“You ungrateful piece of shit… get the fuck out of my house. OUT!” Jonathan hollered, a rage in his voice Gabriel had never witnessed. He lunged at the boy, grabbing him by the shirt and yanking his body out of the bed. “I am guilty. Guilty of loving you too much. I protected you from everything. Even yourself. And now you can’t face your grief.” Jonathan growled, pulling Gabriel closer, his mouth inches from his son’s. “You’re not above human suffering, Gabriel.” Jonathan stated.
Then slowly, his anger began to subside, and his love for his son returned. Jonathan’s words had somehow punctured through Gabriel’s anger, and the boy stood there, gazing at his father in stupefaction, having witnessed him at his most vulnerable. He fell back, stunned and disoriented. He picked up the book, tossed it in his backpack, grabbed his other two bags, and rushed out the door. Jonathan’s legs caved, and he tumbled on his son’s bedroom floor, his hands covering his head as he caged his tears. As the front door closing blasted in the distance, a lonely silence struck down on that once happy house. And for the first time since Gabriel’s birth, Jonathan felt utterly alone.
Eventually, he picked himself off the floor and wandered the house for hours. Finally, as night time approached, he walked upstairs, showered, and threw on some clean clothes. Then went to the kitchen and poured himself a large whisky with one rock, chugging the first glass in one go and serving a second, which he took with him as he walked to the counter. He leaned on it and picked up his phone, scrolling through it for over twenty minutes, seemingly texting someone. He then placed the phone down and walked upstairs into his room, sitting on the bed, his body facing his closet. He exhaled before stretching his arms, opening the closet door, and taking out a suitcase hidden under a pile of clothes, carefully placing it over the bed.
It was Elliot’s suitcase.
Jonathan’s hands stretched out, and his fingers started touching its surface softly, almost as if it were a person. He pulled the zippers and opened the top part carefully. Inside, Elliot’s clothes were still there, neatly folded. Jonathan drew one of the boy’s shirts out and took it to his nose, sniffing in its scent softly. His eyes glistened with tears as he pulled the shirt away from his face.
He folded the shirt delicately again and placed it back inside the suitcase. Then he slid his hand inside a small side pouch and took out a small perfume flask. It had a plastic casing, one of those cheap clothes store editions. Jonathan grabbed the flask and hid the suitcase back inside the closet. Then, as he walked downstairs, the doorbell rang, and he walked over to open it.
In front of him was a beautiful young man. His hair was raven black, curled. Although dressed, under his shirt, you could see his smooth chest and pale skin. And these deep blue eyes.
“Jonathan?” The boy asked.
“Yeah. Come in.” Jonathan invited with sadness in his voice. He stepped over to the kitchen counter and turned around with his ass leaned against it. He gaped at the young man for a while, scanning him. The boy didn’t seem fazed. In fact, his gaze was also lingering, struck by Jonathan’s beauty.
“I don’t usually get guys like you.” The boy commented.
“Like what?” Jonathan questioned.
“Hot as fuck.” The boy replied, chuckling. Jonathan didn’t laugh. He just stood there, scrutinizing the boy.
“Strip.” He ordered before the boy pulled his leather jacket off and tossed it hurriedly on the floor. “Slowly…” Jonathan demanded, interrupting him.
The boy obliged, stripping one piece of clothes at a time, gradually disclosing his smooth but not particularly fit body, nowhere near Elliot’s flawless physic.
“Do I fit the profile you asked for?” The boy asked as his briefs finally came off.
“Close enough.” Jonathan stuttered, his eyes finally looking away. The boy squinted, surprised by Jonathan’s emotional struggle.
“By the way, my name is…” He tried to say.
“Elliot. Tonight your name is Elliot.” Jonathan interrupted. “Spray this on. Then head upstairs and wait for me on the bed.” Jonathan instructed as he tossed the perfume flask over to the young man. Then he went behind the counter and poured himself another whisky.
“Sure thing, boss.” The boy said. He opened the bottle cap, sprayed himself in Elliot’s perfume, placed the bottle on the counter, and walked upstairs, his smooth bubble ass bouncing.
Jonathan chugged the glass down, punching it on the counter. He skimmed his mouth with the back of his hand and climbed the stairs, eventually halting over the doorway to his room, where the boy waited. He sat on the bed, stripped, his arms and legs crossed as he faced the door, his face turned to the window as the moonlight shined on it. Then, as he sensed the stud’s presence, he turned, and Jonathan felt the boy’s nervousness for the first time. He stripped his shirt, then his shorts, finally exposing his rock-hard cock.
“Jesus Christ…” The boy uttered, his voice cracking as he stared at Jonathan’s oversized cock.
“Lay back.” Jonathan grunted.
The boy obeyed, and as he did, Jonathan stepped forward and crawled over to him, laying beside him, his face and right arm hovering over the young man. First, he scanned his body, the stud’s eyes lingering on every fragment. Next, his fingers started coasting over it gently, from the boy’s feet to his chest, where they remained. And then, garnering all his willpower, Jonathan finally met the boy’s eyes. And as he did, he remembered.
“I’m in love with you… We’re the same, Jonathan. You’re damaged, just like me.” Elliot’s voice echoed inside his mind.
Tears began plunging from Jonathan’s eyes, tumbling over the boy’s chest.
“Are…you ok?” The young man asked, unsure what was happening or how to act.
“Turn around.” Jonathan replied. The boy heeded, rolling his body.
Jonathan’s right hand came up, his fingers gently brushing the boy’s raven curls as his eyes closed in pain and grief. He grabbed a bottle of lube from the nightstand, rubbed it on himself, lifted his pelvis, and slid his cock inside. The boy’s body sprang forward, surprised by the thickness of the stud’s manhood. But Jonathan was being delicate, displaying a most unusual gentleness.
That night, Jonathan made love to Elliot’s memory, and that unknown boy’s moans of pleasure echoed across the house for hours.
(To be continued…)