again and again, like an audio tape looping endlessly, "You'll get over
it. We'll figure out how." I tried to stop the tape, but it kept
playing. We'll? Who the fuck are we?

"I'm too old for this shit," I mumbled to no one before falling into a
restless slumber.

----

When I woke, a hazy light was beginning to filter in through the high
window above my bed. I laid still a moment. I blinked my eyes a few times
and yawned. My head still hurt. As my senses awakened I became aware of a
presence in bed next to me. At first it was nothing, just a bit of warmth
against my left shoulder where there should be none. Then a realized I
could hear a low, steady breathing that wasn't mine. A moment of panic
passed before my brain could catch up and tell me who might be sleeping in
my bed with me.

I turned my head to look and there he was. Josh was laying partly on his
back and partly on his right side, facing me. He was wearing a tight, white
V-neck tee that rose and fell gently with his chest as he drew each breath
and then exhaled. I could see four or five inches of his smooth, honey
chest before the skin lightened softly in the fold of his neck and chin. I
could see a shadow of stubble on his neck and jawline. There was more there
then yesterday, but not by much. His pink, puffy lips were parted
slightly. His shaggy hair lay in a halo around him on the pillow; a good
deal of it had fallen into his face, partially covering his eyes and
forehead. A few pieces had fallen around his nose and mouth. His right hand
laid along his torso, partially tucked under him. His left arm was extended
out towards me, propping him up on his side. I realized his wrist and a few
fingers were pressed against the upper part of my left arm and shoulder.

The first question to hit my still foggy brain was 'what is he doing in my
bed?' That seemed like a reasonable thought and didn't surprise me at
all. The second thought caught me totally off guard -- I realized I didn't
care. I didn't care what last night meant. I didn't care why he was in my
bed. All I cared about was he was there. He was there and it felt right.

I looked at his face and listened to his breathing. I felt a warm, sort of
glowing pulse in my chest and my breath caught. It was like my heart might
explode; like looking at him laying there was just all too much. It was
such an odd sensation seeing the boy I'd known as a child reflected in the
face of the man now sleeping next to me. My contentment strayed towards
confusion as I again doubted myself and my feelings. Ultimately the truth
of the realization that I adored him, that I would do anything for him, was
the only truth that mattered. He was beautiful to me and I felt more
complete with him laying there next to me then I had in years. I couldn't
worry about the possible ramifications of what that meant at this moment.

Overpowered by a need to touch him, I reached my arm out and gently swept
the hair off his face, tucking it behind his ear. It was soft and my
fingers tingled with the thrill of touching his hair again as I had last
night when he kissed me. I used the back of my fingers to sweep a few more
wisps of hair off his forehead, feeling his cool, smooth skin as I did. He
didn't stir so I continued to stroke his hair, barely touching it, running
my fingertips across the surface, sweeping it back and up. I finally just
cupped his hair and the back of his head in my palm while running my thumb
back and forth across his cheek as lightly as I could.

After a moment, I felt his head move ever so slightly and then he took a
deep breath and opened his eyes. They were the same, vivid, ocean green
that I knew so well and they were looking into mine. His lips parted then
broke into a huge smile; it lit up his face. If I'd ever seen a more
perfect smile I couldn't recall.

"Good morning," he said and yawned.

"Morning," I whispered.

"You're here," he said blearily, smiled again, and lifted his hand that had
been touching my left arm and placed it on top of mine that was still
holding his head. I felt him gently squeeze my hand before letting it rest
on top of mine.

"Yeah, I'm here. Where else would I be? It is my bed, you know."

He chuckled. "No, I mean, you're here, with me and I'm here with you, in
California, in your house."

"You've been here for 18 hours."

"I know, I know. It's just, I kept thinking it wasn't real, that I'd wake
up and I'd be back in Austin."

"Well, buddy ... you're not in Austin," I assured him. "You're in
California, right here with me."

He looked at me and smiled then gently patted my hand that was on his face,
as if he needed to make sure it was real, that I was real. I stroked his
cheek once more before removing my hand.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, any reason why you're in my bed?"

He grinned and rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I have a hard time going to
sleep in a new place, you know, until I get used to it. All the sounds are
different and, I don't know, I just can't fall asleep. Plus, last night I
think I was afraid to go to sleep and then wake up to discover none of it
was real."

"What time did you come in?"

"I don't know. About 2:00 or so, I think. You were totally out, so I didn't
worry too much about waking you."

"Well, you didn't wake me, that's for sure. I think I had one too many
beers last night."

"Me, too. My head's a little groggy this morning."

"Yeah, tell me about it. So, were you able to fall asleep once you came in
here?"

"Yup, right away. As soon as I laid down, everything felt right. I could
smell you and that fixed it."

"You could, uhhmmm ... smell me?"

"I mean, yeah. I could smell you. In a good way. It made me feel
comfortable and safe. You smell like home."

"I smell like home?"

"Well, you smell like something familiar. How's that?"

"Okay, I guess."

"You're a safe zone, you know. Your my comfort zone, I guess. Like,
remember that time that I had the messed up eye and mom brought me to the
office and you snuck out so we could go get breakfast?"

I thought about it for a second and then I did remember the day he was
talking about. It was years ago. He had been maybe 12 or 13 at the time and
Alley had to bring him to the office because he had pink eye or
something. His eye had looked awful and was swollen almost completely
shut. We'd snuck out of the office when so one was paying attention and
headed to McDonald's to get some breakfast. After we'd gotten our food and
were pulling away from the drive-thru window he'd said some smartass
something or another to me. I'd told him he was lucky his eye was fucked up
or I'd punch him in the face. He'd turned to me, serious and collected, and
said that I wouldn't because he knew I'd never hurt him, even on
accident. It was another example of Josh catching me off guard and making
me feel off balance and off guard.

"You told me you knew I'd never hurt you, even if it was by accident," I
said.

"That's right. I knew it then and I know it now. I've always known it. So,
that's why I came in here last night. I knew I'd be able to go to sleep if
you were here."

I just looked at him for a moment. He didn't look away, meeting my gaze
with his own. "You know, sometimes you were a weird kid," I finally said.

He laughed, I don't think it was the comment he was expecting. "What does
that mean?"

"I mean, like you were, what ... 12 or 13 when you said that? That's pretty
fucking perceptive for a kid. Plus, even if they'd thought it, most teens
would have kept it to themselves."

He considered that for a second, then said, "I guess I just didn't see any
reason to keep it to myself if we both knew it was true."

"You just really caught me off guard sometimes, Josh. That's all I'm
saying. Sometimes I didn't know how to take you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, there were times, like that day in my car, when you made me feel
like the kid and you were the mature, grounded one. It was just a little
unnerving, that's all I'm saying."

"Are you saying I was a creepy kid?" he chided.

"No, no. I mean you were no Damien or REDRUM or anything like that. It was
just, okay ... you know, it was like most of the time you were this
perfectly normal kid or teenager or whatever. You'd talk about music and
your iPod and girls. You'd obsess over sports and play video games for
hours at a time. You'd be all moody and pissy and, you'd be a typical
teen. Then, out of nowhere, you'd make these incredibly insightful, and
sometime emotionally charged, observations then -- bam! Back to normal,
dumb kid."

He laughed and slugged my shoulder. "I was never just a normal, dumb kid."

I hesitantly agreed. "Okay, I guess you were never really dumb."

"Thank you very much," he said. Then, "besides that's why you love me. If
I'd been a normal, dumb kid you'd have been bored with me in no time."

"I don't know about that. It kind of makes me sound like a dick."

He laughed. "You are kind of a dick."

"Fuck off," I said sullenly.

He laughed again and extended his arms above his head, rolling fully onto
his back. I could see his feet reaching towards the foot of the bed under
the covers. He stretched then rolled over on his side and propped his head
up on his hand and looked down at me, still laying flat on my back.

"So, what are we doing today?"

"Well, your mom told me you needed to go to UCLA and do a few more things
before classes start. Is that right?"

"Yeah, there's some paperwork and I think I need to get my student
I.D. made, too. I might stop by a bookstore while I'm there."

"Okay, then let's do this, uhhmmm ... what time is it?"

He looked over my head to the side table behind me where the clock
was. "It's about 9:30 or so."

"Shit. No wonder my head hurts. I was up much too late last night and had
far too many beers to be awake this early."

"Oh, come on," he laughed.

"Fine, fine. I'm not sure about you but I need to shower, that's for
sure. I'll feel better afterwards."

"You'll smell better, too."

"Fuck off. I thought you liked how I smelled. Remember, it made you feel
all safe and shit."

He rolled his eyes and grinned. "I knew I shouldn't have told you that."

"Too late, you did." Any way, why don't you head down the hall to the other
bathroom and hit the shower and I'll do the same in here. When we're both
cleaned and dressed, we'll go get some food. Are you hungry?"

"I'm always hungry. You should know that."

"I know you always used to be hungry, but I thought maybe that had changed
now that you're all done with puberty."

"Nope. Still hungry."

"Okay, then we'll get some food. Afterwards, why don't I give you a driving
tour of L.A. and the surrounding area. I'll show you all the tourist stuff
plus some of the basics you'll need for getting around. Then, we can head
over to the UCLA campus later this afternoon and take care of your stuff
there."

"Sounds good," he said cheerily and threw back the covers, hopping out of
bed.

He was wearing white Calvin Klein boxer briefs that rode low on his
waist. Several inches of his lower stomach was exposed in the gap between
the bottom of his shirt and the top of his briefs. He grabbed his shirt and
pulled it up and over his head, revealing his entire chest and torso. I
blinked, trying not to stare as Josh stood in my bedroom, wearing nothing
more than his underwear while his wadded up tee shirt hung from his right
hand.

"Are there towels for me in the other bathroom?" he asked.

"Yeah. They're in the vertical cabinet next to the sink. They're all white
and as long as they're all folded in there, they should be clean. Those are
all yours so knock yourself out."

"Awesome. See you in a few minutes then," he said and turned, walked
towards the door then disappeared around the corner into the hall.

Having watched him standing beside my bed and then walking away I felt my
dick twitch and start to harden. Seeing him almost naked reminded me of a
conversation I'd had with Abbey years ago about Josh and how much his body
looked like his father's. She had laughed about his "bubble butt" and the
fact that he'd never have to shave more than a couple times a week. His
chest was smooth, absolutely devoid of hair. In fact, there was no hair on
his torso at all except for a thin, dusting of soft, fine blondish-brown
wisps that started just below his belly button and formed a line heading
down towards his waist. The trail had widened and darkened slightly before
disappearing into his low slung briefs. His body was slim and, in my mind,
perfectly formed. The light musculature was visible under his golden brown
skin, but never bulged. He reminded me of a swimmer or soccer player who
didn't spend too much time in the gym. His chest was formed by two
pectorals that gave him shape but never strained a shirt. His waist and
hips formed that delicious V that plunged down his flat stomach which
itself showed a hint of the 6-pack muscles underneath. He looked exactly
like a healthy 20 year old should look; Michelangelo would have found
Joshua an excellent model for his David, I couldn't help but think. And
having watched him on his way out, I saw the bubble butt that Abbey had
laughed about, too. It was still there in all its pert, perky glory. Large
and perfectly formed, the globes were almost too big for his body but not
quite. He had a beautiful ass.

My lecherous thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the water starting
in the guest shower. "Get a grip, you creepy old man," I told myself and
tryed to ignore my still semi-stiff dick.

I rolled out of bed and headed into my bathroom. I stripped, hopped into a
cold shower, and tried to think about baseball, museums, vaginas ... most
anything other than Josh!

----

Time passed quickly as days became weeks and then weeks turned into
months. Joshua and I settled into a comfortable routine and it was hard to
imagine my life without him there. It was like he'd been living with me
forever.

My fall classes got off to a good start. I was teaching a new course I'd
never taught so I had a lot of reading and research to do early in the
semester. Most nights Josh, once his own work was complete, would show up
in the study where I was with a couple of cold beers and pull a chair up to
the desk. We'd sit and work together for an hour or two, laughing as we
did. He made an excellent assistant which I, of course, teased him about to
no end. Though he often threatened to never help me again thanks to my
snide comments, he always did. He'd usually type while I dictated lecture
notes from various books and other academics journals.

We'd talk about other things, too. We'd discuss our days, movies, music and
all the other stuff we'd always talked about. We'd argue and laugh and try
to convince the other that our own musical taste was far superior to
theirs. By 11:00 or midnight we'd have had three or four beers each and be
ready to turn in.

Most nights I'd awaken to Josh crawling into my bed a couple of hours after
we'd parted ways. Nothing was ever said; I'd just roll towards him and
drape on arm over his stomach. He'd take my hand and squeeze it for a
moment before letting it go and then fall almost immediately to sleep. As
soon as I heard his low, steady breathing, I'd withdraw my arm and roll
back to my side of the bed knowing I'd done my part and he'd slid safely
into slumber.

Tuesdays and Thursday were my favorite days of the week. Those were the
days his classes finished early and he'd always be at home waiting for me
to arrive. Dressed casually, usually in some baggy shorts, a white
undershirt, and sandals, he looked the part of the Southern California boy
in every way. His hair had gotten a little longer since he'd moved in with
me. I'd insisted on taking him to one of those wonderfully talented but
woefully overpriced stylist found only in places like L.A. They'd cut a few
subtle layers in, giving the back and bangs more shape in addition to
taking out some of the weight underneath. His already amazing hair now
looked better than ever and sometimes it would literally take my breath
away.

We'd gotten into the habit of Josh choosing what he wanted to do on those
days about dinner. He'd either have picked out something from one of my
cooking books that he wanted to try or he was tired and had settled on
going out for dinner. Either way, I'd change clothes and then we'd head to
the grocery store or restaurant. Dinner out with him was great as he was
always in a good mood and seemed happy just to be sitting there, talking to
me. But it was the trips to the grocery store and the misadventures in the
kitchen that followed that were really cherished. We had more fun buying
and then preparing our dinner than two people ever should. Neither of us
were gourmet cooks but we both enjoyed trying even the most complicated
dishes. If we fucked up, oh well! We'd just have a few more beers and wait
for the pizza to be delivered.

It was one night, after a kitchen disaster that lead to pizza and entirely
too many beers that I found myself in the study with Josh. I was sitting in
my chair and he was resting against the desk looking down at me. It was
early October and the California nights were getting cooler. I'd had more
than my fair share of beers and before my brain could catch up to my mouth
I found myself asking him a question.

"So, have you met any girls here?"

He took a moment like I'd ask him something totally unexpected before
saying, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, like a girlfriend or whatever. As far as I know you haven't gone
on any dates or anything."

"No. No, I haven't met a girl," he said solemnly.

"Oh," I said. I had no idea where I was going with the conversation.

"Do you think I should be trying to meet someone?" he asked.

"I don't know. I mean, I thought maybe you were lonely, or ... just might
want to get laid, or something."

"I'm not lonely. You're with me, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah. But ..."

"Alex, look at me," he said cutting me off in mid sentence.

I looked up at him. He moved quickly; his left hand went behind my neck and
held my head. He leaned down, closed his eyes, and pushed his mouth against
mine. I had barely registered what was happening when I felt him open his
mouth and the tip of his tongue licked and pushed at my lips. My mind was
still reeling but my body took over and my mouth opened, allowing him in. I
felt his tongue rub against mine and it was electric. A current charged
through my body and my heart raced. Without thinking my hand moved to the
back of his head, grabbing a handful of that beautiful hair and pulling
lightly. When I did, I felt him shudder as though by doing so I'd ignited
something inside him and he pushed harder against me, his tongue moving
deeper into my mouth. I could taste him. His breathing became fast and
shallow and he exhaled into my mouth. I breathed him in. I was vaguely
aware that with him over me as he was, I could sense a bit of his saliva
flowing into my mouth and that provided me with a deeply erotic
sensation. Every nerve ending in my body opened up and I felt raw and
overloaded. My mind raced through my history, through every kiss, and
nothing compared to this. At once both romantic and primal, it lit me up
and I burned for him.

Finally I released his head and I felt his hand move away from my neck. I
waited before opening my eyes. He was still leaning over towards me, his
face close to mine. I could feel his breath on my cheeks. His eyes peered
into mine. His lips were wet and puffy, his face a little flush, but there
was a hint of a grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

"I'm not lonely," he said. "You're here."

Between the beer and the kiss I thought I might pass out and tumble, head
over feet, out of the chair. "Josh, I ..."

My voice trailed off, I didn't know how to finish the sentence. "What's
going on here?" I finally asked, hearing the confusion in my own voice.

"I kissed you," he said without any sense of irony.

"Yeah, I know that. I ... you know, I'm gay."

"I know."

"So what are you doing here with me? Kissing me?"

"I don't know. I just wanted to, so I did. Did you mind?"

"No." I hesitated, "I don't know. I ... I'm not sure what's going on here
with you and me, and for that matter, I'm not even sure it should be
happening."

"I'm 20 years old. I can make my own decisions. You didn't kiss me. I
kissed you."

"I don't mean it's illegal, I mean it might now be appropriate. I mean,
you're straight, right? You dates girls. So, it's not fair to either of us
to ..." I trailed off again.

"Look, here's the thing," he took a deep breath before looking away and
then back into my eyes. "I've been with girls and guys before. I've dated
both. I like them both, I guess. Granted, I've been in more relationships
with girls, but I don't think any of that applies here. You're you and I'm
me. We have a lot of history and this is where I want to be right now. Here
with you. So, I kissed you."

I took a moment, trying to let all he'd said sink in. "You've been with
guys before?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you ever tell me."

"I don't know," he said and shrugged his shoulders. "I guess you never
asked."

"No, no ... hold on. I never asked about the girls but you told me about
them."

"That's true, I guess. Although you did ask sometimes."

"I may have asked about a girlfriend, but only after you told me you had
one. I just asked about what I assumed was, I don't know, normal for
you. You sort of established the norm and any further questions I asked
were based on that."

"Fair enough."

"So, are you bisexual or what?" I found myself asking before I could shut
my stupid mouth.

I knew that was a mistake. His body language shifted and he rolled his
eyes. After all these years, I should have known better. Josh didn't like
too many questions. I expected him to get angry or, at the very least,
sullen and then excuse himself to go to bed. Instead he sat there on my
desk and took a couple of deep breaths. I could tell by the look on his
face that his brain was processing everything that had just been said and
turning it over and over again. He finally looked back down at me.

"I'm not sure. I mean, I'm just not sure what I am. The only thing I know
right now is that I'm here with you and I want us to walk across the hall
to your room and I want to get into bed with you and then fall asleep next
to you, okay? That's all I know right now, so please just let it be
enough."

My heart ached for him and I stood up so I was now looking down at him,
into his eyes. "Okay," I said softly. "That's more than enough for now."

He sighed then looked down at his feet. "Thank you," he said quietly.

I put my hands around his face, my palms on his cheeks, and gently kissed
his bowed forehead. I took his hand in mine. "C'mon. Let's go to bed,
Joshua."

He looked up at me and smiled gratefully. I felt his grip on my hand
tighten as he stood and we walked, hand in hand, out of the study and into
my bedroom.

----

We undressed quietly and crawled under the sheets together. He curled
against me, his smooth, bare torso pressed against my side, his head
resting on my shoulder. We laid there a moment in silence. Then, I smiled
to myself.

"Josh?" I said.

"Yeah?"

"Can I kiss you?"

He laughed. "Yes, you can."

I rolled slightly onto my side and our lips touched again. Soon my tongue
was in his mouth and he sucked gently on my lower lip. It was slow and
sweet. We kissed for a long time. I held him in the crook of my arm,
pulling his body closer to mine. I could feel his hardness pressing against
my thigh through his briefs. My own dick had gotten hard, too. Our mouths
finally parted, but I continued to kiss his face. Just quick, soft pecks on
his lips, nose, cheeks, eyelids, and forehead. I was consumed by a need to
touch him; to let him know what he meant to me. He fell asleep soon
thereafter and I followed him into that slumber moments later.

----

The phone started ringing. It was a banging in my head that was painful and
it pulled my eyes open slowly. My head throbbed and I was too hot. Under
the covers with Josh still pressed firmly against me, I'd gotten warm
during the night and was sweating when I awoke.

There was only the palest of light filtering in through the windows. It was
too early for the sun to have even fully broken over the eastern
horizon. The phone was still ringing.

I finally managed to pull my arm out from under Josh and roll to the side
of the bed, reaching for the phone as I did. "Hello?" I said, my voice
sounding rough and scratchy.

It was my mom.

I listened, my mind still trying to wake up, trying to absorb what I was
hearing. "Okay," I said.

Josh was now sitting up on his side of the bed looking at me.

"Okay," I said again. "Are you okay?"

We spoke a while longer before I said goodbye and hung up. As I sat the
phone down on the side table I felt numb. I stared at the wall on the other
side of the room.

"Alex," Josh whispered.

I jerked slightly, his voice shocking me in the still dark room. I turned
and looked at him.

"Alex, what is it?"

"My dad," I said. "My dad is dead."