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Written by :linkbenjaminmahir: and :linkkindar:

Posted using PostyBirb", "writing": "\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[b]I94, heading west, ND, January 14th[/b]\n\n“Everyone has a family,” Thomas said. When the kangaroo didn’t react to the statement, he added. “Even people raised by quads in the wild have their packs.”\n\nThat caused Grant to glance in his direction. “You read a lot?”\n\n“Not as much as I used to,” Thomas replied. “A lot of my time’s been taken with—” he stopped, realizing what the kangaroo had done. “You’re dodging the question.”\n\n“You considered there’s a reason for that?”\n\n“I spilled the beans on my family, so I think it’s only fair you give a little, but if you don’t want to speak about it, you could simply say that, instead of redirecting.”\n\nGrant remained silent for a few seconds, eyes fixed on the road. Then he sighed. “My parents died when I was too young to really remember them.”\n\nThomas felt his ears burn and wondered if they could get hot enough to melt him away. That was not what he’d expected.\n\n“I remember New Orleans. I had to read up on when the hurricane hit. It was Jezebel.”\n\nOh great, that he’d made him remember their death was bad enough, but in a hurricane? Thomas vaguely remembered Jezebel as the one which had nearly destroyed the city a second time. No wonder he’d said he didn’t have any family. Still, there had to have been some good to come from it.\n\n“So some family out of state took you in?”\n\nGrant stared at him. “What?”\n\n“You don’t have an accent.”\n\n“I do have an accent.” The kangaroo refocused on the road. “Just not the one you’re listening for. We were on vacation in New Orleans. We were from Boston. And,” he added as Thomas felt worse for his preconception. “I was raised in the Midwest.” Grant then added. “Your father sounds like the guy who raised me.”\n\nThe way he said that made it sound like it wasn’t a good thing.\n\n“He’s not bad,” Thomas protested weakly.\n\nGrant shrugged. “I guess I was stuck with him long enough to lose more of my East-coast accent. Should have left sooner,” he muttered.\n\n“Sorry,” Thomas whispered.\n\nGrant startled and shook himself. “I’m the one who should apologize. You couldn’t know.” He patted the dash. “I found her, fixed her up, and we’ve been traveling the country ever since.”\n\n“You’ve been living out of your pickup since then?” Thomas asked in disbelief. “How much older than me were you?”\n\n“A little. And I also crash on couches, when they’re willing to let me while I help around the house. What’s your uncle like?”\n\n“Nerio’s a nice guy,” Thomas answered. “He and his husband have a carpentry business.” Thomas realized Grant had redirected the conversation toward him and didn’t care. Fewer chances of him putting his foot in his mouth that way. “I get to see them every few years at one of the holidays.”\n\n“Do you think me driving you there will earn me enough brownie points to merit the couch for a couple of days, or will they need me to help around? I’m pretty decent at carpentry.”\n\nThomas chuckled. “Oh, I think they’ll offer better than the couch for a lot less than housework.” The tilted ear was enough to make him realize what he’d said, implied, and that he couldn’t just wave it aside. At least, this foot in his mouth embarrassed him, not brought up bad memories for Grant. “My uncles are well, pretty open with sleeping with other guys, other than the two of them agreeing to it and being there at the same time. They’ll enjoy other guys, so if you’re into guys, you can score their bed without much effort, I think.”\n\n“You…” Grant hesitated. “Seem to know a lot about your uncle’s sex life.”\n\nThomas sighed. “Nerio’s a Royer.”\n\n“I’m afraid that doesn’t tell me as much as you think.”\n\nHe sighed again. “My mom’s side of the family is quite… frisky, and they aren’t afraid of recounting their exploits.”\n\nGrant smiled. “So those holidays get…”\n\n“Too damned embarrassing,” Thomas muttered.\n\n“In that case, I’m a little surprised you haven’t been regaling me with stories. A good-looking kid like you has to have quite a few exploits under his belt at this point.”\n\nThomas stared at the kangaroo, mouth agape, and ears broadcasting enough heat to start up climate change again.\n\n* * * * *\n\n[b]Lewiston, MT, January 15th[/b]\n\n\n\nThomas watched the city sign pass, the name remaining embedded after it was behind them. When Grant had said they’d stop for the night in the next town, Thomas hadn’t expected that name to be the one.\n\n“Are you sure this is where you want us to stop?” He tried to keep his voice steady. The name meant nothing. “I can take over the driving for a while. I have my license.” He reached for his phone to show him and remembered he didn’t have it.\n\nThe kangaroo chuckled. “You have something against the city of Lewiston?”\n\nThomas wanted to say no. The fact that was Madoc’s last name meant nothing. It was just a coincidence. Grant pulled into a parking lot with half a dozen stores, and three times that in parked vehicles.\n\n“I was serious about taking over the driving,” Thomas said, eyeing the white van parked between a blue sedan and green SUV. Gilbert wasn’t the only one with a white van, he told himself. There were thousands of those, just around Minneapolis, probably.\n\n“I’m going to guess your experience is with cars.” Grant stopped the car in one of the many free spots before the Subway. “Pickups aren’t the same and winter’s not the time to learn.” He took a crumpled bill from a pocket and handed it to Thomas. “Get us something to eat while I drive around for a place to park for the night. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”\n\nThomas stared at the twenty-dollar bill. What were the odds two adults would hand him physical currency in two days? He opened the door and immediately considered closing it, but he was getting hungry, too. He tightened the jacket and hurried into the restaurant, where it was warm.\n\nWell, Siberia probably felt warm compared to the outside. How could anywhere be this cold?\n\n“Welcome to Subway,” a muscular wolverine around Thomas’s age greeted from behind the counter. “What can I satisfy you with today? We have a two-for-one special on cold cut and all-veggie foot-longs.”\n\n“So I get two feet?” Thomas turned to the door, but the pickup was already pulling out of the lot. He’d forgotten to ask what Grant wanted.\n\n“That is what two foot-longs means,” the wolverine replied, still smiling. “Does that mean you’ll want two foot-longs?”\n\n“I don’t know if I can swallow two feet,” Thomas answered, looking at the menu on the wall behind the counter. “The longest I’ve had at this point is sixteen inches.”\n\n“Excuse me?” the wolverine said.\n\n“I didn’t even gag,” Thomas added. The clerk’s surprise and confusion only now registering. “How much do you have to offer?”\n\nOh, dear God. What had he just said? There was no way he could have told a stranger that. He wasn’t like his parents. And to hit on him like that? He wasn’t that needy, was he? It had only been what… three days since the frat?\n\nThe wolverine looked around furtively, and Thomas found himself mimicking him and confirming that they were as alone as when he’d entered. Would other customers have kept him from staying that? Thinking back on the few similar experiences he’d had, he concluded the only chance would be if they were women.\n\n“Not that I’m into guys,” the clerk said, in a casual tone, “but nothing near that.” He leaned forward. “You are joking about that, right?”\n\n“No,” Thomas said, a mix of indignation at having his word suspected and amazement at how not bothered the wolverine was. “Sixteen-inch, right down the gullet.”\n\nThe clerk looked at the cabinets holding unbaked bread. “I wonder if I can make one that long that’ll fit in the oven? Because now that you’ve said it, I kind of want to see it.”\n\nThomas laughed, his unea vanishing. “My ride’s going to be back before it’s ready, and I can’t stick around for it. But I will have two cold-cut foot-longs, regular bread. And no, I’m not deep-throating one of those. Twelve-inch isn’t much of an exploit anymore.”\n\nThe wolverine stared for a second before turning to get the bread out of the tray. “Just where are you from? I’ve never caught a glimpse of a guy that big in gym class.”\n\n“Me neither. He’s an international student in my frat.”\n\n“He from Australia?” the clerk asked. “You know,” he added as Thomas tried to work out what he meant. “Because everything’s big down under?”\n\nThomas imagined Chima as an Australian, or any of the other guys in the frat. “Now you just made me wish there was someone from Australia in my frat.” Instead of blushing, he grinned as the wolverine laughed.\n\nThomas had the clerk add vegetables, then paid and left with them.\n\nHe felt good. He’d never spoken this freely before and not ended up as a puddle of embarrassment. Maybe the road trip was doing him some good. If he could get through a dozen conversations like this, maybe he’d start over-sharing with his family, too. Of course, it remained to be seen if he could be this free with a girl around. Only then could he know if he’d be able to do this with his mother and sister in the room.\n\nThe cold hit him with a hammer and he looked for Grant’s pickup. The ten minutes had to be up at this point. His gaze was drawn to the white van, and he wondered where the owner had gone to. None of the stores here lent themselves to long stays. Maybe it was abandoned? If he checked, it would be on blocks.\n\nHe’d taken a step in that direction for something to do while he waited as the side door slid open. “I told you, this is where we parked.” A monkey bundled in a heavy jacket exited. Too much of him was covered, Thomas couldn’t recognize him. Even the accent and the dark brown face fur with the pale cream around it couldn’t be enough to explain the certainty he felt as to who that was. “Arguing with me for twenty minutes about moving doesn’t change what I saw. It just means we aren’t eating any sooner. Get dressed. Even I need to eat something that doesn’t come out of a cock.”\n\nHow? How was Limbani here, glaring inside a van that couldn’t be Gilbert’s. \n\n“No,” Thomas whispered, as the van shook and he saw a form within it move. “There is no fucking way.” He made out voices, indistinct, but definitely more than one. “They can’t be here.”", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "















I94, heading west, ND, January 14th

“Everyone has a family,” Thomas said. When the kangaroo didn’t react to the statement, he added. “Even people raised by quads in the wild have their packs.”

That caused Grant to glance in his direction. “You read a lot?”

“Not as much as I used to,” Thomas replied. “A lot of my time’s been taken with—” he stopped, realizing what the kangaroo had done. “You’re dodging the question.”

“You considered there’s a reason for that?”

“I spilled the beans on my family, so I think it’s only fair you give a little, but if you don’t want to speak about it, you could simply say that, instead of redirecting.”

Grant remained silent for a few seconds, eyes fixed on the road. Then he sighed. “My parents died when I was too young to really remember them.”

Thomas felt his ears burn and wondered if they could get hot enough to melt him away. That was not what he’d expected.

“I remember New Orleans. I had to read up on when the hurricane hit. It was Jezebel.”

Oh great, that he’d made him remember their death was bad enough, but in a hurricane? Thomas vaguely remembered Jezebel as the one which had nearly destroyed the city a second time. No wonder he’d said he didn’t have any family. Still, there had to have been some good to come from it.

“So some family out of state took you in?”

Grant stared at him. “What?”

“You don’t have an accent.”

“I do have an accent.” The kangaroo refocused on the road. “Just not the one you’re listening for. We were on vacation in New Orleans. We were from Boston. And,” he added as Thomas felt worse for his preconception. “I was raised in the Midwest.” Grant then added. “Your father sounds like the guy who raised me.”

The way he said that made it sound like it wasn’t a good thing.

“He’s not bad,” Thomas protested weakly.

Grant shrugged. “I guess I was stuck with him long enough to lose more of my East-coast accent. Should have left sooner,” he muttered.

“Sorry,” Thomas whispered.

Grant startled and shook himself. “I’m the one who should apologize. You couldn’t know.” He patted the dash. “I found her, fixed her up, and we’ve been traveling the country ever since.”

“You’ve been living out of your pickup since then?” Thomas asked in disbelief. “How much older than me were you?”

“A little. And I also crash on couches, when they’re willing to let me while I help around the house. What’s your uncle like?”

“Nerio’s a nice guy,” Thomas answered. “He and his husband have a carpentry business.” Thomas realized Grant had redirected the conversation toward him and didn’t care. Fewer chances of him putting his foot in his mouth that way. “I get to see them every few years at one of the holidays.”

“Do you think me driving you there will earn me enough brownie points to merit the couch for a couple of days, or will they need me to help around? I’m pretty decent at carpentry.”

Thomas chuckled. “Oh, I think they’ll offer better than the couch for a lot less than housework.” The tilted ear was enough to make him realize what he’d said, implied, and that he couldn’t just wave it aside. At least, this foot in his mouth embarrassed him, not brought up bad memories for Grant. “My uncles are well, pretty open with sleeping with other guys, other than the two of them agreeing to it and being there at the same time. They’ll enjoy other guys, so if you’re into guys, you can score their bed without much effort, I think.”

“You…” Grant hesitated. “Seem to know a lot about your uncle’s sex life.”

Thomas sighed. “Nerio’s a Royer.”

“I’m afraid that doesn’t tell me as much as you think.”

He sighed again. “My mom’s side of the family is quite… frisky, and they aren’t afraid of recounting their exploits.”

Grant smiled. “So those holidays get…”

“Too damned embarrassing,” Thomas muttered.

“In that case, I’m a little surprised you haven’t been regaling me with stories. A good-looking kid like you has to have quite a few exploits under his belt at this point.”

Thomas stared at the kangaroo, mouth agape, and ears broadcasting enough heat to start up climate change again.

* * * * *

Lewiston, MT, January 15th



Thomas watched the city sign pass, the name remaining embedded after it was behind them. When Grant had said they’d stop for the night in the next town, Thomas hadn’t expected that name to be the one.

“Are you sure this is where you want us to stop?” He tried to keep his voice steady. The name meant nothing. “I can take over the driving for a while. I have my license.” He reached for his phone to show him and remembered he didn’t have it.

The kangaroo chuckled. “You have something against the city of Lewiston?”

Thomas wanted to say no. The fact that was Madoc’s last name meant nothing. It was just a coincidence. Grant pulled into a parking lot with half a dozen stores, and three times that in parked vehicles.

“I was serious about taking over the driving,” Thomas said, eyeing the white van parked between a blue sedan and green SUV. Gilbert wasn’t the only one with a white van, he told himself. There were thousands of those, just around Minneapolis, probably.

“I’m going to guess your experience is with cars.” Grant stopped the car in one of the many free spots before the Subway. “Pickups aren’t the same and winter’s not the time to learn.” He took a crumpled bill from a pocket and handed it to Thomas. “Get us something to eat while I drive around for a place to park for the night. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

Thomas stared at the twenty-dollar bill. What were the odds two adults would hand him physical currency in two days? He opened the door and immediately considered closing it, but he was getting hungry, too. He tightened the jacket and hurried into the restaurant, where it was warm.

Well, Siberia probably felt warm compared to the outside. How could anywhere be this cold?

“Welcome to Subway,” a muscular wolverine around Thomas’s age greeted from behind the counter. “What can I satisfy you with today? We have a two-for-one special on cold cut and all-veggie foot-longs.”

“So I get two feet?” Thomas turned to the door, but the pickup was already pulling out of the lot. He’d forgotten to ask what Grant wanted.

“That is what two foot-longs means,” the wolverine replied, still smiling. “Does that mean you’ll want two foot-longs?”

“I don’t know if I can swallow two feet,” Thomas answered, looking at the menu on the wall behind the counter. “The longest I’ve had at this point is sixteen inches.”

“Excuse me?” the wolverine said.

“I didn’t even gag,” Thomas added. The clerk’s surprise and confusion only now registering. “How much do you have to offer?”

Oh, dear God. What had he just said? There was no way he could have told a stranger that. He wasn’t like his parents. And to hit on him like that? He wasn’t that needy, was he? It had only been what… three days since the frat?

The wolverine looked around furtively, and Thomas found himself mimicking him and confirming that they were as alone as when he’d entered. Would other customers have kept him from staying that? Thinking back on the few similar experiences he’d had, he concluded the only chance would be if they were women.

“Not that I’m into guys,” the clerk said, in a casual tone, “but nothing near that.” He leaned forward. “You are joking about that, right?”

“No,” Thomas said, a mix of indignation at having his word suspected and amazement at how not bothered the wolverine was. “Sixteen-inch, right down the gullet.”

The clerk looked at the cabinets holding unbaked bread. “I wonder if I can make one that long that’ll fit in the oven? Because now that you’ve said it, I kind of want to see it.”

Thomas laughed, his unea vanishing. “My ride’s going to be back before it’s ready, and I can’t stick around for it. But I will have two cold-cut foot-longs, regular bread. And no, I’m not deep-throating one of those. Twelve-inch isn’t much of an exploit anymore.”

The wolverine stared for a second before turning to get the bread out of the tray. “Just where are you from? I’ve never caught a glimpse of a guy that big in gym class.”

“Me neither. He’s an international student in my frat.”

“He from Australia?” the clerk asked. “You know,” he added as Thomas tried to work out what he meant. “Because everything’s big down under?”

Thomas imagined Chima as an Australian, or any of the other guys in the frat. “Now you just made me wish there was someone from Australia in my frat.” Instead of blushing, he grinned as the wolverine laughed.

Thomas had the clerk add vegetables, then paid and left with them.

He felt good. He’d never spoken this freely before and not ended up as a puddle of embarrassment. Maybe the road trip was doing him some good. If he could get through a dozen conversations like this, maybe he’d start over-sharing with his family, too. Of course, it remained to be seen if he could be this free with a girl around. Only then could he know if he’d be able to do this with his mother and sister in the room.

The cold hit him with a hammer and he looked for Grant’s pickup. The ten minutes had to be up at this point. His gaze was drawn to the white van, and he wondered where the owner had gone to. None of the stores here lent themselves to long stays. Maybe it was abandoned? If he checked, it would be on blocks.

He’d taken a step in that direction for something to do while he waited as the side door slid open. “I told you, this is where we parked.” A monkey bundled in a heavy jacket exited. Too much of him was covered, Thomas couldn’t recognize him. Even the accent and the dark brown face fur with the pale cream around it couldn’t be enough to explain the certainty he felt as to who that was. “Arguing with me for twenty minutes about moving doesn’t change what I saw. It just means we aren’t eating any sooner. Get dressed. Even I need to eat something that doesn’t come out of a cock.”

How? How was Limbani here, glaring inside a van that couldn’t be Gilbert’s.

“No,” Thomas whispered, as the van shook and he saw a form within it move. “There is no fucking way.” He made out voices, indistinct, but definitely more than one. “They can’t be here.”", "pools_count": 0, "title": "Faith in the Family CH 13", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "text/plain", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "f", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "0", "views": "36" }