rising-sap-2

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Subject: Rising Sap - Ch. 2 This story is about a man who's in love with his best friend's son. If you do not like age-gap romances or themes of adult/youth, do not read this story. You know the drill: if you cannot legally view this material, do not read this story. All of my writings are pure fantasy. I own all legal rights to my fictional works. A full list of my work on Nifty can be found here: https://bit.ly/2S5IYDI We all love and appreciate this site, so please also consider donating to Nifty if you can: fty/donate.html ~ Chapter 2 ~ I wake up slowly. I can vaguely hear some muffled speech, like it's at the end of the tunnel and all that my ears are catching is stifled reverb. Someone's trying to get my attention, I think. Then, I notice the palm repeatedly but gently tapping at my cheek. I let out a little groan before things start to become clear: Scotty's telling me to wake up. I gradually open my eyes, and once they are able to focus, I squint at Scotty smiling down at me. "How the heck do you sleep on your back?" he teases. "I'm old," I tell him, sighing heavily as my body wakes up. "You're not that old," he says, patting my arm. "Did you sleep okay?" I let out a little grunt and blink the sleep out of my eyes. "Would've slept better if you hadn't woken me up," I say with a slight smile. He laughs. "I think thirteen hours is plenty of time," he says. Thirteen hours? Jesus Christ. I yawn, hovering the back of my hand over my open mouth before sighing again. "What time is it?" "Almost one-in-the-afternoon," he says. What a waste of a day. Then again, I'm happy I finally got to get some solid sleep in. With all the stress lately, it feels like it's been forever since I've gotten more than four or five hours in. "C'mon," he adds, tugging at my arm lightly. "Come say hi to mom before she has to go back to work." That's right. It's a Thursday. Eric and Yasmine both work nine-to-fivers during the week, with Eric as a business consultant and Yasmine as a project manager at some beauty company. She must be on her lunch break right now. Her job is pretty close to the house, making it easy to swing home for lunch with her son. But still, it's a weekday... "Shouldn't you be in school?" I mutter as I sit up with a groan. "Mid-winter break, remember?" "Oh, right," I murmur as my memory floods back to me. Giving schoolkids another week off in February seems somewhat silly to me. Is Christmas break not enough? Scotty chuckles at me as I slide my sleepy ass out of bed. I run my fingers through my hair before stretching a bit, happy that I don't have morning wood (or afternoon wood, I suppose), because I would have been too out of it to notice it until it was too late. I follow Scotty downstairs, and the closer we get to the bottom, the louder the unmistakable sounds of Yasmine fussing in the kitchen become. She emits a certain chaotic energy whenever she cooks. I love the woman dearly, but she's not exactly a master chef, and she's quick to be frustrated with her food even when she's not the one cooking. When we turn the corner into the kitchen, she's in the middle of quietly cussing out a small pot of rice that she seems to have managed to burn, begrudgingly attempting to scrape the grains from the bottom. "I told you to just buy the instant rice," Scotty says as he heads over to his mom. "It just doesn't taste the same," she murmurs, looking over at her son. That's when she notices me, and her eyes instantly soften. She at least looks pleased to see me. "Antoni!" I smile at her. "Hi, Yasmine." Scotty must have told her that I was here. Either that, or she saw my car in the driveway. Who knows. "Sleep well?" "Too well," I mutter, and both Scotty and Yasmine laugh. "You hungry?" she asks me. "I can't really offer you anything, but--" "I was gonna take Uncle Ant out for lunch," Scotty says as he sits up on the counter. I blink, looking at him. "You were?" "Yeah. Something starchy for that hangover," he adds with a little grin. "I'm not hungover," I say defensively, but Yasmine just chuckles a bit before abandoning the pot and sticking it into the sink to soak. "I wouldn't blame you if you were," Yasmine says before sighing heavily. "Well, I should get going, because now I have to pick up lunch." She looks momentarily irritated by that prospect before smiling brightly at me and coming over to give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "You hang in there," she murmurs to me before turning her attention to her son. "Behave yourself," she says, giving Scotty a peck on his cheek as well before grabbing her purse. "Bye, Mom," he says, smiling at her as she rushes away. Once she's out the front door, Scotty turns to me and smiles. "Hungry?" I shrug. "Maybe a little," I say, trying not to eye him too intently. "Where are you taking me?" "Probably Pop's Diner," he suggests. "I'm craving a milkshake. Sound good to you?" "I'm fine with whatever you want," I tell him. He seems to find that funny. "'Course you are," he says before sliding off the counter. "I'll get you some clothes." Then, on his way past me, he slaps my chest, chuckling to himself. I just watched him leave, watching the way his pants hug that tight little ass of his. Then, I shake my head, running my fingers through my hair. I need to stop looking at him like that. It'll only bring trouble. Scotty brings me some more spare clothes of Eric's since he put my clothes from last night in the washer. I stuff myself into jeans that are a little too snug for my liking, but at least the shirt fits fine. Then, we both throw on our coats before heading to my car. I drive this time, but it's not that much of a drive. Pop's is a mere ten minutes away. As soon as I hit the road, Scotty speaks up. "You sleep okay?" I snort. "Like a rock." "I actually tried waking you up earlier but you wouldn't budge," he says, laughing. "I thought you were dead." I don't know why, but I get hot knowing that he was in my room while I was asleep. "Did you need something?" He shrugs. "I was just bored," he says before looking at me. "Was the bed okay?" "Yeah," I say, glancing at him with an amused smirk. "Had enough pillows and blankets?" "You don't have to stress about me, Scotty," I tell him with a laugh, even though I appreciate that he cares about my comfort. "Well, I'm gonna," he says defiantly. I just smiled to myself, focusing on the road and not on the fact that all I want to do is kiss this boy. When we get to Pop's, we grab a booth and put in our orders before discussing a weird dream he had last night. He's a senior in highschool, and with college coming up, he's been having stress-dreams about the future. The food comes by pretty quickly and all at once: a big breakfast platter for me, and a milkshake and an omelet for Scotty. As soon as the pancake breakfast is set in front of me, I realize how hungry I am. The intermingling scents of hot cakes, sausage, and eggs fill my nostrils, and I pick up my fork and immediately start gorging. Scotty chuckles as he sips his milkshake, having barely looked at his omelet yet. In my periphery, I see him pick up his fork, but I'm too busy stuffing my face to hear what he said. "Whuh?" I ask, chewing. "I said, you're a mess," he tells me, smiling at me. Then, grabbing a napkin, he leans over and wipes something off of my chin. The moment feels so... innocently intimate that I forget to keep chewing for a moment. "Sorry," I murmur, taking my time now. Plus, I'm all flushed. I look around at the rest of the diner, wondering if anyone saw that. "First the alcohol, and now you can't even eat properly," he teases. "Am I gonna have to babysit you all week?" "Since when are you so mature?" "Since always," he says, sipping his shake with a grin. "Nuh uh," I say, wagging my finger. "I've known you your entire life, kiddo. Maturity has never been an inherent quality of yours." He laughs. "Oh come on. I was a good kid." "You were a *cute* kid," I correct him. "But you were a demon child." He just smiles at me with an extra glint of something in his eye. "Well, I'm still cute at least." I just grunt a response, not wanting to say anything incriminating. Hold your tongue, Ant. Hold it. Scotty finally sets his drink down and starts picking at his omelet. "Sometimes I forget you've been in my life for so long," he says. I smile a bit as I eat. "I was even there when you were born," I tell him. "Hell, I changed your diapers a bunch when they needed a babysitter." He grimaces before laughing. "Sorry." "Yeah, you were disgusting," I tease, getting another giggle out of him. Then, chewing slowly on his eggs, he stares at me before asking a question. "Have you ever wanted kids?" I stare back, surprised by the question. "Uh... I mean, maybe a little bit," I say. I've never been super sure one way or another. Being a dad is a lot of work, I know, but elements of it seem appealing. However... "Honestly, I kind of like the honorary uncle role better." He smiles. "Less responsibility?" "Way less," I say. "I get all the fun of watching you grow up without the hassle." "That makes sense," Scotty says with a nod. "For what it's worth, though, I think you'd make a great dad." I just laugh it off, even though I'm feeling particularly warm by the sentiment. "Well, thanks, monkey," I say -- and even little Scotty blushes a bit. "I wanna say something else," he says, in a way that makes me pause my eating. "And I don't wanna sound annoying, but..." "But...?" "We want you to live with us." I sigh, wiping my lips with my napkin and sitting up straight. "Scotty... I can't do that." "Why not?" he asks, leaning forward. "You're practically family." "Well, we don't know that the offer still stands," I say. "Of course it does," Scotty tells me. "How can you be sure?" He rolls his eyes before pulling out his phone. As he calls someone up, I try to stop him, but he's here to prove a point. "Dad? Hey. Yeah, it's me. The offer to let Uncle Ant move in still stands, right? Yeah, that's what I told him. Yeah, I know, he's--. Yeah. Okay, sweet. Thanks, Dad. Yeah, talk to you later. Bye." Then, with a smug little grin, he sets his phone down, looking victorious. "What's your next excuse?" he challenges. "I'd just be a bother," I tell him, stabbing one of the sausages with my fork. I can feel Scotty's eyes boring into me, though, and when I look up, he just sighs. "You're so stubborn," he says. "It gets annoying sometimes." I can't help but laugh. "I'm a man," I tell him. "Stubborn is what we do best." "How can I convince you, then?" Scotty asks. "Why are you trying so hard?" He bites his lip. "I'm worried about you," he says, and it's in such a soft and tender voice that I'm momentarily stunned. "I know you said you weren't depressed but... I don't know. You just seem so... broken." I blink. Do I really seem that bad? It's certainly been a tough time for me, but shit... Is it that noticeable? And then, Scotty says something that nearly breaks my heart. "And I'm terrified of losing you." My eyes actually well up a bit, and I have to turn away to make sure I maintain some semblance of composure. Scotty... Scotty Scotty Scotty. I sniffle a bit to hold back tears before setting my fork down and reaching across the table to take his hand. He holds onto me tightly, waiting for my response. "You don't have to worry about that," I tell him. "Promise?" he asks in a small voice. "I promise," I say, my thumb automatically starting to stroke his hand. "I'm not going anywhere." He seems noticeably relieved at hearing that. "Okay." "But thank you for... for saying that. It means a lot." He gives me the sweetest, most adorable smile. Then, "I still want you to stay with us, though." I just laugh. "You're such a brat," I say, taking my hand away. Then, I sigh, unable to stop smiling. I relent. I give in. I stop resisting. "Fine," I murmur, tossing away my pride and fear of pity. Scotty's eyes go wide. "Really?" "Yeah. You wore me down, monkey." "Yay!" he cheers, so delightfully that a couple people turn to see what the hell he was yelling about. I just laugh, shaking my head and going back to my food. Guess I'm moving in. Having breakfast-as-lunch with Scotty really boosts my mood. We enjoy a pleasant, playful conversation as we eat, and when it comes time to pay, he's the one who quickly picks up the check. I protest, but he reminds me that he wanted to take me out in the first place. I accuse him of pitying me, to which he playfully responds with, "Of course I do." Once we head back to my car and buckle up, I turn to him. "So I guess I'll just drop you off and then go pick up some stuff." "Just take me with you," he says. "Simpler that way." I hesitate. "It's not a big deal. I can just take you home." "Orrr, I can help you pack," he says, smirking at me. "What's the big deal? Are you trying to back out?" That's not it. I'm just a bit ashamed of where I'm staying now. I currently live in "the Innies," everyone calls them. It's a shady part of town where the rent is dirt cheap but the streets are dangerous and the buildings are dilapidated at best. It's incredibly seedy, full of local gangbangers and drug pushers and hookers. But the thing is, it's all I could really afford to get at the last minute. I honestly would have just lived out of my car if it wasn't the dead of winter. I just pay a little bit every week. It's not like I have many belongings anymore. Regardless, I don't want Scotty to see, so when I get close to the area, I park a little bit further away, hoping that he thinks I live in a somewhat nicer area than the Innies. "Wait here," I say when I park. "Gimme ten minutes." "Alright," Scotty says, though he sounds wary. Maybe skeptical is the right word. Either way, I hop out and then turn the corner so that I'm out of sight. Then, I head to my "apartment." It's not great. In fact, it's quite dingy, and the bathroom is disgusting, but it has functioning heat, so that's a plus. I sigh at the sight of it, looking forward to living in a nice home with people I care about. Scotty was right. I was stubborn for no reason. Since I crashed here earlier this week, I haven't really unpacked at all, so this should be a quick trip, as all I have to do is collect the loose items that aren't already stuffed into my bags. Just as I'm starting to put clothes into a luggage bag, I hear movement at the door -- and when I turn, I see Scotty standing there, looking around. "*This* is where you live?" he asks. "I told you to wait in the car," I say, feeling my face get red from embarrassment. "You were being weird," he says, eyeing the room with distaste, "and now I see why." He steps in, taking a look around, even dragging his finger across a few surfaces before wiping it on his coat. "I'm glad you said yes..." "Let's not harp on it," I murmur before heading to the bathroom. I collect all my toiletries and then scope out the main room to make sure I haven't forgotten anything. Then, once I'm satisfied that I've packed everything I need, I take a glance at Scotty to inform him that I'm ready. However, he just looks so... sad. "What?" I ask. "I just..." He trails off, unsure what to say. Instead, he steps forward, and before I know it, he's got me in a tight embrace. "I'm sorry things have been so difficult." I tense up at first, but I can't help but soften at the gesture after a moment. Dropping my toiletry bag to the floor, I wrap my arms around Scotty, hugging him tightly to me. "Lucky I got you to worry about me," I say with a smile. He chuckles against my chest, and I lean down and press my lips to the top of his head affectionately. It just feels right in the moment -- but then, of course, I get distracted by the scent of him. I want so badly to inhale him deeply, and I know if I start journeying down that road, I'll have a major hard-on pressing against this boy. And then, just as I'm having that worry, I feel something coming from Scotty... A little nudge of insistence against my inner thigh. And that's where his groin is... But I only feel it for a second, because Scotty breaks the hug. I clear my throat, telling myself over and over to not look down at his crotch. "Thanks for that," I tell him, pleased to see he's got a little redness in his cheeks. "My pleasure," he says, smiling innocently up at me. Or is it bashfully? Then, he says something else. "I love hugging you. You're really comfortable." I snort. "I am?" "Yeah. You'd be a good cuddle buddy for someone my size." I almost grunt imagining us cuddling. "With me as the little spoon, of course," I tease. He gives me a glare that instantly makes me laugh. "Obviously I'm the little spoon," he says. He's right, though. We'd fit perfectly together. He's small, smooth, and lean, and I'm tall, hairy, and burly. It's a perfect contrast. "Sometimes big men like to be held," I say with a little smirk. He just smiles softly at me. "Do you want me to hold you, then?" I feel something lurch in my stomach, and I try not to let my face give it away. "Um..." "I'll take that as a yes," Scotty says cheekily before looking around. "Are we done here? This place gives me the creeps." I clear my throat for what feels like the millionth time before nodding and grabbing my bags. "Yep," I tell him. "Let's get out of here." When we get back to the house, I bring my things up to my new bedroom (at least, my room until Scotty's sister comes back to visit) and then head back downstairs. Scotty's in the kitchen making popcorn, and when I ask him what the plan is, he says he'd like to watch a movie -- and that I'm going to watch it with him. He doesn't ask *if* I want to. He's already determined that. I just smile at him, always happy to spend time with the boy. Once the popcorn is done microwaving, he leads me into the living room and has me hold the bowl while he sets up the couch. Their sofa is pretty snazzy because it can easily turn into a larger surface for a few people to completely lounge out on. After he gets it all squared away, including one too many blankets (just the way I like it), he gets himself comfortable by sitting up straight. Then, he looks up at me and pats his lap. "What?" I ask, confused. "C'mere." As always, I feel myself getting hot around Scotty. "You serious?" "Yes," he says, annoyed that I'm hesitating. "C'mere, big boy. I won't bite." I swallow thickly before giving in. I mean, it's just cuddling. No big deal, right? I hand him the bowl of popcorn and then lie down on the couch, shifting so that I can lay my head cozily in his lap. He leans over to grab the hem of the blankets and tugs them over me before he sits back, grabs the remote, and starts playing with my hair with his free hand. "Do you care what we watch?" he asks me, but my eyes are already closed. His voice seems so distant. I'm just so focused on his fingers working gently over my scalp that I'm barely cognizant of anything else. Fuck, it's like instant relaxation. "Uncle Ant?" "Huh?" I murmur before clearing my throat. "Oh. Yeah, no, I don't care." "Cool," he says. "`The Grand Budapest Hotel' it is." He scrolls to the movie, presses play, adjusts the volume, and then finally relaxes. He sets the remote down so that he can eat popcorn with one hand and stroke my hair with the other. I feel so comfortable with him, with this simple affection. God, when's the last time I've been touched so lovingly? Even guys I've "dated" have rarely given me this sort of affectionate attention. I've always been the provider in that regard, so it's nice to just check out and receive. escort izmit (https://hususu.com/) I feel myself sink into the couch as I enjoy the gentle and almost distracted way Scotty pets at me, runs his fingers through my hair, and gently massages my scalp. I could fall asleep like this, easily. Then, I feel something at my lips. "Open," he says. From the texture, I can tell it's a piece of popcorn. "I don't want your popcorn," I murmur, keeping my lips shut. "Humor me," he says. "I'm being generous." I chuckle and part my lips, extending my tongue to reach the popcorn. I almost moan when I feel his fingers hit my lips, and then, when my tongue makes contact, I taste the buttery saltiness right on his fingers for a brief second. I chew slowly, wishing I could taste the rest of him. For almost half the movie, I rest in his lap as he rubs my head and feeds me the occasional piece of popcorn -- and when the bowl is finally empty, he pats my head. "My turn." I snort. "Your turn?" "Yeah. Make room," he says, sliding out from underneath me. I groan, not yet shifting, as I was incredibly comfortable in that position. However, it doesn't seem like he wants to rest in my lap; he wants to spoon. He slides under the blanket in front of me and presses his back against my torso. I grunt when I feel his ass push into my groin, causing nearly every muscle in my body to become tense. Then, he grabs my arm to drape it around him, wordlessly demanding that I cuddle him just the way he likes to be cuddled. Shit. Don't get hard, don't get hard, don't get hard. "I like this," he says softly, sighing. "Makes me feel small." "You like feeling small?" "Mhm," he says. God, that's hot. My little monkey likes to feel small... with a man? That's what he's implying, right? Ugh, stop it, Antoni. Relax. Just settle in and enjoy this. For a while, I'm just fighting with myself, making futile attempts to relax. I think about moving my hips away, but honestly, it's quite nice cuddling with him like this. He's such a perfect fit for me. Even the way our legs are shaped together feel like we're each half of a whole. So, in the end, I forcibly release the tension from my muscles, hold him against my chest, and rest my face onto the top of his head. At first, I find myself finally relaxing. Then, Scotty starts moving a bit. Maybe it's to get more comfortable, or maybe his intentions are less than innocent, but regardless, he's shifting right against my groin and adding a dangerous amount of stimulation. "Stop moving so much," I murmur. "Am I bothering you?" he says in a cheeky tone. "You're about to be," I say, digging my fingers into his side to tickle him. He laughs, slapping my hand away before holding onto it tightly. Before I know it, he's holding my hand as we cuddle, keeping my palm pressed against his chest. He settles in and stays calm for a bit... and then he sighs and starts shifting again. "Scotty--" "My belt is digging into my hip," he says. "Take it off, then." He just groans, flinging my arm off of him to sit up and quickly undo his belt. He whips it off of him, tossing it to the floor before settling down against me once again. "Happy?" he asks. "Are *you*?" I ask as I return my arm to its rightful place: around Scotty. "You're the one that's all bothered." "I'm not the one with the pinchy belt, you little brat," I say, and he giggles a bit. He reaches back and pats my cheek. "Don't get snippy." "I'm not getting snippy," I tell him. "Yeah, you are. I know you. You get snippy like that when you're embarrassed," he says. Then: "You afraid you'll get hard or something? Is that it?" Something gets caught in my throat, and I tense up again. Shit. This fucking kid. "It's not a big deal, you know," he says calmly -- almost teasingly. "It's a natural part of cuddling with boys." I just snort. Is he joking? "Easy for you to say," I murmur. "You're not the one who'd be getting hard." "How do you know?" he asks. I grunt a bit, feeling my fingers start to itch. All they want to do is slide down and see if what he's implying is true. I mean, that's what he's getting at, right? He's hard? Or is he just tease-flirting with me? Fuck, my heart is pounding. *Now* I feel myself chubbing up a bit. "Just watch the damn movie," I mutter. Scotty lets out a little laugh, hugging my forearm and probably smiling with an adorably smug little grin. "Yes sir." Living with my best friend's family is strange, to say the least. They certainly treat me like family, but my own insecurities keep me from being totally at ease. It's the pity. I pity myself enough where I don't want it from other people, and although the rational part of my brain knows very well that they aren't doing that, it's such an intense fear of mine. Regardless, their hospitality is much appreciated. Soon, Scotty starts going back to school, and during the days where I have the house to myself, I lounge about, reading books, doing a little painting, anything to get those creative juices flowing and not feel so down on myself. I even get two new part-time jobs. They're nothing fancy at all: customer service rep at a call center and cashier at a small, local hardware store. I guess that's what I get for never finishing high school, but it's at least income, and I need to save up for a move. Between me and Scotty, there are a lot of subtly suggestive and playfully flirtatious moments as winter draws to a close. On one hand, it's fun to toe the line with him, to do something a little naughty -- and on the other, it drives me absolutely fucking insane. I love him, and the months of living with Eric's family has only solidified that fact. It's hopeless now. He's alluring, invigorating, boyish, creative, caring, dreams big, gets all excited over the little things. Just the other day, we went to an indoor garden and he was positively giddy and amazed by all the different types of flowers they were cultivating. It was adorable. Plus, when it's just the two of us, I can just... let go. There's not as much of a facade with Scotty. I am how I am, and he seems to like that. God, he makes my blood boil, though. The increased amount of cuddles and casual touches only makes me more sexually charged throughout the day. I've been jerking off like a teenager ever since I moved in. Like today, for example: I'm jacking my life away in my bedroom because he was walking around wearing one of my old shirts with no bottoms on whatsoever. I had given him that old flannel after he practically begged me to part ways with it, and I made a big show of giving it up even though I couldn't care less about that shirt. He, however, makes it look absolutely sexy. He rolled up the sleeves enough for it to hang on him like an oversized shirt, and today, he came downstairs with no underwear or shorts on. I only noticed when he bent down to grab something out of one of the lower cabinets in the kitchen. He made some excuse that he was doing laundry and didn't have bottoms to wear, but I knew it was a lie. He was doing it to be funny... or to tease me. If his intention was to turn me on, it fucking worked. I excused myself, went up to my room, and immediately whipped my achingly hard cock out. Now, I'm stroking almost furiously. Goddamn it, Scotty. You're killing me wearing my clothes like that, looking so innocent but so devilish at the same time, giving me those little puppy dog eyes as you cover yourself up in a half-assed way. God, I want to ravish you, you sexy, adorable, beautiful fucking boy. I want to take you up to your room and fuck you senseless in that shirt. I want to breed you so full that my cum leaks out of you for the rest of the day. I want to kiss you so deeply that your moans have flavor. I want to feel the-- Suddenly, the door swings open, and Scotty's standing there, wide-eyed at the sight of me. Then, he blushes and tries not to laugh. "Scotty!" I yell, quickly covering myself up. I scramble to pull the blanket up over me, shielding my manhood from his view. "Sorry," he says, not hiding his giggles now. His eyes keep focusing around my waist. "I knocked and you didn't answer." Seriously? Was I so in the zone that I didn't hear? "Get out!" "Sorry!" he says again, half-stepping out. "But, um, when you're done, I have a question." "Fine. Now go," I say, sufficiently embarrassed. He just smiles and shuts the door again, and I exhale deeply, staring at the ceiling. Jesus Christ. I think I'm pulling a fever. That's how hot from embarrassment I am right now. Of course the object of my desire catches me in the act like that, whilst thinking about him, no less. I take a few deep breaths, reminding myself that Scotty can't read my thoughts. It's fine. What I was doing is natural, right? I attempt to finish, but after that interruption, I find myself no longer in the mood, so I just stay in bed and let my cock return to softness. After a minute, I just groan and slip out of bed, making sure I'm presentable before exiting the bedroom. I find Scotty in the living room lounging on the couch. He's still wearing my shirt, but it seems he managed to find some bottoms. When he hears me entering, he looks away from the TV and smiles at me. "That was quick," he says. "All good now?" "Shut up," I murmur, standing there awkwardly. Suddenly I'm not sure if I should sit or not. Frankly, I don't know how to handle myself right now. He just chuckles gently. "I didn't mean to interrupt." "It's fine," I tell him, wanting to step away from this subject. "I'll just... It's fine." He just keeps smiling that little smile of his. "You're so cute when you're embarrassed." "I'm not embarrassed," I say defensively. He snorts. "Oh yeah? Tell that to your face," he says, and when I sigh through my nose and turn away, he just laughs even more. His laughter isn't malicious, at least. "It's okay," he says. "I know a man like you has... needs." I roll my eyes. "Yeah yeah," I mutter. "The sap is rising, is all." He stares up at me. "Huh?" I just laugh, waving my hand. "Nothing. Stupid expression." "Meaning...?" "It's like... when you get all worked up in the coming spring." He smiles a little. "Yeah?" "I don't know," I say, shrugging. "Maybe it's just me." "Nah, I feel it too," he says, lying down a little more but not taking his eyes away from me. I blink, trying not to imagine him jerking off right now. "You do?" "Mhm. I get hornier than ever when the weather gets nicer," he says, and I inhale deeply, forcing my eyes to stay on his face and not check out his body. It's actually a struggle. "You don't watch porn?" he suddenly asks. "When your... sap rises, or whatever?" I snort a little. "Um. No, not really my thing." "Seriously?" he asks, looking genuinely surprised. "I almost never *not* look at porn." "Well, you're still young," I tell him, as if it's a catch-all. "Hmm," he says, looking thoughtful for a moment. "So just you and your thoughts, huh?" I nod, shrugging a little. "I wonder what you think about," he says with a little grin, lifting his leg and poking me in the gut with his toes. I roll my eyes. "Keep wondering," I murmur, smacking his foot away and smiling when he laughs. "What did you want, anyway?" "Oh yeah!" he says, sitting up Indian style as he peers up at me. "So you know how I'm going to school in the fall?" he asks. I nod. College is just around the corner for my little monkey. God, he grew up so fast. It feels weird to think that, like that sentiment is reserved for parents, but I've watched him grow into the fine young man I see today -- the same one that gets a kick out of teasing me. "I was gonna get an apartment with a friend, but he's moving." "Okay..." I say slowly. Where's he going with this? "So I was thinking... What if... you and me... got a place together?" I stand there frozen for a second as I process his request. "Huh?" I murmur, mostly to give myself more time to understand what's going on. He just smiles. "You heard me." "I just..." I laugh, but mostly out of nervousness. "You want me to live with you?" "Yeah!" he says, giving me that classic soft smile of his. "I don't know," I say, rubbing the back of my head. "You don't think we'd bunk well together?" he asks me. "It's not that," I say, struggling to quickly find an appropriate excuse. The thing is, without the love and lust I feel for him, we'd actually fare pretty well. We get along swimmingly, and our home-life habits are not so far off that we'd clash. It could work. But... "Wouldn't it be... I don't know... weird?" I ask. "Why weird?" he asks. "I'm a grown man, kiddo," I tell him. "Don't you wanna room with someone your own age?" "I wanna room with someone I'd enjoy rooming with," he says simply, staring right up at me. I keep avoiding his direct gaze out of fear that he'll see why I'm really denying him. But thankfully, he decides to spare me a yes or no. "Just think about it," he tells me. "But I'd really like it if you'd say yes." Scotty's offer is one that stays on my mind constantly over the next few days. Living with Scotty... What would that be like? Total privacy to cuddle whenever we wanted? Catching him in various states of undress? Always being within arm's-reach when he needs me... or when I need him? Scotty has been like a steady intake of serotonin for me, and the thought of having that every day is enticing. But it's dangerous. Being around Scotty is a double-edged sword. I mean, Eric would probably murder me in an especially violent way if he knew what I thought of his son. And then, to add even more confusion to my life, a woman calls me to say, "We have your lump sum available." "What?" I ask, unsure what she's referring to. "We sent you a check but the letter was returned to us after it was deemed undeliverable," she says. "Have you changed your address?" "Um..." I run my hands over my face before things start to click. The call had woken me up from a nap, and I had barely heard her introduction, but now I understand. It's Kelly. She's my representative from the life insurance company. "Sorry, I kind of... forgot about all of that." "It's okay. We just wanted to ensure you received your payout." "Right," I say, sitting up a bit. "How... How much is it?" "Well, as the sole beneficiary, you'll receive $1,311,257." I immediately start choking on my saliva hearing that absurd amount. Once I regain control of my breathing, I ask her to repeat the number, and even then, I don't believe it. "A million dollars?" I ask, bewildered. "A little over, yes," she says politely. "Holy fucking shit." I barely even remember filing the claim. It was just one thing on the list of things to do after my mother died, and I was just going through the motions: funeral, will, possessions, insurance claims... It all felt like a blur. Honestly, if this woman had never called me, I'm not sure I'd ever think about potential money coming my way. And so much of it... At least, far more than I really expected. How much is a standard payout anyway? I update her on my current living situation and have her mail the check to Eric's address before thanking her and ending the call. Then, I sit in bed and stare at the ceiling. What do I do? I have over a million dollars coming my way... That's way more money than I've ever seen at once, and it'll be mine. Somehow, though, that doesn't excite me. In fact, it feels wrong. That's my mother's money. My mother had to die in order for that money to come to me, and for what? What the hell am I going to do with it anyway? I start to feel that bubbling sort of discomfort rise in me, my thoughts racing a million miles a minute. The only thing that seems sure: I need alcohol to numb the thoughts. I check the time and see that it's 6pm. It's a reasonable time for a drink, so I get myself showered and dressed and head downstairs with the intention of getting plastered at the local bar. A few drinks might help me think. Better yet, a few more drinks might help me forget. But just as I grab my jacket, Scotty appears from the kitchen, snacking on some granola. "Where ya going?" he asks. "Out," I murmur, making sure my coat is secure before I grab my keys. "I need a drink." "Uh oh," he says with a little laugh before smiling. "Can I come with? I'm bored." I arch my eyebrow. "To a bar?" "I have an ID," he says. I actually wasn't worried about that, since the bar I frequent is also a restaurant. It'd be perfectly legal for him to join. I just figured he wouldn't have much fun. "What are you doing with a fake ID?" I ask. "Nothing," he says, trying to look innocent. Then, he sets his granola on the counter. "I'll get my jacket," he adds before running off towards the staircase, probably to grab it from his bedroom. I just sigh. I guess I can't say no... Once Scotty is ready to go, we head off -- but not to my usual spot. Scotty suggests a bar that's slightly out of town. I grumble a bit, having just wanted to be alone and go to a bar I know well, but Scotty threw a wrench in those plans. Guess we're going to *his* bar of choice. I've never been to this one. Right off the bat, it seems like it attracts more of a youthful crowd, so I already feel out of place. College kids are all bunched up in small groups just outside the premises, smoking and chatting and looking painfully artsy. The bouncer checks Scotty's ID, but he lets me in with a simple nod. We step inside, and I sigh, relieved that it's at least fairly quiet in here. It feels more like a hipster bar than anything else, so it's not really my style, but I'm just pleased it's not so hectic that I won't be able to think. Then again, with Scotty here, will I be able to get any thinking done? Scotty, who seems to know his way around the place, leads the way to the bar. Right as we get there, we put in our drink orders: a ginger mule and a shot of whiskey for me, and a Sex on the Beach for the boy -- with a straw. I chuckle when he orders his drink. "A Sex on the Beach?" "Shut up," he murmurs, smiling at me as he hoists himself up on a stool. "It's good." "I think it's cute," I say with a grin, sitting beside him. "The straw is a nice touch." He rolls his eyes when he sees that I'm just teasing him. "Have you even tried it before?" "The drink or the real thing?" I ask. He laughs. "Hm... Both." "No to the drink, yes to the real thing," I tell him. He looks surprised. "Well, first off, don't make fun of me until you try it," he says. "And second?" "When the heck did you have sex on a beach?" He smiles dreamily at me. "Was it romantic?" "Not even a little bit," I say, grimacing. "It's not all that it's cracked up to be." "Yeah right," he says, looking off into nothing. I'm sure he's just imagining himself doing it on some sunset-kissed beach that's reminiscent of a movie set. "Trust me," I tell him. "Unless you like sand everywhere, it's not sexy." Suddenly, the bartender returns with our drinks, smiling. "Here's a Sex on the Beach for you," he says in his surprisingly deep voice, setting the colorful drink in front of Scotty. "And for you, a ginger mule and a whiskey shot." "Thanks," I say, quickly knocking back the shot and then grabbing my wallet to slide a twenty and a ten across the bar. "Keep the change." He takes the bills without really looking at them, because he's looking at me. "Haven't seen you around here before," he comments. "This one brought me," I murmur, pointing to Scotty with my thumb. "This isn't my go-to bar." "Well, hopefully I can convince you otherwise," he says, smiling at me in a charming way. "I'm Malcolm." "Antoni," I say, letting myself take a good look at him izmit rus escort (https://hususu.com/escort/izmit-rus-escort) for the first time. He's a hunky little guy, probably in college. He's muscular, with lusciously dark skin. He's a bit clean cut, too, his facial hair shaped with sharp lines, not a single hair out of place. It's almost intimidating how put-together this guy looks. "Aaand I'm invisible," Scotty murmurs, and when I look over, he's grinning as if amused. "You two together?" Malcolm asks. I'm about to retort, but Scotty steps in. "Nope. He's single," he says, putting a hand on my shoulder. "But he's a hot commodity so get a piece while you still can." I shove Scotty, and both him and Malcolm laugh. "It's tempting," Malcolm says before giving me a little wink. "Well, let me know if you need anything else, handsome. You know where to find me." Once he gets back to work, I turn towards Scotty and glare at him. "What was that?" I mutter. "What?" he asks, innocently sipping on his drink and trying not to smile. "I'm your wingman." I roll my eyes. "I don't need a wingman," I tell him. "I'm not interested." I bring my drink up to my lips and take a substantial gulp of the cold drink. "Oh, come on," he says. "You need to get laid." I nearly choke on my mule. "Excuse me?" "You... need to... get laid," he says. "You're all tense and sad." I just roll my eyes as I sip on my drink. "And you're letting this all go to waste," he adds, gesturing to my body. I can't help but laugh. "Am I, now?" "Mhm. You're a hot daddy type. That's as popular as it gets," he says. I grunt a bit. There it is again, Scotty vaguely referring to me as "daddy" and making my loins twitch. "Maybe focus on yourself," I tell him. "My sex life is really boring," he says. "It's more fun talking about other people's." "What about that boy you've been fooling around with?" I ask, glancing at him. He makes a weird face: a mix between a grimace and an amused expression. "Um, no," he says with a laugh. I snicker. "Why'd you say it like that?" I ask. "Because boys are dumb," he says, swirling his Sex on the Beach around. "I'm only dating men from now on." I chuckle. "Uh oh," I say, taking another large sip of my drink. "What?" "That just means trouble," I murmur. "I'm not trouble," he says, but it's in such a sincerely-innocent voice that I burst out laughing. "I was a boy once, monkey," I tell him. "It's always trouble." I reach over and take his drink to test it out, and when the flavors hit my mouth, I'm pleasantly surprised. "Huh. That *is* pretty good," I tell him. "Told ya," he says, snatching it back from me before looking at me curiously. "So did you always like older guys?" "Oh yeah," I say, reminiscing a bit. "Hated boys my own age and lusted after the older guys. And now..." I smile bashfully. He's a smart boy, though. He fills in the blank. "Now you're the older guy lusting after the boys." "Yup," I say, returning to nursing on my drink. However, when I bring my drink up for another sip, I realize I've downed the entire fucking thing already. Grunting, I make a gesture towards the bartender, and he catches on immediately, getting right to work with fixing me another drink. Scotty grins. "Is that how it works? When I get older, everything will switch?" I shrug. "Happened to me," I tell him. He chews on his straw a bit as he looks at me. "So, for you, is it just anyone younger than you?" he asks. "Or... is it specifically, like, boys my age?" I squint at him, knowing he's trying to rope me into something. "Or your little boyfriend's age." His playfulness disappears and now he just looks mad at the mention of him, which is so fucking cute that I almost laugh. "You don't want him," he says. "He sucks." "Trouble in paradise?" I tease. He doesn't talk about his friend too much, aside from making fun of his hair color choices and vaguely alluding to the fact that they're occasionally intimate. He sighs, shrugging and looking at his drink. "He cheated on me." He looks at me sadly. "I found out this morning." "Wait, what?" I ask, surprised. "I didn't know you guys were... actually together." "Well, we weren't, but..." He looks slightly embarrassed. "I mean, I didn't want to be his boyfriend, but we both promised each other we'd at least be sexually exclusive. Friends with benefits and all that." "Hm," I say, nodding a bit. "I mean, if you two agreed on that, he should keep his promise." "Exactly," he says. "But he slept with some other boy because I wouldn't go further with him, and... kinda tried gaslighting me after I found out." I squint a little. "He sounds like a dick," I comment. "Yeah. He's fun when he's normal, but... he's kind of a jackass, yeah." I watch Scotty sadly sip his drink through the straw. Just then, the bartender hits me with my second drink, and I trade him a bill with a substantial tip. "So you still haven't...?" I trail off, not wanting to sound crass and ask him if he's fucked or gotten fucked yet. But he understands. "Nope. It's like what you said about trust." I take another large sip of my drink, letting the alcohol get to me so that I can not so easily focus on the idea of taking Scotty's virginity. God, how sweet that would be... "Is it so corny of me that I want it to be special?" he suddenly asks me. I smile at him. "It's not corny at all, monkey." He smiles back, looking slightly relieved before he laughs a little bit. "You're the only one who still calls me that nickname, you know," he says. "Even Dad stopped years and years ago." "I hope you're not outgrowing it," I tell him. "A little," he says, but he's smiling sweetly. "But I'd only let you use it, anyway." I find that strangely... touching. Was that on purpose? "Doesn't embarrass you, does it?" I ask. "Well, not when it's just us," he says. "But I hate my ears." "What?!" I say, a little more loudly than I intended. The drinks are starting to get to me. "They're adorable!" Scotty blushes but smiles. "Least you think so. Quentin always made fun of them." "I'm gonna smack this boy," I say, and he laughs. "How could he not appreciate them?" I ask as I reach out to give his left ear a stroke and a gentle tug. "I don't think he appreciates me in general, so there's that," he says bitterly. Then he sighs. "Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever date." That's one of his qualms about growing up: he hasn't had a real boyfriend yet, or even dated casually. He's been waiting to find someone he has that "spark" with. "You'll find someone," I say. "You kinda just have to... let it happen organically. Don't go looking for it." "Why not?" "When people go looking for it, they tend to... settle quickly, because they want it so bad." He nods in understanding. "Yeah, that makes sense." He takes a long sip of his drink, peering up at me. "Have you dated a lot of guys?" I wince a bit. "Not really, honestly." "So you're speaking from experience with the `don't go looking' advice?" he says with a slightly sassy tone. I smirk at him. "I should smack you, too." He giggles a bit, sliding closer to me. "Seriously, though... What have your relationships been like? You never talk about them." "`Cause I'm bad at relationships, kiddo," I tell him. "What makes you say that?" It's a lot. Being the only gay person I knew growing up made me latch on to any guy that expressed interest in me. I rushed into things, settled too fast. Plus, I was insecure -- more so than I am today. "I've just found it... difficult to be myself in relationships," I tell Scotty. "I was like you. I romanticized romance." Scotty nods, looking at me in a calculating way, like he's analyzing me. "I bet you were a good boyfriend, though." I scoff. "Yeah right." "I'm serious," he insists. "You're a provider. You just need someone to balance that out." "Doubt that'll happen," I murmur, taking a swig of my drink. Oof. That one went straight to my head. "Enough with the hopeless schtick," he says, slapping my arm. "You were just doing it too seconds ago," I challenge. "We're talking about you now," he says with a smirk. "Trust me. You'll find it." "What makes you so sure?" He smiles and holds his hand up, starting to count off the reasons. "C'mon, Uncle Ant. You're charming. You're sweet. You're generous. You're artistic *and* analytical. You're grounded but still like to daydream. You're emotional but still tough. You're the most caring guy I know." Then he grins a little more mischievously. "You're hot *and* you have a big dick, which is rare." I blush. "Scotty--" "Point is, you've got layers," he says. "You've got all the good qualities people look for in a man." I feel flustered by his words, and I busy myself with sipping my drink to mitigate the sudden rise in temperature. But I feel so... I don't know. Seen? Appreciated? I feel like a little kid who got complimented by the boy he's been crushing on for weeks. And I know he can tell my reaction because, out of the corner of my eye, I can see him smiling at me in that knowing way of his. "I'm gonna say something weird," Scotty chirps. I glance at him with my eyebrows raised. "Oh boy." "You were a big reason I knew I was gay." I furrow my brow. "What?" "I... kinda had a huge crush on you when I was younger." I feel so many things at once. I feel full. I feel butterflies. I feel like I just want to smile until my cheeks get sore. I feel like I wanna tease him about it. I also feel like I want to admit that that crush was probably reciprocated. But I also feel sad by the way he used it in the past tense. *Had* a crush on me? As in no longer? And when was this? "You serious?" I ask, my mouth forming a half-grin. "Dead serious." I just laugh, and he blushes but chuckles too. "What's so funny?" "Nothing. It's just..." I lean back against the chair a bit. "Of all men that could have made you realize that, I'm just surprised it was me." He just gives me a patient look. "Am I gonna have to list out those things again?" I laugh again, and for a moment, I can't stop. I don't know what it is, either. I'm not even amused. I think I'm just in disbelief. Why can't it be easy to have Scotty? "What?" he asks. "Nothing," I say. "You're just... really fluffing up my ego here." Now he laughs. "It's overdue," he says, giving my arm a little stroke. "You're a good kid, you know." He smiles as he sips his drink all cutely. "Don't try to deflect attention," he says. "I'm not," I tell him. "You're just... You're just a good kid, who's too good to me." He rests his head against my shoulder for a moment. "Well, I like you," he says. I feel warm and tingly all over. Every interaction with Scotty feels like The Moment, the one where I could just tilt his chin up and kiss him, where fireworks would go off in the background and fanfare wouldn't die out until we consummated our love properly. It's so tempting in moments like these, but I resist. How terrible would it be if it completely backfired? What if I lost him for good? Would that be better, or worse? I just exhale deeply as I swirl the remains of my drink, and Scotty seems to detect something. "What's wrong?" he asks. "Nothing," I say instinctively before I decide that telling Scotty the reason I wanted to come out in the first place might help keep the conversation away from sappy topics. "Actually," I say, clearing my throat, "Can I pick your brain for a second?" "Of course," he says, and at detecting the more serious tone in my voice, he sits up straight and gives me his undivided attention. "My, um... My mother's life insurance cleared," I tell him. He looks confused but intrigued. "What does that mean?" he asks. "You're getting money?" "Yeah," I say, nodding. Then, I murmur, "A lot." "Really?" He leans in a bit, almost whispering. "How much?" "Almost a mil and a half." Scotty's eyes go wide before he laughs. "Holy shit, Uncle Ant! That's great!" I give him a half smile, but he can read me better than I anticipated. "This is a good thing, right?" he says, asking for confirmation. "I guess," I say before finishing the rest of my drink with a sigh. "It feels... weird." "Weird how?" he asks inquisitively before offering a suggestion. "Like... dirty?" "Kinda," I say with a nod. "It just doesn't feel right. She died and I get money." "Do you not want it?" he asks. "I don't know. Part of me wants to give it away." "Don't do that," he says, holding my arm. "Your mom set that up for a reason. You should do something nice with it. You deserve it." Then, he reaches up and strokes my scruffy jaw with the backs of his fingers so gingerly that I melt. "You took care of her for so long, Uncle Ant. You can take care of yourself, now." Instantly, I feel my eyes tearing up, and he smiles before grabbing a napkin to dab at my cheeks. Scotty has a way of making me feel so weak and vulnerable. It's like my walls are useless against him; he just glides right through. I don't cry often, but that's twice today that Scotty has brought me to tears. Little bastard. I sniffle and wait for him to finish cleaning up. "Think the bartender will still wanna fuck me now?" I joke, and Scotty just laughs. We stay for a while to allow Scotty to finish his drink, chatting a little bit about the money. It's nice to bounce ideas and options back and forth, but in the end, I can't really make a decision one way or another. For now, at least, Scotty gets me to promise that I'll at least put the check in my savings. This way, if I choose to use it, I'll have it, and if I choose to get rid of it, I can just withdraw it. It's nice to talk about other things, though -- lighter things. In fact, for a while, we scope out the bar and make up little stories about the customers. While we split a plate of nachos, we speak of long-lost lovers reunited, sworn enemies, loners with crazy fetishes, undercover royalty... It feels good to do something silly for a bit. It gets late pretty quickly, though, and before we head home, we decide to walk off the alcohol. It's a brisk night, and for a minute, the cool, early-springtime air feels good on my skin. Frankly, I hadn't realized how hot it was in that bar, so the "breath of fresh air" idiom is pretty applicable here. We walk side by side, my hands in my pockets, choosing a direction at random and just seeing where the night takes us. At first, as we walk down the street, we walk in silence. But soon, Scotty asks a question. "So... Let's say you decide to keep the money," he starts to say. "Does that mean you're gonna move out?" I smile a bit. "Probably." "Oh," he says, and when I look over and down at him, I realize he looks sad. "I wish you'd stay." "I think I'm already overstaying my welcome, monkey," I tell him. He sighs, looking up at me. He even fully stops walking. "Why do you always do that?" I stop and turn to look at him, noticing he looks a bit frustrated with me. "Do what?" "Make excuses," he says. "Don't you want to stay?" I swallow thickly. "I didn't say that," I tell him. "Will you, then?" he asks. I exhale, removing one hand from my pocket to run my fingers through my hair. I hate when he puts me in a position to disappoint him. I don't like disappointing him, but what other options do I have? "Scotty..." I start to say, but I'm not even sure what I want to articulate. I just trail off, sighing again. Then, Scotty breaks the silence. "What can I do to convince you to stay?" he asks. "Why do you want me to stay so bad?" I fire back, and it comes out in a harsher tone than I intended. But he's right. I can get snippy when I'm on the verge of further embarrassment, but this has an added element of frustration to it. I just want to grab him and shake him and tell him that this is just how I am. I don't like to intrude, or take up too much space, or have people go completely out of their way to accommodate me. But he just looks at me sadly, his eyes large and alert. "Isn't it obvious?" Time feels like it stops right here. I'm even cognizant of how corny that sounds in my head, but that's the only way I can describe how still everything feels. It's like nothing else around us is alive. It's just me and Scotty, staring at each other. I wonder if his heart is pounding like mine is, right in my ears. I wonder if his breathing is getting more labored, even though he looks as calm as ever. His eyes... They look so tender, and they're drawing me in. I find myself searching for any sort of hesitation, anything that would give me pause -- but I only find encouragement. I break. I reach out, grab a fistful of his jacket in the front, and pull him towards me. He lets out a little yelp in surprise before I snake an arm around his waist. My other hand rests on the back of his head to keep him secure as I lean in and plant my lips on his. And God, what a feeling it is. It's the strangest mix of relief and invigoration. Finally, I have my lips on the boy I've wanted for so long, the boy I love and cherish, someone I feel things for that I've never felt for anyone prior. Scotty's the one. This kiss feels too right for that not to be the case. It's like this kiss is evidence that soulmates are real. They're real, and I've found mine. Scotty's hands rest on my chest as he starts to kiss back, and I can't resist moaning when he reciprocates. Yes, Scotty. Thank you. He moves his lips back against mine, tilting his head so that the kiss can deepen. I pull him even closer to me, wishing we could just become one body. Frankly, I'm irritated by all these clothes separating us. I want nothing but skin on skin, lips on lips, hands wandering. But at least our mouths are in contact. I feel light. I feel like I'm on cloud nine, delirious with joy. I'm kissing Scotty. I'm fucking kissing Scotty. When the kiss breaks, Scotty pants softly, and I have to blink a few times for my vision to stop being blurry. Then, both of us laugh, flustered, blushing, still standing entwined... and in the middle of the fucking street, no less. This is very brash of me, but I reached my tipping point. Scotty can't look at me like that when I'm in such a vulnerable state. "Wow," he says, almost giggling. "Yeah," I say with a slight laugh, licking my lips. "I didn't really expect that," he murmurs. He didn't? What else was he implying with his "Isn't it obvious?" question? I only ponder this for a second, because when I look down at him, I see his eyes flicker to my lips. Suddenly, he's leaning back in to kiss me and give me a sweeter, shorter, more gentle smooch. His lips are warm and welcoming on such a crisp night. God, I could stay like this for hours. He pulls back from the kiss and then drops down to his feet, and only then do I realize that he was on his tippy toes. As if he couldn't get cuter... "We should go home," he suggests, his cheeks rosy and his smile unusually bashful. "Okay," I tell him, unable to stop smiling. I feel so satisfied right now. If God himself were to strike me down right now, I would feel fulfilled. Scotty hooks his arm into mine as we walk back to the car, and because I'm definitely too drunk to safely drive, I let him take the wheel. I'm just smiling to myself like a goon the entire drive. I can barely keep up with the conversation Scotty's trying to make because I'm so focused on the sensation of his lips, the feel of him pressing into me, the blush in his cheeks when we pulled back... It feels like I just starred in the movie of my dreams. God, I'm like a kid again getting all flustered and giddy like this, but I can't help myself. Scotty makes me this way. By the time we get back, it's late enough for Eric and Yasmine to be asleep. We kocaelide escort (https://hususu.com/escort/kocaeli-escort) quietly enter the house and lock up behind us before heading upstairs. I think about taking a shower, but I'm pretty beat. All I want to do right now is climb into bed and let sleep take me. "I'm gonna go lie down," I murmur, running my fingers through my hair before reaching out to grab the door handle to my bedroom. But Scotty stops me. "No you're not," he says, quickly grabbing my hand and tugging him further down the hallway -- towards his bedroom. "Scotty, wait..." "You're not leaving me hanging now, Uncle Ant," he tells me. I swallow thickly but let this boy lead me down the hall, right across from his parents' room and into his bedroom. He tugs me inside and then quickly shuts the door behind us -- and, for an added measure, locks it. I look around, taking in the sight of his meticulously put together room. Everything has its place, and the space is clean and tidy but still very obviously belonging to a teenager. He somehow manages to balance organization without losing personality, with his art pieces and plants and snazzy duvet. But I'm not here to critique his room. I'm here to... what, exactly? When I look at Scotty, he's got a soft smile on his face, and it makes me nervously excited. "What?" I ask. "Nothing," he says -- and then, he steps closer. I keep having to swallow the saliva that's accumulating in my mouth. Over and over, my Adam's apple bobs. "What are you--?" "Shhh," he says before pausing right in front of me. Then, he stands up on his tip-toes, lifts his arms up to wrap them around my neck, and brings his lips to mine. I think if I were sober, I would have stopped this. I would have done the proper thing and just said goodnight. But my inhibitions are way down, and Scotty is so fucking irresistable, and I have no control over my own body anymore. My arms simply move forward to wrap themselves around Scotty; my hands slide down to grip his ass; and before I even realize what I'm doing, I'm lifting Scotty up in my arms, spinning around, and pinning him against the door. He lets out a little grunt before laughing. "Feisty," he murmurs. "Shut up, kid," I mutter before kissing him harder this time. Being so close to him now, I can actually feel him moaning rather than just hear it. I can almost taste it, too: sweet, addicting. The kisses have graduated from soft necking to full-on making out, full of damp sighs and low groans and battling tongues. I let him tug on my hair for support as we kiss like we're that random couple we fictionalized as long-lost lovers at the bar, like we've been waiting for this moment for so long that we can't help but practically fight each other for our own personal desires, even though we crave the same thing. Scotty starts trying to remove my jacket by tugging it off of my shoulders. If he wants it, he can have it... I carry Scotty to his bed and toss him on top of his blankets. He grunts and chuckles and then props himself up on his elbows as he watches me shuck the jacket and my shirt in quick succession. Once I start undoing my pants, he just laughs, reaching forward to grab my wrist. "Slow down," he says. "There's no rush." I grunt. Easy for him to say. Part of me is afraid that this is a dream -- the type where, if I don't do everything I need to as quickly and as intentionally as possible, I'll wake up before I get to the good parts. Scotty just smiles and tugs on my belt, pulling me onto the bed with him. I just exhale through my nose as I half-rest my body on top of his. As soon as our lips meet, he wraps his legs around my waist, tugging me closer. I groan against his lips when I feel my bulge nudging the hardness in his. It feels validating to know he's as hard as I am right now. Honestly, it makes me feel like less of a creep. Slowly, I melt into him more, increasing the amount of body contact, ensuring we fit flush together as we kiss back and forth. Soon, Scotty nudges my side with his knee, and I reluctantly break the kiss. "What?" "You're heavy," he says with a little smile. I laugh. "But I'm comfortable." "Dick," he murmurs. "Just lemme get on top so I can breathe." I smile before wrapping my arms around him and rolling us over. Once I'm on my back, Scotty puts his hands on my pecs and sits up in my lap, smiling down on me with that innocent little expression of his. My hands automatically reach out to grasp his hips and keep him from falling. My feet are touching the floor, knees bent over the edge of the bed, so if he slips, he could topple right to the ground. The last thing I want is an injury totally breaking the mood. As I hold him, I realize that this is a sight I could get used to, especially when he sits up straight, grabs the hem of his shirt, and slides it off with one smooth motion. "Fuck, Scotty," I say, reaching out to slide my hands up his unblemished skin. He looks like he's been carved from marble: smooth, proportional, and with a lightly toned core. "God, you're beautiful," I whisper. He just laughs, smiling bashfully. "You really think so?" "Without a doubt," I tell him. "*Look* at you..." He just giggles a little, looking shy. I can't tell if it's pretend or not, but regardless, it makes him even more adorable to me, even more alluring. It makes my fingers want to memorize every inch of him. But Scotty has certain ideas in mind, apparently, because as soon as I start thinking about lying him down and exploring him, he starts sliding down my body until he's off the bed. Then, he nudges my legs open and gets to his knees. I feel my heart start to race as his hands reach for my belt to undo the clasp. Oh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. I should stop him, right? I shouldn't cross this line with him. We could just keep it playful, pretend like we're just innocently making out every now and then. But I do nothing to stop him. I don't think I can at this point. I mean, how many different variations of this scenario have I fantasized about? I've pictured him fumbling with my belt in the kitchen, in the living room, in the parking lot at his school, in a dressing room at some discount store, in my car, in *his* car, in this very bedroom... I'm on the precipice of having one of those fantasies realized. I can't go back now. Scotty gets my belt fully undone and then unbuttons my jeans before pulling down the zipper. Then, instead of stripping me of my pants, he decides to reach inside and fish me out. I grunt when I feel his warm, soft hand wrapping around my manhood -- and I feel the strangest mix of arousal and shame when he pulls me out into the open air. Part of me doesn't want him to look at me. What if I don't have the cock of his dreams? I want nothing but the best for Scotty, so all of a sudden, I feel incredibly self-conscious. His eyes go wide before he laughs a little, giving my cock a few tugs. "Jeez, Uncle Ant," he says, licking his lips. "You look way bigger up close." Then, he leans in to give the underside of my cock a cute little kiss. It feels good to be complimented like that, but nothing compares to that visual of him holding and kissing me tenderly. It's so cute and playful that I already know that that's an image I'll be jerking off to for the next week, no matter what happens. Slowly, Scotty manages to fish my balls out as well. He leans in and gives them a peck each before kissing his way up my shaft. Then, after a particularly adorable lick, he parts his lips and takes me into his mouth. The feeling is initially indescribable. I'm just stunned for a moment because I can't believe this is actually happening. Then, as he takes me deeper, I feel like I'm melting. A warmth that starts at my center spreads throughout my body slowly. It surprises me how cozy Scotty feels rather than sexually invigorating. He feels oddly like... home. When I think of that and how silly it sounds, I actually laugh, which makes Scotty pull off. "What?" he asks. "Nothing," I tell him, reaching out to stroke his cheek with my knuckles. "Just... feels really good." He smiles at me before chuckling. "Well, you haven't seen nothin' yet," he says playfully before guiding me back into his mouth. This time, he keeps his eyes locked on mine as he sinks lower and lower. I'm transfixed. For whatever reason, I can't pull away from his gaze, even as he manages to make every inch of me disappear. I moan softly, totally enveloped by his mouth and throat, my cock throbbing and oozing precum directly into his stomach. And then, with total ease, he slides back up to the tip and pops off with a mischievous grin, looking awfully proud of himself. I just put my face in my hands. I can't believe this is happening. Scotty's sucking me off -- and he's doing a hell of a good job. I'm by no means small, and no one I've been with has ever been able to successfully pull off that trick. I'm impressed. I grunt when I feel him get back to work, and he starts bobbing up and down at a tender pace, really just seeming to enjoy himself. He keeps a light grip on the base of my cock as he works me over, gingerly stroking but letting his lips and tongue and throat do most of the legwork. I glance down at him, watching the effortless way he moves. How does he manage to look so angelic when he's doing something that's not exactly considered biblical? He's so beautiful. Now I can't look away, impressed by his varied techniques. He'll go slow, or bob up and down quickly for a few seconds, or deep-throat me with every stride, or focus lustfully on the head... He even gives my balls a gentle, loving massage with his free hand. He's giving my goods the absolute works, and I'm convinced I really am dreaming. "I'm gonna cum, monkey," I murmur, moving my hands to his bedsheet and gripping it tight. I expect him to pull off, but the little fucker does the opposite: he tightens his grip on me, letting me know that he's not quitting. Fuck. He's going to let me cum in his mouth? The thought alone is so deliciously naughty that my orgasm, which had been slowly building, suddenly surges forward and takes over. I cum, and I cum hard. I hold back my moans as best as possible but a few escape me, coming out more like groaning sobs than anything else. My cock pulses repeatedly, and I lose track of how many shots I spurt into Scotty's hardworking mouth. He just takes it all with ease. Then, as I feel that sweet relief and slowly start to come down from the high, Scotty pulls off. He smacks his lips a little and then swallows thickly before smiling up at me. "You taste really good," he says, licking his lips and swallowing again. I blush. "Don't say that," I tell him. It only makes my still-hard cock twitch a bit. "I'm serious. Quentin's is... not that great," he says with a little laugh before taking me into his mouth again. He sinks down fully, nestling his nose into my bush before gently sliding back up. When he just has the head between his lips, he suckles on it, his tongue seeming to snake around and really milk out the last few drops of my load. Satisfied, he pulls off, drinking down whatever he collected. "Yours has... a sweetness to it, I think?" he says, sounding unsure and looking almost inquisitive, like he's doing research. I don't know why I feel embarrassed by that -- but I also feel sexy. Scotty likes the taste of me, huh? Would he want more? He puts me back into my jeans, zipping me up, fastening the button, and then resecuring my belt. It's an oddly intimate act that makes my chest throb. Once he's finished making me decent again, he climbs back up my body with a smile and then plants a thick kiss on my lips. Now that I've had some sort of sexual release, I keep the kiss slow and deep, my arms wrapping tenderly around him. "Thank you," I whisper against his lips. Scotty giggles. "For what?" "Doing that," I tell him. He just smiles at me, kissing my chin. "Thanks for letting me." I run my hands up and down his backside slowly before letting them settle on his waist. "I wanna do you, monkey." He just grins widely, looking excited. He even gives me a little nudge of his hips as if to remind me of the stiffness down there. "I was hoping you'd say that," he says. Eager to get my turn, I roll him back over, taking care not to crush him. I consider doing what he did and just undoing his jeans, but I quickly nix that as an option. I want him naked. Biting my lip, I undo the button on his jeans and then hook my fingers in at his waist to start pulling them down. He shimmies a bit, lifting his butt off the bed so that I can pull both his jeans and undies off in one go. I toss his clothes to the floor, my eyes already fixed on what he's got going on between his legs. I'm drooling. I stare at his sculpturesque cock and perfectly maintained groin. I reach up to see if my eyes are deceiving me, but nope: his balls are completely smooth. I roll them in my fingers a bit, and he squirms ever so slightly before I shift my hand tenderly to his cock. I hold him with the loosest grip imaginable, like he's too precious to be handled the same way a man like me would be. It's difficult not to just stare at him in admiration, in reverence. He's not too thick, not too thin, and has the pinkest head -- the shade of which often matches the blush in his cheeks when he's cold. I let my other hand slide up his thigh before feeling around his groin, grinning at the trimmed bush topping his goods. It looks meticulously maintained -- so different from me, who goes all-natural. His are short, shaped, and soft to the touch, making him look and feel completely like a piece of art. I slide my hands back down his legs before lifting one up slightly. Gently, I press my lips to his ankle and slowly kiss my way up to his cock. As soon as I arrive at my destination, he laughs, squirming. "What's wrong?" I ask. "Your scruff tickles," he says, pointing to my face. I chuckle. "Sorry." "It's okay," he tells me. "I like it." "Mmm, do you?" I ask, and then I press my face deep into his crotch. He laughs a little harder, gripping my hair and pushing on my forehead as if he doesn't know whether to fight me off or pull me deeper. I just take the opportunity to get a whiff of his scent, and when I take a deep inhale, my eyes roll back. Honestly, I think I moan more here than when Scotty was giving me head. This scent... That sweet, youthful musk... I could get addicted to this. My mouth is suddenly starving for him, and I don't hesitate to engulf him. As soon as my lips wrap around his member, he stops laughing, almost gasping in surprise. I suck him slowly, wanting to relish the feel of him, the taste of him, the smell. When I peer up, I notice he's just lightly squirming, eyes closed, chin tilted up. He keeps a grip on my hair, and I don't stop him when he starts moving his hips. I let him follow that instinct. Keep it up, kiddo. Let yourself feel good. I'll help you. I open up my throat for him, letting him gently rut. It makes me wonder how much practice little Scotty has had, or if he was just blessed with a lack of a gag reflex, because I immediately choke a bit -- and I don't care, either. I stay in place, allowing him to use me like he would a toy when he's alone late at night and needing to cum before bed. God, that's such an arousing thought: being Scotty's sex toy. Maybe this is a drunk-and-horny thought, but I'd be more than happy to be that for the rest of my damn life. Soon, Scotty relaxes his body a bit more and lets me take over. I eagerly start bobbing up and down, milking him with my lips and throat, slurping loudly. It only vaguely crosses my mind that these sounds are incredibly suspicious, and though we're being quiet otherwise, the sound of a good blowjob is unmistakable to sexually active adults. All it would take is Eric or Yasmine to get up to snag a glass of water and they'd hear me sucking the life out of their son. It adds a bit of excitement to the act, a nervousness that makes me even more desperate for his cum. I keep one hand on his taut stomach and the other on his cock, stroking him as I bob my head up and down. Every time I get to the head, I add suction to the slit and let my wet thumb graze over the sensitive underside of his tip. That seems to do the trick, because soon, Scotty says those magic words. "I'm gonna cum, Uncle Ant." I maintain my exact speed, movement, and technique, preparing myself for my reward. My heart starts to race in anticipation, and I do my best to focus, to try and pick out every detail of this moment. I want to remember this. The first thing I notice is the way Scotty's breathing and moans change. His breaths get shorter and huffier, and his moans get whinier and sexier. Then, I notice the way his body shifts: tighter grip on my hair, insistent thrusts of his hips, increase in temperature, cock throbbing against my tongue. And then, when he finally tips over the edge, the essence of him: sweet, thick, and powerful. He's more delicious than I imagined. What truly surprises me, though, is how much cum this boy has stored in his balls. It just keeps coming, and coming, and coming. I have to swallow in four substantial gulps to really get it all down, and even then, he's still dribbling when I pull off to get air. "Jesus, kiddo," I say, laughing and panting. I hold his cock, watching the last of his cum ooze out rapidly. "Whuh?" he asks, sounding dazed. "That was the biggest load I've ever taken," I tell him -- and I've been with a fair few men. He laughs, sounding tired. "Oh yeah," he says. "Sorry. I kinda... cum a lot." I grunt, loving that this is just a normal-sized load for little Scotty. "Don't apologize for that," I tell him, extending my tongue and lapping out that last stream of cum. I suck on the very tip of his cock, slurping the remainder of his load up and swallowing it down eagerly. And then, I just smile, feeling warm and fuzzy, especially in my stomach, right where his load is. It almost feels like I just took a shot of alcohol. Scotty just lies there with his legs spread, his cock resting towards his hip, spent. "That was hot," he says. I laugh. "Yeah..." I murmur, even though "hot" doesn't even begin to cover it. Suddenly, Scotty reaches out his hand. "Sleep with me," he says. I feel my body lurch towards him automatically, but I resist. "That's risky," I remind him. "I locked the door," he says. Stop enticing me, boy. "Won't they wonder where I am?" I ask. "They never bother you when you're sleeping," he says before he pats the bed next to him. "Enough with the excuses. Lose the clothes and get over here." Ugh. How can I resist him now, especially when there's no better way to end an evening than drifting off together after sex? Sighing heavily and trying to hide my smile, I stand up and fully take off my pants, leaving them on the floor beside his. Then, I climb onto the bed with him. I give his softening cock a quick and playful kiss before shifting to his lips and planting a sweet kiss against his smile. We shift to a comfortable position on the bed, cuddling up where we're face-to-face with our legs intertwined. Scotty pulls the blanket up over us and then slides even closer to me, allowing me to comfortably get my arms around him. This feels so perfect that I can't stop smiling like a fucking dork. Suddenly, I feel Scotty reach down and cup my goods in his palm, holding them tenderly. "What are you doing?" I ask, grunting. "I just like feeling you," he says. I sigh but kiss his forehead, gently rubbing his back with my knuckles. "No funny business?" He just laughs. "I had my fun, don't worry." I smile to myself. That you did, little guy. I just pull him closer, making sure my arms are cozily around him. "Night, monkey," I murmur. "Night, Daddy," he says -- and when I growl in response, he just giggles to himself. Little bastard...