Date: Wed, 02 Jan 2002 16:00:46 +0000
From: Java Biscuit <javabiscuit@hotmail.com>
Subject: vancouver island, chapter 9

This story involves teen/boy, teen/adult, male/male graphic
sex and is not intended for reading by minors. If you are
underage, or this type of material is illegal where you live,
please stop now, and go read something else! This is a
completely fantasized story meant only for the purpose
of pleasurable reading. Not real, not true, no way, no how.
It is not meant to encourage unsafe, unprotected sex.

Feedback to javabiscuit@hotmail.com


Vancouver Island ~ chapter nine


by Biscuit


The hardest part of that night was keeping well intentioned,
responsible adults from helping us. I knew I didn't want to
be subject to questioning by anyone who might think police,
social services, or anything like that, was a good thing.

What we needed, and finally found, was someone well
intentioned and not-so responsible. We found Raoul, or
rather, he found us. He was an ex-street kid who was not
unfamiliar with the Little Flower Temple. He saw us in a
downtown cafe where we were totally out of place and he
tracked us down in the bathroom. He busted out laughing
at the orange pajama legs sticking out of the bottom of our
long coats.

"Thought so," he said, sizing us up. "A couple of runaway
flowers." I guess the temple had a reputation among kids
on the street.

Raoul was eighteen and had a much older Daddy, as he
called him. He and his Daddy were having a leisurely
cappuccino at the cafe when Raoul saw me and wondered
what was up with the pants. He followed me to the men's
room and when he saw both of us, with our matching
pajamas, he knew.

I'd taken Yves into that fancy cafe so he could use the
bathroom. I was downing a quick cup of coffee while he
was in there and then went to check on him, feeling like
we both stuck out like crazy. I just wanted to give him a
chance to shit, then get him out of there before we drew
too much attention. Too late, in Raoul's case. Thank God.

His Daddy's name was Karl. I could tell he wasn't crazy
about the whole idea. He didn't like me from the start. Not
the way Raoul looked at me. And just knowing we'd been
at the Little Flower Temple gave him the willies.

Karl was maybe in his fifties, handsome like an old movie
actor, with silvery hair. The two of them lived not far
from that cafe. It was weird the way they called each other
Daddy and Baby, but not more weird than the swami stuff
we'd just gotten away from.

It was Yves who made Karl come around to liking us.
Who could resist him?  He liked Yves a whole lot more
than he didn't like me.

That first night Raoul and I were getting high in the
living room, and we could hear Yves and Karl in the
kitchen talking, and Karl laughing.

Sleek Raoul. He was a shiny penny. I guess maybe not so
shiny before he hooked up with Karl, but he was well
taken care of by the time I met him. Well dressed, with
the look of somebody who spent a long time cleaning
under his fingernails and oiling his body after a shower.
He had a pretty chip of a diamond sparkling in his ear
and his hair was cut short and precisely.

That was one comfortable place they lived in. Louis
Quatorze, for sure. Big leather couches and chairs, a
fireplace going and lots of nice stuff on the walls.

Raoul was a nice thing to look at across the big stone
slab coffee table. Raoul was built and dark, with the Latin
good looks to match his name. Both of us were high and
kicked back with our bare feet on either side of the table,
between matching couches. Nice to hear some kind of
jazz music playing, after all the weird sitar shit we'd been
listening to.

All in all, I couldn't have been happier with how the night
was turning out. Raoul had his eyes half shut, looking at
me with a little grin. His knees were spread wide and I
could see he was sort of turned on, no flag waving but he
was bulked up on his way to it.

"Better?" I heard Karl ask Yves. He was coming out of
the kitchen, carrying the boy on his arm and smiling.

"Eh bien," said Yves, "much, much better, for sure."
He was smiling too, so it didn't raise any alarm with me.
If Yves was okay with it, it was okay.

I saw Yves's feet were bare and had bandages taped on
them and figured out Karl had been looking after him.
Nice excuse to get an armful of Yves. At least he carried
him over to me and that was a good thing.

"So," Karl said, setting Yves down on the couch next to
me. "Yves's been telling me what a wonderful guy you
are." Lies, for sure.

"I think," Karl said, "you two should stay put here. For
a few days anyway, at least until Yves's feet are healed,
and then we'll see." No argument from me.

Karl sat down next to Raoul, whose face had turned to
him, no doubt giving him that same sweet look he'd been
giving me, if not sweeter, since Karl was moved to kiss
him. I liked that. I liked it a whole lot more than anything
I'd seen at the temple. It just didn't seem right to me that
if you found a flower you liked that you'd let somebody
else tell you when and how and where you could touch
him. With Karl doing a slow tongue dance in his mouth,
Raoul's dick was getting pretty impressive looking.

Yves tugged on my pajama shirt.

"You be tired Jamie." Um, yes, I did be tired. I turned
to stretch out, holding my arms open to my own baby,
my flower, my wood chopping, tobacco rolling, personal
savior. Still in his silly orange pajamas, with his taped up
feet, he gave me one of his best smiles and crawled up my
body to get comfortable. My happy dick was in its nest
between our warm stomachs and all was right with the
world.

It was pretty damn cozy there, with Raoul and Karl
steaming up one couch and me and Yves warming up the
other one. I found the wet noises they were making over
there as hot as anything, and pretty soon my body was
back at the needy state I'd been in when all hell had
broken loose from Yves's butt at the temple. But it was
a lazy kind of hot, I liked how Yves's was cuddled up to
me and I was content to take it slow.

I looked over and saw that Raoul had Karl's face in his
lap. A beautiful thick dark rod, shaved clean as a whistle
and glistening with spit, disappearing in and out of Karl's
lips. He had Raoul's balls cradled in the palm of his hand
and was working on him at a leisurely pace. Raoul's face
was something to see, his eyes shut to little slits and his
mouth open. As Yves would say, I think he was liking
that pretty much.

It was so different from the past two days. For me, some
of the stuff we'd done at the temple had been real intense;
mind fuckingly good. This was better. No guilt, no
weirdness, no fear. For Yves, a thousand times better,
I'm sure.

On that couch, we were finally relaxed and able to let go
into each other. It was warm and his head was on my
shoulder, and I could spend as much time as I wanted to
rubbing his back and stroking his ass; so good to feel his
limbs get heavy and loose. I didn't realize how tense his
body had been until I felt it melted and soft again, like it
used to be on top of me in the warm nest of my sleeping
bag, on the beach. The only hard thing left, three warm
inches, like a thumb, resting in the crease of my hip.

Nobody telling us how to do it, nobody taking pictures
of us doing it. Nobody saying, oh man I don't believe
this shit. Maybe we put on a show for Raoul and Karl,
but no more than they did for us. When Yves turned
around on me to suck my dick, I made a little spit pool
for him on my tit and jerked him off, rubbing his little
knob in it.

Some point or other, Karl got the rest of us up off the
couches and sent us off to bed. I'd thought, after the
hotel in Seattle, that maybe growing up on the beach
without a real bed, Yves just didn't care for a regular
mattress. But he liked this one, just fine. It was Nathan
Jones in the hotel bed he hadn't liked. The bed at Karl
and Raoul's was a whole other story. He plumped up
the pillow about a million times, grinning, landing a
fist in the middle of the softness, squirming around in
the covers like he just couldn't get enough of feeling
the sheets all over his naked body.

"Is good, Jamie." Better than good to see him loving it.

God, we were spoiled there for awhile.

Mornings were slow and easy. Yves got up early with
Karl. I wandered in a few times on their morning
coffees. It was obvious to me that Karl adored Yves.
The kid got up early and made coffee and tidied things
up. God knows what all they talked about, but they
chatted away in the mornings.

I wasn't jealous. The minute I'd walk in there it was
all too obvious that Yves was mine. He'd want to be
held, to be kissed, to pour me coffee. I'm sure Karl
liked it a whole lot better when I didn't show up. Like
the swamis, in a way, he just didn't think I rated my
own little flower. And I can't say he was wrong.

Yves could have done so much better than me. Karl
wanted to take care of him and thought he could do
a much better job. I don't doubt it for a minute. But
Yves didn't want that. And when Karl started wanting
more than just chatting over coffee, it was over.

I knew something was up when I woke up one day and
found Yves still next to me in bed, wide awake, staring
at the ceiling.

Karl was a thoughtful man, and rightly concerned
about stuff. He started asking me about schooling for
Yves, and sounding me out on tutoring or classes. I
knew I should be doing something. I had tried, for
awhile, to get him started learning to read. But the
way we'd been living, it was hard to stay at it. I was
not the world's greatest teacher. Yves had a thousand
ways to avoid what he didn't want to do.

Karl just went too far. A whole raft of shit that came
with his concern about Yves.

"He don't do much, but ..." Yves shrugged. "Pet the
hair, kiss me. Not so much, but we got to go, Jamie.
He be thinking he want to be my Daddy."

Oh man. He was right, but what a fucking drag. Karl
hadn't done much, but he'd told Yves he wanted to be
like a father to him. Yves knew what that meant. What
Karl didn't get was that Yves didn't want to be taken
care of. He wanted me. And he didn't think of me like
that.

"Raoul be the baby, not me," Yves said. To Yves, if
not to the rest of the world, he was my caretaker. It
was only too true. He didn't see himself as a little boy
with a grown up lover.

He told me a story once that stuck in my head even
though I was stoned and half asleep when I heard it.
He said, "You be like a prince or something, Jamie. I
got to get you back to the palace." Oh Yves. I don't
think I dreamed him saying that. It was the kind of
crazy bullshit tale that Armand would spin. He must
have spun it for Yves about me. If I was any kind of
prince, it was the worst kind. The kind that wanders
off and disgraces the royal family.

If we'd stayed there, things were bound to get worse.
Raoul was getting as edgy as Yves. He was flirting with
me a lot. Half the time I think he did it out of jealousy,
trying to provoke Karl. It was definitely time to go.

I guess in all, we were there for more than a month.
We had new clothes, we'd been well fed and looked
after. For a time it had almost seemed like the four
of us were sort of a family.

The truth is, we weren't. Yves was my family. And
my mom was still waiting for me to come home to
New York. My mom. It was time for me to make
another one of those phone calls I dreaded. But I just
couldn't make myself do it. I was too scared that I
would break down and it would mean losing Yves.


Our luck took a nosedive. When we left, Karl was so
miserable I thought he was going to cry. We had to
promise to stay in touch with him and I had to endure
him apologizing to me for kissing Yves. By then it
was more than time to go.

>From the comfort and luxury of staying with Raoul
and Karl, we started the bus ride to hell. I think I was
burnt out. It was the longest I'd ever been out on my
own, and with Yves to take care of I lost my nerve to
turn tricks or hook up with guys who seemed into me.
He hated for me to do it, and I was more scared than
ever of getting busted. Too much was at stake.

No place we stopped felt right and we didn't last in
any of them more than a few days. We were constantly
on the move, avoiding strangers who wanted to know
much more about us than we could tell them.

The two of us drew people like magnets. Maybe it was
that face of Yves's. So beautiful you couldn't not notice
him in a crowd. People looked at him and wanted to
know who he was, who was looking after him. They
looked at me and didn't think, responsible big brother.
The truth is, we were in trouble, and it showed.

It was November and we were in Chicago and I called
Joe Davis. I broke down, completely. No money, no
idea what to do or where to go. God, I was fucked. I'd
lost it. If a guy even looked at me like he wanted his
dick sucked, I freaked; sure I was seeing some kind of
undercover cop. I had about ten bucks left and Yves
tucked into a phone booth with me, freezing our asses
off.  We'd spent the night in one of the scariest shelters
I'd ever been in. I hadn't slept, too scared to close my
eyes. All night I fought with myself over what I knew
I had to do.

On the phone, I asked for Joe, for the first time ever.
I knew it was all over and I had to tell him so. I lost it
right there. And Yves had to hear me lose it. My voice
went, and then I was crying. The more Yves hugged
me, the harder I cried. Total fucking meltdown.

I told Joe Davis everything. And he told me he was
coming to get us. He wasn't sending money, he was
getting on a fucking plane.

Somehow we found our way by train to the airport.
My brain was fried. I think when we got there, we
spent almost an hour in the men's room. Me sitting
on the fucking toilet with Yves's in my lap. The two
of us were desperate to be touching, like maybe we'd
never be able to do it again.

Joe didn't say a word about what he would do about
Yves. He'd said, don't worry. But what did it mean?
Not a fucking thing. Who in their right mind would
say don't worry, you won't lose that kid you've been
trying so hard not to fuck. Yves had turned eleven in
the middle of November. Like it made a difference.

I never had any right to take him, and I had no right
to keep him. I didn't believe for a second that Joe
Davis would let me. I wished to God I was older,
smarter, stronger and had my shit together. I wasn't
and I didn't. All I could do was wait for the ax to
finish falling.