between Terlingua and Lajitas, drew a tiny Virgin of
Guadalupe in the corner, her hands on her blue-robed hips
and a disapproving frown on her face.
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I slipped it between two pieces of watercolor paper with
a note on the front—
Eyes only—
and left it on his desk. Then
I stretched out on my green velvet sofa, watched out the
window as the quiet dawn colored the sky shell pink.
He crawled into my arms an hour later, a sleepy nuzzle
on my neck. “Jesse, I haven’t had a shower. I’ve been out
running.”
“Oh, yummy. You all sweaty, zo-zo?” He nudged my arm
above my head, sniffed at my armpit.
“Ew! You nut, what are you doing?”
“Take your shirt off.” He was tugging at the hem, pulling
it up, and I stripped it off. Now his hand was slipping into
the waistband of my running shorts. “What have you got on
under here, a jock?” He lifted the waistband, peeked inside.
“Oh, fuck me! You
are
wearing a jock. Come on, let’s get
these off.”
I raised my hips, let him tug the running shorts down
my legs. “Jesse, I haven’t had any coffee yet!”
“Your own fault, slipping out of the house when the
moon was full. I kept waiting to hear you howling.” He pulled
the shorts off my feet, stared down at me. “My word. Would
you look at that. Roll over.”
“What?”
“Roll over! Don’t you know what a man’s butt looks like
in a jock?”
“Um, yeah?” I rolled over, and he crawled up on my legs,
filled both hands with my ass, slipped a finger under the
elastic and popped it. “Ow. Jesse, don’t make me kick your
ass.”
He was giggling now, and he reached down, licked my
lower back, slid his mouth down, and took a big sucking bite
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out of my butt. I could feel him back there, a blond vampire
boy. Then I realized what he was doing. “Are you giving me a
hickey? Now I really am gonna kick your ass.” He reached
over the side of the couch, picked up a magic marker, and
wrote something next to the hickey.
“There. All done. Now roll over again.” I rolled over, and
he studied my rising cock, stretching the cotton knit of the
jock. “Well, look who’s awake!” He slid his fingers under the
elastic, slipped the jock down off one leg. “My, what big teeth
you have, Grandmother!”
I caught him around the waist, lifted him, settled him
between my legs. I wrapped him up until he couldn’t move.
“Hello, Red Riding Hood. Are you lost in the woods, little
girl?” He giggled against my neck, curled against me, and I
wrapped my arms around him and gave him a squeeze. He
was slender, so beautiful and elegant. I felt like I could crush
him between my hands.
“I love the cartoon. You are a fucking cartooning genius,
my friend.” He leaned up on his arms. “So, my little zo-zo.
What shall we do?” He reached down, captured my cock in
his hand. “I told you that you could have me.”
“I don’t think so. Not if that would require my moving.
I’m kind of relaxed here. Anyway, I got you trapped now and
I don’t want to let you go.”
He gave a little wiggle, testing the strength of my arms
and legs. “So here we are, nose to nose, mouth to mouth,
cock to cock. What shall we do?”
“I bet I can make you come first.”
He grinned down at me, his eyes dark. “I bet I can make
you come just by kissing you.”
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“Not a chance. I’m a rock-hard devil dog, you dig? And
you’re a pretty little flower, a sweet-smelling blossom. And
I’m going to pluck your petals.”
“And eat them.” He giggled again, his eyes dancing.
“Will you get undressed, Jesse? I haven’t seen you.”
I let him get up, and he looked at me, his face so tender
I felt the weight of it crushing something in my chest. He
lifted his shirt over his head, slid out of his jeans, and
tugged his boxers off. He stood next to me, let me look at
him. He was almost delicate, his chest ivory, nipples a
delicate rose pink. He stood there while I looked at him, and
a flush of color, wild rose, spread across his chest and up his
neck. The hair on his belly, in a faint line down into his
groin, was delicate and gold. I reached for him, lifted the
heavy, full cock. It was rose pink, the same color as the flush
on his chest. “What do you want me to do? How do you want
me? Anything, baby.”
He climbed back into my arms, and we both shivered at
the sensation, skin sliding against skin in the cool morning
air, the rough glide of hair, and then our cocks were nestled
together. “Hey, that’s what I’m supposed to say.
Anything,
baby.”
I wrapped my legs around him again, stroked the warm
ivory skin of his back. I looked so dark with him in my arms.
He reached up, put both hands against my face, looked
down into my eyes. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”
I felt the breath catch in my throat, and I stared up at
him. “Is this part of how you’re going to get me to come first,
just by kissing me?”
He kissed me very delicately, just on the corner of my
mouth. “Well, that’s something you’re going to have to figure
out, now isn’t it?”
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I sighed, lay back down. “I thought so.” He giggled
again, kissed the other corner of my mouth, sucked my
bottom lip into his mouth and nibbled on it, just a bit. “
Out
in the West Texas town of El Paso, I fell in love with a Navajo
boy
.”
He had a good singing voice, and he kissed me in
between lines, stared down into my eyes as he swore
undying love, killed a wild cowboy who was vying for my
attention, a cowboy wild as the West Texas wind, and ended
with a bullet in his chest, dying for love, dying in my arms.
He rested his head on my chest, then he reached over
the side of the couch, pulled something from the pocket of
his jeans. In one hand he had a blue condom. In the other, a
small plastic pouch of lubricant. I took the lube, looked at
the label. Tequila flavored. Good God.
I looked at him for a long moment, seeing just a bit of
shy in his eyes, just a bit of a question. Then I unwrapped
my arms and legs, took the condom. This part I knew how to
do. “Get on your knees, cowboy.”
He scrambled up, trembling, and he watched me roll the
condom up my cock. I tore open the plastic on the lube,
squirted it out on my fingers. Then I waited for him. His face
was flushed, that wild rose color in his cheeks, and he was
breathing hard, one hand rubbing his chest. He turned
around, gave me his back, then climbed up on the couch.
I reached for his waist, pulled him to the edge. He
looked back over his shoulder, and my heart did that slow
roll again, turning over in my chest. The need in his face,
wanton and shy at the same time, those wild blue eyes—the
look of him burned through my mind. I slid my fingers
against his anus. I couldn’t look at him again. I seated my
cock, waited for him to lean back against me. He moaned,
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rocked a little, and I felt the head slip in. Jesse dropped his
head, and I could see the bones of his back, the delicate
bones of his neck.
You’re mine
, I thought, shoving roughly
inside. This was what he wanted.
Anything you want, Jesse.
I’ll fuck you as hard as you want. Because what you need is
mine to give.
I didn’t say it out loud. We were speaking without
words, our needs travelling along our nerves, along our blood
vessels, our skin damp and hungry. I shoved inside, shoved
again until I was buried in his body up to the balls. I leaned
over, slid my fingers along his spine until I could touch the
damp hot skin at the back of his neck. He turned his head,
slipped one of my fingers in the corner of his mouth, and
dark passion crawled up out of my belly, started to wrap
around my throat, but I stomped it down hard. This was for
Jesse. I rocked him hard until he reached between his legs,
stroked his cock once, twice, then he was coming, a
groaning, thumping lusty cry that went straight to my balls,
nearly tore them loose when I exploded inside of him.
He was shaking so hard I reached out, still deep inside
him, held him against my chest, my mouth making its slow
way along his shoulder. “Shhhh, hush, baby. Everything’s
okay. I’ve got you. You’re right here in my arms, all safe and
warm, and I’ll never let you go, I promise, Jesse. I promise.”
He turned his head, and his mouth found mine. He
didn’t say anything, just looked at me with those blue eyes,
all warm and sleepy, studied me like he’d never seen me
before. His lips curved into a smile. Then he reached over
and kissed me, a sweet little sigh against my mouth, and I
felt myself slip out of him.
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JESSE took his clothes and went over to his side of the
studio, and I went into the house and took a shower. When I
was drying off, I caught sight of my ass in the mirror. The
magic marker had faded, but I could still read it:
I belong to
Jesse
, with a little heart drawn around the hickey. I was
grinning when I got dressed and joined The Original out on
the front porch. We leaned back, drinking coffee, and when
Uncle George drove up, climbed out of his pickup truck, and
joined us on the porch, it was just three old devil dogs,
drinking coffee and contemplating the morning. The silence
was a blessing.
Jesse came out of the studio, took some photographs of
us sitting on the porch, then went back into the house. After
a few minutes I heard some banging of pots coming from the
kitchen. I stood up and stretched. “How about chili for
lunch?”
The Original nodded.
“Sounds good,” said Uncle George. It was the first thing
he’d said since he climbed out of his truck.
I went into the kitchen, put my coffee cup in the sink.
Jesse had his head in the freezer. “Get some hamburger out.
I’m gonna make chili.”
He looked at me then, a smile deep in his eyes, mouth
curving sweetly, and I reached for him, pushed him against
the kitchen wall, took a bite out of his mouth. His hands
were gentle on my chest.
Uncle George sighed from the kitchen doorway. “I knew
it was heading in this direction,” he said.
“I’m just trying to ignore it,” The Original said. “You
boys want to make a pan of cornbread to go with that chili?”
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After lunch I went out to the studio to work, found a
folder on my desk marked
Eyes Only.
Jesse had drawn the
two of us as Yoda and young Luke Skywalker. In the first
frame, Yoda, with a Navajo face, was sitting, his robes
around him, while young Jesse-Luke, lightsaber hanging
from his belt, said,
But Master Yoda, I’m not afraid!
In the second frame, I’d stood, parted my Yoda robes to
reveal a massive erect green cock. Jesse-Luke cowered back
against R2D2.
You will be!
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Chapter Eight
I WENT to work after lunch, and I could hear Jesse on his
side of the studio, mixing paint, Marty Robbins playing on
the little CD player. I had the first character. I’d remembered
during lunch, a tall skinny kid from Pascagoula, Mississippi,
telling me that B.B. King’s name stood for Blues and
Barbecue. He was constantly getting asked to play
basketball, something he seemed to be used to. He always
accepted with good-natured resignation, but his real love
was the Delta blues. I sketched him out on the whiteboard—
long skinny legs, helmet pushed back on his head, the wires
of his iPod in his ears. He would be listening to old
recordings of Son House, maybe, or Robert Johnson. He was
going to be my radioman.
Jesse stuck his head around the canvas and scarf
barrier. “You have the Internet set up on your computer?”
“Yep.”
“Can you pull up a picture of Freida Kahlo’s
Blue