Journey of Love
By The JourneymanChapter 3
I had to go to school the next day. Danny stayed home. His doctor said he wanted Danny to rest one more day and let the brain settle down. No excitement. Wish he had told us sooner.
The day was a blur to me. What the hell were we doing? We were 14 years old. How did Danny know he was gay? Hell, we hadn't even been with girls that much. I'd kissed a few, felt up a few. I don't know how far Danny got -- you can never believe what a guy says in the locker room -- but I don't think he'd ever taken one to bed, or gotten laid in the back seat (I was pretty safe on that assumption since neither of us could drive). So how could he be sure he was gay? Those were just the beginning questions. I hadn't even started thinking about how everyone would react to this.
Things were awful at school the next day. Just about everyone had heard about the accident. This was a small town, remember. Everyone wanted to know about Danny, and how it happened, and about my injuries, and I got tired of telling the story. I found myself repeating it over and over and over, and it started to sound the same. It began to lose its meaning, like saying the word "popsicle" about 100 times. It doesn't mean anything anymore. Maybe I felt that way as a defense. I still believed I had almost killed Danny. It hurt too much to face the truth. So I just recited the facts and didn't really think about it.
Everyone wanted to see my injury. Funny thing, that. Mark Twain wrote about the same curiosity in Tom Sawyer, when Tom had a bandaged up toe and everyone wanted to see it. I was a hero because I had a road rash on my chest the size of Rhode Island. I didn't have any dressing on it because -- well, hell, I don't know why. The doctor just told me to take off the bandages and pads. So here I was, all scabbed up, pulling up my VERY loose t-shirt so everyone could see. I felt like a freak in a show.
I was drained at the end of school. I went right over to Danny's, but his mom said he was sleeping. So I got on my little bike -- the one I rode when I was 12, since my big one was broken -- and went up to the swimming hole where things started. I rode along the bike path slowly, just daydreaming, trying to sort things out, when I almost ran into a jogger. Geez, they were going to take away my bike all together if I didn't stop.
"Sorry," I mumbled at the lady. "I didn't see you."
"You're kind of accident prone out here, aren't you?" she said with a smile. It was then I realized that she was the lady that had stopped to help Danny and me.
"Oh, geez, it's you," I said. "I didn't recognize you." I got off my bike and walked over to her. "Um, I wanted to say thanks for helping us the other day." I was trying to be sincere, but it came out all dorky. "I mean, I think you saved my buddy's life."
"No, I didn't," she said. "I know he wasn't that badly injured. But I'm glad I could help. How is your friend?"
"Oh, he's okay, I guess. Got a broken arm and a concussion. He has to stay home for a while."
"Yeah, I saw him hit the ground pretty hard," she said. "How are you? Did you get hurt at all."
"Well, I got this killer road rash on my chest. It's still sore, but it's healing pretty good."
"I thought you were pretty brave that day," she said, taking a drink from some bottled water she had. "You did exactly the right thing. You stayed with your friend the whole time. He must be pretty special."
Good god, did it show already? Was I now a walking advertisement for gay living? Hell, I wasn't even sure I was gay and this lady could tell. All those emotions must have passed over my face, because then she said, "I mean, he must be a close friend for you to do that."
"We've been friends since we were babies," I said. Ah, it's always best to tell the truth -- it'll set you free. "He's almost like a brother."
"Well," she said, taking another sip, "I've got another mile and a half to go. I'll watch out next time I jog this trail."
"Um, yeah, so will I, I mean, when I ride on it." Well, I certainly impressed her with that one. "Thanks again, lady."
"My name's Carly," she said, extending her hand.
"I'm Justin, and my friend's name is Danny." I shook her hand. She smiled at me.
"Nice to meet you, Justin. Bye." And she was off.
I wandered up the path on my bike, watching out for any other living creatures that might be there so I could try to kill them, too.
I sat there a long time. It got dark, and the breeze got chilly. That one warm day, the day of the accident, was a fluke. Summer's constant warmth was a month or more away. But I didn't want to go home. My mom had her act together the day she came to rescue us, but that was rare. I loved her dearly, but she was a real nervous type. Hyper, like. She was good to me and my dad, but the reason I wanted to stay was because she would go into a depression, and then she'd go from absolute inactivity to a burst of energy, cleaning, fidgeting, fixing, getting in the way, losing her temper and yelling, then back into depression. The Friday of the accident was a good day for her; she was about normal. The last two had been bad.
My dad worked a lot to avoid her. He stayed at the office till all hours. He worked in the computer business -- a manager of some sort. I knew he didn't have to put in all those hours, but like me, he didn't want to go home. So I knew I was safe out here at the swimming hole. Mom wouldn't think of me, and Dad wouldn't be home.
I knew I liked to look at boys. I knew what I did with Danny's toes when he was asleep the day of the accident. I knew I spent every hour I could with Danny, but he spent his time with me, too. That didn't make us gay. It made us friends. How did Danny know? Don't you have to sleep with a girl -- well, not just sleep, but fuck -- before you know for sure you don't like them? Do you have to not like girls to be gay? Shouldn't you do some comparison shopping? You know, try both sexes before you decide? I sure as hell didn't know if I was gay. But I'd had that wet dream about Danny. Oh, hell, that was just hormones. But my hand around Danny's cock. Jeez, it felt so natural, so good. When I looked at him, I wanted to give him all the pleasure I could. I wanted him to feel good. Maybe that was just guilt I still felt from the accident, but as I lay there at the swimming hole, I knew better.
It was pitch black when I realized I still had to ride my bike home. I knew the path pretty well, but I was afraid I'd ride off the path all the same. When I emerged from the woods, though, I knew it would be okay. There was a full moon, and the sky was crystal clear on the crisp evening. There were a million stars up there. The moon was a beacon, brighter than any headlight put on a bike. It lit the way perfectly, and I found myself easily following its light along the path. I pulled up into my driveway, and could hear my mom ranting at my dad. I stuck my head in the door, looked at him, and said simply, "Danny's." He nodded.
The light of the moon was brighter than ever. Down my driveway, along the sidewalk, dodging toys left there from the day, into Danny's driveway the moon led me. Its light led me to Danny.
As I turned into the driveway I could see his mom looking out the window over the kitchen sink. She looked right at me. As I walked in the door she was pulling out a skillet.
"Have you eaten tonight, Justin?" she asked. "I was feeling a little hungry so I thought I'd fix myself a grilled cheese sandwich. Do you want one, too?"
She knew me and my family. She wasn't hungry, but she knew I'd say no if I thought she was doing it especially for me.
"Sure, I'll join you for a grilled cheese," I said as my stomach growled its impatience.
She heated the pan, spread the butter on two bread slices and slid them into the pan. They sizzled. She rummaged about in the fridge for the cheese slices, unwrapped one and put it on one of the slices. Then she covered it with the other slice of bread and let it cook. A few minutes later she slid the perfectly done sandwich onto a plate already stacked with potato chips and a pickle and set it in front of me with a glass of milk. I dove into it.
When she started to wash the pan I asked, "Aren't you having one, too? I thought you aid you were hungry."
"Oh, cooking that took my hunger way," she lied. "Besides, that was the last slice of cheese."
"Oh, I didn't know that. You could have my other half."
"No, you go ahead and finish. I'm not hungry any more."
She finished washing up and I finished eating. I took the dishes to the sink, and she left to get a load of laundry out the dryer. I was still thirsty, so I went to the fridge to get some cold water. After filling my glass, I set the jug back on the top shelf, and as I closed the door, my eye caught sight of something -- a full package of cheese slices. I got a knot in my throat.
The only thing that brought me back and let me swallow that lump was Danny himself. Just as I was closing the refrigerator door, he came out of the bathroom, only a towel wrapped around him. He smiled as soon as he saw me, and I could only stare. He wasn't real muscular, but his trim body was delicious. His hair was just a little more tamed than normal; he'd combed it after toweling it, but I knew it wouldn't stay that way long. It never did. His toes were pink and perfect, his legs, hidden by the towel, were clear in my mind. His chest was perfect, and his nipples looked good enough to suck on again. And his smile -- it always transformed me. My heartbeat changed every time he smiled at me. It was healing, soothing. It always had been. No matter my problems at home, Danny could just smile at me and everything would be okay for a while. When the smile left, the jungle of my home life became dark again. I sighed quietly to myself.
"Hey, Justin. You staying here tonight?" he asked.
"Um, well, if I can, I don't want...I mean my mom's..." Hell, I was lost.
"Sure. Lemme get changed and we'll watch some TV. Not much, though. Mom says I gotta go back to school tomorrow." He grinned as he walked into his room, a grin that held a hint of deviltry.
Danny came out in a pair of Montana State University boxers. I think he had a cousin who went to school there or something. And a t-shirt. Barefoot.
"So, whatcha wanna watch on TV?"
"Danny, um, nothing. I mean, can we just go out and sit on the porch for a while?"
"Yeah, sure, I guess. What's up?"
"I don't know."
He got a funny look on his face, kind of scared. Not the bunny-rabbit-in-the-headlights look, but concern.
We settled into some lawn chairs his dad had put out a few days before.
Silence. The great thing about Danny was that he didn't feel a need to talk all the time. He could just be quiet. I used to not be, but being around Danny taught me the importance of being quiet. Sometimes I'd just be babbling to fill up the void, and Danny wouldn't say a word for the longest time. When I'd pause for a response, he'd just look at me. Silence. The first few times made me nervous. You try being quiet with someone. It's almost impossible. Then I started to show him I could be quiet too, just to piss him off, only it didn't. Then I began to realize how silly I sounded sometimes. And then I got quiet, too. We could be together and be quiet and be friends.
But tonight he was the first to break the silence.
"It's about yesterday morning, isn't it," he said, his voice thick with emotion.
"No," I lied. Danny saw through me.
"Justin, did I ruin everything? I wish I could take it all back. I wish I hadn't said anything. I wish I had just let everything alone. Oh, god..." his voice broke... "Oh, Jesus, I ruined it, didn't I?"
I didn't know what to say. I mean, I did know what to say, but I couldn't say it. I had these thoughts of me and Danny, me and a wife, me and my father, my father and my mother, me and Danny and his mother, me without my father, me without my mother. My bicycle injury hurt, I was tired, I didn't want to be gay, I was scared, and I knew, with all my heart I knew, deep inside my soul, my being, my mind, that Danny was my best friend and he would never hurt me, and that he was hurting now. And I couldn't say anything to ease his pain.
Danny looked at me, his eyes sad. There was no magic light in them. They were dead. They were tired and filled with pain. They looked into me, but were too weary to read me this time. His eyes searched my face, then met mine again. I looked away. My shoulders sagged.
"Justin?" he pleaded.
"Justin?" Just a whisper this time.
I stood up and put my hand on the door knob. I started to turn and look at him, but I couldn't. I turned the knob, pulled the door open, and went in.
"Good night, Justin," Danny's mom called out from the living room.
"G'night, Mrs. Shaw," I called.
"Where's Danny?" she asked.
"He's out on the porch. We were talking" well, he was talking, "and he decided he wanted to stay out a little longer. I'm really tired."
"Well, he's done nothing but lie in bed these last few days. I suppose it just feels good to be up," she said. "Good night."
"G'night," I said again. I brushed my teeth, went into Danny's room, stripped to my shorts, put on a pajama shirt to protect my chest against the sheets, and climbed under the covers.
But I didn't sleep. I stared at the dark ceiling, the slowly revolving ceiling fan above me, and I listened to the sound of distant cars. Through the heavy night air the sound of a train on the edge of town made itself known. I listened to the whole train pass through the town, and fade in the distance as it headed off across the countryside. I wanted to be on that train. I wanted it to take me away. But no, I didn't. The moment I had that thought, my heart grew heavy. A deep, gnawing sadness ate at my soul. I didn't want to be on that train, didn't want it to take me away. Why? The revolving fan, the gently billowing curtain on Danny's windows, the fading sound of the train all converged. I was getting dizzy, but my brain was working. My mind was trying to sort through things. I felt sweat run down the side of my face. I grasped at the sheets.
The train whistle sounded, far out of town, carried back by the soft breeze.
I'll tell you what, I hate it when I'm in a mood like that. I try to sort all this stuff out thinking everything I see is a symbol, a burning bush. Was the train carrying me to somewhere? Was the fan telling me something here was just going round and round, not moving? What the hell did that mean? What was the breeze and the curtains? Is there significance in that? The fact that the train is moving away and yet I can still hear it, is there something to that?
It was just my mind playing tricks on me. It had thrown all these distractions at me so it could get on with the business of sorting itself out. It said, "Think about this stuff for a bit while I work on bigger things. I'll get back to you." And I knew that as soon as the door opened.
It opened quietly, like Danny thought I was asleep. He slid in sideways to keep down the light. I couldn't see his face because it was dark. But he stood at the foot of the bed, head down. Then he looked up at me. I know he saw my eyes, because I was looking right at him. He took a deep breath, and even though I couldn't see, I knew he was looking right at my eyes. He reached down to a nightlight plugged into the wall and turned it on. There wasn't much light, but there was enough.
His eyes drilled into mine, not in anger, but in hope. He slowly pulled his T-shirt up over his head. I gasped at the sight of his bare chest, small nipples hard from the cool night. He hooked his thumbs inside his Montana State boxers, pulled them over his slender hips, and let them pool at his feet. Never taking his eyes off me, he climbed onto the bed, crawled up, straddled me, and lowered his head till his lips brushed mine.
"If I'm going to ruin everything," he whispered, "I'm going to take everything I can with me."
He lowered his weight onto me, and pressed his lips against mine. His tongue made its way into my mouth and began to play with mine, and he ground himself into me.
His arms wound around me, and his hands separated behind me, one holding my upper back, the other with the cast making its way to my lower back. He breathed deeply as he kissed me, his breath minty from the toothpaste. He moved his mouth around mine as his body began to writhe on top of mine. I could feel his hardness against my leg. He moaned softly, sensuously. He didn't touch an erotic part of my body except my lips. His upper hand moved to the nape of my neck, then up into my hair and tangled itself there. He began to move harder against me, not touching my cock, but rubbing his erection against my boxers.
The kiss went on, unbroken by either of us. My arms lay at my sides, and once the shock of the kiss passed, I became aware of my brain again. It was telling me something.
Kiss him back, you fool. It became clear. That train, the fan, the curtains, they meant nothing. My mom, my dad, Danny's mom, they meant nothing. The road rash, which I also became aware of, meant nothing. One thing meant something. Danny. Danny meant something. Danny meant everything.
Still he kissed me. I was stunned by the sensuousness, softness and urgency of the kiss. I finally found the sense to move my tongue against his. My arms still lay at my sides; it was enough just to let my tongue make love to his.
Danny held himself off my chest, not wanting to irritate the road rash I still suffered from. But his cock was now pressed against mine, and his arms held me in a tender embrace. He breathed through is nose, never breaking the kiss. His hands moved around me. He never speeded up the grinding against me, and when I tried to, he pushed against me to stop. Then he pulled his tongue back and began pulling away from the kiss.
As he broke the kiss, Danny moved down. He kissed my cheek, then my chin, then the soft underpart, the part the jaguar goes for in his prey. I was Danny's prey, but this was not a violent act. He kissed me where the throat is its most tender, sucked gently on it, licked it. He nibbled on an ear lobe, now pressing cock against cock. His kisses were deep and filled with passion. His right hand was still tangled in my hair, stroking and gently grabbing, as if he was afraid I'd get away, but willing to let me go if I tried.
I didn't know what to do with my arms, so I did nothing. I lay there, letting Danny do what he wanted. He moved down a little more, licking to my chest, to the top of pajama shirt. Slowly his arms let me back down onto the bed, and he began to unbutton my shirt. As he opened it, he saw my injury for the first time. His eyes got wide, and he gasped. He looked at it, and a tear rolled down his cheek. He was sitting on my cock, and then he bent down to gently kiss the top of my chest, then the breastbone, the middle of the abrasion, but so gently I almost didn't feel it. It caused no pain, only joy.
Then he was suddenly at work on one of my nipples, which had been spared the scrapes. I gasped loudly, the loudest sound either of us had made since he came into the room. It was the same reaction I got from him Sunday morning. He kissed my left nipple, which hardened and stood up immediately. Then he took it into his mouth and sucked gently, wetly on it. His tongue played over it, teasing it with just the tip, then wetting it with a broad swipe. His teeth scraped gently, the bit lightly on the point. His left hand played with my right nipple meanwhile, which had also hardened. He just pinched it gently between his thumb and forefinger. He rolled it in his fingers, and I arched my back involuntarily, forcing myself into his mouth.
He moved his mouth to my right nipple, being careful to put no weight on the rest of me. His right hand with the cast moved clumsily to the now-wet nipple, and his thumb played over it, sliding against the wetness. My right nipple now felt his tongue and teeth, and the waves of pleasure intensified. My cock was tingling, and I knew I was going to blow a load that might put a hole in my shorts. I wasn't there yet, but there was no question that's where I was headed. Danny knew, too, but he slid his hips off to the side and away from my cock. He continued to grind his against me, but now against my thigh again. I could finally move my hands, but all they'd do is clutch at the sheets.
After an endless time, Danny moved from my nipples with one last broad swipe, and pushed himself down lower on the bed. The rash started just above my belly button, and it was my belly button he attacked next. He kissed all around it, licked it and tickled it. His tongue was like a tiny penis probing gently my innie. He gently sucked on it and nibbled around it, till I was on the verge of giggling. But that would have broken the mood, and Danny would have none of that.
Lower on the bed he pushed himself. His face was now even with my cock, still encased in my boxers. He sat up and began to pull my shorts down, and I raised my hips to let him. I have to tell you that all I could do was stare at him this whole time. My eyes never left him, as if I was in a trance. I was in a trance. He had total control over me. He slid the boxers down my legs and I raised them so he could take them off my feet. As he did, he gently sucked my pinkie toe into his mouth, and bathed it in his saliva. I sighed at the feeling.
He lay back down, his mouth near my crotch. He began kissing me around the base of my cock, around the sparse pubic hair down there. He never touched my cock, now aching for its own stimulation since he had stopped grinding against me. He kissed around it, and down my legs, which I spread open to give him room. Slowly, without breaking contact, he moved between my legs, but still did not take my erection. His hands were grabbing my ass and kneading it. Our breathing was heavy and loud in the quiet room. It was steamy in there, with only a breeze through that open window to stir the air a little. He kissed down to my balls, which he took gently, one by one, into his sweet mouth. First the right, rolling it around, licking it while it was in there, then the left. He let it gently out of his mouth, and kissed below them, that area right behind my balls, in front of my pucker.
And then, when I thought I'd come whether he touched me or not, he moved to the base of my cock, which was straining upward. He touched the very base with the tip of his tongue, then with the broad part of his tongue. When it was wet, he began working his way up, so achingly slowly. He didn't do it in one stroke. He licked and licked, wetting the underside of my hard penis till he was right below the head, that super-sensitive spot where all the nerves seem to come together.
He lifted himself up slightly, and then the moment I'll never forget as long as I live, the moment that defined the rest of my life. It was the moment I was reborn. He worked up the saliva in his mouth, gently held my penis in his left hand, licked his lips, and looking at my cock with pure love, lowered his mouth over it and closed around it.
I inhaled and thought I'd never exhale again. My cock was in Danny's mouth. His tongue licked at the precum I had leaked, and teased that spot again must below the underside of the head. One more and I knew it would be all over. He sucked gently, then urgently. He tried to take all five inches of me, but started to choke. He bobbed gently, working his hand, swirling his tongue over the head, sucking and pumping. I pushed myself into him and began to meet his bobs. My ass was moving on the bed, my toes were curling and I grasped the sheets in my hands. He speeded up, then pulled up so just the head was in his mouth and sucked hard. Then back down over the shaft, his tongue working its magic. I thrust hard into him, and his sucking increased. I pushed into him, felt his hand moving up and down, felt his mouth on the head. His other hand played with my balls, then tickled me behind them. That was it. I spoke the first words of that miraculous night. "Danny, I'm cumming, man, I'm gonna cum...Danny. Oh, jeez, Danny, oh, god....I can't..." but the rest was nothing but a sustained groan of ecstasy.
My balls erupted and I felt the flow of semen up my shaft. It exploded into Danny's mouth. He never wavered. He swallowed and swallowed. He kept that sweet warm mouth over my cock as I shot a second, third and fourth time. By the fifth time he was having trouble keeping up, and began to pull off the sensitive head. That sent two more spurts into his mouth, and he took them.
Finally I was done, and my cock so sensitive I prayed he would stop. But he was so in tune with me and my emotions that I didn't have to say anything. With a gentle kiss on the tip, he let go of my cock. My ragged breathing slowly returned to normal, and I felt my muscles relax. Danny cleaned me up, now looking directly into my eyes, as if trying to see what was there. And I know what he saw. It was love. Not lust, not mere friendship. It was love, deep, everlasting. He had broken through. His gamble had paid off. I felt a fulfillment and satisfaction I had never felt. It's funny, but in giving that love, I got in return everything. My emotions were filled, and overflowed.
Danny cleaned me up wordlessly, put the boxers over my feet (again with a kiss on my toes) and pulled them up, then buttoned my shirt.
Then he lay down next to me, never touching himself or asking me to. He lay on his side, away from me, and I rolled onto my side, spooning him. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him against me, and said the only words that could finish the night.
"Danny, I love you. I love you."
And I held him till he cried himself to sleep.
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