Date: Mon, 13 May 2002 19:03:28 -0700 (PDT)
From: Brandon Kies <brandonkies@yahoo.com>
Subject: No Choice But Love - Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I suppose on some level I noticed my reflection in the window, and the
rain that was gently falling on the garden our room overlooked. But these
things were unimportant. I was lost in thought, remembering the past
eight months, reflecting on the changes that meeting Aaron had brought to
my life.

Marcus' confession was bittersweet and precipitated a firestorm of
change. He and Aaron talked, really talked to each other that night for
hours. It was perhaps the first time in their lives. It was painful to
watch as accusations and recriminations were dealt with honestly and
openly. But it was a watershed. Hurt feelings and misunderstandings were
discussed, thoughtfully and completely, and in the end, their
relationship began to heal. It wasn't easy, but slowly Aaron learned to
forgive, and Marcus embraced the redemption he had worked for.

It was ironic that as their relationship healed, Marcus weakened. They
finally understood each other, finally accepted each other, and they were
out of time. We did decide not to attend university, and I moved in with
them so Aaron could spend whatever time was left with his father. They
had amazing discussions. Discussions that ran the gamut of Marcus' life
experiences, his hopes and dreams for his family, and ultimately the
process that allowed him to conclude that he wanted his children to be
happy, and that meant his acceptance of who Aaron was, who he would
become.

I spent my time being as unobtrusive as possible, watching helplessly as
Marcus' health failed. Aaron became driven. Spending as much time as
possible with his father, afraid that each moment might be their last.
Determined to let Marcus know he was forgiven and loved. It was hard on
both of them. Happy that they finally had each other, but recognizing
time was against them. He never allowed Marcus to see the pain he felt as
he watched the illness progress, the sense of loss he was experiencing.
But at night, in the privacy of our room, he would cling to me
desperately. His sobs and tears were heartbreaking, and I did the only
thing I could. I held him, I tried to soothe his fears and anguish, and I
allowed him to cling to me as a tangible reminder that I was there, and
that I loved him.

We remained celibate during this time. It wasn't something we discussed.
Something we planned. It just was. I suppose it was intuitive on each of
our parts, but it never became an issue. We just knew that side of our
relationship would develop naturally, in it's own time, at it's own
pace. I knew Aaron needed someone to hold him, comfort him, but most
importantly to make no demands on him or his time, and he needed this
more than he needed a sexual relationship.

Incidental to the healing of Marcus' and Aaron's relationship was
Aaron's understanding and forgiveness for Anne. I have to admit I was
leery on this front. The only interaction she and I had, had been messy
and ugly. But for Aaron, I made the effort, and I was glad I did. She is
a wonderful woman. Loving, gentle and intelligent. And Marcus'
explanation for her motivations proved correct. She really did love Aaron
and Eric. Aaron had become her brother, and she would do anything for
him.

She was reinstated as Eric's nanny, and as she and I began to interact
on a daily basis, I recognized her strengths and weaknesses, more
importantly I recognized her as a kindred spirit. We both had a real need
to protect those we loved, and it was this commonality that allowed our
friendship to prosper. She adored Eric, and spoiled him shamelessly, but
she went out of her way to include me in his daily life. She helped Eric
understand Aaron and my relationship, and she was the one that decided
and taught Eric to call me Poppa. I think it was that act of kindness
that put the death knoll to any suspicions or reservations that remained
on my part.

Eric was innocent and well adjusted. The changes that were happening
around him went unnoticed for the most part. He took delight in our play,
and while I'm sure he was aware he spent less time with his father, he
remained a happy little boy. The highlight of our day was when he would
come running into Aaron and my bedroom each morning, crawl into bed with
us, and snuggle contentedly safely wrapped in our arms. The moment was
blessedly perfect. Aaron was able to forget, for a time, his father's
illness as he hugged us. I was content to gaze at them lovingly and
return those hugs. And Eric would wait patiently; knowing at some point
those hugs would turn to play. The morning routine was not complete until
Aaron and I tickled him until he was squealing with delight.

Eliza remained a constant during this time. Working tirelessly to
maintain some consistency, some normalcy in our lives. She never, for a
moment, allowed us to see the pain or uncertainty she had to have been
experiencing. She played her role of selfless matriarch perfectly. She
refused to allow us to see or know of her loneliness and fear. She was
the devoted wife, mother and grandmother, and any personal anguish she
may have undergone was done in private. If she had moments of weakness,
if she railed against fate or her husband, she did so privately. It was
her strength, I think, more than anything that allowed the family to come
to terms with Marcus' illness and impending death.

And she remained gracious and loving. She welcomed me warmly as part of
the family, and went out of her way to make sure I was comfortable and
included. She spent hours speaking with me, relating anecdotal stories of
their lives. It was these stories that allowed me to come to know Aaron
for the person he was, to understand the pain and heartache he had
endured, and to recognize that family could be supportive and
encouraging.

The holiday's that year were painful reminders of the fleeting
uncertainty of life. Each day was a poignant reminder that life was
short, but Eliza remained steadfast in her determination to make what she
knew had to have been Marcus' last holiday both joyous and memorable.
She remarked often that life was a series of memories, and she was
determined that the last memories we had of Marcus were happy. He
deserved our love and respect. He'd earned it.

Candice was hardest hit. As the days passed. As winter came and snow
blanketed their landscaped gardens, a distance seemed to envelop her.
Intellectually she acknowledged what was going on. Emotionally, she just
wasn't capable of reconciling her loving father, with the wasted, tired,
old man he had become. She resented his illness, resented the small time
that was left, and resented him for making her feel that way. She buried
herself in schoolwork, and hid frequently at friend's homes. It was Eric
who was able to tear down the walls she was building. When he saw Marcus,
he saw the loving grandfather he had always known. He didn't see the
illness, he didn't know that death stalked Marcus, and it was this
simple acceptance that allowed Candice to realize, finally, that she was
ignoring the present because of her fear for the future.

Marcus eventually died in late March. His passing was painful and ugly, a
stark contrast to the quiet dignity that was representative of his life.
He lay in his hospital bed, tubes and wires leading to his body, and
gasped desperately for breath. He was blind and unable to speak by this
point, but he held on tightly to the hands of his family as he struggled
valiantly to live. There were no last words, no gentle smile as he gazed
sightlessly towards the gates of heaven. He fought. He struggled. He
clung to life. And he failed. There was nothing noble about his death. It
was painful and ugly. It trivialized his bravery and passion. And it was
unnecessary.

Which brought us back to today. His funeral, this morning, had been the
polar opposite of the dignity that comprised his life. The priest, the
man that had been a part of the spiritual lives of this family, had
preached intolerance and hate. His sermon had been filled with a vicious
diatribe condemning Marcus and people like him to hell. Marcus' disease
became justifiable punishment of a vengeful God, and compassion and
forgiveness were forgotten.

Thomas, Aaron's grandfather, acted quickly and decisively. He motioned
for the pallbearers to collect and remove the priest, and then proudly
and effortlessly gave a moving eulogy. He spoke eloquently of his son and
the life he had led. A life of celebration and delight. A life that
became a testament for those lessons that Christ had preached. Lessons of
redemption and forgiveness. A life of honesty and compassion.
Characteristics and qualities, he suggested that each person should
aspire to attain.

My introspection and reflection was interrupted as I heard our bedroom
door open and close. Turning, I watched helplessly as Aaron entered
exhausted and emotionally drained. He paused to look at me with such pain
and anguish my heart broke for him. Moving swiftly, I crossed the room
and embraced him. Pulling him close, I held him tight. He sighed, and I
could feel the tension slowly leave his body as he allowed himself to
lean on me. I felt his arms wrap around me as he placed his head on my
shoulder, and he sighed deeply. Moving my hand to the back of his head, I
began to stroke his hair softly and I leant forward to kiss his forehead
tenderly.

"Do you think he's in hell?" Aaron asked softly.

"No," I stated firmly, "I'm sure he's not." Lifting Aaron's chin,
I forced him to look at me. "Aaron, you have to ignore what he said. You
better than anyone know what a good man your father was."

"Funny isn't it? We knew this day was coming, but we've never really
discussed religion. What if he`s right?" He asked me fearfully.

"He's not," I said firmly.

"How can you be so sure?"

Sighing I led Aaron over to our bed, sitting against the headrest, I
motioned for him to join me. "I'm not sure if I can explain the basis
for my faith," I said, "but I'll try."

"I guess I should start by making a distinction of terminology. Religion
and God aren't interchangeable. Perhaps the greatest paradox is that God
is immutable yet knowable. God is Love, it's a basic constant, simple
but powerful. He is unchangeable, unassailable, and yet He can be and is
experienced daily. If God is Love, then we experience him, we know him
daily. He created us with the capacity and ability to know love, to know
Him. And life is a cumulative sequence of events and situations that give
us the opportunity to know and experience love, to experience God."

"Religions, on the other hand, are man's attempt to use words, words
that create a framework to explain God. But this framework, this system
of words has, over time, taken on a meaning and life of it's own.
Religions have forgotten it's basic tenet. They are more concerned with
the words themselves, and have forgotten the underlying principal that
God is Love."

My eyes unfocused as I tried to order my thoughts. Biting my lip I
continued, "We've gotten it all wrong. It doesn't matter what religion
you believe in, it's the message. And the message seems to be universal
to all religions. God is Love, it's really that simple I think. But for
some reason, we don't listen to the message, we ignore what He attempts
to show and teach us. Instead we focus on the words. We allow ourselves
to get bogged down in rules and scripture, in sects and factions, and
read the words, but never listen to the message."

Glancing at Aaron sadly, I continued, "But what's worse, I think, is
that in our obsession with the word, we've perverted God, twisted the
purity of Love until it is at times evil and ugly."

"Be kind to each other, respect each other, LOVE each other.
Forgiveness, respect, tolerance, they are all aspects of love. They are
inseparable and resolute. Fundamental and enduring. And we ignore them.
We twist the words to suit our purpose. We allow ourselves as a people,
as a race to splinter, to fractionalize over an interpretation of a word.
We justify hate and killing, and we state with uncertainty as we do so
that we are following God`s Word!"

"It's contemptible and ugly. But if nothing else it's tangible proof
that God does exist. That redemption is possible. When he created us, he
hardwired us with the capacity to love and hate. We can experience Love,
experience God, and we can experience the opposite. Our job is to
recognize the experiences for what they are. And to acknowledge that when
we love, those pure moments of joy we experience are his greatest gift.
Because for that single moment, that moment of joy or love, we are God,
or as close to it as we can get."

"Knowing your father, knowing the real love he had for you and your
family, is it really possible for him to be forever consigned to an
eternity in hell?"

Stroking my stomach mischievously, Aaron asked, "So since I love you,
I'm God?"

Laughing at him, I said, "Well maybe a demi-god. But if you need
practice I would be willing to suffer through it. I'm sure with a little
work you'll get there."

"Chris, can we," he looked at me nervously, shy and uncertain, "would
you mind?"

I knew what he was asking, and I suppose it could have been considered
macabre. Deciding to begin our sexual relationship, to lose our virginity
the day his father was buried, may have appeared selfish. But he wasn't
asking that we celebrate the passing of his father, he was asking to
reaffirm life. He needed affirmation that his life had meaning, that life
goes on, and that the finality of death could be combated by this simple
act.

I have to admit I was a bit nervous. His decision was thoughtful and
monumental, and he deserved, we deserved our first time to be special and
magical.

I bent forward to kiss him hesitantly, "Are you sure?" I asked.

"Mmmmm," he moaned as he continued kissing me.

Breaking the kiss, I got off the bed. I quickly locked our bedroom door,
and stopped in the restroom to grab a towel and lubricate. Aaron had been
busy while I was gone. It wasn't the first time I had seen him without
clothes, we had become quite familiar with each others body and nudity
over the past few months. But this was different, and as I caught sight
of him laying there, stretching luxuriously, and beckoning to me
enticingly to join him, my breathe caught at his absolute perfection.

I stopped and began removing my clothes. Slowly. Alluringly. Aaron
watched me intently as I began undoing the buttons to my shirt. It was
empowering, heady as I realized he was reacting to me. His drooping eyes
followed each of my movements intently. He licked his lips hungrily, and
as my hand reached to unfasten my slacks, I heard him whimper. I teased
him mercilessly. Moving slowly, alluringly as I slowly lowered my zipper.
His tongue began flicking involuntarily, tasting his lips, as I placed my
fingers in the waistband of my slacks and underwear. Turning my back to
him, I lowered them quickly, stepping out of them, and looking over my
shoulder for his reaction.

He was hot, hard, and panting. I watched in amazement as he began to cum.
Without being touched, without touching himself, he began to cum. And I
was exultant. He was so turned on by me, so in love with me, that I was
able to have this effect on him simply by undressing. It was humbling,
realizing someone wanted you, loved you that much.

Moving to the bed, I began cleaning him off. Kissing his ear I whispered,
"Your not getting off that easy!"

Almost purring, he asked, "Promise?"

Running my hand up his chest, I grazed his skin lightly as I reached to
cup his face. Rubbing my thumb suggestively over his lips I leaned in and
began kissing his neck. Nipping at his skin, I listened intently as his
whimpers increased in volume.

I began brushing my fingers lightly across his skin. Tracing the contours
of his muscles, I allowed them to play freely over his chest, his arms,
his stomach. His body was responsive. Molding to my hands, arching
invitingly. I watched with delight as first one nipple, then the other
hardened as I caressed them.

"Arggggg," he moaned as my tongue darted out, teasing, tasting, tracing
his right nipple. Gripping it firmly with my teeth, I felt him press into
me desperately as I began sucking. He grabbed my head with both hands and
held me firmly to his chest as he continued to moan and thrash in
ecstasy. Twitching and shuddering involuntarily he gently guided my head
to his left nipple. Allowing myself to be led, I was content to lather
and bathe it with the same devotion I had the right nipple.

Pulling me gently back to his mouth, he began to devour me. Plunging his
tongue deeply, passionately within my mouth, it was my turn to moan. I
felt his hand move slowly, suggestively down my chest, down my stomach
until finally he grasped my member. Thrusting forward into his hand, I
groaned into his mouth, "God Aaron, that`s amazing!"

He pressed me firmly against the mattress, and began kissing his way
slowly down my body. My neck. My chest. My stomach. And finally,
wonderfully, amazingly, he reached my groin.

"Ohhhh Aaron," I screamed, "God don't stop!" His mouth was hot and
wet. He began sucking greedily, creating a vacuum the instant the head
was inside. Slurping noisily, continuing his suction he slowly lowered
his head until I was completely engulfed. His touch was electrifying, and
my entire being was centered on the feelings he was creating. I'd never
felt anything like it. It was heady and liberating, and I fucked his
mouth with wanton abandonment.

His tongue danced lightly and effortlessly as he continued his efforts.
Swirling quickly yet confidently around the head. Tracing my circumcision
scar delicately, hungrily. It was heavenly. I was leaking pre-cum
copiously, and I knew I was close. Panting breathlessly, I warned him,
"I'm gonna cum!"

Increasing his efforts, he hung on as I began bucking, my orgasm boiling
out of me. My entire being seemed to participate, each cell tingling,
hyperaware as my orgasm erupted. My hands clenched the bed coverings
tightly, my back arched, my toes curled, and my eyelids twitched
uncontrollable finally snapping shut as my eyes rolled into the back of
my head, and I exploded.

It was glorious

It was amazing

It was everything I'd ever dreamed it would be.

It completed me, completed us, and I loved Aaron more at that moment than
I ever had before.

Finally it was over, and I collapsed back on the bed spent, sated.
Grinning at me, Aaron asked, "Did you like it?"

I stared at him in astonishment, "Oh God, do you even have to ask?"

"Mmmmm, No," he said as he slid up my body, pressed against me, and
nipped at my ear. I could feel his erection against my hip, and I knew
that we weren't finished yet. There was something else we had to do.

Reaching across to the nightstand, I grabbed the bottle of lube and
handed it to him. He gazed deeply into my eyes, testing my resolve I
think. But I was certain. I wanted this, and he needed it. Nodding at
him, I motioned for him to begin.

I spread my legs for him as he got on his knees. He gently raised them,
placing them on his shoulders. Hesitantly, carefully, he began circling
my pucker with his fingers. His touch was feather light and tantalizing.
I felt butterfly's forming in my stomach, and my cock began hardening. I
began rotating my hips in concert with his finger, humming softly to
myself, anticipating eagerly his actions.

Pressing firmly, I felt his finger begin it's entrance. I tightened up
instinctively, but he was patient, stroking my perineum absently with his
thumb as he waited for me to relax. Slowly, carefully I felt his finger
enter me. The feeling was strange, and I wasn't certain I liked it until
I felt him touch something. It sent a jolt through my entire body,
creating goose bumps, and I gasped loudly. Noticing my reaction Aaron
began stroking, rubbing me. Working steadily to increase my pleasure and
loosen me completely.

As I continued to thrash and moan, he added first one finger then two.
The feeling of fullness increased as he added his fingers, but it wasn't
enough. Finally, I could stand it no longer and I begged him to enter me.
"Please Aaron, I need it! Now! Do it!"

Withdrawing his fingers, he took a second to lube his cock up completely.
Leaning over me, he lined up with my entrance. "I'm scared, Chris. I
don't want to hurt you," he said.

Grabbing his head, I kissed him fiercely. "I love you, Aaron."

Sighing in resignation, you'd have thought he was being led to the
electric chair, he began pressing forward. Slowly ever so slowly. And it
was delicious. There was no pain, no regrets, no fear. I felt him move
inexorably deeper, filling me, stretching me as he slid inch by inch
inside me. I was biting my lip in anticipation, waiting for the pain,
expecting it. And then he was inside me, completely. I felt his pubic
hair brush against me, and I knew. We were joined.

We both exhaled at the same time. Releasing the breath we had been
holding, releasing the tension. He bent forward and kissed me, wrapping
his arms around me. I was on sensory overload. Savoring his warmth, his
strength, feeling his heartbeat as he throbbed deep within me. And then
he began to move.

It was primal and hot. Animalistic and passionate. As he moved back and
forth, slowly at first, anticipating and luxuriating in the feelings, I
began to rise to meet him. Thrusting upwards, I wrapped my legs around
his waist, trying to force him deeper, trying to absorb him utterly. My
hands began stroking up and down his back, clenching rhythmically to his
thrusts, my nails leaving bloody trails of desire. Our joining was
instinctive. Our movements timeless. We battled for supremacy, an insane
dance, each bucking and thrusting as we moved faster and faster to
consummate our passion.

Finally we screamed each others name as our release built, and we came.

Our heads moved violently from side to side, denying the wonderful
intense feelings we were experiencing, and we came.

We thrust against each other, holding each other closely, and still we
came.

As our climax ended, as he collapsed atop me exhausted, as we lay
stroking each other in post coital bliss, enjoying each other, loving
each other, I reflected briefly again on the days events, and I hoped
Marcus, where ever he was, was as close to God as I was at that moment.

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

"You better get up bro. Dad will be up here soon threatening to kick you
ass."

I opened my eyes, looking around the room to see who was speaking.
Blinking in confusion, I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

*SHIT* I thought to myself as I recognized finally where I was, who I
was.

It was a dream. Aaron and Chris never happened. It had all been a dream.

FUCK!?!?!