A Battle For Sexuality

This story is very long. It is not a story for a quick jerk-off. It’s a good eighteen pages with size 10 font, so it’s a freaking monstrosity. It is NOT a porn story. I tried to make it as realistic as possible - I hope I succeeded. This is loosely based off a friend of mine, who was telling me a few weeks ago about how his neighbors helped him realize his homosexuality.

WARNING: This story involves two men having sexual interactions with a fifteen year old boy. If this turns you off, PLEASE, PLEASE, do not give me a poor rating because of it. Also, do not take points off for extremely long stories - because this is one. So, if you are looking for a fast, hot, poorly written story, look elsewhere. Thank you.

As always, look at the categories. If none of those are your thing, click the BACK button right now.


Mrs. Larks did not consider herself a nosey woman. She was blissfully unaware that her neighbors thought her a controlling, obsessive, scheming old tart with a temper like a scalded cat. Her children, two lovely young teens by the name of Timothy and Cassandra - better known as Tim and Cassie - were the delight of the neighborhood and generally balanced off Mrs. Larks nastiness. Mrs. Larks thought she was a reasonably attractive, modest, kind woman with two exceptionally beautiful children. She was right about the first thing and right about the last, but the whole concept of ‘modesty and kindness’ were nonexistent. Mrs. Larks was, in fact, a complete MILF; long brown hair, big blue eyes, and a pair of tits to die for. But her nose had a way of sniffing around people’s business and spreading gossip as quickly and thoroughly as possible.

Her two children, Cassie especially, were smart, athletic, and pleasingly attractive. Cassie had inherited her fathers long, thick black hair, which she preferred to keep down but had to put it in a ponytail for her cheerleading. She was short and petite, with small B cup breasts and a pale, freckled complexion. Cassie was outgoing, cheerful, but slightly shy when around new people, which was a minor thing for Mrs. Larks. No, Mrs. Larks’s prime concern was her son, Tim, who at fifteen was slender and delicate looking, with messy brown hair and soft chocolate eyes. There was something distinctly feminine about him, and Mrs. Larks fretted that he would turn homosexual. Because in her perfect world, people with … shall we say … different tastes were shunned and whispered about. Tim, on the other hand, had yet to discover heterosexuality or homosexuality - he was too busy sketching. It was another girly attribute which Mrs. Larks tried to stifle but never succeeded in smothering completely.

Mrs. Larks treated all gays, prostitutes, alcoholics, and anybody with tattoos with extreme disdain. Mrs. Larks was a teetotaler herself, thought gays were sick, and anybody with tattoos did drugs. She didn’t shake black people’s hands - she referred to Mexican workers as “Those dirty immigrants”. So it would come as an awful shock to her when she found out that the two neighbors moving into the big, sprawling white mansion next door were a quiet gay couple.

As it was, Mrs. Larks didn’t know they were gay - she was aware that two neighbors would be moving in, because she saw an attractive black-haired man looking around the house several months ago, and then the FOR SALE sign had been taken away. Yesterday moving vans had been blocking off all traffic to the street, and Mrs. Larks felt that decidedly wicked flicker of delight that meant she would have new people to gossip with. But, of course, these people had to be deemed respectable. So what did she do, on that bright morning glazed with sunlight and fresh with summer air?

Cassie rapped on her brother’s door. “Timmy? Timmy, wake up, Mom wants me to go to the neighbors next door and I don’t want to go alone.”

There was a muffled grunt. “Don’t call me Timmy.”

“Timothy! C’mon, get up, please?” She begged. She heard two heels striking the wooden floors, and then the door opened, revealing a boxer-clad Tim with his brown curls sticking up in all directions and his eyes sleepy. “Can you come with me?” Cassie begged.

“All right, all right,” He mumbled, rubbing his hands over his cheeks, slapping awareness into his dark brown eyes. “Gimmie a minute.”

Cassie paced nervously, going into the bathroom to check herself again. At sixteen years old, Cassie had reached the stage where physical appearance was the light and the air to her. She needn’t have worried - it was a lazy, syrupy summer morning where the sun rose too early and too hot, so her cutoff shorts were warranted. An aqua blue tank top showed off her smooth, creamy skin - she took special care of it, along with her hair - and she had left her hair down, so it roiled messily around her shoulders. Her cute little breasts bounced eagerly, hemmed in only by a white cotton bra, and her plump lips were glossed with lipstick. It was a little too early for makeup, she decided, and blotted off the lip gloss, leaving the mascara.

Tim stretched, touching the ceiling with the tips of his fingers, and emerged from his bedroom, looking as though he had just rolled out of bed like a hibernating bear. A gray undershirt had been tucked into a pair of cargo shorts, and he was still messing with his unruly brown hair, tucking the curls behind his ears and trying to hide his cowlick. “C’mon, beauty queen,” He said, and Cassie grumped at him quietly, then followed him out the door.

Mrs. Larks - called Lisa only by her husband - was standing at the door with a Tupperware container of cookies in her hands. “Now, you be nice to the neighbors,” Mrs. Larks ordered. “Timothy, go upstairs and put on a shirt. Cassie, take that mascara off, it’s only ten o’clock in the morning. Tell me if they have any kids, how old they are, everything, okay?”

“Mom, we’re only going over there for a second,” Cassie protested, unwilling to take off her carefully applied makeup. Tim didn’t seem aware of anything that his mother had said, and instead grabbed the container from her hands. “Bye, Mom,” Cassie called as she bounced down the porch, long black hair dancing. Tim followed at a much more sedate pace.

Mrs. Larks retired to the upstairs hall window, where there was an eagle-eye view of the neighbor’s front porch. A pair of binoculars were on the sill - the official excuse was so she could watch the deer graze by the apple tree, but the deer hadn’t eaten the sour old apples in several years. She settled the black binoculars on her nose and peered through the glass at her two children.



“Good morning, beautiful,”

Seth rolled over to see his lover propped up on his elbow, those alert green eyes hazy with sleepiness and lust. The two of them had spent all day packing, and they had collapsed into bed without any thought of sex or playtime, and Derek obviously wanted to remedy that. Derek’s wide, calloused palms skimmed Seth’s sides, trailing a line from his ribcage up to his shoulder. “You awake, sleepyhead?” He asked, dropping a kiss on his cheek.

“I’m up,” Seth answered tiredly, stretching his arms above his head and allowing the sheet to ride down over his beautiful tanned skin. “Tired, though. How about you?”

“Mmm. Not really,” Derek answered, and those feather light touches grew a little more determined, a little more forceful. His fingers dipped playfully into Seth’s naval, tracing the hair on his belly the wrong way. Seth’s breath caught in his throat slightly as he tried to make himself relax and absorb his lover’s determined strokes. Derek was always randy first thing in the morning, and Seth had grown long used to the wild, quick fucks grabbed either in bed or in the shower. Today, however, after an achingly long day of unpacking and a long evening of organizing, Derek seemed content just to pet and kiss.

Speaking of kisses, Derek dropped his head and began trailing open-mouthed kisses down Seth’s torso, working steadily past the hardened pectorals and down to the ridged, quivering abdominals. His fingers were everywhere - on his inner thigh, brushing against a nipple, stroking the nape of his neck, everywhere but where Seth wanted him to feel most. He moaned a little and drew even closer to his lover, and Derek rewarded him by dropping his rough hands to Seth’s cock.

Derek was a compassionate lover - generous and thorough, but he was possessive and dominating, leaving Seth to bask in the rough carpenter touches and calloused fingers slipping in and out of his ass. And today, he seemed especially willing to have a long, refreshing fuck before setting about trying to unpack all of their shit and find a place to put it. Seth bucked up as Derek began laving the inside of his thigh, painting a hot trail from the taut muscles of his groin to the outside of his knee. Seth wriggled a little and his hands clamped around a fistful of bedding. “Please, Derek,” Seth begged, unable to help himself.

He could feel Derek smirk against his inner thigh. “Please what?”

“Suck me off, asshole,” Seth growled, unable to contain his frustration any longer. Derek’s touches went up a little higher, brushing against his balls, and Seth could feel his warm breath heating the sensitized area.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Derek answered, and Seth felt a hot, talented tongue run slowly up the length of his shaft. Seth’s hips arched off the bed and he yelped a little as Derek mouthed his balls lightly. He tasted delicious, and Derek seemed determined to taste every inch of him, exploring, sucking, nibbling, but finally, finally, he drew the head of Seth’s cock into his mouth. Seth groaned and drove his hips upwards as Derek began licking around the head of his dick, paying special attention to that special spot beneath his head. And then with one long, rapid motion, the entire length of Seth’s cock was in his mouth, and Seth’s hands dropped to Derek’s unruly blonde hair, pleading for him to move, to do something.

And then he did move, lifting his head a little and then tilting back down, humming to add an extra friction, and Seth saw stars exploding in his vision. He was teetering on the brink, every muscle taut and beaded with sweat, when Derek suddenly stopped. “What?” Seth panted, desperate for his release. Derek seemed to be listening, and then Seth heard it too.

The doorbell was ringing.

“Oh, fuck,” Derek grumbled. “I bet you a hundred bucks its that nosy bitch who came snooping around the yard yesterday.”

“Ignore her,” Seth said, and pulled at Derek, wanting him to come back and finish his blowjob. “Please, Derek.” The doorbell continued, and Seth growled. “Go see who it is,” Seth snapped, pissed that he hadn’t been able to get off. Derek swung himself out of bed, but turned and pinned Seth to the bed with a dark look which was rife with desire.

“Don’t you fuckin’ move,” Derek ordered. “I wanna come back and see you all sprawled out like that, got it?”

Seth shivered and obeyed, loving the snarl in his lover’s voice.



Cassie pranced impatiently, flicking looks behind her. “They’re not here,” Tim sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “C’mon, Cass, I’m tired. I wanna go back to bed.”

“No, they’re here,” Cassie answered, peeking around the corner of the wraparound porch. “I can see both of their cars, look.”

“Maybe they’ve decided to sleep in,” Tim yawned, and ran his hands through his hair. “I want to. C’mon, Cass, we’ll eat the cookies and say we gave them, and I can go back to bed.”

Cassie bit her bottom lip - their mother made excellent cookies.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and the siblings found themselves looking at an incredibly handsome and half-dressed man. He had jaw-length blonde hair, tousled and mussed from sleep, and bright green eyes which were eyeing them with annoyance. He was tall, with a broad chest and wide shoulders, tapering to a slightly narrower waist, and his hands were large and thick with calluses. He had morning stubble, and some circles under his eyes, but as his gaze set upon Timothy and Cassie, he seemed slightly less annoyed. “Hey,” He said, and his voice was a deep, powerful rumble, edged with velvet.

“Hi!” Cassie squeaked, feeling very tiny. She shoved the contained of cookies at him. “I’m Cassie, and this is Tim, my brother, and my mom made cookies! I mean, well, our mom, haha, she’s both of our -”

“Nice to meet you,” The man replied, cutting Cassie off and saving her from rambling. The black haired cheerleader blushed scarlet and ducked her head. “I’m Derek. Seth’s upstairs, I’ll go get him. Hey, c’mon in, I can move around and see if I can find any stuff to drink coffee out of.”

Cassie and Tim stepped tentatively inside, glancing around the huge house. It was one of those antique, graceful houses which had probably been an estate at one point in time, and the old honey-colored wooden floors were creaky and drafty. Moving boxes, neatly labeled and lettered in an upward, slanting hand, were littered around, some of them empty, others half filled, and others still taped shut. It had the pleasant, rambling look of a house which was easy to get lost in, and felt larger than it actually was.

Derek checked out the two of them from behind. The girl - what was her name? Cassie? - had the cutest little pair of tits he had ever seen, and she looked adorable when she blushed. His thoughts lingered on her younger brother, though - he looked like an angel, with a slender, delicate fragility around him, big eyes fringed thickly with lashes. And Christ, he had an ass to die for. It could have been Derek’s horniness still rampaging through is system from the incomplete playing with Seth, but they both looked utterly fuckable, especially the boy.

“I’ll go get Seth,” He said, and pounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Cassie shot a look at Tim. “Did he just say Seth?”

“No, he said Steph,” Tim said, looking around. “Probably his wife. Hey, check this out!” He called, making his way into the kitchen. “Sweet place, man!”

Cassie had to admit he was right - there was a vast, shining expanse of black granite countertops, sleek stainless steel appliances, and frosted glass cabinets. There were moving boxes in here, too, but it was relatively untouched, resulting in several pieces of silverware strewn about and no chairs. Other than that, it was a beautiful kitchen. Tim ran his hands along the edge of the countertop with his long, elegant fingers. “They got some serious money,” He said to Cassie.

“Mom always said you needed to be a millionaire to buy this place,” Cassie answered, folding her arms and hugging herself tightly. She felt a little uncomfortable.

Her uncomfortable feeling multiplied by a hundred when she heard two sets of footsteps coming downstairs and two deep, masculine voices. It could be his son, she told herself, but then she saw the two men come around the corner.

They were gay.

Both of them were handsome - Derek in his raw, powerful blonde glory, and Seth in a polished, careful look. Seth seemed like the person who ironed his socks, Cassie thought to herself numbly. He had black hair, much like hers, only his was neatly cropped around his ears in a modern fashion, and he was wearing a pair of sweatpants and nothing else. He put out a hand and gripped Cassie’s small, petite palm in his large hand. “Nice to meet you, I’m Seth,” He said hurriedly. “Derek, do you know where we put the coffee pot?”

“Somewhere in the living room,” Derek answered, going around their butcher block table in the center of the kitchen and opening the refrigerator. “Have you guys eaten breakfast? Seth and I haven’t. Why don’t you join us?”

“Yeah, okay,” Tim said, a smile flicking up the corner of his mouth. Cassie felt a hot, prickling wave of fright sweep over her.

“No, Tim, we really ought to get going,” She said hastily. Derek waved at her idly.

“Nah, sit down. We have eggs, cold pizza, and leftover Chinese. We can mix it all up in a frying pan, see how it tastes.” Derek suggested. “And we’ll have coffee and cookies after. Hey, Seth!” He shouted. “Found the coffee pot yet?”


“Isn’t it in the box marked ‘Kitchen’?” Derek shouted back.

“I don’t know, you loaded the boxes!” Seth replied, and then came into the kitchen again with a bag of Arabian coffee beans in his hands. “Found the coffee, though.” He smiled at Tim. “You’re Tim, right? Nice to meet you.” He shifted the coffee beans into his other hand and shook Tim’s. He lingered just a bit on Tim’s fingers, no more than a split second, and then asked him how old he was. Tim just shrugged and said “Fifteen.”

Cassie knew what they were doing. They were hitting on her brother! That was wrong in so many ways, she thought to herself. But they were both kind of cute. It was a pity they were gay, really. Both of them were really hot.

Derek and Seth snuck glances at the two teens from time to time. Cassie was definitely on edge, sitting on the tip of her seat, hand over her mouth, foot tapping in midair. Tim, on the other hand, delectable little thing that he was, seemed at ease and even laughed at a few of their jokes. The cold pizza complimented the cookies nicely, and the greasy Chinese pork went great with the scrambled eggs.

After about an hour of eating and talking, Cassie made a half-assed excuse about chores, and excused Tim and herself as soon as humanely possible. Derek saw them out, and when he came back, he saw his lover with his head in his hands. “Jesus H. fuckin’ Christ, did you see those kids?” Derek said in an awed voice.

“Oh, shut up, they‘re just kids,” Seth said, propping his chin on his elbows. He had a glint in his blue eyes, however, and Derek knew that Seth was extraordinarily turned on. “Not worth the trouble. The girl‘s terrified of us.”

“Screw the girl, I was thinking about the other one, the boy,” Derek said.

“Screw the girl? I can manage that,” Seth answered smugly. Derek frowned. “Just kidding. But still, he’s only fifteen…”

“The perfect age.” Derek smirked.

“Shut up,” Seth said, swatting at Derek. “No hitting on him. He‘s just a kid.”

“So what?” Derek pointed out. “We’ll make friends. It’s what I do best.”

“No,” Derek purred, coming around the table and tracing a line across Seth’s bare shoulders with his work-roughened fingers. “I don’t agree with that. I think lying there, writhing and moaning while I suck you off, is what you do best.”

“Let’s find out then, shall we?” Seth grinned.



“They’re what?”

“Gay,” Tim continued, sprawled over the hammock in their back yard. His mother was standing next to him, hands on her hips, mouth open as she stared agog at her son. “And they’re really nice, Mom, you should go over and talk to them. We had Chinese and eggs for breakfast. It was great.”

Her son, over cavorting with those fags? She couldn’t believe it! Cassie had refused to tell her, electing instead to grab a cold Coke and retreat into the air-conditioned paradise of her best friend’s house. So she had followed her young son outside to drag every little detail out about their new neighbors, and he just happened to mention that they’re new neighbors were gay! “Well, I don’t believe it!” Mrs. Larks huffed, her earth-caked gardening gloves brandished in the air. “This is a decent, respectable neighborhood, and to think that I’m allowing my son to play outside when there’s homosexual perverts lurking around…!”

“They’re not perverts, Mom!” Tim objected, his brow creasing as he looked up from his sketchbook. “They were nice. They’re a young couple, just like you thought, they’re just two men instead of a guy and a girl. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine!” Mrs. Larks snapped. “And get off the hammock! I don’t want you outside when there’s pedophiles running around.”

Tim made a noise in the back of his throat like an angry cat while his mother hauled him towards the house, muttering to herself all the way. “The idea! And this is such a upstanding, respectable neighborhood! I don’t know why that realtor even sold the house to them. The gall of them, just waltzing in here and eyeing my son like that! How dare they!”

“They didn’t eye me, Mom!” Tim protested, jerking himself free from his mother’s iron fists when they were in the sticky, humid house. “They’re nice guys! Who cares if they fuck each other or not?”

“Timothy Jackson Larks, you watch your language when you speak to me!” Mrs. Larks demanded, drawing herself up to her full height. She towered over her slender son, and he ducked his head, cowering slightly. “And just for that insolence, no video games for a week!”

He didn’t dare answer back. The loss of privileges didn’t bother him so much; but Mrs. Larks was fast with striking him, and even quicker to assign him chores. She ruled their house as a dictator, and he didn’t want to spend the rest of the afternoon weeding her overgrown garden in the blistering sun. Better he stay in his room and sketch than get raw, sore hands from yanking dandelions from the ground. So, forcing his temper back down his throat, he went up the stairs, keeping his expression determinedly neutral, and shut his door quietly behind him.

Cassie came home later that evening, when the hot summer sun had finally dimmed to a lush purple twilight and the crickets were tuning their instruments. She sported a new sunburn and a bright smile, and her long black hair smelled like tanning lotion. Her mother cornered her as soon as she came in the door. “Cassandra, I don’t want you letting your brother anywhere near those queers next door, do you understand me, young lady?” She snapped without preamble.

“Nice to see you too, Mom,” Cassie said coolly. She had a lot more temper than her brother, and wasn’t afraid to stick up for herself. Tim was a bit too fragile for arguments, she thought privately, which was why he avoided them. “And why? They seemed okay.”

“Because he’s an innocent little boy and they’re older men who prefer boys!” Mrs. Larks spluttered.

“So they like guys; it doesn’t mean you just ignore them. It’s their sex life, who cares what they do? But if you don’t want Tim around them, fine. They kinda creeped me out too, come to think of it.”

“Good,” Mrs. Larks said firmly, straightening her long dark hair. “Stay away from them. They’re dangerous.”

Over the next several days, Tim lounged in the house sketching while Cassie played outside. She was perfecting her cheers, clapping her hands and trying to break the record for standing on her hands, while he was stuck inside under house arrest. It chafed him horribly, but he didn’t want to pick a fight. So, he waiting in the stickiness of his attic bedroom and looked out the window. From his room, he could see the big, glittering aqua expanse of the new neighbor’s pool. Once or twice, Derek had swum in it, and Tim had taken careful notice of it, wishing desperately to be diving beneath the rippling water. Cassie tried her best to assuage his boredom, but it didn’t help much - she had friends and a sort-of boyfriend to entertain her, while Tim was stuck inside. The only time Mrs. Larks let him go out was to take the garbage out. And as he didn’t have friends, there wasn’t an opportunity for sleepovers, either.

Mrs. Larks had taken Cassie to the store to buy groceries, and Cassie grudgingly agreed to go along with her under the stipulation of shoe-shopping afterwards. It was a journey which would keep them out of the house for at least a few hours, and Tim was spending some much-needed time outside on the hammock, an eye on the driveway in case they came home early. He was reasonably confident he could dash inside and hurry upstairs before they saw him, so he relaxed under the dappled shade. He was just beginning to drift off to sleep when he heard the home phone ringing cheerily. He couldn’t let it go - it could be Cassie or his mother, checking up on him, so with a muttered expletive he swung out of the hammock and went inside, the screen door slamming behind him.

“Hello, Larks’ residence,” Tim said into the phone, sounding a little bored.

“Hey,” Came a deep, masculine voice. Tim stood to attention, electricity rolling down his back. “Is this Tim? This is Derek. How’s it going?”

Say something! His mind screamed at him. “Fine,” He managed to stutter out. His heart was hammering - was he supposed to be talking to them? Fear for what his mother might do if she caught him on the phone with a gay neighbor shot through him. “Can I help you with anything?”

There was a low chuckle. “Yeah. We finished off your cookies and wanted to give the container back. Are your parents home?”

“No, but it’s okay,” Tim said, thinking fast. “I can come over and get it real quick, if you want.”

“Sure,” Derek said. “See you in a sec, then.”

Tim hung up, his heart in his throat. What could he do? He couldn’t be rude - and even if his mother had told him to be, he wouldn’t have. He liked Derek and Seth. They seemed…well, nice. Like a couple of guys who just happened to be screwing each other. Yeah.

Their yards were broken only by a hedge, so he left the house quickly and was on the sidewalk in no time. The day was warm enough for him to go barefoot, and his cutoff jeans were scruffy and dirty, but he wasn’t too concerned with appearances. He just wanted to get the container and run home before his mother came back. Taking a deep breath, he rang the doorbell. It swung open almost immediately.

“Hey, kid,” Derek said, his muscular frame taking up most of the doorway. “C’mon in, the container’s in the kitchen. Seth’s sticking some shit in it for your mother.”

Tim gulped nervously, hyper-aware that Derek was shirtless, showing off an impressive physique and nicely tanned muscles. He must work out, Tim thought, his sane mind churning desperately amid a torrent of conflicting emotions. His mother would kill him, absolutely kill him stone dead if she knew he was over here, alone, with two gay guys. And unbelievably, it turned him on. What kind of sicko are you? He asked himself angrily. You’re not gay. You just…haven’t found the right girl yet. Right.

Seth was in the kitchen, an apron around his waist, sliding still-warm brownies into the Tupperware box. “Those cookies were awesome, by the way,” Seth said. “These brownies are my mother’s recipe. I can’t bake for beans, so I thought I’d use something I knew.”

“Thanks,” Tim said awkwardly, taking the container. Derek opened the refrigerator.

“You wanna sit down, have a drink of lemonade?” Derek offered, already taking out three glasses. Tim’s hair stood on end when Derek licked a drop of lemonade from his thumb as he poured. Tim shrugged, accepting the frosty cold glass.

“Yeah, sure, I guess,” Tim said, downing half the contents in one swig.

“So, how’s school for you?” Seth asked, breaking a soft, gooey brownie into two pieces and popping one half in his mouth.

“Well, you know, it’s summer vacation, so it’s going great,” Tim said nervously, taking another quick sip of lemonade. “But it kinda sucks that I have to stay inside.” The last sentence was blurted from his mouth before he could stop it.

“Why? It’s gorgeous out,” Derek said, waving at the blue skies outdoors. “Shouldn’t you be out playing with your friends?”

“I don’t, uh, really have friends,” Tim answered, reaching around to scratch at the back of his neck. “And I can’t go out because…well, because of you guys.”

There was quiet in the kitchen for a moment, and Derek looked confused. Seth, however, knew exactly what Tim meant. “I knew she was a bitch,” He spat out, and then looked hastily at Tim. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” Tim said quietly, looking down at his lemonade. “She kind of is, sometimes.”

“Wait, what do you mean, because of us?” Derek asked, his brow creasing.

“Because we’re gay,” Seth said bluntly. “His mom thinks he shouldn’t go outside because we’re going to jump his bones the second we see him, because obviously that’s all gays do.”

“Friggin’ bitch,” Derek snarled. He, too, caught himself and shot an apologetic glance at Tim. “Sorry.”

“Like I said, she kind of is, sometimes,” Tim said wearily, resting his forehead on his arms. “I’d hate to be you guys, though.” He stood, and offered a helpless little shrug. “I gotta go. She’ll eat me alive if she knew I was over here.”

“Yeah, yeah, go right ahead,” Derek said, his jaw still working. He seemed like he was going to explode. Tim started to leave, but Seth caught his arm.

“Hey, Tim, if you get in trouble for coming over here, I’ll explain it to your mom, okay?” He said, looking worried. Tim jerked his arm from Seth’s hand - the contact of bare skin on bare skin sent an unexpected jolt of arousal through his system, the heated touch sending a crackling shock of electricity shooting through him.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll tell her,” Tim said, and practically fled the house.

The second the screen door slammed behind the young boy, Derek wheeled on Seth. “That fucking bitch!” He hissed, livid.

“Tell me about it,” Seth answered, folding his arms and trying not to grit his teeth.

“How dare she! I mean, sure, I knew the neighborhood was a bunch of stuffed pricks, but I didn’t know they were totally assholes!” Derek fumed. “She’s keeping that kid inside because she thinks we’d storm over there and kidnap the kid?”

“Hey, you were the one checking him out,” Seth pointed out.

“So did you,” Derek snapped.

“Still, I say we keep out distance from him,” Seth said calmly. “But I think we should talk to the mother.”

“Fuck talking, I wanna tie her to a fucking chair and knock some fucking sense into her head!” Derek growled.

“And how would that help?” Seth asked, voice icy. “No, the best we can do is try and be friends. Or ignore them. Or both.”

Derek couldn’t help but think that he liked his plan better.



Tim was in the shower, the cool water washing away the day’s sweat. Cassie and his mother were downstairs, unloading groceries and talking about their prices. His head was buzzing, and his heart felt as though a small colt was loose in his chest. Going over there had terrified him, frightened him almost to the point of no return, but there had been another feeling beneath the fear of being caught. A sexual energy, and thrumming vibrancy of untapped emotion. He rested his hot head against the cool, slick shower wall, his fingers spreading over the wet glass, and sighed, trying to calm his racing heart.

He had been incredibly turned on by going over there, he admitted. His cock was still rock hard, despite the coolness of the shower. The idea of being caught in their kitchen, despite the innocence surrounding the gesture, was thrilling. What if his mother had caught them kissing? He groaned as another wave of blood pulsed into his cock, and his hand dropped to fondle his erection. What if his mother had come in while they had him bent over the counter, bare naked, stroking his legs? What if she had seen them writhing in pleasure as Seth drawled hot, open-mouthed kisses down his body, slowly working downwards until his lips met his cock? What if …

He blinked.

Had he just been wanking off to the thought of having gay sex?

The thought disgusted him and excited him, causing his dick to stand to attention even harder, but also making his stomach churn. Why was he so aroused by this? He liked girls, didn’t he? There was that cute little redhead who always seemed to like him, and he liked sitting next to her, didn’t he? But he never masturbated to her, he realized. He always jerked off to some porn star, and even then, he usually put himself in the woman’s position, wondering how it would feel to have a man’s hands roaming over his body. But that didn’t make him gay…did it?

And his dick hurt so fucking much…

He knew he’d regret it if he didn’t jerk off now - he’d be on edge all through the evening, waspish and sensitive. But how could he just pleasure himself if he knew he was jerking off to thoughts of his neighbors? His gay neighbors? There was something seriously wrong with him. What would his mother say if she knew what he was thinking? She’d have him in the bathroom in a twinkling, have him bend over and touch the rim of the tub, while she dealt out five whacks with her belt. She would probably spend all month working him to the bone, trying to make him man up and drive the femininity out of him. And he would, too - he’d do anything to please his mother.

But he couldn’t help it - even the cold water wasn’t helping. His fingers dropped to his cock and he began pumping himself ruthlessly, hard and fast. Images blossomed before his closed eyes.

Himself, spread-eagled on a big bed while Seth’s fingers traced patterns on him, working downwards slowly. Derek with one of Tim’s small, peaked brown nipples in his mouth, sucking and nipping lightly, going up and licking at his neck, leaving swollen red marks on the clean white skin. Seth, kneeling in front of him, painting a sensuous, wet trail from his thigh to his balls, mouthing them lightly between a pair of warm lips. The three of them, naked in their pool, Tim between the two of them, Derek’s erection pressing against his back and Seth’s hands rubbing against his dick in the clear, aqua water. Tim, up against the side of the pool, Derek’s cock buried in his ass, his mouth on his shoulder, big, calloused hands on his hips, reaming into him with each thrust.

Each image was vivid, sharp, and real, and Tim actually cried out as he came, the white cum swirling down the drain as it dripped from his fingers. He felt lightheaded and a little faint, as if he might fall, and he realized his vision was blurring a little from the intensity of his climax. There was a rap on the door, and his hearing felt warped, like he was underwater.

“Tim? You okay?” It was Cassie. Sweet, beautiful, straight Cassie. He felt dirty, sick, ashamed of himself. He had just had the best wank of his life to thoughts of having sex with his male neighbors. What was wrong with him? He was so sick, so sick to his stomach he felt like throwing up. What was wrong with him? There had to be something wrong with him. It was dirty, it was wrong, it was disgusting, and the tears came before he could stop them.

“F-fine,” He choked out, his voice breaking.

Cassie’s voice was lower, quieter, more concerned. “Tim, are you okay?”

“Go away!” He was sharp, hurt, bitter. “Go away, I’m fine, now just leave me alone!”

Cassie went down the stairs, confused and upset. When she bumped into Mrs. Larks, her mother read her face. “What’s wrong with him?” Mrs. Larks asked, interested.

“I think he’s tired of being stuck inside. He’s crying in the shower,” Cassie reported, sounding worried. Mrs. Larks barged past her and opened the bathroom door.

Tim yelped and hastened to tuck the towel around his waist. His brown hair was curlier than ever, soaking wet and he was still dripping. He blushed crimson - had his mother heard his cry of euphoria? - and backed away. “Mom!” He shouted. “Jeez, a little privacy?”

“Cassie said you were crying,” Mrs. Larks said, sounding sympathetic. “What’s wrong, dear?”

He had been crying, but Cassie didn’t have to tell, little bitch. “I’m fine,” He snapped. “Just peachy. Now leave me alone, and get out!”

“Watch your attitude, young man,” She warned, but she left, shutting the door behind her. Tim glared at her retreating back, wishing the bathroom door had a lock on it.



He had never felt so listless in all his life. His thoughts were a tangled, confused mess of emotion, and he spent most of his time up in his bedroom, watching the pool. He hated himself for watching, but he couldn’t help it. Part of him went wild with desire whenever he saw Seth or Derek in the water, but the other part of him - the sane part of him, he told himself - made him feel ashamed and perverted for watching them. He went pink at the slightest mention of boys, blushed to the roots of his hair whenever Cassie inadvertently mentioned Seth or Derek, and told himself firmly that he did not have a crush.

He did not have a crush on the two men living next door.

So why was he fantasizing constantly about them? He found his sketchbook to be filled of drawings of them, half-finished sketches which couldn’t quite capture the likeness of them. Most of them were crossed out, but a few remained, a painful reminded of his heady crush. And it would have been normal - he would have been able to talk to Cassie about it, even if he had a crush on her best friend, because Cassie was cool. But he couldn’t tell her about it, couldn’t tell anyone about it. It was forbidden, secret, and dark. It was something nobody did, nobody respectable, anyway.

And the weight of having this secret on his chest, the confusion of his feelings towards his next-door-neighbors, finally burst out of his chest one morning. He just couldn’t take it - he had tried so many times to stop jerking off to thoughts of them, but he couldn’t. And he just lay facedown on his pillow, biting it to keep from screaming, wishing that he was normal, that he found girls sexy, instead of finding guys that way. Because how could he tell anybody? He could stand the ribbing from his mother and sister if he had told them that he liked a girl, but if he told them that he had a crush on the gay couple living next door, his mother would spear him for dinner.

And the idea of being speared always led to more thoughts of the men next door.

He just couldn’t take it any more, and when the phone rang on that fateful morning, he practically broke his fucking neck diving down the stairs to answer it. And when he said falteringly, tremblingly, “H-h-hello?”, his heart soared when he heard the smooth, strident, sexy voice of Seth on the other line.

“Hey, Tim,” Seth said, sounding sympathetic and friendly. “Is your mom there? Can I talk to her?”

Tim’s breath was short, his head felt light. Unable to speak, he passed the phone to his mother, and he leaned against the wall, straining to hear what his mother was saying.

“Yes?” She said, sounding a little confused as to who it was. Then her expression changed, because closed, neutral, blank. “Why, of course. We’d love to come.” She sounded tight and clipped. “Oh, thank you. It’s an old recipe.” A long pause. “No, I’m afraid Timothy won’t be able to come tonight. He’s going out tonight with his friends. All right. I’ll tell him.”

“What did they say?” Tim burst out the second the phone was hung. She looked at him, fire in her eyes.

“Calm down, young man. They invited us over for a pool party tonight, and Cassie and I are going.” Mrs. Larks said tartly.

It felt as though he had swallowed an iron bar. “What about me?” He asked, sounding high and squeaky.

She turned on him. “I asked Cassie to bring over a friend today. You’re going to sit there on that couch with a girl - yes, a girl, and don’t look at me like that, Timothy - and watch a movie. I’ll make popcorn.”

“But Mom!” Tim cried. “Why can’t I go? Please, Mom, I want to!”

“Because it isn’t decent!” She said shrilly, drawing herself up to her full height. “It isn’t decent, and I won’t have two men ogling my young boy when he’s in a pool.”

“So why are you going?” Tim demanded, tears unendurably close to his eyes. It was so unfair! The prospect of being in a pool, a cold pool, in front of Seth and Derek was too much. It practically be like one of his fantasies! And then his sensibility crashed over him and he swallowed back his tears. His mother lifted her nose primly.

“Because Cassie and I are in no danger. We’re women. And besides,” she added, “It’s neighborly.”

“You mean you want to snoop around and gossip,” Tim spat out, unable to resist. “Pass all of their secrets off to the neighbors for you to dissect.”

“Timothy Jackson Larks, how dare you make such an assumption! Go to your room right this instant!” Mrs. Larks ordered.

Tim hammered up the stairs, slamming the door behind him. How long he stayed under the covers, wishing he wasn’t feeling so hurt, he didn’t know.

He must have fallen asleep, because he remembered waking up. Cassie shook him lightly, and he saw she was dressed in a two-piece bathing suit, a modest pink bikini, exposing her flat stomach and pale skin. It was a sight which should have made any boy incredibly hard, because Cassie was a knockout, but it just made Tim more miserable. Miserable because he didn’t find a sexy woman’s body attractive. Miserable because the only thing he found sexy were men, grown men, and he was such a sicko for even thinking like that. It was wrong, he told himself.

“Hey, Timmy?” Cassie said gently. “Abigail’s downstairs, waiting. She really likes you, Tim. Maybe you can…I don’t know. Maybe you can show her some of your sketches, or something.”

He swallowed a lump in his throat and blinked back bitter tears. But he challenged his voice to be steady when he answered. “Mkay. I’ll be down in a sec, let me just get some jeans on.”

Cassie left, and he sat up, trying to take slow, steadying breaths. Hastily, he picked up a pair of jeans from the floor, dusted them off, and pulled them on, buttoning them around his slender waist. He rooted around in his drawers for a moment, and then pulled his old tee shirt off his head and tossed it heedlessly over his shoulder. A white button-down dress shirt, one he only used for special occasions, was decided upon, and he rolled the cuffs up to his elbow. When he checked himself in the mirror, he decided he needed a haircut. But that could wait. He realized numbly that he was dressing in clothes he wanted Seth and Derek to see, clothes which would be the sexiest to remove.

He took a shaky, shuddering breath, and went downstairs.

She was cute. Blonde, short, and pretty, with pink braces and wide green eyes. She was sitting cross-legged on the couch, and smiled at him prettily when he came in the room. Abigail looked at him quickly, checking him out appreciatively, admiring the slender, pale body and long, lean frame. He was the cutest guy in school, and she had been thinking desperately throughout the summer for some way to meet him. There had been nothing for it - she just called up Cassie and asked if she could come over and meet her brother. Cassie had sounded relieved and excited, and it made Abigail wonder if he was getting over a recent heartbreak or something. He had such big eyes, dark chocolate brown, with thick lashes surrounding them. He was so sexy.

“Hey, Abigail,” He said, sounding a little awkward and stiff. “Which movie do you want to watch?” So far, so good, he told himself. He wanted this, he said to himself. He wanted to watch a movie, and he would put his arm around her at the scary parts. He would steal a kiss during the romantic scenes, and he would escort her to the door afterwards. Because that’s what proper, straight guys did, and he told himself that’s exactly what he was. But part of him knew that he was doing this so he could know for sure. Know for certain that he was completely, irreversibly gay. If he felt good while he was kissing her, if he felt a spark, then he would know. If he felt nothing - well, he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

Abigail selected a movie, some cheap rom-com flick, popping it into the DVD drive, and he sat next to her with a bowl of popcorn on his lap. She was cute, he decided, but not his type. What was his type? An image of muscles and golden hair, accompanied by green eyes and a cheeky smile, floated to the front of his mind. He shoved it away quickly and forced himself to pay attention to what Abigail was rambling about.

The date must have gone well. He remembered Abigail laughing at something he said, and he remembered, very distinctly, her hand on his knee. But as she was walking out, as the velvet purple twilight was beginning to skim the skies, she turned around. “Thanks, Tim,” She said sweetly, her feminine voice low and quiet. “I had fun.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the mouth, lingering perhaps a moment longer than she should have. He kissed her back, lightly, softly, experimentally. He’d never kissed anyone before.

And he felt nothing.

Not a spark. Not a flicker.

She apparently didn’t realize it, though, because she smiled at him brilliantly and went over to her car, closing the door. She waved at him three times before she pulled out of the driveway fully, and he was left there, his body buzzing, his head reeling. He had just kissed a beautiful girl, and felt nothing. There was no emotion behind it. Sure, her lips had been soft, but that’s all he had felt.

He stumbled inside, the screen door whacking shut behind him, and he raced to his bedroom, tripping over himself, his face flushed. Why was he like this? Was he always like this? Was this why his mother was so hard on him? Had she seen it in him all along? Had she known, somehow, in her mind, that her son was gay? Because that’s what ’this’ was, wasn’t it - gay. Homosexuality. Queer. Fag. A fruitcake. He was gay. And the weight, the resistance he had towards the idea intensified tenfold as he sank to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest. His mother would kill him. His sister would be disgusted. He was disgusted.

All his life he had grown up with memories of his mother telling him what was wrong and what was right. She had a very strong - albeit twisted - sense of morals, and she inflicted these upon her children. He remembered her once telling him that all gays were people who needed therapy. “It’s a disease,” She had said angrily. “A disease which can be cured. But they’re sick enough to think they enjoy it. It’s wrong. If a homosexual ever tries something with you, I want you to kick him where it counts and run as fast as you can, do you understand me?”

What had he said? He couldn’t remember his reaction. But he must have nodded his head like a good little boy, an obedient child, and accepted his mother’s words of wisdom. Now, sitting alone in his hot, humid bedroom, he knew he was living a lie. Everything - his preference for poetry, his feelings, or rather lack of feelings, towards women, his sketching…it was all gay. It screamed at him, and every innocent little gesture, every conversation, came back and taunted him. See? See? Those memories screamed at him. See? Everyone else could see it but you! You were in denial! You didn’t like girls, you knew that, but you didn’t think you liked guys, did you? Hah!

He dimly heard the screen door slam as his mom and sister entered the house, chattering excitedly. And even as he rested his head back against the wall, his tears still wet upon his cheeks, he decided a plan.

Because he had to know. For sure.



It was pouring rain - one of those harsh, lashing, summer rains when the water comes from the sky in thick torrents, forming lakes where hollows had been and rivers across manicured lawns. The whole house had a dim, dark, flickering feel to it, and Cassie was curled in her room, avidly pursuing an article about her favorite actor, Bradley Cooper. Mrs. Larks was in the living room, watching her soaps, and who knew where Timothy was. Probably lying on his bed, getting some fresh air from the open window in his attic.

Neither of them knew that he had snuck out of the house only moments ago, slipping out the window and almost falling to his death but catching himself just in time. He landed in a mud puddle, soaking his jeans up to the knee, and giving his sneaker a wet, muddy coating. The rain was frigidly cold, but it had broken the humidity, and he was grateful for the lack of hot, suspenseful heat. The vinyl white fence clicked shut behind him, and he crept across the front lawn, aiming for the next house to them, a big white mansion. Because he would find out if it killed him. He needed to know if it was permanent.

He rang the doorbell with his thumb, and then pounded on the door with his fist. Butterflies erupted in his belly, and he suddenly felt incredibly stupid. What was he going to say? Going to do? He hadn’t prepared anything, he just knew what he wanted them to do. One kiss. That’s all he wanted. One kiss to be absolutely sure. Because the kiss with Abigail had felt like nothing, like lips pressing against each other. And maybe because it had been his first kiss, maybe there wasn’t emotion behind kisses, he didn’t know. He had no idea. So that’s why he was here, waiting for the door to open.

And it did swing open, and Seth stood there, looking rumpled and a little tired, as if he had just been watching TV and cuddling with Derek. He looked at him, cocking his head to one side. “Hey, Timothy,” He said, sounding a little confused. “What’s up?”

“Can I come in?” He asked, sounding like a child to Seth’s ears. He stood there, his jeans soaking wet, his black tee shirt clinging to him, mud covering his sneakers, those adorable brown curls wet and gleaming. His chocolate eyes were frightened, and they kept flicking over to his house, like a rabbit about to be caught by a fox.

“Yeah, sure, come on in,” Seth answered, shutting the door behind them. “What’s wrong, Tim? Are you okay? You look awfully pale.”

I feel like I’m going to be sick, he said to himself. But his mouth said, “I need to talk to both of you. Please.” He was begging, he knew it, and he sounded pathetic and ashamed of himself.

“Sure,” Seth said, looking more concerned than ever and more than a little confused. “Hey, Derek! Come on, Tim’s over here!”

There was a piquant, muttered expletive, and then a thoroughly disheveled Derek came down the stairs, wearing low-riding jeans and a tight gray muscle tee shirt which clung to his formidable muscles and hugged his broad shoulders. Derek took in the scene with those alert green eyes, and then said, “Kitchen. Both of you. We need a drink to go with this.”

Neither of them asked Tim what he wanted. He felt relieved. If they had accosted him, asking questions, he would have felt even more embarrassed and probably stumble over whatever he wanted to say. So, with his heart pounding in trepidation, he followed them, and then sat at one of the high kitchen stools by the butcher block kitchen table. Seth sat next to him, his knee almost touching Tim’s, and Tim felt a hot trail of desire flow from his leg and centering in his groin and lower belly. Even through his nervousness, he couldn’t help but notice that Derek looked sinfully delicious in those low-riding jeans of his. The blonde man in question pulled out three glasses and poured a generous serving of soda in all of them.

“Now, what’s up?” Seth asked as soon as Tim had swallowed a cold gulp of Pepsi.

Tim stared determinedly at his soda. “I think I’m gay.”

He had never said the words aloud before, and he sounded small and afraid. He was. But he didn’t feel as though Derek and Seth were surprised - and then he felt stupid. Was it so obvious to everyone, except himself? Apparently.

“But…I’m not sure,” He said, and his voice shook slightly along the edges. His confidence wavered. “I mean, I’m just…” He paused, fisting a handful of his curls and trying to focus on a knot in the wood. “I don’t know, you guys. I know this is weird, but I just don’t know. And I came over here because…”

His confidence broke - tears overflowed.

“I want to know if I’m fixable or not.”

He just sat there, crying, slender shoulders shaking, as he confessed to them. And then he felt Seth’s arms around him, holding him. “Oh, hey, hey, hey,” Seth murmured. “Oh, kiddo, this is big, huh?”

“I don’t know what to do,” Tim sobbed, and he tried to stop the tears but he couldn’t. “It’s so wrong. I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s not wrong. Look at us.” Seth told him softly. “Look, there’s nothing sick about it. There’s nothing gross. It’s just…you. And to tell you the truth, we kinda knew you were.”

Tim lifted a wet face, his brown eyes still filled with tears. “Was it so obvious?”

Derek snorted in spite of himself. “Tim, you sketch.”

Seth shot him a dirty look. “Yeah, it kind of was,” He said gently. “Tim, there’s nothing wrong with it. Some people like different things. And believe me, people are more tolerant of it than you think.”

“Not my family,” Tim cried. “Not my mom.”

“Oh, so that’s what this is all about,” Derek said quietly. “You’re afraid your mom’s gonna beat the living daylights out of you when she finds out, huh?”

“Yes,” Tim said, shaking, feeling as though Seth’s arms were keeping him from flying to pieces. “She always said it was…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. “…a disease.”

Derek made a low, primal, snarling noise in the back of his throat. “Fuckin’ bitch,” He said, and his hands snapped to fists.

“Derek,” Seth warned him.

“No, I’m right this time, Seth!” Derek snapped angrily. “Look at him! She’s made him keep all this in because he’s scared of her! You know how it feels, you know how hard it is! And she made it even worse by making him feel like he’s some sorta demented psycho!”

Seth couldn’t respond - he was busy stroking Tim’s hair and trying to soothe the boy. Derek paced restlessly, fuming, resisting the urge to punch through some Sheetrock. “Tim, look at me,” Seth told him, and Tim reluctantly look up at the firm hazel eyes. “There is nothing wrong with you. There’s nothing wrong with the way you feel. I know it’s hard, I know it’s weird at first, but there’s nothing wrong with you. Don’t ever let someone tell you differently, okay?”

“I want to know - for - sure,” Tim hiccupped, and pushed Seth away, wiping his eyes, feeling like a complete baby. “I want to know for sure. I want to know if I’m…” He twisted, fidgeted. “…If I swing both ways or just one.”

Derek and Seth shared a glance over Tim’s head. “Would you excuse us, just for a second,” Derek said, and motioned Seth into the other room.

“What do you think he’s suggesting?” Seth demanded in a fierce whisper. “Is he asking us to sleep with him?”

“I think so,” Derek said, and then pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Holy fuck, I feel so bad. The poor kid, he’s been holding this in for…I don’t know how long. Probably since we first met him.”

“What are we going to do?” Seth asked. “We can’t do anything. He’s a minor.”

“He needs to know, Seth,” Derek shot back. “He wants to know for sure. I know exactly what he means - you said almost the exact same thing to me when we first met, do you remember?”

Seth growled and folded his arms tightly across his chest. “That was different.”

“We were both sixteen, and you fuckin’ know it. You were just as confused, but this kid is ten times more scared. He just wants to know. There’s no harm in letting him know.” Derek said.

Seth ran his hands through his hair. “Can’t we just tell him? He’s not bisexual, we both know it. He’s gay, pure and simple.”

“Simple to us, but not to him. Look, just a kiss. That’s all we’ll do. I’ll kiss him, if you want.”

Seth glared at his lover. “I’m starting to think you just want to kiss him.”

“I wouldn’t mind it, actually,” Derek said innocently. “Look, all joking aside, the kid’s a fucking bomb. Wouldn’t you want to kiss him?”

“I want to kiss you,” Seth said tartly. “Isn’t that why we moved into together? So we can have more time to ourselves?”

Derek dropped a quick kiss on Seth’s down turned lips. “Seth, beautiful, you know I love you. I always will. But this kid is scared, and he needs our helps. He needs to know, and I’m not going to mind educating him. Plus, if we say no, he’ll go to someone else - someone else who won’t care that the kid’s greener than grass and still wet behind the ears. Someone who will see that ass and do absolutely anything to get him on all fours. We’ll be nice. You know we will.”

“Stop saying ‘we will’,” Seth said, grinding his teeth. “And it’s not that simple. What if he goes running to the police.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Derek growled. “He’ll probably thank us for the rest of our lives. Seth, you might want to keep this kid in the dark, but I don’t. Let him explore. He’s not going to have this chance; how often would he run into two older partners who are willing to teach him?”

“Derek, do you realize you’re sounding like a pedophile?” Seth snarled. “He’s - fifteen - fucking - years - old. He’s a kid.”

“He’s a kid who needs help!” Derek snapped. “And if you’re not going to help him, then I will!”

Seth caught his arm as he tried to leave. “Stop, stop, stop,” Seth sighed. “Enough. Fine. We’ll let the kid go as far as he wants - but if he says stop, I don’t care how good it feels, you’re going to stop, you got it?”

“I’m not a fucking animal,” Was Derek’s response. “Fucking hell, I’m not going to rape the kid.”

“Just be careful. He’s so small…and delicate…” Seth said, and then sighed again. “Hey, Tim?” He called.

Tim, who had been sitting very still, listening to their whispered conversation, felt a hot rush of excitement swell through him, tempered by a souring lurch of shame. He didn’t have the voice to answer, but he slid off his stood and stood tentatively in the doorway. Derek and Seth looked at him, and Tim felt a prickling blush swoop over him. They were looking at him so sympathetically, and he felt like crying again. He was so confused.

“Hey, kid, we’ll tell you what we’re going to do,” Derek said, his rumbling baritone a soothing growl. “You can find out, okay? We’ll take it slow, I promise, and whenever you wanna stop, we will.”

He nearly sobbed aloud. His gratitude shone hard in his eyes, and Seth felt another wave of sympathy for the poor kid. Derek gestured over to the living room. “C’mon, over here,” He said, and Tim felt a rough, large hand grasp his shoulder. The touch was warm, comforting, and friendly. He wanted to sink into those arms for a hug, but there was a deeper, searing desire to enact all of the fantasies he had imagined. The three of them sat on the couch, Tim in the middle, and Seth wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“Shh, hey, Tim, it’s going to be fine, okay?” Seth whispered. “Just relax.”

And then Derek touched him. It was a slow, deliberate touch, just a forefinger against the inside of his arm, and Seth felt Tim’s breath hitch in his throat. The finger ran around his wrist several times, dipping down to stroke the soft, vulnerable skin of his elbow. Derek’s touch was hot, sending sparks through his system, and Tim felt as though he might explode just from the slow, continuous motion. And then his hands feathered a touch around his neck, across his left shoulder, back down to his hands and circling every finger. His other hand began twisting through his thick, curly brown hair, and Tim tried to catch his breath, which seemed to be dancing out of his reach.

Derek brought Tim’s hand up to his mouth and pressed a light, gentle kiss against his inner wrist, just a skimming of lips against flesh, and Tim’s head fell back, exposing his pale throat. A raw sound, thick with pleasure and fraught with desire, more of a mixed moan and sob, fell from his lips. Derek moved upwards, still stroking Tim’s arm, and Tim’s jeans felt uncomfortably tight, pressing against the buckle of his jeans. He realized dimly that Derek’s fingers had run up to his neck, the calloused pads of his fingers scraping across the innocent skin.

He knew Derek was going to kiss him, knew he was, and when he did, it was sweetly, softly, gauging his reaction. His skin felt too hot

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Chapter 1 Jazz stood naked in the middle of her bedroom floor, the thick grey carpet feeling lush beneath her feet. Looking back over her slim shoulder, she admired herself in the mirrored wall that, like the mirrored ceiling, was a feature of the room. Jazz took in her body and her eyes scanned herself critically. Starting at her feet she examined her smooth shapely legs. She thought her calves were a little muscular and made a mental note to try and do something...


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The large, imposing courtroom was filled with a murmur of subdued conversations, which accumulated to a considerable noise due to sheer quantity of ongoing verbal exchanges. The interior of the room was arranged in formal brown and white palettes, which strongly set the tone for an atmosphere of judicial authority. Into these intimidating surroundings the ICBG officers led the proud, but somewhat overwhelmed Melissa. Her bodily restraints were somewhat loosened as she no...


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