Date: Mon, 30 Sep 2002 21:14:29 -0500 From: The Jongolier <jongolier@myself.com> Subject: The Mountain Cabin Part 3 DISCLAIMER: This story contains consensual sex between two male minors. If this sort of thing offends you or you are underage, do not read this. This story is the property of The Jongolier, any reprinting or other use is only by permission. This is a work of fiction. If it offends you, don't read it! Certainly don't send me email about WHY it offends you. It doesn't offend me and it doesn't offend the many many readers who write to me to tell me they love it. Here's part three. I'll keep pumping them out until its done. Okay, shameless pun. I'm sorry. If you like my story, email me at jongolier@myself.com. If you don't like it, email me anyway. Enjoy. A LOSS AND A GAIN The rest of the week we spent every moment, waking and sleeping, together. We showered together, we ate together, we played together, we even worked on the house together. In fact, with Matt's eager help I was able to replace the shingles on the garage, a job I was dreading and was certain would take two weekends all by myself. That first night alone together was the last one during which we had any sex, but sex wasn't the focus of our relationship. And strangely enough, I loved it that way. Matt and I loved each other; sex was only one color of love on a whole pallet of emotion. Every night we fell asleep in each other's arms, feeling safe and loved. All too soon it came time for me to take Matt home. We drove the long way down the mountain to his house in pained silence. Much of the drive Matt held my hand in his, resting both on the gear selector. Quite appropriately it was pouring rain all that day, further darkening our mood. When we got to his house Matt took one look at the rundown building and sighed heavily. "I know you don't want to leave, Matt. But I'll see you again soon. I'll definitely come to your first little league game." "I know," he said with a tone of voice that broke my heart. I had to compose myself while he continued, "but I'll miss you. And keeping it all secret is hard!" "I know, I know," I replied, not knowing what to say. "I love you." "I love you." And then he was out of the car and lugging his bag up the broken concrete walkway to the door. I made sure he was inside before I pulled away, tears streaming down my cheeks. --- A few weeks later, the pain of separation having reduced over time to a dull ache, I drove the long distance down to Matt's first little league game. We had talked on the phone every night after his dad went to sleep so I knew pretty much how he was doing at all times, but I hadn't laid eyes on him in so long. As it was, there was one big thing happening that he didn't tell me about. When I saw him run out onto the field and take his place at third base, my heart swelled and I smiled for the first time since I had dropped him off at his house weeks before. I think if I had clapped any harder my hands would have separated from my wrists. I looked around at the home team crowd and didn't see his father anywhere. His brothers were nowhere to be found either. I resolved to cheer loud enough for all of them. When the game was over, Matt's team having lost by one point in the ninth inning, I walked down to the dugout to try and talk to him. I walked up in time to hear the end of his coach's end of game speech. "Just remember," he was saying, "we can't always win. Try your best and have fun next time." The boys looked understandably downtrodden but he got them together enough to cheer, "Go, Bears!" before they began to pick up their gear. I waved at Matt and he smiled radiantly at me before turning aside to pack up his bat and glove. The coach saw this and said, "Matt a friend of yours?" It was understandable that he didn't know me, this being the first time I ever made it to one of Matt's games. "I'm his cousin, actually," I replied with pride. "How's he doing?" "You know, you're the first person to ask. His father just drops him off and drives off. I was beginning to get worried. He's doing great. Last season he was barely able to concentrate on training for an hour, now he shows up rearing to go. He's gotten so good that I gave him third base this year instead of right field." I swelled with pride for my little lover and smiled at the coach. One thing this league did that I liked was match players to coaches the first year they played. There was often fierce trading in that first year but after that they stayed with the team and the coach for their entire little league "careers". It fostered a team cohesion that isn't possible when you're a team for only one summer and it led to the coaches really caring for the welfare of the boys as much as their skills at the game. Another nice thing they did was to hold the season late, during the middle of summer, so the kids wouldn't have to work on schoolwork and baseball at the same time. "I'm glad he's doing well," I said proudly. "Yeah, he seems to have had some great weight lifted off his chest this year," the coach added. I guessed what the source of that was and felt good that our relationship, distant though it had been the last few weeks, was doing him some good. "By the way, where's his mother?" the coach asked timidly. "She divorced his father last year and hasn't been heard from since." The coach replied with a thoughtful, "Hmmm", and waved goodbye before walking off to talk to one of the parents. Matt ran up and gave me a big hug around my waist. "Hey, kiddo," I said cheerfully. "Hiya!" he said ecstatically. He was beaming from ear to ear. "Did you see me catch that pop fly?" I nodded that I had and disengaged from the hug before anyone got suspicious. I hated to breach the subject with him but I asked, "Where's your dad?" At the mention of his father his face clouded up and he looked away. "Dad's sick. He's been in bed for two days. I'm so glad you showed me how to cook a little because I've been feeding the three of us. Dad doesn't want to eat and he yells at me whenever I go into his room. He must be real sick because I saw him giving himself a shot one time." I looked away from his sweet face so I could hide the intense hatred I felt for that deadbeat. Not only was he totally ignoring his sons, leaving a twelve year old to take care of them, but he was openly doing drugs in front of them. I composed myself before asking, "Did you walk here, then?" trying to put as much cheer into my voice as possible. "Yeah. It took like an hour but I made it just in time," he replied sheepishly. "You wanna go get dinner?" he asked cheerfully. This kid could switch from emotion to emotion so fast that I was left with whiplash. I smiled down at him and replied, "I'd love to, kiddo, but there's something I need to do first. How would you and your brothers like to have dinner at my parent's house?" "Sounds good," he replied, "as long as I don't have to cook." I chuckled a bit at him and took his bag from him, shouldering the light load. We walked to my car in happy silence, together again. I didn't tell him at the time but I had a strong feeling that I wouldn't be having dinner with him. I imagined my father wasn't going to either. It was time the family did something about my uncle. We drove quickly back to Matt's house, holding hands the whole way. He jumped out and went inside to fetch his brothers, happy to have the chance to spend some time with me. I felt bad not telling him what I was planning but he didn't need any more stress in his life. I told him to tell them to pack for a few nights away from home. He gave me a quizzical look at this but acquiesced. Within a few moments they came out looking much like they did when we went to the lake house, each with a bag and pillow in tow. I smiled at them and popped the trunk. Thus fully loaded, we headed to my parent's house five miles away. My parents had moved recently to a small two bedroom house only a block from their old two story house. One bedroom was mine, my brothers both being away at college, and the remaining one was theirs. It was small but they were anticipating when I would move out and it would just be the two of them. In fact, my room was torn up at the moment as my dad was busy installing oak siding for his "study". Far from making me feel unloved, it was nice to see them looking forward to the future. I had been sleeping exclusively at the lake house so I didn't really care that my room was torn up. We pulled into the long driveway and I helped the boys carry their stuff inside. My mother saw us coming in the front door and gave me a surprised expression. I waved a signal that meant "in a minute" and helped the boys stack their bags in the hall closet. "Why don't you three go out in the backyard and go swimming," I said. "Especially you, Matt. You smell like a little athlete who's gone too long without a shower." In fact he smelled wonderful, still very much a little boy, but it was fun to tease him and I needed an excuse to get them out of the house. The boys used the bathroom to change into trunks and were soon splashing in my parents' sizable pool. "So, what happened?" my mom asked worriedly. "Uncle Don's been in some drugged out stupor for two days. The boys are filthy, poorly fed, and I think Dad and I need to go have a talk with him." I said this quickly, the words bitter tasting in my mouth. "Oh my god, go get your father," she said, pointing at the garage. "I'll give them a world class dinner and get them to bed." "Thanks, Mom," I said quickly as I practically flew into the garage. I explained the situation to my Dad who was working on a bookshelf for the new study. He immediately became red in the face and punched a sizable hole in the drywall of his workshop. I gasped a little at this and only wished I could have that kind of power available to me. "Let's go," he said after making sure the boys were okay. We hopped in his range rover and drove over to his brother's house. Not long later, my dad was a fast driver in those days, we walked in the front door to find the house littered with pizza boxes, dirty underwear, and trash too horrible to list here. The boys' rooms were clean, probably to keep their father from finding fault with them, as was the kitchen; the rest of the house looked like a bomb had hit it. I looked around the kitchen for a second with more than a little pride, noticing the little touches a good cook usually puts in a kitchen and knowing that it was Matt who used it, not his father. We walked down the long hall to Uncle Don's room. My Dad swung open the door with enough force to break one of the hinges free from the frame. Uncle Don was on his bed in a complete stupor, the sharp odor of urine and old vomit immediately assaulting our noses. Sticking out of his forearm, jumping slightly with every beat of his black heart, was a syringe that he must have just used to pump heroin into his veins. His eyes were darting around with dilated pupils but they obviously weren't seeing anything. "Go into the kitchen and call an ambulance. Tell them that your uncle is in a drug coma and we need help immediately. Give them this phone number and the number for our house. Go!" Without a word I jumped out of the room, my nose relaxing in the more acceptable odors of the hallway, and ran to the kitchen to call the ambulance. --- Two hours later we were standing on the front porch talking to a plain clothes policewoman. She had already listened as both of us told her the sequence of events in turn. She wrote it all down in her notepad and took my father's business card. "Your brother is in a really deep coma. If he comes out he's going to have to face some pretty terrible charges. I really should take the children to protective services." I jumped and was about to protest when my father stated calmly, "There's no need for that. We're a big family and except for that asshole we're close. We'll take care of the boys for the time being and if it turns into a long run situation, the family will figure it out." I was surprised that my father swore. He never cursed in front of me, even when he accidentally speared his hand with a nail gun when we were fixing the roof the year before. Looking at the way his face was contorted I decided that I never, ever, wanted to make my father angry again. He confessed to me much later in life that it took all his willpower not to beat his brother to death the moment he sent me to the kitchen. He very nearly had but he was able to control himself. "Okay, sir, but social services will want to talk to you as well as child protective," she said as she flipped her little notebook closed. "Will you let us know his condition?" he asked. "Yes. The hospital has your number and will call you with any reports. He won't be able to have any visitors, though, as he'll be in police custody." "I don't want to see him, I just want to know if I have to explain to the boys that their father died because he was an ass." With that the policewoman gave a curt little nod and walked back to her vehicle. She took the rotating red light off the ceiling and drove away quietly. My father and I were left standing on Doug's front porch. Both of our stomachs growled at the same time and my father smiled at me. "Let's go and see if your mother left anything for us to eat at home," he said. I nodded my agreement and we walked over to the car. When we got there, before I climbed into the passenger seat, my father grabbed me and held me in one of his trademark bear hugs. I think he was crying but I'll never know as he quickly let me go and got into the car. We drove back in silence to a dark house. In the fridge were two plates made up with the leftovers from dinner. Pinned to each was a note from my mother that read, "I love you." We ate, still in silence, sitting there just taking it all in. There was a lot to figure out, of course, but it could all wait until the next morning. That is, except for one thing. "Well," my father said after putting our plates in the sink, "let's go see what the sleeping arrangements are for tonight, huh?" I nodded my agreement and we went to look for the boys. As it turned out, my mother had cleared a little section of my bedroom and Colin and Stephen were fast asleep on the floor, snugly wrapped in my parents' sleeping bags. They were snuggled tightly together, as if for safety. On the couch in the living room we found Matt, similarly curled up in my old sleeping bag. The second couch was free and I figured that was as good a place as any. My dad smiled at the boys before retreating into his bedroom. I looked in the closet in vain for a blanket but couldn't find one anywhere. My father came out of their room while I was looking with the comforter off their bed, draping it across my shoulders. I smiled gratefully at him and he hugged me again; this time less desperately. I whispered good night to him and he returned the same. Exhausted beyond belief, I trudged into the living room and plopped unceremoniously down on the couch opposite Matt. As I shifted around trying to get comfortable Matt opened his eyes and looked at me. His eyes were red from worry and he looked so forlorn I motioned for him to come over. He wormed his way out of his bag and lay down next to me on the couch. I silently thanked my parents for buying oversized couches. We sat there, cuddled together much like Colin and Stephen were, for some minutes before he said anything. "Oh, Mike," he said, total despair eking out through his voice. It was then that he broke down and cried. He cried for a long time, never seeming to run out of tears. After more than an hour, and more than a few tears on my part, he finally did fall asleep. The comforting arms of sleep were the only thing that could silent his anguished crying. I loved him more in that moment than before, always amazed that my love never seemed to max out, it simply grew and grew. I knew it wasn't wise to be found in that position but I couldn't bear to move him, or make him sleep by himself after such an experience. He had put a good face on it when he told me what was happening, but it was a terrifying experience, one he had nightmares about on and off for years. I soon fell asleep, my little lover held tight in my arms, my head resting on his sweet smelling hair. --- I woke to the sounds and smells of bacon frying. Matt was still firmly curled in front of me, the salt from his tears lying in gentle stains on his perfect face, but he seemed to have relaxed a good deal in the night. I felt it was safe to disentangle myself and did so, miraculously without waking him. There was a taste in my mouth like ashes and old food and I realized I fell asleep without brushing my teeth. I was paying for it now. I took my stinky self into my old bathroom and took a quick shower and cleaned up. When I emerged I was feeling better and Colin and Stephen were bouncing up and down outside the door. "What's the matter, guys," I asked teasingly while standing in the way of their eager advance, "gotta pee?" "Yes!" they both exclaimed, pushing past me and not waiting until I closed the door to yank down their underwear and let loose high- pressure streams of urine into the bowl. I chuckled and closed the door. I walked into the kitchen and kissed my mom good morning. "Morning, hon," she said. "It looks like Matt couldn't handle sleeping alone last night." I panicked for a second until I realized my mom was pointing out a simple enough excuse for Matt having slept in my arms. I went with the flow. "Yeah. I guess Colin and Stephen had each other for support but Matt was alone. I didn't even notice him climb in with me." "Hungry?" she asked, dismissing the whole thing neatly. She handed me a plate with two eggs and a mess of bacon on it. "I heard you taking a shower and thought you'd like to have breakfast when you got out." "Thanks, mom," I said enthusiastically. I began to wolf down my breakfast with abandon. My father walked in shortly after and sat down next to me. "And another hero's breakfast, cooked to order," she joked as she plopped a similar plate down in front of my dad. "Thanks, hon," he said eagerly and began to follow suit by cramming bacon into his mouth. "I heard from the hospital this morning," she said while frying more eggs. We both looked up from our breakfasts with interest, neither one of us actually stopping eating but tilting our heads in interest much the same. "Doug's in a coma but they expect him to come out of it. His vitals are good and he responded a little to stimuli this morning." My mom was a registered nurse and had a hard time not breaking into medical jargon whenever she talked about someone's health. She used to refer to our many childhood colds as a "upper respiratory inflammation along with irritated mucus membranes". Good old Mom. "Hmmm," was all my father's answer. I returned my attention to my breakfast, surprised to find that my eggs had disappeared. My mom flipped two more into their place on my plate and did the same for my father. "I guess saving three little boys works up an appetite," she said happily as she cracked four more eggs into the skillet. How little she knew. Just then, a sleepy Matt came in and yawned noisily. "Something sure smells good," he commented, plopping down in the seat next to mine. My mom smiled at him and placed yet another plate of food in front of him. Matt fell in with the rest of us, noisily munching on his bacon. That was always my mother; "love `em to death with food," was her motto. In fact, my brothers and I all had to exercise constantly to work off her legendary breakfasts. Within a few minutes Colin and Stephen had joined us at the table, each with their slightly smaller but no less impressive plates of food. Soon we all leaned back with contented sighs and gave a spontaneous round of applause for the cook. My mom blushed lightly and gave a little curtsey. "Who wants to help me work on the study today?" my dad asked, only half expecting an answer. He knew that I always had enough to do at the lake house and rarely had any will to help him with their house. Much to his surprise Colin and Stephen piped up with a simultaneous, "Meee!" My dad chuckled his approval and motioned for them to follow. He would probably have them both sanding like mad in a few minutes, most likely in a less than important section of the bookcase. It was then that Matt spoke up, timidly, "I have practice today at ten." I looked up at the clock and gasped, it was already nine fifteen. "You better go get dressed. I'll take you," I said quickly. Matt hopped up and ran for the closet with his bag in it. It was a good thing he had a second uniform for practices. He had slept in his game uniform, something I knew well as little bits of grass stains from his thighs had transferred to my shorts in our sleep. "You sure you don't mind?" my Mom asked. "I can take him." "I want to, Mom," I replied, trying to keep the longing out of my voice. "Okay. Your dad and I are going to discuss what to do with the boys later. You might want to sit in on it," she warned. "Okay, just wait until we get back from practice. The boys can swim while we talk." "Okay. Have fun," she said as she began the dishes. I got up and gently pushed her aside, finishing the dishes easily before Matt returned in his practice uniform. She shooed us both out of the kitchen then and we raced to the car to try and get him to practice on time. We arrived five minutes late; causing Matt to have to run five laps around the field, one for each minute. The rest of practice was uneventful and much like I remember my own little league practice. The two most used words by a little league coach were and still seemed to be "Hustle," and "Bring it in!". After three hours of practice, this was a very serious little league, with a lunch break in between, a very sweaty and happy Matt climbed into my passenger seat and we headed home. As always, we held hands until we were close enough to the house for people to see us. I was longing for some time alone with him but that would have to wait. There was some family business to take care of. We drove up and I noticed all the various cars for my extended family were parked on the curb up and down our street. My dad wasn't kidding when he said that we have a big family and he also wasn't kidding when he said it was close. Inside was what looked to be a regular family party. We all chatted and said hello to each other. Matt and his brothers endured the customary remarks of "My how you've grown," and "isn't he getting so big?" I felt sympathy for the three youngest kids in the family. After a lot of chatting and the playing of some board games by various members of the family, the adults began to settle in around the kitchen for what looked like a serious discussion. Colin and Stephen were in the pool, having given up on the whole party thing an hour before. I told Matt to go join his brothers in the pool, their screams and laughter floating through the house in a vain attempt to drown out the dark cloud that seemed to hang over the small building. He nodded and went into the bathroom to change. I headed into the kitchen to find all my uncles, aunts, and my grandmother sitting around our small kitchen table. My uncle Don was obviously absent but you could feel the enmity of the crowd towards the "black sheep" of the family. "Good, Mike's here," my grandmother stated, quelling the many different conversations going on around her, "we can begin." I looked nervously around and noticed that I was the only one under twenty-five in the room. "Here's the update," my father began, "Don's out of his coma and he's confessed everything to the police. Which is good, because if he didn't I was going to kill him. Either way, he's plea bargaining right now through his lawyer to take two years of rehab and institutional residency in lieu of jail time. To be honest, I hope they take the plea. He needs help and he needs help bad." To this the assembly nodded heads and made general sounds of agreement. For some reason my family always discussed family business as just that, business. My grandmother always acted as Chairman of the Board and my father often as CEO. My father continued, "The issue that we need to resolve tonight is the boys. Patty and I could take them but we'd have to move back into our old house, which would probably be bad for our tenants as we're giving them a deal they couldn't get anywhere else." Mom and Dad were renting the old house to a family that had fallen on bad times and couldn't get a home loan. My parents were carrying the loan and had forgiven the first two years' dept in order to help them get back on their feet. "You don't have to take them, son," my grandmother piped up. "I can take them. I have more than enough room since your father passed." "Mom, no offense but you're almost eighty," my Uncle Billy piped in with concern. "You can't be taking care of two rowdy preteens and a teenager," "I can handle it," she said sharply. "I handled you four boys and two girls when you were ALL teenagers. This will be simple." "When you were much younger, Mom. I can't see you handling it at this age," my aunt Polly interjected. General sounds of agreement were uttered all around. "I have an idea," I meekly stated. Every eye turned towards me and I was suddenly hit with the worst case of stage fright in my life. I blushed deep red and said, "Matt can come live with me in the lake house. Then grandma could take care of Colin and Stephen. That way the boys could still see each other when she comes up there but she wouldn't have to take care of all three without help." I'm sure I stammered through the whole thing, sure that every pair of eyes in the room could see right though me to the real reason. The only one who knew anything about the nature of my relationship with Matt was my grandmother and I hoped she wouldn't mention it. Before anyone could respond or even ask the question of what would he do when school started, Matt burst into the room shouting, "Yes. That's what I want to do too. That's a good idea!" He had been hiding in the doorway the whole time, listening to the discussion. Everyone was in a little bit of shock that he had overheard, no boy should have to listen to his future discussed like some business decision, and jumped when he ran into the room. I grabbed him and started to walk him out towards the pool. I didn't even wait for anyone to answer to my proposal before walking out with him and pushing him gently towards the pool. When I slid the patio door shut behind me, I heard the conversation continue, quite as lively as before. Some time passed, the unintelligible shouts being muffled through the glass of the sliders, as the boys frolicked in the pool. At first Matt was detached and simply floated by the side, more than a little angry at me for pulling him out of there. Eventually he cheered up and began to play with his brothers like he always did. I didn't have my suit, but I also didn't think I could face that crowd again, so I just sat on one of the lounge chairs by the poolside and watched the sun go down. About an hour later my mom came out with some cold hot dogs and buns. I got the message and lit the gas barbecue next to the pool. She kind of looked at me sideways and then decided to give me a hug. I pressed into her, much too old for these kinds of hugs but really needing it at that point. "You really care about him, don't you?" she asked me quiet enough that the boys couldn't hear and surprising the hell out of me. Without thinking I blurted out, "I love him, Mom. I can't help it, I just do." I had never come out to my parents, and I don't know why I did then. But I think my mother had known for some time. "I recognized that look on your face, son. I know you love him. Does he return the feeling?" she asked, trembling a little. "Yeah. I think he does," I replied sheepishly. She nodded her understanding and helped me spread the hotdogs out on the grill. There were twenty four in all, two packs worth. I guessed by the number that everyone was staying for dinner. She watched the boys playing for a moment before quickly saying, "I'll do what I can," and going back inside. That was my mom, always cooking food and always supportive. When the dark days of my homosexuality came upon me later in life, she was always there to support me. Before she died she told me that she never liked the fact that I was gay, but it was my decision and she always supported her sons in their decisions. Eventually the conversation in the kitchen died down and soon everyone was clustered around the barbecue with hot dog buns in hand. I filled every one, including four for us boys, and we all sat on the lawn and quietly munched. After those who wanted seconds had had them, and we were all staring quietly at the stars, my grandmother stood up as if to give a speech. "Come here boys," she motioned to the three brothers who sat clustered in the front. The stood up sheepishly and waited. She proceeded to tell them about their father, Colin crying silently as the news that he wasn't going to see his daddy for two years sank in, and the arrangements the family had come up with. She was just getting to this when she said, "For the summer you two boys are going to live with me," she said pointing at Colin and Stephen. "Your Uncle Dave (my Dad's youngest brother) is going to live with us too and help take care of you." "What about me?" asked Matt in a quiet voice. "You," she said with authority, "are old enough to decide for yourself. All of us are willing to take you in, but you have to decide. Me and Mike's parents are the only one's who live in your little league district, so you'll have to decide how important that is to you." Bless his heart, he didn't even hesitate. "I want to live with Mike. You said I could live with whoever I want, right? Well, I want to live with Mike." My heart simultaneously soared and plummeted. I was in heaven that he loved me so much that he was willing to give up his favorite thing in the world, baseball, for me. I was in hell because only a dolt could listen to his tone of voice and not guess the intentions and the love behind it. To my relief, most of the people assembled either didn't care, or didn't believe what they thought they heard. "Okay, young man," my grandmother stated matter-of-factly, looking up at my mother for a second as if to say, "you have your way". "But when school starts you come back here to live with Mike's parents, okay? You need to stay in the same school." "Okay," he said with resignation. Actually it was the best of both worlds as I would have to come back anyway for my own last year at high school. I had skipped a grade in elementary school and I was a grade higher than I should have been. After that, everyone began to say goodbye and trickle out the front door to their cars. Within a half hour everyone had left, except for my grandmother and the boys. She pulled me aside as Colin and Stephen were collecting their things. "Now you listen to me," she said sternly. However, I could still see her bright eyes radiating love so I wasn't too worried. "You take care of that boy as if he was your own, okay? Your dad and your uncle are going to call you every day and see how you're doing. The first sign that you can't handle it, they're going to come up there and bring him back, understand?" "Yes, Ma'am," I replied sheepishly. "I'll see you in two weeks, okay?" she said, the usual cheerfulness back in her voice. "Okay, grandma," I replied happily. I was beginning to float on a cloud of concentrated euphoria by that point. The love of my life and I were going to finally be together. She kissed me on the forehead, having to stand on tip toes to do so (she was shorter than Matt), and ushered the two younger brothers out the door and into her car. That night I could hardly sleep. Matt, however, slept soundly in my arms. I didn't care anymore what my mother and father thought, my mother knowing full well the nature of our relationship and my father most likely knowing as well, so we shared the couch for one more night. --- The next morning I woke to find Matt gone. I panicked for a second before I heard the shower running. I got up, rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and poked my head into the bathroom. "You okay?" I asked. "Yeah," came the sleepy reply from inside the shower. "I'll see you at breakfast, okay? Remember, we're going to pick up your stuff and head home this afternoon." While he grunted his understanding I mused at the thought of the lake house as "our home". I couldn't wait. I trotted into the kitchen to find a steaming pot of grits waiting for me and stack of pancakes in the shape of little hearts and moons on my plate. "Tres' kiddy, Mom," I said in a teasing tone. "I know, but I couldn't help it. I haven't gotten to make shaped pancakes in so long. Not since you were ten," she replied from next to the stove. I ate in silence until Matt walked in. "Morning, sweetie," my mom said as she kissed him on the head. He grunted a sleepy hello and sat next to me at the table. He was soon wolfing down his own stack of hearts and moons. I felt his hand grab mine under the table and I grasped back, enjoying the hidden contact. Just then my father walked in and noticed our hands. "Okay, you two," he joked, "no public displays of affection at this table." He was joking, of course, but we separated and continued to eat. It was my dad's way of saying that he had accepted the nature of our relationship. As I learned much later, they had spent the night discussing me, something that gives me the willies just thinking about it. They had talked long into the night, getting all their crying out of the way so they wouldn't upset us, and had finally come to some sort of a grudging acceptance of the whole situation. It would be a long time before they were totally okay with it, but deep down they were only really concerned with whether or not I was happy. We all ate, chatting as I'm sure many families do at the kitchen table, and just enjoying each other's company. My dad was eager to get working on the study. The school year was only a month away and he was starting to feel the pinch in order to get it ready for the two of us. It was silently understood that we would be sharing the bedroom. After a good breakfast, and a shower on my part, we got ready to go over to Matt's house and pick up his belongings. "Remember, get everything you're going to want for at least three or four months," my dad admonished Matt. "The movers are coming in three days to box everything up and get the house ready for rental. If you forget anything, Matt, it will be hard to get to it in the storage unit." "Okay, Uncle," Matt relied rather sheepishly. "See ya, Dad," I said cheerfully, "Let us know how Don's doing." "I will. I'll also give you an idea when you need to be back here to meet social services. We need to sign guardian papers and Matt really should be here for that. You have a week or two, though." "Thanks, Dad. Bye!" I said, pulling away. The second we got away from the house, Matt grabbed my hand and gave it a fierce squeeze. "I love you, Mike." "I love you too, kiddo," I replied. We got to his house a few minutes later and Matt was fighting back tears as he walked through the house picking up items here and there. He brought enough clothes for an entire platoon of little boys, his dad never skimped on buying them clothes for some reason, and a few of his favorite toys. In a cardboard box he stuffed in his backpack and school things, heeding my father's advice about taking everything he wanted. Within a few hours we were driving away, happy as two lovers could be when they are faced with lots of time together and no responsibilities. The whole drive up the mountain Matt simply looked out the window and sighed happily. He seemed to be floating six feet above the car as we traveled along. At one point we pulled off onto an especially deep turnoff and I gave in to the urge to kiss him long and hard. He returned the kiss gladly, sighing with longing when I pulled back. We continued on our way, eagerly anticipating our arrival at the house. When we got there we unloaded his things into the garage and brought his bag into our room. We hugged for a long time, finally able to have some physical contact, while just standing there looking at "our" bed and "our" dresser. After a bit we walked out onto the patio. Once there we were treated to the most glorious sunset I have ever witnessed at the lake. It was as if the heavens were welcoming us to our new life and our new home together. We stood for what seemed like forever, holding each other and watching the orange and red slowly fade from the sky. Soon the owls were hooting loudly and a stray bat or two flapped noisily overhead. When there were more stars out than we could count, we went inside and had some cold leftovers for dinner. It wasn't spectacular but it didn't need to be. We would have been happy with cold porridge at that point, only if we were allowed to be together. After dinner we headed into the bedroom. The whole afternoon and on through dinner we had spoken less than five times to each other, letting our eyes and our hearts do the talking for us. When we reached the bedroom, Matt pulled me into a passionate kiss, leading me towards the bed. He was aching for release, as evident by the considerable bulge in his pants, and probably needed the comfort as well. I laid him back, breaking the kiss, and began to slowly undress him, bit by bit. As I took each sock and shoe off his feet I rubbed each tender sole, evincing a sigh from him each time. I pulled his tank top off over his head and took the opportunity to kiss him again. I could feel his heart beating as our chests touched. He was already floating on cloud nine; I was determined to take him up to cloud nine squared. I pulled his shorts down slowly, leaving his briefs in place for the moment. After slipping his shorts past his feet I buried my nose in the crotch of his underwear and breathed in his scent, so long absent from my senses. He smelled sweet as always. I could also smell the sharp tang of his longing emanating from his rock hard member. I playfully bit his cock through the fabric while I lowered my own shorts and underpants to the ground. I stood up and removed my own clothes quickly, leaving my eyes locked on his beautiful blue orbs. The look on his face was one of complete abandon and love. I reached up along his legs to his hips and excruciatingly slowly pulled his underwear down and off. I took in the sight of my little lover naked on the bed, his cock sticking straight up in the air with the strength of youth. My own penis throbbed with longing and bounced with the rapid beating of my heart. I lay down on top of him, taking some of my weight with my elbows, and kissed him deeply. He sighed into my mouth and wrapped his tender arms around my head. At that point the world dissolved around us and we were floating in space on the spacious queen sized mattress. He pulled me up higher and I crawled up to accommodate him. When our aching cocks were lying side by side he stopped and began to bite lightly on my chest. Simultaneously he began to thrust his hips upward slightly, rubbing our cocks together and creating a maddening friction. After a moment of this he lightly pushed me off of him and rolled me onto my back. Before I knew what was happening he was taking my penis into his soft mouth. I yelped a little when his teeth raked across the head. He tensed up in fear, but I soothed him with my hands and pushed his head gently back onto my cock. "Just don't use your teeth, Beautiful," I said gaspingly. He got the hang of it pretty quick, building up the passion inside me like an expert. He would take me as far in as he could, which wasn't much to his little untrained mouth but enough to drive me wild, and then flutter his tongue across my penis head, sending electric jolts up through my belly and down through my legs. I reached over to his shoulder and through gentle pressure got him to understand that I wanted him to straddle my chest. He was much too short for a 69, his hairless testicles and penis being just inches away from my face, but by getting him up on his knees I could lightly stroke his throbbing member. I noticed that even within the two weeks since I had seen him last his penis had grown noticeably thicker and a little bit longer. Before, it had been an iron rod sticking out of his body. Now it was thick enough to have a little meat on it, softening it to the point of velvet. I gripped it gently and began to stroke it in earnest, watching with interest how his tight little wrinkled scrotum bounced with each stroke. With my free hand, almost too delirious with passion to do so, I grabbed a tissue off the side board and wiped his little rosebud clean. He didn't seem to notice as I did it, concentrating wholly on his first blow job, something he was doing admirably. It was taking all my ability to give some of my consciousness to pleasing him. Now clean, his inviting hole was crying for attention. I knew from our times in the shower that he liked it when I played with it, so I gently began to rub up and down his crack with my free hand. He went wild and sucked my cock with renewed vigor and began to thrust his hips and fuck the hand holding his cock with powerful thrusts from his hips. I began to use his motion to my advantage and placed one finger at the opening of his ass. He felt the pressure and immediately stopped thrusting. He pulled his mouth from my cock, took a deep breath, and moaned so loudly that the owl outside our window took flight in fear. I took that as my cue and began to stroke his cock in earnest while licking my finger liberally for some lube. I reached up to the tip of his penis, happily finding copious amounts of pre-cum there. He went back to sucking eagerly on my cock while I made sure my finger was good and slippery. When he began his inevitable thrusting again, my finger was ready. I let his own slow motions push the tip of my finger into the first ring of tight muscle around his opening. He gasped sharply, pulling away, and I said quickly, "Relax, baby boy. I'll stop if you tell me to." "Don't," he said, removing his mouth from my throbbing cock for a second. "If you stop I'll leave you." I knew he wasn't serious but I took it as a good sign. When I pressed my finger back to his anus, I found him much relaxed and easily slipped the first inch of my finger inside. He moaned around my dick and pressed back against my finger, taking it in all the way in slow little spurts of movement. I didn't have to do anything; he provided all the force necessary. When it was all the way in to the last knuckle, he moaned loudly and began his thrusting motions again. I watched in awe as he simultaneously sucked on my cock while providing the motion that was driving him crazy. I didn't have to do anything but hold my position and watch as he went wild. While he pounded back on my finger harder and harder I found the hard knot of his prostrate and curled my finger inside him ever so slightly in order to stimulate it. After my finger brushed against it only twice he started cumming in copious amounts on my chest. It seemed his cock never quit, the sperm spilling down my sides and pooling on the bedspread. Before I could begin to worry about cleaning it up I felt my own balls tremble with their imminent release. My finger still buried deep in his ass and him still pumping away, I gasped a warning, "I'm gonna cum, kiddo. If you don't want it in your mouth you better pull off." He didn't heed my warning or didn't want to. He continued to suck, speeding up so that I was driven higher and higher before my first spurt coated his throat. He gagged a big with the size of my load but recovered quickly and began to swallow it all. Some of it dribbled out of his mouth and into my pubic hair but I could care less at that point. He let go of my now softening penis a moment later but continued pumping onto my now sore finger. It was then that I noticed he was still fully hard and his gasps were coming at a faster and faster rate. To my immense surprise he began to cum for a second time in less than five minutes. I had let go of his cock after his first explosion, not wanting to over stimulate him, and now he was cumming solely by my finger curled inside him. I watched as his immature penis bounced with the contractions of his muscles and three more spurts of viscous cum dribbled out onto my now completely smeared chest. The muscles of his anus clamped so tightly onto my finger that I had to stop him from moving to keep from hurting him. At the height of his orgasm I could feel the tingly sensation in my finger that signified that he had completely cut off the blood supply to my finger. I waited while his passion passed and slipped my finger gingerly out before he collapsed on me. "Wow," was all he could muster before falling asleep from the exertion. I would have loved to just fall asleep, my body crying out for rest, but we needed to clean up. I rolled him gently off of me onto the bedspread, heeding not a bit that he was covered with sperm as much as I. I went into the bathroom and ran a warm bath in the claw foot tub opposite the shower and poured enough bubble bath into the water for both of us. When I came out Matt was still lightly snoring, lost to the world. I lifted him up by his knees and shoulders and set him lightly in the filled tub, shutting off the faucet while holding his head out of the water. He didn't even stir when his hot skin hit the water, much to my surprise. I climbed carefully in behind him and placed him between my legs. I used a sponge to wipe the drying cum off his face and lips while cradling his head in the crook of my arm, and used my hand under the water to clean the rest of him, spending careful time on his tender anus. I'm sure it was protesting a little at having had something go the opposite way it was used to so I tried to be nice. I remembered the first time a boyfriend of mine had slipped his immature but giant feeling cock inside me and how I was sore for a week. I leaned Matt forward a little to wipe my chest clean and then laid him back on me for some soak time. "I'm sorry I'm not much help," he said, surprising me. I guess he was awake after all. "I can't move for some reason." "It's no problem, Matty," I said gently. "You just relax." "Okay," he replied, stretching the word out into a sigh. When it was done he was asleep again. For some time I sat there and just enjoyed his naked body resting calmly against mine in the warm water. I pulled the plug and waited for the water to drain before waking him enough to get some help drying us off. After some comic, sleepy wrestling with towels and more than a few kisses, we were dry enough and I carried him, straddling me with his thighs this time, back into the bedroom. I reached down and peeled back the now thoroughly besmirched bedspread and laid him on the sheets. It was a warm night and I didn't think either of us would need anything more than each other to keep warm. I fell asleep to the light of the moon and the gentle "tawhoo" of the owl that had taken back up residence outside our bedroom window.