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Sugar Heart Ch. 01

By: tamgreen



I clamped my hands snugly around my enormous cup of coffee, letting it warm them as I idly absorbed the noises of the bustling shop around me. Friends laughing together, cashiers taking orders, machines hissing, baristas stirring, pouring, squirting fluffy mountains of whipped cream over tooth-achingly sweet creations. These noises blended together with the voices of my mother and father, chatting away across the table.

"You okay, Rich?" my dad asked suddenly.

I looked up from my cup. Mom and dad were both staring at me curiously. "Sorry... kinda checked out for a while there," I mumbled.

"Something on your mind, honey?" asked mom.

I sipped my coffee and hesitated. "Yeah," I said weakly. "I... um... I need to tell you something, and I'm not sure how." I shut my eyes and breathed deeply.

"Has something bad happened?" mom wondered.

"No. I've just been... not quite honest about something... for a long time. And I need to come clean."

After a few moments' pause, mom replied softly, "We're listening."

"It's all right, sport-spit it out," dad added.

I squeezed my eyes tightly shut until they ached. My stomach churned like a washing machine. "Oh... lord..." I breathed, wanting to get up and just bolt from that coffee shop, and never speak to my parents again. I rubbed my eyes. "Sorry... I just... need a moment."

Mom reached across the table and touched my arm. "Richie... I've never seen you like this before! How bad can it be?"

I swallowed. It felt like there was a giant cotton ball in my throat. I lubricated it with a sip of coffee. My eyes wandered over the table. Mom had been idly filling in a crossword puzzle during our visit. I reached out and took her pen, and then grabbed a small napkin. After a few more moments' hesitation I put the pen to the napkin, shielding it with my other arm as if I were completing a test and guarding against cheaters. I wrote slowly in big block letters, "I'M GAY". I looked down at my confession and felt simultaneously empowered and terrified. With slightly shaking hands I folded the napkin in half, slid it across the table toward them, and sagged down, resting my forehead on my arm. I wasn't sure now that I was ready to see the reactions of my very conservative, traditional-values-centric parents.

There was silence at first, and then my father let out a long sigh. I immediately understood the tone of that sigh. It was a sigh of disappointment, impatience, annoyance, exhaustion, and skepticism.

More silence. I couldn't bear it any longer. Hesitantly, I lifted my head. Mom was clutching the napkin in her fist; her other hand covered her mouth. She looked close to tears. Dad was looking off into the distance, his jaw set, eyes flashing. They were both holding back. The one bright spot here was that I'd been right in my instinct to do this in a public setting. I didn't exactly want to bare my soul in a coffee shop with a bunch of strangers nearby and possibly eavesdropping, though this shop was one of my favourite places, always a small source of comfort, especially over the last few months that I'd been rather depressed. I'd debated the matter for some time, but in the end figured that if there were witnesses, I was sure that mom would try very hard not to cry, and dad wasn't likely to yell.

"Somebody say something," I whispered.

Mom crumpled the napkin tighter, her nostrils flaring. She took a few deep breaths, and finally looked at me, her eyes full of pain. "How can this be? You've always... had girlfriends."

I looked down at my hands. "Yeah, well... sort of. I mean... I wasn't exactly... into them. I didn't know how to handle being different." I inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly, rubbing my eyes for a few moments. "I was a jock. All my friends were jocks. So macho, yunno? Always going on and on about 'chicks'... and everything bad or stupid or lame was 'gay'. I liked being popular, so I just... went along."

Dad was still glaring into the distance. Mom shook her head slowly. "I just don't understand," she said sadly. "You never showed any signs of being... that way. You gave us such grief when you were seventeen about letting you go out with that girl Amber we didn't like!"

I flushed with embarrassment. Amber had been the perfect cover for me. She was a beautiful, popular girl, dressed and acted like a promiscuous nymphet, and hung off me in public, stroking my ego and validating my masculinity. Behind closed doors she'd been frigid. I'd made moves on her as I felt was expected of me, despite feeling pretty gross about it, but she spurned my advances. I was never sure if she was uninterested in sex, deliberately teasing me to keep me on her hook, or in the closet like I was, but we'd kept up the game for nearly all of twelfth grade. After grad, we naturally split and hadn't communicated in the three years since.

"Amber... made me feel good about myself," I said cautiously, glancing back up at my mother. "She was the sort of girl everyone at school expected me to be into. We never actually... did anything."

Mom's face twisted into an expression of distaste and dread. "So you... did things... with boys...?"

I dropped my eyes again, and shook my head. "No... never had the guts. I've never... had a boyfriend or even... experimented. But... like..."

"So how do you know?" she pressed. "How can you know you're... that way? Maybe you just haven't met the right girl."

I sighed deeply. "Trust me. There's no 'right girl'."

"Bullshit!" my father hissed, making me cringe. My parents were churchgoing people, and my father almost never swore. "You've been spending too much time on the Internet, is the problem. You never heard about all this 'gay pride' stuff when we were your age! This is a trend and nothing more-these days, everyone who wants to be special, and edgy, and modern suddenly decides they're gay! I can't believe a bright kid like you would fall for that propaganda."

I shook my head slowly. "Dad, come on... it's not like that. The Internet didn't convince me to be gay." I rubbed my eyes and sighed tiredly. "If I absorbed any 'propaganda', it was yours. Seriously, it was the influence of you guys, as well as all the homophobes at school, that made me feel for most of my life that it wasn't okay to be gay. I need to stand up and say 'no' to all that... to find a backbone... to be me, the way I was meant to be. This is me... thinking for myself, finally. This isn't some trend or phase. It's who I am. I was born like this."

"Yeah, and what if every pedophile used that excuse?" he pressed. His voice was beginning to ramp up, and a few heads turned our way. I slid down lower in my seat. "'It's who I am', 'I was made this way'! A pedophile! Huh? We were all born sinners, Richard. If I had urges to go out and shoot people, I'd go get my head examined, not justify it with some weak claim that it's how I was born and meant to be!"

"Dad!" I hissed in a hushed voice. "Please, people are staring." I covered my face with my hands for a few moments, and then let them drop. "That's a false comparison, and a really offensive one. I'm not some kind of predator. Me being gay... it doesn't hurt anyone. My sexuality does not create victims."

"Look at your mother-tell me you aren't hurting her!" dad growled.

I looked at my mother. Her posture had sagged, and she was dabbing at the corners of her teary eyes with my confession napkin. "Richie... honey," she whispered. "If you have... urges... you don't have to act on them. If you're not attracted to women, then maybe... maybe that's a sign that you're predestined to be celibate...?"

I felt as if I were deflating, shriveling up into a dry husk. Now it was my turn to be hurt. "So. I... I'm not entitled to be loved, like anyone else... just because it makes my parents uncomfortable?" I mumbled.

"Please don't twist my words that way," she sighed. "I'm concerned for you-I'm saying these things because I love you!"

I sipped my coffee slowly and shut my eyes, simply feeling exhausted. So exhausted with everyone and everything in my life. "I know you care about me, and you're worried about my soul and everything," I said as patiently as I could. "But my beliefs are different from yours. I'm all grown up, and you gotta let me go. You gotta let me have my own beliefs and values. You didn't decide to be straight-I didn't decide to be gay. I don't buy for a moment the idea that the way I feel love is some kind of perversion, and to suggest such a thing... it tears me apart. What you're calling 'love'... it's hurting me, mom."

"Stop playing the victim!" my father exclaimed, placing a protective arm around my mother as he continued to shoot darts at me with his eyes. "You've made a lifestyle choice. We don't approve of that choice. Give us a call when you come to your senses. Until then, your mother and I don't want to hear any more about this!" He stood up, pushing his chair back noisily, and helped my mother to stand. She leaned weakly against him, sniffling, and together they left the shop.

I stayed at the table, feeling empty and numb. Maybe my mother would get her way, and I'd be celibate the rest of my life. I felt pathetic-twenty years old, single, a virgin, living alone in a crappy apartment and barely scraping by with a job I despised. Once I'd been the popular guy, the star athlete, teen heartthrob to all the girls I didn't want. Now I was a nobody, barely venturing one foot out of the closet and already scarred from the experience.

I wanted a boyfriend desperately, but I didn't know how to get one; I didn't know how to be gay. The idea of flirting with a guy was terrifying. Maybe I would have to just creep back into the closet and go back to faking my way through life. That, or meet someone online like a loser. Maybe it wouldn't be the end of the world. The Internet provided a certain amount of anonymity. I could find someone who was as pathetic and desperate as I was, and take my time revealing my identity. But who would want someone pathetic and desperate? I wouldn't. How could I expect them to want me?

"E-excuse me... are you d-done with that?"

The question pulled me out of my reverie, and I glanced up to see a familiar blue apron with the shop logo on it. One of the employees stood next to my table. I frowned. This was a coffee shop-the staff weren't usually so eager to clear tables.

"Uh... no," I said, mildly irritated. I'd been here a while, certainly, but my cup still had coffee in it. I wrapped my hands around it.

"Oh. S-s-sssorry," he stammered. "Well... you can st-stay a few more... m-minutes, I guess."

I furrowed my brow and glanced around. It had gotten dark outside, and all the other patrons had left the shop. It was just me, and the staff cleaning off tables. "Oh... shit," I murmured, glancing at my phone to check the time. My mouth fell open a little. I'd been sitting here for hours and had had no idea. The guy was trying to politely kick me out. "My bad. I'll get outta your hair." I picked up my cup, made sure the lid was secure, and stood.

"Uh, hey...!" the boy in the apron blurted out before I could walk away. "Do you like... cookies?"

I furrowed my brow at him. "What?"

He held out a small brown bag that bulged with the promise of several cookies. "No charge. They're j-just going to th-throw them out... anyway."

"Oh. Okay. Thanks, I guess." I took the bag, thinking a few cookies might help ease the pain of my miserable day. I'd been feeling insecure about my body recently as I'd put on a few pounds-fat, not muscle-and wasn't quite the ripped football stud I'd been at the height of my high school athletics days. At the moment, however, the temptation to eat my feelings was outweighing my desire to discipline my body back to its former glory. I might even eat them with ice cream.

I felt heavy as I walked outside. My feet dragged as if they had lead weights strapped to them. I let out a long groan as I slumped into the driver's seat, dropping my coffee cup into the nearest cupholder and flinging the bag of cookies onto the seat next to me.

"Fuck!" I growled, slamming my hands against the steering wheel. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

I clenched my hands into fists and pressed them against my eyes, finally feeling the flood of grief I couldn't give myself over to inside that coffee shop. During the months it had taken me to psych myself up to come out to my parents, I'd convinced myself that what they thought really wouldn't matter in the end. Now I was realizing just how much it mattered to me. I didn't want it to matter-I wanted to be strong enough to embrace who I was despite the challenges along the way-but their reaction, expected as it was, had broken me a little. I couldn't stop thinking of the anger and disgust shown to me by the man who had patiently taught me to ride a bike, throw a ball, and drive a car. I probably wouldn't ever forget the heartbreak in the eyes of the woman who had held me in her arms, soothed me to sleep with lullabies, and lovingly placed Band-Aids on my scraped knees. I'd alienated the people who had scraped together every spare dollar to take me to Disneyland for my eighth birthday, made every effort to attend as many of my sports games as possible, and helped me pay for my first car. They had been my mommy and daddy, and now they were just two old people who were too disgusted by the man I had become to talk to me anymore.

I felt like crying, but it wouldn't come. I simply wasn't a crier. Instead I sat and seethed and trembled, occasionally swore, and then at last started up my car and left the parking lot, breathing raggedly.

I reached for that little paper bag as I drove home, fishing out one of the cookies and shoving it, whole, into my mouth. It was a simple sugar cookie, nothing special, but it temporarily filled a void. I washed it down with the dregs of my cold coffee.

Nearly everything went wrong that night. When I arrived at my apartment complex, my gate opener for the underground parking refused to function. I sat idling for a few minutes, hoping someone would come or go so I could sneak in, but finally gave up and turned around to park on the street. There was very little space available, and I ended up having to walk nearly three blocks to get back to my building. I clutched the little bag of cookies as I walked, huffing and swearing under my breath.

When I got inside, there was a sign on the elevator proclaiming it to be "OUT OF ORDER". I already felt like a hobbled zombie, and now I would have to drag myself up six floors. I cursed the elevator and its ancestors and inhaled another cookie as I began the agonizing ascent.

I felt like death's arthritic grandfather as I finally reached my floor. I could barely lift my heavy feet. I shuffled to my door and let myself in with a heavy sigh, kicking off my shoes. Ice cream was an absolute necessity at this point. A steady groan rumbled up from my throat as I stumbled into the kitchen, dropping the cookie bag on the counter next to the fridge.

Then I stepped in something wet.

"Shit... ohh shit," I breathed, pulling my foot out of the cold puddle. I looked up and found my freezer door sitting several inches ajar.

"Noooo!" I moaned, wrenching it open fully and finding the contents almost completely thawed. My freezer door had been having issues sealing properly-it was fine if I pushed it firmly closed and took a moment to make sure it stayed, but apparently I'd neglected to do so this morning when I'd been in a rush grabbing a pair of Eggos for my breakfast.

"Son of a bitch!" I growled. "You stupid idiot!"

I grabbed two pints of Ben & Jerry's out of the door rack-Cherry Garcia and Half Baked-and squeezed them gently. Completely melted.

"Goddamn fucking hell!" I roared, flinging the wasted pints into my sink. Fuming, I threw a handful of kitchen towels onto the puddle on the floor and fished out a trash bag to empty the entire perished contents of my freezer, which included several thick steaks I'd been looking forward to barbecuing. I tied the bag tightly and left it next to my door, not having even a fraction of the energy it would take to carry it down six floors and back up again.

"Moron," I lamented, grabbing the cookie bag and staggering to my couch. "Such a moron!"

I turned on the TV and watched numbly, pulling a blanket around myself. I took a cookie out of the bag and looked at it. It was heart-shaped. I glanced into the bag. They were all in the shape of hearts. I pressed the cookie against my chest, where my own heart would be.

"Tin Man," I mumbled to myself. But no-that wasn't right. The Tin Man didn't have a cookie heart. Gradually I pictured an ancient, white-haired man holding the cookie-it was Vincent Price-and then it dawned on me that I was remembering a scene from the movie "Edward Scissorhands". When was the last time I had even seen it? I loaded up Netflix, found the film, and started it playing. I slowly ate my way through the rest of the heart cookies as I let the sweet, sad story take me away.

Halfway through, I started to hear the girl in the next apartment moaning away. The walls were about as soundproof as cardboard. I turned up the volume on my TV, but I could still hear her. Soon her boyfriend started up, groaning and grunting as she caterwauled, as if they were both determined to rub their raucous fucking in my face. I had become somewhat accustomed to this over the last few months, but tonight I had zero patience for being so explicitly reminded of how regularly and spectacularly my neighbours were getting laid.

"Shut the hell up!" I shouted, turning to slam my fist against the wall a few times.

Laughter-I heard laughter. They giggled and said a few things I couldn't hear, and then started up again, even louder and more exaggerated than before. Their bedsprings squeaked frantically.

"Oh yes, oh yeah, your cock makes me so hot!" the girl shouted. "Fuck me harder, baby!"

"Fuck yeah, baby!" the guy bellowed. "Take my big hard dick! I'm totally fucking your sweet wet pussy! I'm gonna make you cum so hard!"

"Yeah, fill my pussy with your cum!"

I growled and turned the TV even louder.

"Assholes!" I muttered. They sounded like a terrible porno. Virginal as I was, I was reasonably certain real people didn't talk like that during sex. I reached into the paper bag for another cookie, but the bag was empty.

* * * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * * *

My phone alarm woke me in the morning. I'd fallen asleep in front of the TV in a very awkward position, and my neck and back were stiff and sore.

"Son of a..." I groaned, peeling myself up off the couch. I stumbled into the shower and stayed perhaps too long; the hot water was soothing, and I got a bit carried away taking care of something else that was stiff. I recalled having an intensely sexual dream about a pale-faced, innocent-eyed Johnny Depp, which, fortunately, had NOT featured scissors in any way.

Johnny Depp. Nice cheekbones... sweet, innocent mouth. I wrapped my fist around the base of my hard cock and slid it up to the tip, wrapping my fingers briefly around the blushing, bulbous head, teasing myself a little, and sliding that fist firmly back down with a satisfied sigh. I stroked up and down, increasing my pace, squeezing my balls with the opposite hand. I grabbed some soap and slicked myself up a little.

"Mmmmm..."

My hand moved faster, and my cock throbbed, gleefully lubricated. I preferred a younger Depp, cleanshaven and babyfaced. Such a shame he was straight. I daydreamed about that sweet mouth kissing mine, softly. Kissing a line down my neck, chest, belly... I jerked myself faster, pumping hard, huffing.

I wanted to slow down, let the urge to cum subside a little, and edge till I couldn't bear it anymore, but a little nagging voice in the back of my brain reminded me of work. Another part of my brain insisted this was important. For lack of anything else good in my life, I at least had my own hand and my own hard-on. Maintaining an eager libido in my loneliness and misery was both a curse and a blessing-the lack of a sexual partner in these desperately horny moments emphasized my loneliness, but a good jerk-off session was always a reliable temporary mood-booster. Orgasm: nature's free, organic, zero-risk antidepressant.


Sugar Heart Ch. 01



My imaginary Johnny slipped the head of my cock past his sweet lips, and slid his tongue around my hardness. I groaned and leaned back against the cool tile wall, feeling the heat surge up from my balls and erupt in several eager gouts. I gasped and coaxed forth the last few dribbles of cum, which washed quickly down the drain with the warm water that still rained down over me.

Freshly dosed up with this mood-boosting surge of endorphins and serotonin, I rinsed, towelled off, and scrambled into my work clothes. After inhaling a bowl of cereal and slapping together a sandwich, I stepped into my work boots and found the trash bag next to the door. Remembering all at once how crappy last night had been was an unfortunate buzzkill. I also remembered at this point the broken elevator as well as the fact that my car was parked a few blocks from my building, and I'd neglected to give myself extra time on top of dawdling in the shower.

"Moron!" I snapped. Clearly Murphy's law was in full effect for me lately, so I at least had the foresight to double bag the spoilt contents of my freezer, having terrible visions of the bag breaking open partway down the stairs and leaking rotten meat juice all over me.

I managed to get my trash to the outdoor bins without incident and hoofed it to my car. With my luck, I mused, it'd be stolen or broken into. Finding my car where I'd parked it, safe and untouched, was a huge relief. I had a moment of concern when the engine didn't start right away, but soon it was purring like normal.

I might have had a chance at making it to work on time had the traffic not been lousy. I got stuck in a knot of congestion behind a highway fender bender, and further along, a train. Probably the longest train I had ever seen. I was more than twenty minutes late for work, and my supervisor gave me the stinkeye the moment I rushed through the door. I'd been late a couple of days last week as well-I had no excuse. I'd just been having trouble getting my head together.

"Get the lead out, Callahan!" he barked. "Lee's out sick today, and you're gonna have to pick up the slack-you've got a dozen skids need to be moved over to the loading docks!"

"I'm on it!" I promised.

"Also need you to stay an extra four hours if you can-we're way behind."

"No problem!" I replied quickly. The last thing I wanted today was to have to work a twelve-hour shift, but I'd get time-and-a-half and I could use the money. Moreover, after how much I'd pissed off my boss lately, I probably needed to prove myself a little more valuable an employee than I had been so far.

I clocked in and quickly stowed my coat and lunch before climbing into the forklift. I worked in an electronics distribution warehouse, a job I'd gotten right after high school as an entry-level, general labour position. It had been slightly less crappy, or at least paid better, since I'd gotten certified to operate the lifts. The company culture was lousy though, and I was often yelled at, blamed for mistakes that weren't mine, perhaps excessively berated for ones that were mine, and pushed to work through lunch breaks. I knew that making a stink about my legal rights to proper breaks wasn't going to increase my popularity any, so I generally just rolled over. Often I searched job sites for alternatives, but the economy was in the tank, and it was hard to find anything I was qualified for that would be financially worth my while. Plus, I wasn't entirely confident that any other job would be less soul-crushing.

I worked my ass off all morning and well into the afternoon. It was nearly 3pm when I decided I had to have a break. I was exhausted and starving, and all day I'd watched my co-workers drift in and out, taking their sweet time with their cigarette breaks. A few months back it had occurred to me that I was the only guy around here who didn't smoke, and some of the guys went out nearly every hour to suck on their cancer sticks. It hardly seemed fair that I was entitled to less break time for valuing my respiratory health. I was at least entitled to a proper lunch break. I decided for once I'd just be assertive about it. Particularly after last night's conversation with my parents, I was disinclined to continue being trod on by the whole world.

My supervisor himself was on a smoke break when I tracked him down. He stood out near the dumpsters along with several of my co-workers, all of them casually shooting the shit.

"Hey, Mitch-I'm taking my lunch break now, all right?" I said evenly.

"You moved all those skids?" he asked.

"Not quite, but-"

"You kidding me?" he shot back, pointing his cigarette at me. "You shuffle in here late half the time, and you're riding my ass about lunch breaks? Man up and get back to work!"

Baffled by the irony that they all seemed to be missing, I glanced over the assemblage of smokers, watching me curiously. I turned my attention back to Mitch. "What, do I have to take up smoking in order to earn a break?" I gestured emphatically at the lot of them. "This is complete garbage!"

He glared at me for a few tense moments before pulling out the half-crumpled pack of Marlboros from his breast pocket and offering it to me with a smirk. "Help yourself!"

A few of the other guys barked and snorted with laughter, and it took only seconds for their amusement to crumble away at my resolve.

"Why don't I just get back to work?" I muttered, seething as I turned my back to them and went back inside. I took thirty seconds to inhale half a sandwich, and stuffed the rest in my pocket for later.

After moving a few more skids and unloading some trucks, I decided I might as well take advantage of bathroom breaks. No one could deny my right to empty my bladder when I needed to. I could empty something else while I was at it. I was feeling tense, miserable, and suddenly unaccountably horny-my body was reminding me that another brief jerk-off session might go a long way toward making me feel better.

I scarfed down the rest of my sandwich as I trudged across the warehouse. There were bathrooms located on either end of the complex, but only one of them was single-occupancy, so I went out of my way to use that one. I wanted privacy.

After a good long pee, I turned to sit down on the toilet and leaned back against the tank, stroking myself to hardness. I loved the feel of my erection in my hand-I had since I was old enough to learn the art of self-loving. It remained disheartening to know my fist was the closest thing I had to a boyfriend and would be until I found a backbone, but I could be thankful I had a strong pair of arms and an admittedly pretty nice-looking cock.

I didn't want to take so long that my absence would be noticed, so I pulled out my phone and quickly searched out a nice gay porn video of two well-built young football players servicing their well-hung coach in the locker room. Although I kept the sound muted, I could tell the younger guys were supposed to be 'straight', and pressured into gay acts by the coach, which was admittedly, in the context of a fiction, pretty hot. They looked at each other worriedly as the older man seemed to be ordering them to make out with each other, and then touch each other's penises. I sighed softly and pumped my shaft harder.

By the time the strapping young athletes were bending over side by side to have their tasty-looking and supposedly (but obviously not) virgin asses fucked aggressively by their coach, I was at the brink. Bracing my steel-toed boots against the floor, I clenched my jaw tightly and held my breath, barely making a sound as I shot several eager gouts of cum into a balled fist.

Finally I exhaled hard and took a minute to catch my breath. I smiled to myself, feeling much more relaxed and also thinking with some amusement that I could teach my neighbours a thing or two about how to orgasm quietly.

I stared down at the mess in my hand and, after a few moments, brought it up to my mouth. I shut my eyes and slowly licked up every trace of my issue. It was an occasional guilty pleasure of mine. I knew it was probably weird and gross, but I liked to fantasize that I'd just beat off another guy and was eating his cum.

After flushing and washing up, I stepped out and nearly collided with my supervisor. Mitch stood and glared at me; I froze. My heart raced. Did he suspect? Had he heard me huffing and puffing away in there? Did he see the flush on my cheeks, or a hint of a satisfied smile?

After a few moments of awkwardness he said nothing, so I just dropped my head and shuffled aside while he entered the washroom after me. I silently cursed myself and Mitch as I went back to work.

My post-orgasmic high did not last long. That afternoon, everything went to hell.



Sugar Heart Ch. 02



The accident happened quickly, so quickly that I could not decide even after lengthy, bitter discussions and filling out a number of reports exactly what had gone wrong. I was moving a particularly bulky load and had begun to descend a ramp to the rear yards when my forklift leaned over and abruptly flipped.

I was lucky I was securely strapped in; if I'd fallen out of the cage, I could have been crushed. The lift itself was more or less undamaged, but an unfortunately significant proportion of the load of electronics I'd been carrying had been destroyed--thousands of dollars worth of merchandise. I'd been distracted, I could admit to myself at least. I was daydreaming about having the Hemsworth brothers all to myself, naked and glistening. But there were other factors at work. The skid had probably been overloaded as well as unbalanced--I hadn't liked the looks of it, but after being pressured all day to get everything moved, I just went for it. I wasn't sure if that was more my fault for not taking issue with the skid, my boss's fault for pressuring me, or the fault of whoever had improperly loaded the skid.

The skid itself was cracked and splintered apart after the accident. Most of the witnesses assumed this had happened when the lift flipped and dumped the load, but I could have sworn I heard a cracking noise before I'd tipped. Maybe the skid had been in crappy shape, and was unsafe to use.

My co-workers berated me, or at least gave me unimpressed glares, and I endured plenty of yelling from Mitch in his office afterward. He told me over and over I could have killed myself, or, even worse, someone else. This I could not deny, and I was beginning to wish I hadn't been wearing that seatbelt after all. If I'd been killed, my worries would be over. In the end I simply accepted full responsibility, and that was the attitude in which I filled out all the necessary reports.

I was surprised Mitch didn't fire me on the spot. After over an hour in his office dealing with the aftermath, I was simply sent back to work, but not on the forklift. I wasn't ever to drive a forklift for this company again, and it was very likely I'd have my operator's license revoked entirely. I had nearly three hours left on my overtime shift, and I spent them mainly dealing with waybills and other paperwork while receiving glares of both resentment and morbid fascination from all sides.

The remainder of my shift seemed to drag on forever. By the end of it I thoroughly hated myself as well as the world and everyone in it. It was hard for me to think of a single aspect of my life I hadn't managed to screw up. My head ached, and my stomach churned. My shoulder was also feeling fairly sore; the strap of my seatbelt had yanked on it pretty hard when the forklift had tumbled. I didn't have the wherewithal to report an injury on top of everything else. It was probably just a little bruised, or strained.

Before I could leave, Mitch called me into his office again, giving me a fresh, gut-wrenching attack of nerves. As it turned out, I was fired after all. He claimed he'd had a discussion with upper management, and they'd all made the "difficult" decision to let me go. I suspected this was bullshit, and that Mitch would have fired me on the spot had he not needed the extra body to occupy the rest of this shift. I humbly accepted my fate, and clocked out for the last time.

Once again my car was hesitant to start. It had been doing this to me for a while. I needed to find a mechanic, probably. It seemed of negligible importance now. Once the engine was finally running, I turned out of the parking lot and began my long drive home. At least it was well past rush hour, and there wasn't much traffic on the roads.

It suddenly seemed unlikely to me that I'd even make it home. There didn't seem to be much point. The world was a cold, unfriendly place full of cold, unfriendly people. As I merged onto the highway, I had vivid fantasies of swerving abruptly into oncoming traffic. It could be over so quickly. As quickly as my forklift had flipped. I could just wrench the wheel violently over, close my eyes, let go, and be done. A few times I held my breath and gripped the steering wheel tightly, watching the traffic in the oncoming lanes, but I couldn't bring myself to go through with it. Taking out innocent people with me was an unbearable thought.

A little sweat dripped down my forehead, but I felt cold.

I could drive up into the mountains, I mused. Way up near the ski resorts, where there were steep drop-offs barricaded by guardrails that probably wouldn't stop my car if I careened deliberately into them at a high speed. They might just make my car flip neatly over as I hit the edge, and down I'd go, tumbling, flying, free.

Ka-boom.

I thought about my parents finding out, about how they'd blame themselves for how we last parted, how they'd suspect they'd driven me to suicide. Maybe that was what I wanted. But the more I thought about them going through funeral arrangements, making up stories to tell their extended family ("It was almost certainly an accident--he seemed fine last time we spoke!"), the more this, too, seemed like a pain I couldn't put someone else through--even someone who had caused me such heartache.

I found myself back at the coffee shop. This wasn't exactly strange, as coming here after work had been a bit of a routine for me for quite some time. I was surprised I still wanted to be here after what had gone down with my folks, but I supposed I wasn't ready to let the place go. The coffee was excellent, and, while I wasn't in the habit of purchasing their baked goods, the remembrance of those little heart-shaped sugar cookies seemed like the one meagre bright spot in the midst of a horrific nightmare.

I sat in my car for several minutes. The shop was only open about twenty minutes longer, and I craved coffee perhaps more than ever before, but I was having a hard time psyching myself up to go in now. I looked down at my hands; I couldn't seem to stop them from trembling.

Was I being ridiculous, feeling so panicked and hopeless? Maybe there was more to my life that I was simply missing at the moment because of a crappy mood. Didn't I still have friends? I'd been distant from them for quite a while, admittedly, but that didn't mean they weren't still there. I'd never really had serious talks with any of my friends before, but I could try. I thought about my buddy Jeff, whom I'd thought of as my closest friend for the last few years, and all the good times we'd had together in high school and beyond. He could be a bit of an asshole now and then, but I felt he had a good heart, and I was sure that if I needed to talk about something serious, he'd be there for me.

I navigated to Jeff's number in my phone contacts, my thumb hovering over it as I breathed raggedly. I wasn't sure I could trust my voice at the moment. Instead of calling, I opened a text.

[Hey--do you have a sec?]

I waited a couple of minutes and finally received a reply: [Sup?]

[Having a really shitty week I guess. I need to tell you something.]

[???]

I took a few deep breaths. My thumbs twitched, and then started typing again: [I'm gay...]

After a minute or two: [Ahahah yeah ok--come over here and suck my cock. Chris and Mike say they want thers sucked 2. Is this even Rick? Did someone jack ur phone dude?]

My heart thudded. There went the nausea again. My hands shook even harder. [This isn't a joke. OMG are you not alone? Did you actually tell people what I just told you? I'm not ready for everyone to know... >_

[Ur not serious??!!!]

[Yes I'm serious. I came out to my parents yesterday and now I'm telling you. Pls tell me you haven't actually told anyone!!]

[Um yeah Chris and Mike V are here, Jordan and his brother, Kim, JJ, and some other guys I'm not sure if u no... shit dude I literally just told everyone and there like freaking out ahaha]

I slammed my head against my steering wheel and groaned before typing again: [FUCK]

[Ur really serious? Really?? Like actually homo? If ur trolling me I'm gonna be pissed]

[Serious. Ugh. I guess the whole world's gonna know now. I was so not ready for this.]

[Shoulda told me right away not 2 tell. Why r u telling me tho?]

I glared at my phone. He wasn't apologizing for spilling the beans, and now I was starting to get the sense that Jeff didn't feel as close to me as I felt to him. [Because we're friends... I felt like I could trust you. Are you having a party or something? Why didn't anyone invite me?] The text seemed horribly whiny, but I sent it anyway.

[Umm I dunno, not really a party I guess, just sort of a last min hangout... srsly tho no offence but u been a downer lately, we just wanted 2 have some beers and lols]

This was more hurtful than I was prepared for. I felt like I'd been kicked in the chest. I was a downer? Had my friends been quietly hoping I'd just disappear from their lives? I swallowed and slowly started typing again. [I'm sorry if I haven't been myself... I'm in a rough patch and I just really need someone right now...]

[Dude r u in love with me or something???!! Oh ew is that what this is??]

My face twisted into horror. Gay or not, I'd never thought about Jeff that way, and even if I had, his reaction was... cruel. I shook my head slowly in disbelief. Everything he was saying seemed more and more offensive by the minute. I typed furiously, [FUCK YOU!]

I waited a few more minutes, my phone shaking in my hands. I begged myself to calm down. Probably I was overreacting to all this. A few minutes ago I'd been thinking about driving my car off a cliff; I obviously wasn't in my right mind.

Jeff's last text finally arrived: [Uhh no homo LOL... Lose my number dude. Go suck a dick.]

I gaped at the message for several minutes, lost in disbelief. I had no best friend. I didn't even have a friend. I thought of all the people he'd named, basically all of the friends from high school I'd kept in touch with--they were all a write-off now. I hadn't made any new friends in years. First my parents had basically disowned me, and now good old Jeff, whom I'd always somehow managed to like despite his foibles, had cut me off and taken everyone with him. I could imagine him yelling out gay jokes at his little get-together, laughing his ass off, and telling everyone that Homo Rick had made a big gay pass at him. That was the sort of guy he was. It struck me as deeply unsettling now that I'd ever been friends with him at all--even more so that I'd thought of him as my best friend. Perhaps my desperation to appear straight had driven me to deliberately ally myself with a loudmouthed homophobe as if to prove a point.

I received a new text message--it was from my friend Mike.

[U a faggot?]

I stared at the message, gutted. I had no response. I deleted the message, and then I deleted Mike from my contacts, followed by Jeff, and Chris, and Jordan, and several more. In retrospect I'd made the worst possible choice of friends in high school. They were lost to me now, and I felt like grieving even though they clearly hadn't been any good for me. Being alone in the world was a terrifying feeling.

What was the universe trying to do to me? Maybe I should have just ended things quickly and painlessly.

"Stop it," I whispered, shaking my head vehemently as I recognized how pathetic this defeatist thinking was. I glanced at the time on my phone. Only five minutes until the coffee shop closed. I had to at least have one good cup of coffee, and maybe a few cookies. Possibly they would make things seem a little bit brighter.

Or, a dark part of me still insisted, maybe they would be my last hurrah.

My legs felt weak and wobbly as I shuffled up to the counter to order. The staff were already cleaning up the tables in preparation for closing, but no one was telling me to go away. I looked over the menu on the wall, even though I always ordered the same thing. I finally looked down at the guy behind the cash register. He was very short and scrawny, sort of geeky-looking, freckle-faced, with a mop of auburn hair that stuck up in all directions. He looked back at me and smiled bashfully.

"H-hi," he said, grabbing an extra-large cup and beginning to write on it with a Sharpie.

"Extra-large Sumatran blend, double milk, double sugar," I recited robotically.

The boy nodded, giving another of those timid smiles. His eyes flicked up and down rapidly. "Anything... else?"

I remembered the cookies suddenly and glanced at the glass case that showed off the baked goods. There wasn't much in it at this point. "Do you guys have those... those little sugar cookies?"

His eyes widened. "We ran out--I'm s-sorry!" He cocked his head and smiled again. "Did I g-get you hooked?"

I furrowed my brow at him for a moment. He did look familiar, when I thought about it. He was the same kid who'd given me the cookies last night. Probably I'd seen him here plenty of times before.

"Yeah... yeah, I guess you did," I said slowly. I looked at the nametag pinned to his apron--Buddy. His name was Buddy. His eyes followed my line of sight, and he chuckled briefly.

"Yeah... that's... my real n-name," he said. His cheeks went pink, seeming to darken his freckles. "Sounds more like... a d-d-d...dog's name."

The corners of my mouth twitched a little. His stutter was sort of endearing--it, too, seemed distantly familiar. How long had I been coming to this coffee shop, ordering from this same boy, and never really noticing he existed? "Ah, hardly--my middle name is Benji, so don't talk to me about dog names," I replied, digging a handful of coins out of my pocket.

He grinned widely, and chuckled again. "Ah... hm. I think that's... actually... well, ha. Anyway... c-can I... get you something else? We have, uh... cinnamon buns. But I w-won't lie--they're n-not the best."

I shook my head. "Just the coffee."

He rang up the sale. "Three ten."

I handed over three dollars and ten cents in change, and then drifted over to the prep area without waiting for a receipt.

I received my coffee and turned to leave, but paused when I spotted the table I had been sitting at with my parents last night. It spurred a fresh bout of misery that flooded my chest and settled deep in my gut. I glanced back at the counter, and noticed Buddy watching me as he took off his apron. His brow was creased with concern. I realized he must have witnessed at least some of my disastrous coming out. Was that why he randomly gave me cookies? I felt horribly embarrassed all of a sudden and turned quickly to leave.

I let out a huff as I collapsed back into the driver's seat of my car, tossing last night's empty coffee cup into the backseat to make room in the cupholder for my fresh coffee. I thought for a moment about where I might drive while I enjoyed my coffee. Home... or somewhere else. Maybe this cup of coffee really would be my last. I could just start driving and let my gut lead me.

When I turned the key in the ignition, all I got was a loud clicking noise--not even a hint of a crank. I felt as if I could vomit.

"Goddamn fucking piece of shit car!" I screamed, beating the steering wheel with my fists. "No, no, please don't do this to me now!"

I tried again and again to start it, but only got that click. I slumped over the wheel, breathing hard. My head felt like it was spinning. My heart thudded rapidly. I felt cold, and then very hot, and sweat broke out across my forehead. Everything hit me all at once--my parents, my friends, my job, even the ice cream I'd lost. And my car. My stupid car, that I'd neglected to get repaired when I'd first noticed starter problems. I fought to breathe, pulling in deep, rapid inhalations that barely seemed to fill my lungs. Spots danced in front of my eyes; I could barely tell which way was up. I was drowning. I was dying.

I cried out in pure, raw terror when someone tapped on my window.

"Are you okay?" whoever was standing next to my car exclaimed.

I stared at the ghostly face; my vision swam. "No!" I choked out.

Abruptly the person pulled my door open and got right in my face.

"Look at me--watch my eyes!" he said firmly. His voice seemed to be travelling through a tunnel. A pair of cool, soft hands rested on either side of my face and kept my head still and pointed at him. I continued to heave in panicked breaths as I struggled to focus my kaleidoscopic vision on the face in front of me. Gradually I made out a scattering of freckles. Buddy--it was Buddy, the coffee boy. But he wasn't a boy at all. He was a man--a small-statured one, certainly, but his manner in this moment commanded authority. I found his eyes--it was dark outside, but with my car door open, the interior light was on and illuminated him in a dim but warm light--they were blue, or maybe green, or maybe grey.

"Okay, Richard, you're just fine," he said in a loud, clear, steady voice. "Keep looking at me." His hands left my face; one settled on my shoulder, and the other reached for my right hand. He pressed it against his chest. "You're going to breathe with me now. Breathe along with me, Richard."

I wasn't sure if I was dead or dreaming or completely insane, but nothing seemed to make sense right now, so I just followed the instructions being imposed on me. My hand was sandwiched between his hand and his ribs; I felt a rapid heartbeat. His chest swelled with a deep inhalation, and I inhaled with him. He exhaled through his mouth; I did the same.

"Good, Richard. Keep it up. Deep breath in... and out."

I kept my eyes fixed on his. It must have lasted several minutes. He very gradually slowed his breaths, and I slowed mine, along with my heart and mind. My sense of reality finally started to return, though I still felt dazed and now terribly exhausted.

"You're doing great, Richard," Buddy said. He let my hand drop, but continued to hang onto my shoulder. "Tell me something--tell me what's happening."

"Heart attack?" I blurted. "Dying--going crazy?"

He shook his head and smiled. "You're only having a panic attack. You're going to be just fine. Are you having a problem with your car?"

I slowly turned my head back toward the steering wheel. I tried turning the key again, and got that same clicking noise. The panic started to return.

"No, no--steady, Richard!" Buddy exclaimed, turning my face back toward his. "Forget about the car, okay? We'll take care of it. I'm here, and I'm gonna help you out, okay?"

I nodded dumbly.

"I've seen this before," he continued. "You could have a battery issue, but I think it's most likely your starter solenoid. Either way, the repair is easy and fairly inexpensive. Do you have a good mechanic, Richard?"

I shook my head.

"Well, you're in luck--I know a great one!" He smiled widely and squeezed both of my shoulders. "You relax, drink your coffee, and I'll take care of this for you, all right?"

I nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. I picked up my coffee cup and cradled it in my hands, shutting my eyes as I slumped back against my seat. I was barely aware of him typing on his phone as he paced back and forth outside my car. I had never been so exhausted in my life.

Buddy eventually opened my passenger door and sat down. "Feeling a bit calmer?"

I looked at him curiously and answered with a drowsy nod.

"Good. I texted Bernie, my mechanic--he can have a look at your car tomorrow. If it's what we think it is, you'll probably have it back by the end of the day, and it should cost you under two hundred bucks--no guarantees on that, though. Bernie's sending a tow truck--it's too late for him to do anything today but they'll tow your car to his place, leave it in his yard, and pop your car key through his mail slot. I'll email him all your info tonight, and you should be good to go. Is it okay if I have a peek through your registration?" He placed a hand on my glove box.




Sugar Heart Ch. 02



I gave another distracted nod. I was so out of it at this point I probably would have handed over my wallet and keys to a crack-addled drifter if he'd asked. I shut my eyes for a few more minutes as Buddy sorted through my papers and typed out an email on his phone.

"Richard, can I get your mobile number for Bernie?" he asked.

I mumbled out my number and sipped slowly at my coffee.

"Thank you--we're all squared away now. Everything's arranged, so don't worry about your car another minute. You'll get a call from Bernie tomorrow about the repair. Once the tow truck's come and gone, I'll drive you home. Or are you going to work?"

I shook my head gently. "Got fired today."

Buddy sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Ohhh... poor guy. You really have had a tough week, haven't you?" He reached out and squeezed my shoulder. "Let's not worry about that right now either, okay? New subject. Movies--how about movies? Seen anything good lately?"

I blinked a few times. I couldn't seem to recall anything before yesterday, so I named the only movie I could think of: "Edward Scissorhands."

"I love that one!" Buddy exclaimed. "Quintessential Tim Burton, hey? So good!"

"Johnny Depp," I whispered.

"Yes, he's quite... something," Buddy chuckled.

He kept me talking for a few minutes about Tim Burton and Johnny Depp films, and then it occurred to me all at once how strange this whole situation was. "Hey--how did you know my name?"

Buddy's eyebrows went up. He stared at me as if waiting for the punchline of a joke. "Are you... r-really that oblivious?"

I gaped at him in confusion. The only thing I could think of right now that remotely made sense was that Buddy was somehow my guardian angel. "Sorry... what am I missing?"

He bit his lip for a few moments, and lowered his head, chuckling bashfully. "Oh... look at your c-coffee cup."

I frowned and looked at my cup, rotating it in my hands until I found my name, written in block letters tidy enough to impress a kindergarten teacher. The "i" was dotted with a little heart. My brain simply wasn't functioning. I couldn't comprehend this. I didn't remember telling him my name. In fact, now that I thought of it, he'd been writing on the cup before I'd even told him my order.

In a fit of curiosity, I reached into my backseat to retrieve yesterday's cup, squinting at it in the dark--same neat printing--"Richard", with a heart over the "i". The floor behind my seat was littered with empty coffee cups--I grabbed a few more. Almost all of them had my name on them in the same hand, some with hearts, some with smiley faces, some with tiny stars.

"Huh-how long have you been c-coming here?" he stammered.

I paused for several moments. "Long time...?"

"Yeah. Long time."

I finally put it together. Buddy had been serving me coffee for months, at minimum. He knew my name, he knew my standard order, had obviously been watching me closely, tried to be at the register whenever he saw me walk in, and I had never noticed him before.

His jaw opened and shut, mouth twitching as he struggled to form syllables. His hands also twitched, forming odd gestures, as if they were trying to help him speak. "I... think... t-today was the f-fffirst day you, uh... actually... looked at me." He smiled sheepishly down at his lap.

Warm tingles traveled up and down my spine and through my extremities. Buddy had a crush on me. A boy--a boy had a crush on me! My heart started racing again. I stared at him until he looked back at me. During the few seconds that another vehicle's headlights swept across my car, his blushing, freckled face was illuminated. Why was I suddenly reminded of Johnny Depp, and this morning's shower jerk-off session?

His mouth--Buddy had that same sweet, innocent, almost doll-like mouth.

"That's the tow truck!" he blurted out, and suddenly stepped out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him.

By the time my car had been hooked up to the truck and was leaving the parking lot, I was beginning to feel disconnected and overwhelmed all over again. Standing in a parking lot in the dark with my car being dragged off somewhere I didn't even know filled me with insecurity. I chugged my coffee. Buddy shuffled close to me and touched my arm for a moment.

"Let's g-g-get you home," he ventured. "As long as... you don't, uh... mind me d-driving you...?"

I looked down at him. He was really quite short, and so skinny. His freckles gave him a boyish look, and his out-of-control reddish hair and snub nose made him look a little like Peter Pan. He was about the most non-threatening guy I'd ever seen. And that stutter....

"I'd appreciate it," I said hoarsely.

He nodded and looked coy for a few moments, pointing across the parking lot to a little blue hatchback in the distance, sitting in the solitary beam of a streetlight. "Th-that's me." He started walking, glancing back to make sure I followed.

Once I'd given directions to my building and he began driving, we were both quiet. Buddy was a very cautious driver, and the trip was tranquil. I sipped my coffee. He plugged his phone into the stereo system and played some music, a random assortment of mellow, eclectic stuff that mostly just drifted past me, but was subconsciously calming.

"Are we g-getting close?" he asked as he turned onto my street.

"That's my building," I said, pointing at a high rise a couple blocks down. "There isn't really any visitor parking, so just find a spot anywhere on the street."

He nodded and turned up the stereo as a new song came on. "Ohh. D-do you like... Macklemore?"

"Rap is garbage," I mumbled, sipping my coffee.

"Usually agree... but... I mean... c-come on--'Same Love', right?" He exhaled tremulously.

"Don't know it."

He looked over at me with surprise. "Ohh. Y-you've been living under a rock! Listen." He turned up the volume even more and scanned the street for free spaces.

My jaw hung slightly open as I listened to the lyrics. They caught me completely off guard. I could barely breathe as Mary Lambert's heartfelt chorus washed over me. The words echoed through my head.

~And I can't change... Even if I tried... Even if I wanted to....~

I set my coffee in a cupholder and pressed both hands against my mouth. I was right back at my conversation with my parents, trying futilely to explain myself to them and coming up against a brick wall. My throat burned, and my eyes pricked.

Buddy pulled into a parking spot on the same block as my building. As soon as the car was stopped I tore off my seatbelt and reached for the door handle, but Buddy grabbed my arm and pulled me back. I covered my face with my hands and shook all over, finally fully overwhelmed by the emotions that had been tearing me apart the past couple of days. I sobbed loudly, instantly embarrassed about it. I was fairly certain I hadn't cried since I was about twelve years old, but that damned beautiful song had wrenched open a floodgate, and there was no stopping what had been stored up behind it.

"Let it out," Buddy said softly, squeezing my arm. "It's okay. Just let it all out. You're safe."

I doubled over, weeping, sniffling noisily. I wept like a little kid, lost and afraid. Large tears escaped between my fingers. When the song ended, Buddy finally turned off the engine.

"C'mere--it's okay," he whispered, tugging on my shoulder. I let him pull me, and soon I was sobbing on his narrow shoulder while he wrapped his arms around me, hugging me tightly. I cried through all the embarrassment and the hurt, all the guilt and fear and hopelessness.

"Everyone needs a good cry," Buddy whispered into my ear and rocked me back and forth a little. "It's therapeutic--you need this right now. It just makes you human. Let it all out. You're going to be okay. Things'll get better. I promise. You're probably feeling like you've hit bottom... but that's always when things start to turn up again. You'll be fine, Richard--you'll be stronger for all this. I promise."

I listened to his words and absorbed them. I let it all out. I sobbed steadily for some time, thoroughly wetting his polo shirt, which he didn't seem to mind in the slightest. In fact, the back of my neck felt a little damp, and I wondered if he was quietly crying along with me. He breathed deeply as I began to calm at last. I could feel the swelling of his thin chest, and I naturally breathed along with him. Twice in a row Buddy the coffee boy had patiently and effectively guided me through emotional breakdowns and coaxed me back to sanity, and I still barely even knew who he was.

I slowly peeled myself off of him and forced myself into an upright position, wiping off my face with my sleeves. What the hell had happened to my evening? Was all this real?

Buddy quietly stepped out of his car and came around to my side, opening the door for me. He picked up my coffee and stood aside to allow me to stand. The night air was refreshing. I breathed deeply and stared up at the stars. Buddy closed and locked his car.

"Come on," he said gently. "This is your building, right?"

I nodded and started to shuffle up to the front door. I wavered a little as if I were tipsy, and Buddy hooked an arm around my waist. I let my arm drape across his shoulders, and I leaned on him a little as we went in.

The elevator had been repaired. It was a quick ride up to the sixth floor, and I showed him into my apartment. I didn't question his continued presence. He stayed with me, and it seemed natural. He guided me to the couch, sat me down, wrapped a throw blanket around my shoulders, and placed my coffee cup in my hands.

"You j-just relax," he said, and disappeared into my kitchenette.

I wasn't sure if I'd fallen asleep or just been really out of it for a while, but the next thing I was aware of was Buddy sitting down next to me and offering me a plate, which was piled with heart-shaped sugar cookies. This occurrence seemed like an impossibility.

"Am I dreaming?" I mumbled, blinking sleepily at the plate as I set down my empty coffee cup.

"No, Richard. I... I made you... cookies."

I picked one of them up and stared at it. The shape was a bit lopsided. I still wondered if I was dreaming.

"S-sorry they're... kinda, um... s-sloppy. I... cut them by... h-hhhand. I know it's... stupid." He gave a short chuckle.

I continued to stare at the cookie. "How long have you been here?"

"Umm... hour and a half m-maybe? S-sssorry if I'm... imp-p-posing. I wanted you to... have cookies. I just... l-looked around your k-k-kitchen and... found what I needed."

I wasn't even aware I had the ingredients for cookies. I took a bite. It was delicious, and still warm. I looked over at Buddy. He was warm, too--the only warmth I'd had in my life recently. A stranger who served me coffee, whom I'd ignored consistently. I hadn't even thanked him for anything he'd done for me. "Those cookies you gave me yesterday," I said softly, "they... got me through the worst night of my life."

He smiled hesitantly.

"Then things got even worse," I continued slowly, feeling as if I were barely grasping at words. "Tonight... man." I paused, shaking my head. I ate the remainder of the cookie, and helped myself to a second. "I don't even know how to say thanks. I'm still not sure if you're even real... but... I want you to know... I'm pretty sure you saved my life."

Buddy's eyes widened. He set the cookie plate on my coffee table and returned his attention to me. "I... I... can I... hhhhug you?"

I rotated my body to face him and nodded. He leaned in and wrapped his arms around my neck, pressing his compact body against mine. I gathered him into my arms, feeling the thudding of both of our hearts between us. He felt so small and fragile, but he was by far the strong one. He was my hero. I dared to hold him a little tighter, and he squeezed me in turn.

"Thank you," I whispered. "Thank you."

"You needed someone," he whispered back. "I was... just... there."

"You've been there a long time, and I never noticed. I'm sorry I'm such a moron. I fail at everything."

"D-don't say that, Richard. For one thing... y-y-you're a really... really good hugger."

I smiled a little and continued to hold him. I began to wonder if this was eventually going to get weird, but it felt perfect. I could have stayed in this hug all night. "You too, Buddy."

I felt him quake a little. "Y-y-you've never said my name before."

"Buddy," I repeated, smiling wider.

He shivered again. I felt him relax against me, his forehead tucked into the crook of my neck. The hug had transitioned into a cuddle, and I was loving it.

"Richard... I... I'm s-sorry if I've... imposed," he said after a long pause. "I've been inc-credibly presumptuous tonight... and... I've invited mys-self over to your... place... and everything." He sighed. "I... I wanted t-to help you. I guess I... have. Now I... I'm afraid I'm just... t-taking advantage."

"No!" I replied firmly. Cautiously I started running my hands up and down his back. "I meant it when I said you saved my life. If you hadn't presumed, I doubt anyone else would have. I lost my parents, my friends... I have no one. There's no one that would have been checking up on me. I don't want to impose either, but... I really need someone right now. I'm really glad you're here."

He sighed again and rested a hand on my chest. "I'm g-glad to h-h-hhhear you say that... b-b-but I mean, you're... em-motionally... in a s-state of upheaval, and... you're vulnerable, and... you know... I really don't want to... t-t-take... 'advantage'... if you... know what I mean...?" He breathed hard against my neck and scrunched the fabric of my shirt in one of his fists. His other hand lightly stroked the back of my neck.

"Oh..." I whispered with a little shiver, remembering all of the coffee cups, the "i" in my name dotted with tiny hearts, the cookies. I looked down at the fresh ones. Little crooked sugar cookie hearts he made meticulously for me from scratch, just because I'd wanted some at the coffee shop. "Buddy... I think I'd like to be taken advantage of for once. By you... only by you. You're... my saviour. You've earned more trust from me in a couple of hours than anyone else has my entire life." I swallowed with some difficulty. It was still so hard to flirt. I took a deep breath. "You're also... really... really... cute."

He lifted his head and looked at me squarely. I still couldn't tell if his eyes were blue, green, or grey. His mouth twitched into a shaky smile, and then struggled to form shapes of words. His hands made strange but fascinating gestures. "R... R...Richard. Um. I'd like to... uh... k... k-k-k..."

I couldn't wait for him to stammer out the word. I leaned down and tasted his mouth, softly. Sugar; butter. He tasted like a cookie. He rose up to meet me, his lips parting a little. I tilted my head, deepening the kiss. My hands slid up his back, feeling all of his ribs. I combed my fingers through his unruly hair. It was so, so soft. I heard him sigh gently, his breath tickling over my cheek. We were locked together in that moment, just the two of us, floating in a bubble of warmth and perfect safety, high above that cold, cruel outside world.

I felt the gentlest touch of his warm, wet tongue against my lip, and it sent a searing bolt of lust through me, from my mouth straight down into my testicles. I sucked in a sharp breath and my hands clamped down on his hair in desperate handfuls. He grunted and tensed; I released him, feeling immediately regretful of my reaction, and he drew back a little. We both panted.

"S... s...." His mouth twitched and groped for the word. "S... ssssorry!"

I shook my head. "No... no, I'm sorry!" I breathed. I watched him intently for some clue as to what he was thinking or feeling. Had I scared him? Had I hurt him? Did he regret the kiss? My gaze travelled downward. I was completely unable to stop myself--I looked down at his crotch. I spotted a telltale silhouette formed by the fabric of his pants--not large, but certainly something. I could not tear my gaze away. That bulge. Sweet little Buddy... aroused.

He saw what I was looking at and grabbed the nearest pillow, pressing it into his lap. His freckled cheeks burned a deep shade of crimson; he turned his body away. "S... s... s...."

"Don't be sorry," I said quickly. I felt dizzy, breathless, and unbalanced, but in all the best ways. I also had a raging boner, almost painful in its intensity. "Buddy. Buddy?" I waited until he turned to look at me timidly, and then I adjusted my pants slightly, leaving no question as to the size and shape of what was lying beneath the two layers of fabric, squeezed hotly against my thigh. He gasped and turned away again. Feeling suddenly rather pervy, I swallowed with difficulty and grabbed the blanket I'd been wrapped in earlier, wadding it in my lap. I carefully regulated my breathing, as if Buddy were guiding me.

Just when the silence was becoming truly excruciating, the couple in the next apartment started up. For about half a minute we sat immobile next to one another, staring blankly across the room to the accompaniment of frantically squeaking bedsprings. Then the girl moaned, groaned, and cried out several breathless affirmatives, while her boyfriend grunted repeatedly and aggressively.

Buddy made a small, nonspecific noise. I turned to look at him and realized he was holding back a laugh. Immediately overcome by the humour in the situation, I sputtered noisily and clapped a hand over my mouth. He finally looked my way, and we both erupted in boisterous laughter.

"Oh... that's... huh-horrible!" he guffawed.

"I know!" I exclaimed, doubling over. "He sounds like a Neanderthal clubbing a dying mammoth!"

Buddy threw himself back on the couch and kicked his legs in the air in an uncontrollable fit of hilarity. He laughed until tears rolled down his face, and it was all I could do to keep myself from pouncing on him and squeezing him again.

Eventually we both quieted. Buddy shifted over and leaned against me, resting his head on my shoulder.

"I... really liked... k-k-kissing you," he said softly.

I carefully placed my arm around him. "Me too. A lot. I actually... it was my first... I mean, I'd never kissed a boy before."

He stopped breathing for a few moments. "You never... really...?"

"Really."

He swallowed audibly. "Ever done... anything... with a boy...?"

"Nope," I admitted. "I know... lame."

"Th-that was my... first kiss... ever," he stammered, and then blurted out, "I'm a virgin!"

"So am I!" I exclaimed.

He sat up and looked at me with an animated expression of delighted discovery. "Oh thank heaven!"

"Oh man--I'm not the only one!" I laughed out of pure relief and lightly grasped his shoulder. He took the hint and leaned in, hugging me tightly, but with our hips carefully apart.

"I... c-can hardly believe you've never.... I mean, you're... so hot!"

I chuckled and felt my cheeks warming. "Thanks...!"

"And y-y-you were always so... popular. Yunno... football st-star... and everything...."

I pulled back from the hug, shocked. "What--? How did you even know I played football?"

Buddy bit his lip and cringed visibly. He fidgeted and searched for words. "W...." He stopped, swallowed, and drew his mouth into the shape of the letter again. "W.... W-wwwe went to... the same s-ssschool."

My jaw hung open. Was I really this stupid? Could I really have been such a colossal idiot as to not only overlook Buddy at the coffee shop all year long, but also utterly miss his presence at my own high school? "I'm so... so... sorry," I gasped, having no other response. It broke my heart to think of him crushing on me for years, and going completely unnoticed. "I had no idea my head was so far up my own ass!"

He gave a tiny smile. "It-it's okay... really," he said quietly. "I... made a p-p-p-point of... being inv-visible. A-and... I was... a grade behind you."




Sugar Heart Ch. 02



"Oh." I smiled back, hesitantly. "Well, I thought you looked pretty... young."

He bit his lip again. "Um... well... um... actually, I... th-thhh-think I'm... older than you. I'm twenty-one." He took a deep breath, and tried to force his mouth around new syllables. He sighed and dropped his face into his hands. "Sorry," he murmured, his voice muffled.

"It's okay--take your time," I said as soothingly as possible as I grabbed another cookie. It was clear how much stress Buddy's speech disorder caused him, and I didn't want to rush the poor little guy.

After a period of hesitation he removed his hands from his face. "W-would you mind if we... made it d-d-dark in here? I know it's... silly... but it... helps me, somehow."

I inhaled the rest of my cookie quickly and stood up. "No problem!" I assured him. I went around turning off all the lights, and finally drew the curtains. When I came back, I could just barely make out the shape of Buddy lying back on the couch, hugging a pillow against his chest. I sat on the opposite end of the couch, giving him plenty of space.

"I'm not actually... stupid or anything," he said after a minute or two. He spoke slowly, but his stammer had almost completely gone away. The couple next door had, mercifully, lapsed into silence. "People think I am... because I stutter... and I was behind a couple of grades in school. But I score pretty high on IQ tests. Anyway, that's... not the point. I started kindergarten a year late. My mom was... on drugs. She got clean, though--please don't think badly of her. She was a good mom. I swear. She loved me a lot." He breathed deeply a few times. "But when I was little, things were bad for a while. She didn't enrol me in school. I didn't have any dad I knew about. Someone called Social Services on us, and I ended up in a foster home for a couple of years."

I was tempted to give some response to this, but he was speaking so openly and so fluently; I didn't want to jinx it.

"So yeah... started school late," he continued. "People didn't tend to notice I was older. I've always been... small. By second grade, I was back with mom. Losing me was... the kick she'd needed to get clean. She got a decent job, we moved somewhere nicer, and we were... really happy for a while. My grades were good, but... I started having problems. Kids always... teased me... about the stutter. Mostly I just didn't speak at all, if I could avoid it. But I'd started getting some... speech therapy. Started feeling a bit more confident, and... tried to be more outgoing. Didn't go very well. Kids ignored me when I ignored them, but when I tried... being normal... they noticed me too much. I got bullied a lot. They called me a retard. Sometimes I got beat up. And... then my mom... got cancer. She was sick all the time, from the chemo... and I was sick too. Really bad anxiety problems. Between worrying about mom, and... bullies... I couldn't handle school half the time... and the anxiety also kind of destroyed my immune system. I missed so much that I... failed sixth grade... and had to repeat it. It wasn't so bad after that. Mom started getting better, and... I did too. I had panic attacks sometimes... mom always helped me through. That's how I learned what to do... when I saw you... you know...?"

I swallowed back a lump and placed a hand on his knee. Buddy was quiet for a little while, and then he shifted, crawling down the couch toward me. He tucked himself in against my side, curled up like a baby bird, and I held him close.

"In high school... I tried hard to be a nobody," he whispered. "I clammed up again. It was easier that way. I guess I was always kind of jealous of... guys like you. But I knew I could never be like you. After a while I just... thought it would be nice... to be close to you. When I was younger... it was guys like the ones you hung out with that always gave me a hard time. But you were different--I always knew you were different. I never saw you... being mean."

I kissed the top of his head. He smelled faintly of coffee.

"My mom never knew I was gay," he continued, cuddling closer to me. "She... didn't speak well of gays. I just didn't want to rock the boat. Especially when she... got sick again. She stuck it out just long enough to see me graduate high school. Then she just... slipped away. I don't know how I would have gotten through it without Bernie."

"Bernie... the mechanic?" I asked, feeling a little pang of jealousy.

"Mm-hm. He's the closest thing I ever had to a dad. He was my mom's boyfriend. They'd been together a few years, and... he stayed with her right till the end. We're pretty close. I've been staying with him ever since. He's really great."

I relaxed, the jealousy melting away as quickly as it had risen up.

"He's the only other person who knows... that I'm gay, I mean. I... I actually... told him about you." He giggled. "He's always telling me to flirt a little. The cups... that was... all I had the guts to do. Till I saw... what you, um... went through... with your parents. Till then, I... I mean, the idea that you might possibly be into guys was just... wishful thinking. I got my wish. But I couldn't be happy about it... when I saw how sad you were. So... so sad."

"I don't think I'm quite so sad anymore, Buddy." I stroked his soft hair a little, and we cuddled silently in the dark. After a while I started talking. I talked about how I'd been feeling more and more depressed the past few months, how I'd begun to suspect my widespread dishonesty and denial were to blame, and how I'd pushed myself to come out of the closet. I told him how painful it had been to see my parents react the way they did. I told him about everything else that had conspired to ruin that day for me--the gate opener, the elevator, the freezer, the Ben & Jerry's. I told him about how awful my job had been, and about the forklift accident, and getting fired. I told him about coming out to my friend Jeff, how I'd managed to lose all my friends in one fell swoop, and how alone I'd felt despite being fairly certain I was better off without people like them. The last thing I told him was how I'd been thinking of crashing my car and being done with life.

"I'm... so, so glad you didn't," he whispered. "Now that I... finally have the guts to talk to you."

"I'm glad too. I really do think things can get better now." I yawned deeply. My day seemed to have lasted about a year, and I'd been through such a wide spectrum of emotions that I was completely sapped.

"I should let you sleep," he said, sitting up. "You must be zonked."

"Mm-hm," I mumbled, groping for a lamp. We both squinted against the light when it flooded the room.

"Go on and... get ready for bed," he said softly, standing and grabbing the cookie plate. "I'll just... c-clean up the mess I made... in your kitchen."

"You don't have to," I said, watching him walk away in the direction of the kitchenette. "But... thanks."

I was feeling grungy and decided to have a shower. I was at least semi-hard throughout, and stroked myself a little while I scrubbed up, but did not masturbate in earnest. I had a vague notion that I might be saving myself for something.

I stepped out of the bathroom with a towel around my waist, and glanced toward the kitchen. Buddy peeked around the doorway. When he saw me in a towel, his eyes widened, and then lowered modestly.

"I..." I crossed my arms and chuckled briefly. "I'm kinda out of shape."

He gave his head a little shake and snuck me another timid glance, his cheeks reddening. "Y-you look... good."

I smiled gratefully. "Are you... about to leave?"

He shrugged. "N-n-nnnot if you d-don't want me to."

"Just give me, um...." I held up a finger and slipped into my bedroom, quickly putting on a fresh t-shirt and boxers. When I emerged, Buddy was standing in the hallway, his arms wrapped around himself. He looked so small, so innocent. I couldn't believe he was twenty-one. I wanted to kiss his cute little nose. He looked like a lost boy... but he was a man, the man who had saved me, the man who continued to make me feel there was a life ahead of me that would be worth sticking around for. I just wanted him close to me. The idea of him leaving made me want to panic again.

"Would you stay?" I whispered. "I don't want to be alone tonight."

"If th-that's what you want," he replied, taking his phone out of his pocket and looking down at it. "I'll just... t-text Bernie. Make sure he knows I'm g-gone for the night, and... sssafe."

I watched him type out a text, tuck his phone away, and look up at me with curiosity and what might have been trepidation. I suspected he was trying to figure out whether I wanted him to literally sleep in my bed with me. I wasn't sure I knew what I wanted.

"C-c-c-could I just...?" He pointed toward the bathroom.

"Oh--of course! Go ahead!"

While Buddy disappeared inside the bathroom, I retreated into my bedroom, tossed an extra pillow on my bed, and conducted a rapid blitz of a cleanup job. I had a bottle of lube next to my bed, which I quickly tucked into a drawer, and there was plenty of dirty laundry about, some pieces practically stiff with dried jizz. I shoved everything into a laundry basket and finally relaxed a little, sitting down on the edge of my bed.

Buddy finished in the bathroom and crept down the hall, poking his head into my room. "H-hhhi," he whispered.

"Hi," I answered, smiling. "You can come in."

He took a step inside and glanced around nervously.

"Do you want to borrow a t-shirt?" I asked.

He smiled bashfully. "Y-y-yes please."

I pulled a clean, soft one from a drawer and tossed it to him. He missed the toss clumsily, letting it fall to the floor with a self-conscious chuckle. He picked it up, hesitated a moment, glanced at the door, at me, and then, making a quick decision, turned his back to me and wriggled out of his polo. I could see most of his ribs, and nearly every vertebra in his spine. His shoulderblades stuck out in sharp relief. He hung his shirt neatly on one of the knobs of my closet door and pulled on the t-shirt, which hung off him like a sack. He turned to face me again and went back to looking nervous.

"Is this okay?" I whispered. "If you're uncomfortable... I mean... I don't want to make you uncomfortable!"

He smiled finally and took a few steps toward me. "I'm okay. I... I just... don't want to... p-p-presume anything."

I yawned and shifted back against the wall, reclining halfway. "Come lay down next to me...?"

Buddy nodded and covered the final few steps to the bed. He sat down, and then drew his legs up and settled onto his back. His slight frame barely seemed to shift the mattress. I pulled my blanket over both of us and reached over him to turn off my bedside lamp. I lay back, feeling his shoulder and arm snug against mine. My bed wasn't big enough to accommodate two without touching.

"Richard?"

I smiled in the dark. "Hmm?"

"I always thought you must work nights... with all that coffee you drink in the evenings. How can you be tired?"

"Caffeine doesn't really affect me."

"Oh. Well. How do you get yourself woken up in the morning?"

"I dunno. Waffles?"

He giggled softly, and I chuckled along with him. This was fun, like being a kid on a sleepover

"Buddy?" I whispered after a period of silence.

"Yes?"

"What colour are your eyes?"

"My driver's license says 'grey', but... that's not quite right. Honestly... I'm not sure."

"Well... I really like them."

"Oh. Th-thank you!"

His little finger brushed against mine. A shiver danced up my spine. I couldn't be sure if the touch had been deliberate or just a random twitch, but I reciprocated it. His finger hooked around mine, and for a minute we just held pinkies. Then he let go, only to slide his arm beneath mine and reach around to hold my hand fully. I let out a long, contented breath as our fingers laced together.



Sugar Heart Ch. 03



Bright sunlight filtered through the curtains that inadequately covered the window above my bed. I awoke confused and very groggy. I remembered last night slowly. I hadn't intended to fall asleep so quickly. I reached out and found only a lone expanse of mattress beside me.

"Buddy?" I mumbled, stretching. I rolled out of bed and groaned. My cock stood straight out in front of me, tenting my boxers absurdly.

"Shhh," I sighed, trying to will it away. I didn't want to scare my shy boy away with a boner the size of the Washington Monument.

Once Richard Jr. had settled down a little, I left my bedroom and glanced down the hall. The bathroom wasn't occupied. I walked into the living room; it was also empty.

"Buddy?" I called, and received no response. I returned to my front door. His shoes were gone. He was gone.

Had he been here at all? I shivered. It crossed my mind that I'd had some kind of mental breakdown and might have fabricated the kindest, snuggest love interest my imagination could conceive of in order to quell the unbearable chaos recent circumstances had stirred up in me, but when I finally stepped into the kitchenette, I knew my little Buddy had been real all along. Last evening's much-needed catharsis had been real, too, and so had the sweet sense of comfort he'd induced, the security, the hope, and the great big plate of heart-shaped sugar cookies that was now sitting on my kitchen counter neatly covered in plastic wrap.

I looked around the room in amazement. When Buddy had cleaned up, he hadn't just taken care of whatever mess he'd made with the cookies. He'd scrubbed and tidied the entire kitchen so thoroughly, I didn't think it had been this clean when I'd moved in. It was sparkling; it was spotless. And sitting on the stove was a clean plate, along with a fork and knife, next to a bottle of syrup, a cube of butter placed neatly on a saucer, and a large covered skillet. I lifted the lid and felt my insides melt utterly. Waiting for me were nearly a dozen fluffy pancakes, all made roughly in the shape of hearts. I had to snap a photo before I could even touch them.

The pancakes were cold by this point-I had no idea how long ago he'd left-but even hastily microwaved they were still delicious, and I ate every single one, slathered in butter and syrup. It was comfort food in the finest sense of the word. Those pancakes had been undeniably made with love. I felt almost like crying by the time I'd finished eating. I knew it was a lot to do with being worn to a thread by recent stressful events, but what really seemed to bring tears to my eyes was the sweetness, the overwhelming sum of all of the little romantic gestures from Buddy that made me feel insulated from the harshness of the outside world. At another time I would have had a good laugh at any guy who would cry over the sweetness of something. I had been broken for a reason-so that I could be rebuilt. New Richard was going to be a better Richard. New Richard would cry if he wanted to cry, and not be ashamed of it.

I spotted yesterday's coffee cup and picked it up, gazing at my name neatly printed in bold black Sharpie, with a little heart dotting the "i". I touched it with my fingertips. I didn't even want to throw this cup away. I didn't want to throw away any of the cups. I thought of the collection I'd amassed in the backseat of my car simply due to my own slovenliness. They were all mementos now. They were a chronicle of love letters that Buddy had been waiting ages for me to read.

I brought the cup into my bedroom and set it next to my bed. When I saw the pillow Buddy had slept on, I immediately dove down to breathe in the scent of it. I hadn't even realized I'd memorized the smell of him, but there he was. My hand found something else as I grabbed hold of the pillow-the t-shirt I'd given him to sleep in. He'd left it tucked under the pillow. I flopped down into my bed and pressed the shirt tightly against my face, inhaling deeply. When I finally exhaled, reluctant to even let this breath go, it came out as a shudder. The tears also broke loose then, and I knew at once just how far gone I was. I sobbed into the shirt and squeezed his pillow against my chest. It overwhelmed me in that moment, not just how perfectly wonderful Buddy had been to me, but how much I missed him now. Why had he left without saying anything? Why hadn't he woken me to say goodbye? Why hadn't he even left a note? Had this night been an anomaly? Would I be granted the pleasure of keeping Buddy in my life, or was he truly a guardian angel, one I would only possess in my greatest hours of need?

I didn't have his phone number. I didn't know where he lived. I didn't even know his last name. I didn't know Bernie's last name, or where his garage was located. I couldn't recall what towing company had taken my car away. I was unable to come up with a way of tracking him down. There was the coffee shop, of course-maybe he left in a rush because he had to work? But no, that didn't seem right. Buddy was always on the evening shift when I came in. If he worked the late shift, he wouldn't be starting for hours yet.

With a sudden surge of adrenaline, I thought of at least one way I could find out his last name. I scrambled for my bookshelf and pulled down my last high school yearbook. I flipped to the Grade 11 students and searched for him. I didn't find his sweet face, but at the very end, I found his name.

NOT PICTURED: Buddy Bantree.

I touched his name. I kissed the page. Buddy Bantree-it seemed like a perfect name. The alliteration made him sound like a character from a comic book. I pulled out a few more yearbooks-in every single one, he was listed as "NOT PICTURED". He hadn't been kidding about making himself invisible.

I grabbed for my phone, first checking for missed calls or texts, and then I Googled his name. I couldn't find a trace of him on the Internet. I sighed and sniffled, cuddled the t-shirt he'd slept in, and let my tears fall. Bernie had my contact information, and that meant Buddy did too. I would have to resign myself to waiting.

In the dual interests of clearing my head and toning my body, I decided to go for a long jog. It felt good to move, though I had to push myself pretty hard. I was fighting a sense of sluggishness and exhaustion borne of tremendous stress. When I finally made it back to my building just before noon, I felt that I had accomplished at least a little something.

My heart rate didn't even have a chance to slow to normal-my phone rang just as I was getting off the elevator. I fumbled to pull it out of my pocket and saw an unfamiliar number.

"Please be Buddy, please be Buddy, please be Buddy," I whispered as I hurried to my door. I unlocked with one hand and answered the call with the other. "Huh-hello?" I panted.

"Yeah, this Richard Callahan?" a brusque, gravelly voice asked.

My heart dropped, but I guessed at once that the voice belonged to Bernie the mechanic. I fought to calm my breathing. "Yes-Richard speaking."

"Bernie here. Gotchyer car up on the jacks. Been having starter issues for a while?"

I swallowed hard, getting the sense I was about to be lectured. "Yeah, actually... it's been reluctant to start here and there over the last couple weeks, but last night was the first time the engine wouldn't crank at all." I kicked off my shoes and stepped into the kitchen.

"Yeh," Bernie rasped. He breathed heavily as he plodded around his shop, and I could hear a bit of rattling and clanking in the background. "Shoulda' had that looked at before the bastard bit it completely, kiddo. Checked yer battery, checked yer starter. Buddy called it-solenoid's fucked. I got replacements here, so should be no prob. I can change it out later this afternoon. Parts n' labour'll run ya about one-eighty, plus tax, but I had a li'l inspection and yer girl could use some TLC all 'round-yer oil's overdue for a changing, for one. I can top up a few fluids no charge, but hell, you're seriously gunked up after the way y' been abusing this girl. These shitty drive-through oil change outfits'll tell you to get yer engine flushed, but dontcha do that-a vehicle with a mileage like this 'un especially shouldn't be put through that treatment. I'd like to drain the whole works, dismantle yer engine, and give 'er a thorough cleaning by hand, maybe change out some belts, plugs, hoses, but that'll cost ya, and I can't do it today."

I paced through my kitchen, munching on a cookie as he spoke. When he finished I cringed and felt my cheeks warming. He wasn't wrong-I'd been inexcusably remiss in getting my oil changed regularly, and I'd never had a tuneup. It was all coming back to bite me now. "Uh, well I really appreciate the advice. I know I need to... take better care of my ride. I'd like to say, go ahead and do whatever you think needs doing, but I mean... I just lost my job, and money's gonna be tight till I can find a new one. If we could just, uh... do the bare minimum to get it running, I think that's all I can manage right now."

He continued to breathe heavily into the phone. "Right then. I'll get that solenoid replaced and that'll be that. You'll hear from me later this afternoon, maybe evening. I'll let y' know the final cost, and you can swing right on by whenever. The 130 bus comes right by my place."

"That's fantastic-thank you. Thank you, sir!"

"Sir!" he exclaimed, and barked noisily with laughter. "Don't get much 'sir' from yer generation, that's for sure. Bernie's just fine."

I let out a breath and smiled a little. I wasn't generally in the habit of calling older people "sir" or "ma'am", but I realized I was unconsciously putting on my best behaviour, as if trying to make a good impression on my sweetheart's father. Remembering how Buddy had spoken of Bernie, in a way, I supposed I was doing just that. I took another cookie and gazed down at it, my smile widening. "Bernie-great," I replied, and paused a moment, drumming up a little courage. "Uh, by the way... do you know where Buddy is right now?"

"Sure, he's right here at the house."

"Oh!" My heart pounded. I paused again. "Could I possibly... speak with him?"

Bernie huffed and puffed. A tool rattled loudly. "Nope, he won't wanna talk."

I stopped breathing, and my heart squeezed right up into my throat. He won't want to talk? The cookie slipped from my hand and shattered into several pieces on the floor. I looked down at it, wide-eyed. "Oh... well... would you be able to give me his cell number?"

"Ain't my info to give out, kiddo! Listen-I got a lot on my plate today. We good?"

"O-okay, yeah," I replied, tugging at the collar of my t-shirt. "We're good. Talk to you soon, Bernie."

"Yeh!" He hung up abruptly.

I sank down onto the floor next to the broken heart cookie. I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. What had gone wrong? I went over last night's events in my mind as I picked up the crumbled bits of cookie off the floor and ate them. I'd scared him, perhaps, when we'd been kissing, and I'd gotten overexcited. But hadn't he been happy to cuddle after that? Had he just been making sure I felt better before fleeing? He'd told me so many personal things-that meant something, didn't it? And the pancakes! The pancakes were definitely something. A love letter in the form of a delicious breakfast. I loaded the photos on my phone so that I could check the picture I'd taken this morning. Those were undeniably heart-shaped pancakes. That was romance in a pan.

"Why don't you want to talk to me?" I whispered, baffled. 

My stomach growled, giving me a timely distraction. I needed more than cookies for lunch. I made myself a sandwich and watched some TV, but my mind kept drifting back to Buddy. I was alternately excited and deeply concerned.

At last I simply went back to bed, too tired and confused to remain conscious.

* * * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * * *

I don't know how long I might have slept if I hadn't been woken by my phone a few hours later.

"Hullo?" I grunted.

"Richard! Bernie! Yer car's operational-come on by and pick 'er up whenever."

I sat up and rubbed my eyes, forcing myself awake. After collecting the address and final cost for the service, I climbed out of bed, got dressed, and shambled off to the bus stop. The long nap had dulled my concerns a little; I mostly felt dazed. I stared out the window during the journey in a moony state, pining and daydreaming about Buddy. Innumerable heart shapes were burned into my vision. I thought about how it had felt to kiss him, about the soft touch of his tongue. Delicious tingles travelled all over my body, and I had to force my mind quickly to other things in order to avoid getting too aroused and looking like some kind of bus pervert.

Bernie's place was located on a tiny, dead-end street in a largely industrial area. There were only a few houses on the street, and Bernie's was the only one that looked in decent repair, with a well-tended lawn. There were several cars parked out front. Following the instructions Bernie had given me over the phone, I walked around the side of the house and into an enormous rear yard, where his garage was located. There were several more cars back here, including my own. The man seemed to do very good business considering he worked out of his own backyard in an obscure area. Buddy had assured me he was great at what he did-word-of-mouth business probably kept him busy.

"Hello?" I called.

Bernie stepped out of the garage, wiping his hands on a rag. He looked to be in his late 40s and was completely bald, of average height, and huskily built, with broad shoulders and thick arms. I smiled at how unlike Buddy he was.

He did not smile. He stalked up to me and gave me a thorough look-over. "So, this is the famous Richie Callahan."

"I'm famous around here, am I?" I joked weakly. I stuck a hand out. "Nice to meet you."

He shoved his grease-stained rag partly into a pocket, grasped my hand, clamping down almost painfully firmly, and gave it two hard pumps before letting go. "Ya got money for me?"

"Uh, yeah!" I pulled out my wallet to pay him, and in short order he wrote me out a receipt and handed over my keys. I was beginning to fret again. I didn't know Bernie well enough to guess whether this brusqueness was normal for him, or borne of a particular dislike for me. Buddy was probably like a son to him, and had been pining over a guy who was unemployed, took lousy care of his car, and was, just lately, sort of mentally unstable. If I were Bernie, I'd probably hate me.

"By the way," he added, "I went ahead and changed yer oil. It was driving me crazy, is all. Swapped out yer timing belt too-cheap part, quick job, and it'll save y' another breakdown later on. On the house."

"Oh-that's really generous of you!" I exclaimed, impressed by the superlative and reasonably-priced service. "I can't even tell you how much I appreciate it." I glanced at my wallet. "Uh, do you take tips?"

"Not 'less you've got any solid premonitions about this year's Stanley Cup!" he laughed heartily, giving me a little punch. "Got a hockey pool going with some buddies, yunno. Nah, I mean it-keep yer spare nickels."

I grinned widely, deciding I liked Bernie. I hesitated, not wanting to leave, and glanced toward the house, wondering if Buddy was in there.

"Buddy's at work," he offered.

"Oh...!" I flushed a little, not expecting him to follow my train of thought with such accuracy.

Bernie's eyes bored into me. "He's a sweet kid, hey?"

I was unprepared for this statement, too, and blushed even deeper, smiling foolishly. "Yeah... man...!" I huffed, a little overcome. "He made me fucking pancakes." My cheeks blazed even hotter, regretting this admission. Why had I said that? Surely he'd be making assumptions as to what might have gone on between us last night.

"Yeh?" Bernie chuckled. Surprisingly, he looked perfectly amused and lightly punched my shoulder again. "He's never made me pancakes, slugger."

I grinned. My face would combust soon. I fidgeted with my keys, wanting to ask if Buddy had been talking about me, but not really knowing how to ask without sounding pathetic. "Is, uh... is he okay?" I finally ventured.

Bernie furrowed his brow. "In what sense do you mean?"

"I mean... just today. He kinda... disappeared first thing, without saying anything. I didn't know what to make of it."

"Ah, that's just his way!" Bernie said flippantly. "He's skittish. Like a li'l squirrel. Don't think much of it. He'll come around, long as you take things easy, let him go at his own pace, yunno? Gonna head on by the coffee shop?"

My eyes widened. "You think he'll want to see me?"

Bernie laughed again, a boisterous bark. "You some kinda idiot, kiddo?"

I bit my lip. "Yeah... unfortunately, I seem to be," I sighed, rubbing my eyes.

He continued laughing. "Listen-that boy's as deep into you as a jackass is in clover. O'course he'll want to see you! I'll be damned if I know what aboutcha's got him so head-over-heels, but Richie... there's not much I want outta life more than seeing Buddy get what he wants for once. Go get 'im, slugger."

I felt a great flood of tension seep out of me finally, and I grinned uncontrollably. "All right-thanks, Bernie. Thank you so much!" I reached out a hand to him and felt his viselike grip enclose mine tightly. When I tried to end the shake to step into my car, he gripped me tighter, pulling me back.

"Hey," he said firmly, all trace of laughter very suddenly gone from his face. "The kinda man I'd like to see Buddy with is one who'll take a lot better care of him than you take care of this car. You break his heart, kiddo, I break yer face. Fair?"

I looked back at him evenly and replied with a sober nod. "Show me no mercy. Buddy's simply... the nicest person I've ever known," I said softly. "I'd die before hurting him."

"Then we understand each other." He let go of my hand and gave my shoulder a brief squeeze. "Off y' go."

My car started without a hitch, and I gave Bernie a great big smile and wave as I drove off of his lot. Afternoon had turned to evening and I hadn't yet had any supper, but I wasn't sure I could eat anything-I was far too keyed up over Buddy. I felt as if I had a giant helium balloon trapped inside my chest.

I arrived at the coffee shop a few hours before closing time. It didn't matter to me-I could have waited for him all night. After parking my car, I walked up and stood outside the big front window for a minute or two, peering inside. There were several employees bustling around behind the counter; Buddy was easily the smallest among them. Lord, was he ever cute. What an idiot I was for overlooking him all this time. Bernie had been absolutely right. Some kinda idiot-that was me. An ignorant idiot for many years, and now a smitten, besotted idiot. I felt only a touch away from completely melting right there on the sidewalk. I would lie there helplessly drowning in a cloud of tiny hearts while moaning his name.

At last I pushed through the door, barely aware of my legs moving as I floated up to the counter. When he turned and finally spotted me, he stopped short and lit up like Christmas morning. I beamed back at him, watching his thin chest inflate. He hurried up to the cash register, wringing his hands.

"Hi," I whispered, leaning on the counter.

He mouthed the word "hi", but no sound came out. I wanted to leap over the counter and gather him up in my arms, kissing him from the top of his head down to every last little toe. He took an extra-large cup and a Sharpie, grinned playfully at me for a few moments, and then started writing. I slid three dollars and ten cents in change across the counter. His hand settled over mine for a moment, our fingers tangling together as he received the coins. I could feel my own thudding heartbeat in the tips of each of my fingers. We made eye contact as we touched, and the electricity was so strong I wouldn't have been surprised if the bulbs in every one of the light fixtures above us had flared up and shattered.




Sugar Heart Ch. 03



He rang my order through without a word from either of us, dropping the coins into the register tray. Just before I stepped away, I discreetly blew him a kiss. He bit his lip bashfully, glanced around, and then quickly reached up a hand to catch the invisible kiss. I nearly laughed out of sheer delight.

Buddy was stuck at the register as more customers filed in behind me, and it was one of his female co-workers who ended up calling my name and handing me my coffee. She glanced down at the cup and then at me, knowingly. She looked as if she were barely keeping back a giggle. Instead of being embarrassed, I grinned hugely, took my cup, and eagerly looked for my name. The heart above the "i" had grown in size, and now had a tiny arrow through it. Below was printed, "XOXOX". I clutched the cup like a found treasure, giving the girl one more grin before my eyes searched out Buddy again. I was desperate to claim those hugs and kisses.

I settled into a comfortable armchair within sight of his work area and sipped my coffee leisurely. Watching him work was a pleasure, especially when he shot me little smiles throughout the evening. I marvelled at how fluent his speaking was for most of his time at the cash register. He seemed to cope better the more routine the verbal exchange was, so taking countless beverage orders and collecting payment was smooth and easy for him almost without exception. I theorized that when he didn't have to think as much about what he was saying, he was less likely to stutter. It made a customer service job like this possible, but a random social conversation a challenge for him. I appreciated at a deeper level now how much mental fortitude it had taken for him to approach me here the other day with the cookies. I regretted being so aloof, caught up in my own selfish misery. He'd been so brave... so darling. I looked down at my cup and smiled adoringly.

The hours slipped by me, and the place began to empty before I even noticed how late it had gotten. It was about five minutes to closing time, and most of the staff were moving through routine cleanup duties, when Buddy slipped out from behind the counter, tucked himself into the little alcove that led to the washrooms, and peeked back at me, beckoning surreptitiously for me to follow him. I licked my lips, set my cup down, and stood to go after him. My heart seemed to be attached to him by a string, pulling me along.

He passed by the men's and ladies', and pushed open the door of the gender-neutral, disabled washroom. I ducked in behind him, and he locked the door. We stared at each other, breathing hard, and he came forward finally, pushing me back against the wall and reaching up to me with his lips parted. I kissed him immediately, wrapping my arms around his fragile little body. He clung to me, hanging from my neck, and I breathed in the now familiar scent of him as I slid my lips slowly against his, tasted him. I didn't push, extra cautious now of scaring him off, but even the lightest kiss with Buddy thrilled me in dizzying ways.

He leaned back a little to examine my face, and I smiled at him, briefly kissing his dear little snub nose. He grinned, and took a breath to speak. His mouth struggled to find the right syllables. I waited patiently, and then noticed there was a light switch next to my shoulder. I flicked it, flooding the room with pure darkness, knowing it would help him overcome his stutter a little. I heard him exhale, and then he kissed my cheek and rested his head against my chest.

"I'm sorry," he sighed.

"What for?"

"I dunno... everything," he whispered. "I feel so... silly. I... I almost threw away those stupid pancakes."

"They weren't stupid!" I whispered back urgently. "Buddy, they were incredible!"

He sighed again, squeezing me a little. "You're really nice."

"I'm nice? Buddy... there's no one nicer in the world than you!"

"Oh... I feel so lame! And Bernie told me you were... asking about me. I can only imagine how I must have made you feel. I didn't mean to... ditch you. I had to get home and take my meds this morning. Anti-anxiety stuff. It helps me... function. Not that I wasn't still... anxious... most of the day. Ugh. And the phone... I'm so sorry I couldn't talk. Please don't think I didn't want to talk to you-it wasn't personal. I just... I don't do phones. I can't. It's a mental block. I can't talk on the phone. I'm so sorry if I hurt your feelings. I should have at least texted you. But then I kept feeling stupid about this or that, and thinking everything I'd done was so lame, and that you couldn't possibly want me around!"

"Oh... Buddy... you're so hard on yourself, and you really shouldn't be," I whispered, hugging him closer. "Of course I want you around. Everything you've done for me is beautiful... just beautiful!"

"Oh..." he breathed. He nuzzled against me and smelled my shirt. "Mmm. Richard. Richard... I... I know I'm too neurotic. Bernie was saying to me the other day... I may not be going to school and getting beat up anymore, but instead I'm... beating myself up... and that's even worse. I'm... trying to be better. I think I can be better. I mean... years have gone by, and I was never able to talk to you... but when I saw you in your car last night, in a panic... I didn't even think about it. I just went over and helped you. I felt more sure of myself than I had in a long time. Maybe... ever."

I kissed the top of his head. It hadn't escaped my notice that he hadn't stuttered once during the times he was helping me through emotional meltdowns. "You were a rock," I whispered. "You were amazing."

He let out a trembling breath and rubbed his cheek against my shoulder. "Richard... I like you so much. I... I don't want you to think that when I... helped you... it was for some... ulterior motive... like, to get close to you. I mean, I do want to be close to you, but... that wasn't why I helped you. But... I just... ohh man, this is so hard..." He sighed harshly. "Richard. Are you... are you going to ask me out, or not?"

I stifled a laugh and grinned, feeling tingly all over. "Buddy." I slid my hands up his back, his neck, and finally cupped both of his cheeks. "I'm crazy about you. I love every moment with you, and when I'm not with you, I'm dreaming of you. Please, please, please be my boyfriend...?"

He made a throaty, gleeful noise and grabbed my shirt in tight, excited handfuls. "Ohh... that's even better!" he gushed, clamping his arms tightly around my neck. "I mean, yes-yes, yes! Yes a hundred times! Oh-Richard! Are we a couple now? My boyfriend!"

My cheeks began to ache from smiling. I hugged him hard enough to lift him off the floor. "My boyfriend! Yeah-we're a couple!"

"Can we tell everybody? Can we be... public? If you need more time, it's okay!"

"No-I mean, yes, I'm ready! I want everyone to know."

He kissed my neck, my cheek, and then my lips. I kissed him back, slowly, carefully. His breathing ramped up quickly, and he drew back, panting.

"Is... this okay?" I whispered, wanting to kiss him more, to kiss him deeper, to kiss him for hours, but I was remembering what Bernie had said about him being skittish ("like a li'l squirrel") and needing to move at his own pace.

"Oh... it's so nice," he breathed tremulously. "Kissing you is so good."

"Do you... want more...?"

"Oh... yes! Can I...?" he gasped. "I just don't want to, um... I don't want to... push. There are... a lot of things I'd like to do. I feel so... ohh... you can't even know how much I'm feeling. Richard... I don't want to freak you out!"

"I don't think you could possibly freak me out," I assured him. "I mean it. Go nuts, Buddy-let loose. I'm all yours. You're my whole world, you know that? The speed we move at is in your hands."

He breathed raggedly. His hands reached out to bravely explore my chest and abs. He felt out my shoulders, and my biceps. His hands were warm and very friendly. They hooked around my neck once more, and then he pushed up firmly against me with his whole body, forcing me against the wall again. His hips met mine without hesitation now, and he rocked them slowly in a very deliberate motion that flooded my whole body with irresistible lust. My mouth fell open involuntarily, and in moments, Buddy's tongue had slid into it. I groaned, sealing my mouth over his and indulging in the hot, wet, blissfully intimate sensation of our tongues twining together. Licking, sucking, devouring, we feasted on each other, and in no time I was hard as steel.

I groaned deeply; my erection was trapped painfully against my thigh, straining, and I soon had to reach a hand down inside my boxers to adjust it, letting it flip up against my belly. Buddy gasped and pressed himself harder against me, rocking faster now, and I could feel his own hardness, small but unmistakeable; he was rubbing it against mine, and the sensation was pure magic. The kiss broke off with a wet smack-Buddy was now focusing all of his attention on what his pelvis was doing. We both panted as if running a marathon. I noticed he was pushing up onto his tiptoes to keep in alignment with me, so I widened my stance and shifted down the wall a little, putting our hips at equal height. He sucked in a deep breath and slipped one of his thighs between mine, taking advantage of every opportunity to get closer to me.

I could scarcely believe this was happening. Sweet little Buddy, who had been so timid all these years, was dry humping me aggressively. I leaned back against the wall, groaning again, blissfully letting him use me as his toy. If he kept this up much longer, I was going to need a change of clothes.

"Don't... stop..." I grunted.

He pressed his face into the crook of my neck, thrusting ever more eagerly. He began to make small, desperate, keening noises, and for a few moments I thought he was sobbing. He tensed up all over, jerked several times, and then slowly relaxed, sagging against me as he fought to catch his breath. His body was scorching hot in my hands.

"Did you just...?" I gasped.

"Y-yeah," he mumbled, his voice muffled against my neck.

"Buddy... I was so close."

"Mmmm..." One of his hands slid down my side, and gently brushed over the outline of my throbbing organ.

"Yes!" I whispered urgently. "Please!"

He felt me out more firmly, squeezing, stroking. "Ohh... you're so huge! Richard... whoa..."

The action of his hand drew moans from my throat, and I forgot we were supposed to be quiet. His free hand suddenly clamped over my mouth, and somehow this ramped up my pleasure. He rubbed eagerly at my bulge, and it didn't take long for me lose control. I thrust against his touch, arched, and groaned, spasming frantically as I felt a release of hot cum surge over my lower belly, soaking my boxers and probably more. His hand left my mouth, but his other continued to pet me as my body calmed. The dark room was filled with our breathing.

"S-still not freaked out?" Buddy stammered.

"Hell no!" I whispered, stroking his hair affectionately. "That was... epic!"

We held each other for a minute or two, warm and happy in our post-orgasmic cocoon.

"Oh... we've been in here a while," he observed.

"Yeah. And I'm... sticky."

We both stifled a laugh.

"I'm gonna turn the light on, okay?" I whispered.

"Okay."

The light blazed, blinding us momentarily. When we recovered, we gazed at one another in mixed wonder and impish glee. I finally looked down at myself, adjusting my clothes a little. I'd gotten my boxers, part of my t-shirt, and a few spots on my jeans.

"Whew... what a mess," I chuckled. "Um... I'm gonna need to clean up a little."

"Okay." He shifted around, checking his own pants. He didn't seem to have made quite as much of a mess, but he looked a little uncomfortable. "Uh... you, uh... clean up... and head out first. I'll... stay a little longer. I'll just... s-say I was... stocking provisions in here, or... something."

I agreed to this and started grabbing handfuls of tissue from a roll. Buddy turned away demurely while I attempted to mop up the sticky mess I'd made that was by now getting unpleasantly cold. When I'd done the best job I could, I turned to face him. "Can you tell?"

He turned to me and chewed on his lip as he looked me over. "Mmm... n-not really. Maybe... a little? But then I... I... I know what you've been... up to."

Again we held back laughter. I gave him a little kiss, and went to listen at the door to make sure no one was nearby. I shot him a quick smile before slipping out into the corridor and shutting the door behind me. I stepped out into the main area of the shop, hoping I didn't look like someone who had just been humping in a public washroom.

It was well past closing time, and I was the only non-employee left in the shop. Two girls were moving chairs and wiping tables. They both stopped and looked straight at me with undisguised amusement. Did they know? Did everyone know? I paused a moment, blushing intensely, and then continued walking. I decided that I didn't really care if people knew we'd been up to dickens, except that Buddy could potentially get into trouble with his boss. The way his co-workers were looking at me, though, I had the distinct sense that none of them would want to let Buddy get into trouble.

My coffee cup was still sitting where I'd left it-the girls seemed to have deliberately avoided clearing it away. I smiled gratefully and grabbed it, again looking at the "XOXO" written there and feeling a warm little thrill. I had perhaps a dozen or more cups littering the interior of my car, and I knew it was ridiculous to want to keep them all-Buddy was my boyfriend now, and I could ask him to write on something for me anytime I wanted!-but I would at least keep this one forever. The cup that marked the day we'd become an item.

"Are you waiting for Buddy?" one of the girls asked me.

I looked up, slightly dazed. "Yeah," I said breathlessly. "Do you mind? I'll wait outside if you need me to."

"No, it's okay." She smiled widely.

"You guys are soooo adorable," sighed the other girl, the one who had served me my coffee.

"Thanks," I chuckled, cradling my empty cup. I took a deep breath and felt a surge of pride I couldn't hold back. "He's my boyfriend!"

Both girls squealed simultaneously.

"He doesn't talk about it, but he's totally been crushing on you forever-everyone knows, and we've been speculating on when you two might finally get together!" one of them said animatedly.

"You're so cute, I seriously can't even!" gushed the other. "You guys make me believe in love."

"He makes me believe in love," I said bashfully, beaming as they continued to melt and practically die over our transcendent adorableness. This was immeasurably better than being told I was making inappropriate lifestyle choices, or called a faggot. The world was beginning to seem much less cold and unfriendly than it had just a couple of days ago, when I would almost have rather swerved my car into oncoming traffic than face another day.

Buddy emerged, looking innocent as a babe and carrying a trash bag as if all he'd been doing was tidying the washrooms. Many glances were exchanged all around, but no words, as everyone went about their regular closing duties.

Buddy finally came to me, carrying a backpack slung over one shoulder. I could feel eyes watching us as we stepped out into the parking lot.

"Your co-workers are nice," I remarked.

"Yeah," he agreed, softly bumping shoulders with me as we walked close together, although his shoulder was more at the level of my bicep. "Money's not... super great... but it's a p-pleasant enough place to work. Everyone's been very... p-p-p-... patient with me. In many ways... working here has been like... a s-sort of exposure therapy... for my social anxiety. I feel like I've... c-c-c-come a long way."

"I'm really proud of you." I took his hand gently, and he immediately laced his fingers through mine. We slowed our pace as we reached my car, unsure what was to come next.

"Was, um... was wh-whhhat we did in the bathroom... okay?" he asked uncertainly.

I took a deep, satisfying breath, still feeling some residual endorphins flowing through me. "'Okay' doesn't even begin to describe it," I chuckled. "I mean... assuming you don't get in trouble... it was pretty much the best thing ever." I leaned closer to him, lowering my voice to a whisper. "That was so much more intense than I even expected sex to be, and we still had all our fucking clothes on!"

He giggled and pulled me into a hug immediately, pressing his face into my shoulder. I held him close and leaned against my car. He looked up at me with a playful grin.

"Cutie pie," I whispered, making him grin even wider and look even cuter. "So what do you want to do?"

"Um... well... I sort of... b-b-b-brought overnight things... j-just in case."

"Oh-that's great!" I exclaimed, feeling both relieved and excited. "I'd love you to stay over again."

He pressed his hands against my chest and massaged me a little. "I made sure to... b-bring my meds and everything... so I won't need to run off. And t-tomorrow I don't have to work."

"Ohhh," I groaned softly, holding him close. "So I can have you all to myself for the whole day?"

He nodded eagerly, and then bit his lip, reining in his emotions a little. "If... you want...?"

"I want!" I replied wholeheartedly. "Want to ride with me, or meet me there?"

"With you. My c-car can stay here." He kissed my cheek and went around to the passenger side, climbing in and dropping his backpack between his feet.

I placed my newest cup in my cupholder and turned to smile at my boyfriend before driving off. Buddy didn't talk during the trip, but a few blocks along, he placed his hand softly on my thigh.

"Ohh... hi there," I breathed.

His hand began to slide up and down, slowly.

"Careful," I warned with a low chuckle. "I've already defiled my pants once tonight."

His hand stilled, but he left it on my leg. "Wh-when we get inside... would you... take them off?"

I looked down at him as we stopped at a red light. "Yes."



Sugar Heart Ch. 04



Buddy squeezed my hand tightly as we entered my apartment. After we kicked off our shoes he took the lead and, smiling puckishly, pulled me straight to my bedroom. I'd creamed my pants spectacularly less than half an hour ago, but the stirrings I felt now assured me I would still have plenty left for him.

It was dizzying how quickly the best day of my life was following after the worst. Losing my parents, my friends, and my job had nearly destroyed me, but in exchange I'd been given the world. My world was this skinny, geeky-looking, freckle-faced cherub. I was given to fantasizing about well-built guys, but I could find nothing unattractive about Buddy, who was shockingly a year my senior at twenty-one, but short and scrawny like a teen still waiting for his growth spurt. He'd saved my life, and now he'd stolen my heart completely in his stammering, timid way.

As diffident and self-conscious as he tended to be, there wasn't much sheepishness in him now. I couldn't miss the look in his eyes. There was a beast trapped within his fragile little frame, a beast that wanted my pants off as soon as possible. I was equally anxious, raring to see just how much more of that beast I could coax out of him.

Standing near my bed, I faced him fully, breathing hard. I took the hand that had been holding mine and pressed it against the bulge in my pants.

"Yours," I said emphatically.

"Mine," he whispered, gazing up at me with wonder and desire. He placed his other hand on me, and carefully unbuttoned my jeans. He licked his lips and then slowly pulled down my zipper. That soft zipping noise, accompanied by a tremulous breath from Buddy's sweet lips, was one of the sexiest noises I'd ever heard. It was far sexier than all the bed-creaking, moaning, groaning, wailing symphonies that my very active next-door neighbours provided me with during their enthusiastic fuck sessions.

Buddy tugged on my belt loops, sending my jeans to the floor. I stepped out of them. He gaped at the size of my bulge, now separated from him by only one layer of soft cotton fabric. My earlier spend had dried to a milky stain by now, but there was a fresh wet spot of precum. He touched it with the tip of his finger, and I gritted my teeth and hissed with uncontrollable pleasure, my cock twitching. Buddy smiled widely. He looked up at me and licked his lips again. I reached up to slide my thumb across his soft, moist bottom lip—that achingly sweet, innocent little mouth that had never touched anyone else's but mine.

"You're so perfect," I breathed.

His eyes dropped, and his cheeks burned red, darkening his freckles. He was unaccustomed to compliments, but I planned to get him accustomed before too long.

"Yes, you," I added. "Absolutely perfect."

His smile slowly returned, bringing a gleam to his beautiful eyes, which were a colour I still couldn't describe.

"What next?" I whispered. "I belong to you."

His thin chest puffed out, and his mouth worked to form the shape of a word: "Sh-shhhirt?"

I raised my arms and sat down on the bed so he could reach me better. He grasped the bottom hem of my t-shirt, paused a moment, and then pulled it up and off all at once. He beamed like a kid in a candy store, his eyes roaming all over me—there was so much he wanted, and he didn't know where to start. The poor little guy had crushed on me all the way through high school, and through the years since graduation, and he deserved to have everything he'd wanted all that time.

"Y-yyyou're so c-c-c-close... to being... naked," he stuttered, poking one of my nipples with a little giggle.

I nodded and chuckled. "Keep going if you want," I urged. I'd been feeling self-conscious about my body lately, having gained a bit of pudge and lost some of the tone I'd had back when I played football, but I didn't really care about that as much now that I had Buddy looking at me like a starving kid at a free buffet.

He gave another one of his impish grins before kneeling on the carpet in front of me. He carefully removed my socks and pushed them aside with the rest of my clothes. I sat there in my boxers, watching him watch me. He placed his hands on my knees and slid them slowly upward, stroking my bare thighs. His hands finally converged, caressing the bulge of my excruciatingly hard cock beneath its thin cotton boxer tent.

"Mmmmmm..." I groaned.

"Y-you like?"

"I like a lot." I gave my hips a little jerk toward him.

"Oh!" he yelped playfully, giggling. He wrapped his hands around my veiled shaft. "I c-c-can't believe this is hhhhappening!" He touched the wet spot of precum again.

"Ohhh," I sighed. "Me neither. This is... incredible. Is it anything like you've imagined?"

He smiled distantly and continued to stroke and touch me. "M-my imagin-nation... is not so vivid. I c-could hardly even p-p-picture doing... things... with you." He looked up at me warmly. "I did try... picturing you naked... a little. You're... b... bigger."

I grinned. "Yeah, I've put on a few," I teased.

He laughed and rested his cheek against my thigh for a few moments. "No, I m-mean... your...."

"My what?" I pressed.

He squeezed my shaft with both hands. "This."

I gasped at the action of his hands. "You mean my cock?" I purred, feeling exquisitely dirty. "You like my big... long... thick... hard... cock?"

A little shudder went through him. "Y-y-y... yyyes. Your... c... c...." He squeezed his eyes shut for a few moments, mouth twitching. "Cock!" he finally spat out triumphantly.

I groaned happily and tousled his wild, soft, auburn hair. "You're so hot!"

He laughed delightedly, and leaned closer to me. He pressed his face against my cock and balls and inhaled deeply. "Mmmmm...."

"Oh!" I huffed. I could feel the gentle vibration of his indulgent moan through my most sensitive parts, and the warm press of his nose and mouth against me was almost unbearably delicious.

"Mmmm...!" He rubbed his cute little snub nose up and down my shaft, followed by his mouth.

"Nnngh!" I growled, twitching.

He pressed his lips against the tip, tasting the wet spot of precum on the fabric of my boxers.

"Ffffuck!" I groaned. "Yes fuck oh please—!"

His eyes flicked up to mine. He was clearly enflamed by my responsiveness, and perhaps recognizing the full weight of the power he possessed. His tongue prodded at me, making my hips jerk. I had never wanted anything so much in my life as I wanted Buddy's mouth on my bare, throbbing flesh in that moment.

"Pleeeeease!" I hissed, massaging his scalp with shaking hands.

Buddy smiled adoringly, flicking his tongue against me once more before pushing himself up to kiss me on the mouth. I knew my own taste well, and there was a faint salty tang of it on his lips that ramped up my desire even further.

"Buddy... ohhh...!" My breath trembled as it left my lungs.

"Y... your face right now, it's just... just... dreamy," he whispered, placing his hands on my cheeks. "M-m-mmaking you... look like that... it's the b-best thing in the... whhhole worrrld!" He nuzzled his nose against mine and then knelt down again, this time grasping the elastic waistband of my boxers. I leaned back on my hands and lifted my butt a little to help him out. He slid my boxers down gradually, his wide eyes fixated on my bulge as it was caught beneath the waistband, and then suddenly pulled free, slapping against my belly. He gasped and quickly yanked my underwear off the rest of the way.

I settled my rear back down on the bed and grinned down at him as he took in the sight of my enormous erection, bobbing eagerly, resplendently nude and scarlet-tipped. I'd never been naked and aroused in front of someone before, and there was a certain exhibitionist thrill in simply sitting there letting him gawk at me.

"You like?" I whispered.

His sweet lips parted softly, eyes finally flicking up to mine. I watched enthralled as that doll-like mouth that reminded me of Johnny Depp's made fascinating shapes, searching for the right words to answer my question. He gave up on words and just nodded. A few moments later his hands slid up my thighs and converged on my shaft again, this time without the intrusion of clothing. My jaw fell open as he touched my bareness with his warm, precise little hands. He gripped me firmly, one fist atop the other, and there were still a couple of inches above his hands.

"Wow... oh... wow," he huffed.

"You're telling me!" I gasped.

He slid his hands up my length and back down again. He kept one fist around the base and used his fingers to explore the head. I shivered as he passed a thumb around the edge of the mushroom flare, and then across the slit. His hand dropped down. He cupped my balls, fondling them gently in his hands.

"Th-these are big too," he whispered.

All I could do was pant and watch him adoringly. My sweet boyfriend, touching me, exploring me, and thrilling me perhaps more than he knew. He placed both hands around my shaft again and started tugging, tentatively at first, and then with a steady rhythm.

He was jerking me off. Buddy was jerking me off. I couldn't get over it.

"Ohhhh..." I exhaled quiveringly, melting into his touch. Precum oozed from my blushing tip, and Buddy slowed his action to watch it. He held me in both hands and milked my cock with one firm, deliberate stroke, drawing it out. The clear liquid, thick as syrup, collected in a glistening bead that grew in size until it threatened to drip. He leaned forward and parted his soft, innocent lips. Out came his tongue, reaching, just a few inches below that tempting bead of precum, and we both watched it languidly drop. For a few moments his tongue was connected to me by a thin, glistening thread. He closed his lips on it and looked up to meet my eyes as he savoured the appetizer of my desire. His eyes burned.

Buddy looked down again, eyeing the second dribble that was collecting at my slit. Quickly he darted forward and licked it, like a kid trying to catch the drip from a melting Popsicle on a hot summer day.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, tensing.

He gasped and removed his tongue, looking up at me with mild alarm.

"Please—more!" I begged. "So good!"

Satisfied that he hadn't done anything wrong, Buddy smiled, relaxed, and began to stroke me again. He leaned in, placed his lips around the head of my cock, and began to suck insistently. I couldn't stop myself from quivering—so sexy, so intimate, his mouth on me was pure heaven. It wasn't much like the countless blowjobs I'd seen in pornos, where guys slammed into each other's throats with abandon. Buddy took in only the tip—his sweet little mouth didn't look like it could accommodate much more—and sucked contentedly as if on an enormous pacifier. I listened to his eager yet soft breaths, and occasional slurping noises, and felt like I could die of happiness. I massaged his scalp, played with his soft hair, gazed at this magnificent sight until I couldn't take it anymore.

"Ohhh Buddyyyy...." I moaned, releasing his hair so he could remove himself if he wanted. "Any second—oh—!" I heaved in a tremendous gasp.

Buddy's mouth popped off of my cock, but he kept stroking with both hands. I arched and felt the intense, blissful waves of pleasure wash over me as I let loose. Buddy kept very close to me, letting the first powerful surge splash across his face, blinking just in time to avoid getting it in the eye. My pleasure splattered across both of his cheeks and dripped down generously. I exclaimed wordlessly at the delicious sight of my sweet boy with cum all over his freckled face, like a slutty little twink. I was still going—he opened his mouth for the next blast and caught most of it on his tongue. Finally he took me into his mouth again and sucked delicately, savouring every last drop of my issue.

When my orgasm had finally subsided, he stood up slowly until we were eye-to-eye. I pulled him close and licked his face clean. He straddled my lap, shut his eyes, and sighed happily as I lapped away at him. He intercepted my mouth with his and we kissed sloppily, trading my cum back and forth. 

"W-w-was it okay?" he whispered against my lips.

"Mmmm...." I kissed him several more times quickly. "Amazing. Incredible. So hot."

He hugged me tightly. I held him for a minute or two, and then pulled back a bit so I could see his face again. I kissed his cheeks. I wanted to kiss every one of those hundreds of tiny freckles. I caressed his neck, teasing around the collar of his shirt and wondering just how far down those freckles went.

Buddy slipped down from my lap and stood in front of me. My eyes travelled downward—his pants were unmistakeably tented. I looked up again, curious and excited. I scrunched the blanket beneath me in my fists, eager to see him undress. Instead, however, he turned to pick up his backpack.

"I... I...," he stammered, "I'm gonna... g-go get ready for b-bed. Be right back."

He slipped away down the hall, and suddenly I was alone in my bedroom. I relaxed my fists and let out a breath. Disoriented, I stood up and paced back and forth a little. I pulled on a fresh pair of boxers and tiptoed down the hall. The bathroom door was shut. I pressed my ear to it, careful not to make a sound. I heard nothing at first, and then I heard him breathing.

Panting.

I listened intently. He breathed harder, faster. After a couple of minutes I heard a small whimper, a sweet little keening noise that I had heard before—very recently, in fact, when he'd dry humped me to orgasm in the coffee shop bathroom.

It was a little bewildering to be deliciously sucked off by my boyfriend for the first time, and then find that he was running off to masturbate behind closed doors. I tried not to be upset. Things didn't have to be perfectly even—I knew a relationship didn't equate to a transaction. And I knew Buddy was shy and skittish. I'd told him explicitly the pace was his to set.

Still.... I wanted him. Badly.

I crept back to my bedroom and flopped down on my bed with a sigh, resigning myself to letting him show himself to me in his own good time.

Soon I heard water running. He was washing up, maybe brushing his teeth. Even that I wanted to watch.

At last Buddy returned, wearing pyjamas that made me smile even if I did wish he was wearing a lot less. On top he had a plain white short-sleeved undershirt, and on the bottom, a pair of flannel Mickey Mouse pyjama pants.

"You're so cute," I chuckled, getting up to hug him. He was soft and warm in my arms, and smelled clean and fresh—soap, peppermint, and fabric softener.

"Y-you're cute too... Richard," he whispered, smiling adoringly up at me. "I w-want to... cuddle you... all nnnight!"

"That sounds like heaven," I agreed, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, and then his lips. He tasted of toothpaste.

I cuddled him a little longer, resisting the urge to grab his adorable little ass, before heading off to the bathroom to get myself ready for bed. I left the door wide open, tacitly inviting Buddy to spy on me if he should feel so inclined.

His toothbrush sat on the counter, right next to mine. I stared at this sight for a little while, unexpectedly charmed. I hoped that toothbrush would stay a while.

I brushed up and then stood at the toilet. Hearing a soft noise, I turned my head and noticed I was being watched. He quickly disappeared, and I laughed.

"It's okay, Buddy. Look."

He peeked around the doorframe again, smiling demurely. I angled myself so that he could see me better and smiled back at him, once again feeling like a gleeful exhibitionist as I peed with my boyfriend watching.

He held my hand back to the bedroom and climbed into bed first.

"C-can I have this side?" he whispered. "I want to be... t-tucked in between you and the wall."

"Of course you can."

I turned out the lights and crawled in next to him, turning him around so I could spoon him. He molded against me perfectly, as if he were designed to be there, curled snugly against me as we lay on our sides. I kissed the back of his neck and smelled his hair. I wanted to talk to him, and figured now would be the right time—he always stuttered much less in the dark.

"Buddy," I whispered, "I loved what you did for me. I want to be able to reciprocate."

He was quiet for about half a minute. "You don't have to."

"This isn't about obligation. I want you. I want all of you. This isn't to put any pressure on you. I just wanted you to know how I feel. You're allowed to take your time. But I do... want you. I think you're gorgeous, and delicious, and very, very tempting." I slid my hand down his chest, his flat belly, and stopped just above the waistband of his PJ pants. "When you're ready."

He placed his hand over mine and then laced his fingers between mine, taking a deep breath and letting it out with a little shiver. "You... really think I'm 'gorgeous'?"

"Mm-hm. I know I spent a lot of years being stupidly blind, but I can see now, and all I see is you. My sweet little Buddy. I can't thank you enough for opening my eyes. I hope I can make you even a fraction as happy as you've made me."

He breathed hard for a little while. "Soon," he whispered. "I'm trying to... be brave. It's tempting to dose myself up with Ativan before having the guts to take my pants off in front of someone."

"It's just me." I squeezed his hand and kissed his neck, the back of his ear, his jaw. "What are you worried about?"

He sighed and pressed back against me a little. "I'm sorry, Richard. Can we maybe talk about this tomorrow? I just want you to hold me."

I relaxed and nuzzled him, feeling a little bad now. I'd said I wouldn't push him, but maybe that was exactly what I was doing. "You don't need to be sorry—I do," I whispered, giving his hand another gentle squeeze. "Whatever you want is yours, Buddy. If you just want me to hold you forever, I'll do it."

"Mmmm. My Richard...."

"My Buddy." I pressed my face into his hair and inhaled his scent, feeling a sense of deep contentment wash over me. His cute little bottom was snug up against my groin, which would have caused me obvious issues had I not just cum spectacularly. I tried not to think about sliding those Mickey Mouse pyjama pants off him and pressing my cock into his tight little hole, annihilating both of our virginities. I had to think about something else.

"I like your PJs," I whispered after a pause.

"Thanks," he giggled. "Are you a Disney fan?"

"I don't usually admit it, but... yeah, majorly. My parents took me to Disneyland when I turned eight. It was the best time of my life. Until you."

He sighed happily and pulled my hand up to kiss it. "I've always wanted to visit a Disney park. That's my dream. Well... my biggest dream was always you."

I squeezed him tightly, feeling a burst of happiness explode in the centre of my chest, sending little thrills tingling through my whole body. Ever since I'd gotten fired, I'd been unable to bear the thought of finding a new job. Now I felt pumped up with motivation. I was going to get a job—a damn good one this time—and I was going to take care of Buddy, and make his dreams come true. "I'll take you one day," I whispered. "That's a promise. I'll take you to Disney World. It'll be a first time for both of us. We'll make some epic memories."

He squealed and wriggled against me. "Oh yes, yes, yes—that would be the best ever!"

Hyped up on our excitement for the future, we talked late into the night before falling asleep in the blissful warmth of our cuddle.

* * * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * * *

I woke lying on my back with Buddy tucked in against me like a teddy bear, his head on my shoulder. He had one arm and one leg slung over me. I could feel his breath on my bare skin, and he snored softly, making me smile. I felt a little damp spot beneath his mouth—he'd been drooling in his sleep. I smiled wider. Everything about this was perfect, except that the arm I'd had loosely wrapped around him had fallen asleep and was nearly numb. I tried to adjust it without waking him. It tingled with tiny pins and needles.




Sugar Heart Ch. 04



He stopped snoring and sighed, stirring a little. I felt a gentle prod against my hip—his morning wood. How I wanted to grab hold of it! I grabbed my own instead.

"Morning," I whispered as I stroked myself languidly through my boxers.

"Mmm," he mumbled, lifting his head slightly. His auburn hair was even wilder than usual. He wiped the side of his mouth, and then the damp spot on my chest. "Oh... I... I drooled on you," he rasped in a hoarse, sleepy voice. "S-sssorry!"

"I don't mind," I chuckled. "Drool on me all you like. Man, you are the cutest!"

He groaned a little and pressed his face against my neck. I hugged him close, making my sluggish arm tingle even more forcefully. I clenched my fist a few times to encourage circulation. He noticed the movement and lifted his head to glance down at my hand, but quickly his attention was hijacked by what my opposite hand was doing. Slowly he peeled back the blanket and discovered me idly stroking my intense morning hard-on. He grinned, kissed my cheek, and thrust against my hip a little.

"Waking up with you... it's just... the best," he whispered.

"Mm-hmmm. I hope we get to do this lots more."

He placed his hand alongside mine, helping to stroke my cock. I sighed happily. He continued intermittently rubbing his own hardness against my hip, which was almost too much for me to bear. I moaned each time I felt the press of his excited little tool, leaving no question as to my interest in it.

He saw me looking at him with lustful intensity and trembled. His hand slid on top of mine, and he breathed hard. Rolling partway onto his back, he moved my hand with maddening slowness off my bulge, and onto his own, keeping his eyes fixed on mine.

"Ohh...," I groaned, pushing up into a sitting position so I could see him better.

"Ah—!" he gasped, pressing both hands over mine and grinding against my palm.

"Oh, Buddy!" He was very small, but rock hard. I was as touched by his trust in me as I was aroused. Touching him was at least as enjoyable as being touched by him. I rubbed and stroked him through the soft fleece of his adorable pyjama pants, and he writhed and whimpered, keeping his gorgeous eyes firmly fixed on my face. His responsiveness thrilled me. I tried different movements, squeezed, petted, gently gripped his testicles—all the little noises he made, his rapt expressions, his pleasure-fuelled squirming, it all overwhelmed me. I was so addicted to this sweet boy. I wanted to have his whole body in my mouth and just swirl him around with my tongue, suck on him like a piece of candy.

"Buddy, you're incredible!" I exclaimed.

His eyes widened and glinted brightly in the sunlight filtering through my curtains. "Y-yyyou're not... d-disappointed?"

"I've never been less disappointed!"

"B-b-but I'm so... p... pathetic. So... little."

I stroked his hair with the hand that wasn't stroking his erection. "Little does not mean pathetic!" I said vehemently. I smiled in remembrance of him sucking on me, and how he couldn't seem to take in much more than the head of my cock. I imagined sucking on his smaller tool, and how easily I could take in all of him. "I can think of some major advantages to being smaller. But seriously—you have nothing to be ashamed of. I didn't earn a big one any more than you earned a small one. We all make do with what we've been given. Mine's never given me any advantages in life. And sexy is soooo much more than just anatomy. You are one sexy little beast, Buddy, and you turn me on like crazy." I gave him a firm squeeze.

Buddy smiled up at me until tears brimmed and spilled over, rolling down his temples. I brushed them away with my thumb and grinned back at him. He let out a long, happy sigh and started grinding against my hand even more enthusiastically. His freckled cheeks were ruddy with joy. I couldn't look away from his eyes—blue, green, and grey all at once, and shining with ecstasy. We fixated on each other as I stroked and squeezed him, and he thrust against me, and I could tell by his shifting expressions that he was getting close.

"You gonna cum in your pants again, Buddy?" I whispered heatedly. "You gonna cum for me?"

He nodded rapidly, his breath coming in little gasps now. His eyes grew very round, and he squeezed my hand hard up against his cock; I could feel it throb even through two layers of fabric. His mouth flew open in an agony of pleasure, and his eyes rolled back as he arched and then bucked excitedly, making gleeful crowing noises.

"Ohh, that's a good boy," I whispered, gently cupping his softening tool. I beamed until my cheeks ached, having completely forgotten my own arousal until Buddy snaked a hand down into my underpants.

"Will you... c-c-cum for me, too?" he stuttered.

"You bet!" I breathed as he pulled my cock out and began jerking me with both hands. He was flushed and drowsy-eyed, still plateauing from his own climax, but his enthusiasm for pleasuring me was not at all diminished. With his bottom hand he tugged rhythmically; his top hand pulled and twisted and teased the head of my cock. It felt amazing, except for a little chafing.

"Hang on one sec," I huffed, reaching over to a nearby drawer and pulling out my bottle of lube. "Hold out your hands."

He smiled and offered me his palms, which I drizzled liberally with the clear liquid. I could tell by the way he looked at it and slowly rubbed his hands together experimentally that he'd never used lube before. His smile widened, and he aimed it in my direction as he returned his glistening hands to their previous work. His eyes widened, his mouth slackening as he discovered the tactile pleasure of a lube-slicked hard-on. His movements were even quicker now—tugging, squeezing, pulling, twisting, and occasionally pausing to slide his fingertips over the subtle contours of my hardened cock, or grip my balls. The slippery friction ramped up my arousal at a dizzying rate, and his affectionate explorations were an extra thrill. He even showed a bit of interest in the hair down there, gently combing his fingers through the dense, tightly curled thicket that was a shade or two darker than the sandy colour of the hair on my head.

"You're s-sssso hhhot," Buddy sighed. "So... t-tasty."

He leaned down and popped the shining purplish head of my cock past his lips and sucked on it like a lollipop. I loved the wet noises his busy, lube-slicked hands made as they worked on me, and his hot mouth with its occasionally slurping and eager suction was bringing me quickly to the brink.

"Buddyyyy... ohh... yes! Buddy, oh fuck... just like that... ahhh—!"

I cried out and spasmed with blissful release, shooting several spurts of cum directly into his mouth. He kept his lips tightly sealed around me and continued working his hands until I'd calmed and he had swallowed the last of my issue. He finished by licking me several times thoroughly from balls to tip.

"Buddy, you're incredible," I sighed, twitching a little at his handling of my hypersensitive equipment.

"You are," he whispered, nuzzling my belly and then kissing one of my palms.

"Come up here and kiss me," I urged, gesturing to my mouth.

"Mm-mm," he murmured, placing both hands in front of his mouth. "M-mmmorning breath. I'm g-gonna go brush. And... ch... change my underpants." He adjusted his PJ pants and flashed me a sheepish grin.

I laughed and blew him a kiss as he climbed over me to scurry off to the bathroom with a slightly awkward gait.

I waited a few minutes before following him to the bathroom, listening at the door. I heard the toilet flush, then a rustling and a zipping sound that must have been his backpack. I heard him wash his hands, and then begin brushing his teeth.

"Can I come in?" I asked.

The knob rattled as he unlocked, and then he opened the door, smiling at me around the toothbrush that protruded from the corner of his mouth. He was still in his pyjamas, to my delight.

"Cutie," I chuckled, kissing his forehead before standing at the toilet. He squeezed in beside me, watching me pee with an impish expression while continuing to brush his teeth. I put my arm around him, unable to resist laughing again.

After washing up I started brushing my own teeth. Buddy again squeezed up next to me. My bathroom was pretty cramped, and there was barely enough room for us both to stand in front of the sink. I gave him a gentle hip-check, and he shoved me back, nearly choking on his toothbrush as he held back giggles. We jostled for position, both beginning to laugh and, in the process, inadvertently spitting and drooling toothpaste foam all over the counter.

When we'd stopped goofing around and Buddy finished brushing, he grabbed a small zippered pouch from his backpack and dumped it out onto the counter. There were several pill bottles, plus a couple of asthma inhalers. I spit out my toothpaste and rinsed, then gave the counter a quick wipe.

"That's quite the little pharmacy you've got there," I remarked, standing behind Buddy and sliding my arms around his middle, curious about his morning routine. He looked embarrassed, and I squeezed him and kissed his cheek. "It's okay. Show me."

He sorted through his collection and quietly explained everything to me. He took antidepressants for emotional symptoms and beta blockers for physical symptoms of anxiety. He also had Ativan for severe attacks.

"I t-t-t... try not to t-take these...often," he said, tucking away the tranquilizers. "They're... habit-forming, and, um... k-kinda awful if you t-t-take too many. I h-hhhad... a bit of an... uh... addiction... after my m-mmmom died."

I met his eyes in the mirror, and then he looked down. "What happened?" I asked softly, squeezing him close to my chest.

He licked his lips and took out his daily pills, swallowing them easily, without water. "F-ffor a while... I c-couldn't calm down without them," he mumbled. "I'd take another as s-s-sssoon as the last wore off. You're not... supposed to. I knew that. But I... um... uh... I dunno. I felt... too... um, overwhelmed. After a while... I'd get... sorta dizzy... d-disoriented... and had t-trouble breathing. Like... beyond my usual asthma." He had an orange and a blue inhaler. He picked up the orange one and took two puffs, holding his breath between each.

"After I st-started getting... h-h-hhhallucinations... I knew I had to quit," he continued, putting all of his medications away. "Bernie helped. He... wasn't in any great shape either... after she died... but... we, uh... h-hhhelped each other I guess. Withdrawal... was the worst. I d-didn't sleep for... d-d... days at a time. Felt... r-really hot, and sick... could hardly eat. Everything ached. I couldn't stand the light. Anything... would send me into p-panic attacks. All I could do was... just lie in a dark room. Bernie... he was really great. He brought me water...uh, ice packs... p-puke buckets... uh... Gatorade. He took me to the h-hospital a few times... when I couldn't keep food down for too long."

"Shit... that sounds like a nightmare," I whispered, pressing my cheek against the top of his soft head. "How long did it last?"

"C-couple of months. At least... t-till I could, um... eat and sleep all right, and... be m-m-mmmore or less functional. Some symptoms... took almost a year to go away. Since then... I've only taken Ativan a c-couple times. Serious em-mergencies only. Been about... mmm... eight months... since I needed it last."

"That's good," I said softly, once more catching his gaze in the mirror and squeezing him tightly against me. "I'd hate to see you suffer through something like that again. Do you think you'll get to a place where you don't need most of this stuff at all anymore?"

He placed his arms over mine affectionately and leaned back against my shoulder. "I'm sss-supposed to. Eventually. These... drugs... it's not good to, uh... be on them, like... forever." He sighed and shut his eyes for a few moments. "I didn't need meds... quite as much... when I hhhad... my mom."

I watched him carefully. "She took good care of you, hmm?"

Buddy nodded. "She always... knew what to say... what to do. B-B-Bernie, uh... he takes p-pretty good care of me, though. As he can."

"I'd like to take good care of you," I whispered. "Like you've taken care of me."

He turned around, circled his arms around my neck, and hopped up, wrapping his legs around my waist. I held him like a child, adoring the feel of his warm body against me, squeezing me, needing me. Still, I couldn't help the little thread of worry that tickled at the back of my mind. What if I couldn't take care of him? What if Bernie couldn't? Did Buddy have the inner strength to take care of himself if he needed to?

I thought of how lost, abandoned, and hopeless I'd felt in recent days, how ready I'd been to give up on life. In retrospect I couldn't believe I'd allowed myself such weakness. Buddy had saved me—I was sure of it. But I shouldn't have needed saving, and Buddy shouldn't need it either.

"Buddy," I whispered against his ear, "I might not always be around. Bernie might not either."

"D-d-don't say that," he stammered, his arms tightening around my neck.

"It's true though. I do want to take care of you... but you're the best person to do that."

"I'm not," he mumbled in a muffled voice as he pressed his face into my neck. "I... I'm a mess."

"You weren't a mess when you were talking me down," I pointed out. "You were so, so strong... and so smart... and totally together. You have it in you somewhere. Buddy... do you ever get therapy?"

"C-can we... not... t-t-t-talk about this?" he whimpered. "Please..."

I sighed. I felt it was a conversation that needed to happen, but I was completely torn as to whether I ought to push him or back off. I was only just getting to know him. "I think it's important," I said gently.

"P-pancakes!" he forced out. "That's what's... important. "C-can I make you pancakes? D-do you have bread? W-wwwe could... we could... have French toast!"

"Buddy...."

He unlocked his grip from my neck and waist and slid back to the floor, pulling away from my arms and leaving the bathroom.

"Buddy!" I followed after him as he went straight to the kitchen and opened up my refrigerator. "Please don't be upset with me."

He pulled out a carton of eggs and set them on my counter next to a loaf of bread. "I'm not," he mumbled.

"You are upset though!" I exclaimed. "Can we not play games and pretend? That's not the kind of relationship I want."

He paused and dropped his head. "Yes... I'm upset," he whispered. "B-b-but not... with you."

"With yourself then...? With who, with what?" I stood behind him as I had at the bathroom sink and began to massage his thin shoulders. "Talk to me. Please?"

"Mmm... Richard...," he breathed, shutting his eyes and relaxing a little beneath my gently kneading hands. "There are... maybe a l-lllot of things we sh-should, uh... talk about. But... I just... don't want it to be now. I h-hhhaven't ever... had such... dreams come true before. Being with you... Richard... it's been... p-p-perfection in a way I... I never thought, um... truly p-possible. I know things won't always be... perfect... but right now... I just, um... w-wwwant to enjoy this d-day with you... and not... w-worry about... serious things."

I slid my hands up to his face and turned his head to one side. I leaned over his shoulder and kissed his lips, holding still in that gentle embrace for some time. "Okay, Buddy," I whispered finally, smiling. "That's fair. Let's have a perfect day together. A perfect day of no worries for either of us. And I think French toast sounds like just the way to start."

Buddy smiled gratefully and kissed me again, reaching up to pet my cheek. His soft hand scraped against the robust growth of stubble there, and he giggled. "Y-your beard... it grows s-sss-so fast! Mine... hardly at all."

I fondled his cheeks affectionately. They were nearly smooth. "I love your baby face." I kissed his cheek. "And your freckles." I kissed his other cheek. "And your cute little nose." I kissed his nose. "And your beautiful... delicious... talented mouth." I punctuated the sentence with several soft kisses on his lips.

"Mmmm," he moaned, leaning back against me. "My Richard."

"My Buddy."

We made French toast together, though he did most of the work as I'd never made it before. He mixed cinnamon in with the egg-and-milk mixture, which I thought was a stroke of genius, but he claimed was simply the normal way of doing it. It was delicious. I put plenty of butter and syrup on mine, and wolfed down three slices in the time it took him to make his way meticulously through half of one, which he'd spread with peanut butter before pouring on the syrup.

"You always put peanut butter on French toast?"

He grinned and nodded. "P-pancakes too. Is that... weird?"

"I don't know," I laughed. "I never thought about it. Let me try." I helped myself to a fourth slice and slathered it with peanut butter, concluding in the end that I wasn't sure I could ever eat French toast without peanut butter anymore. "You really are a genius!"

He giggled and leaned over to kiss me with a sweet, syrupy mouth.

I was on my fifth piece of toast when I noticed he'd stopped eating two-thirds through his first, and was now just pushing it around his plate as he watched me eat.

"You okay?" I asked. "That's not all you're having, is it?"

He sipped from his glass of milk and shrugged, dropping his eyes in a way that was becoming familiar to me. It was his I-don't-want-to-have-this-conversation look. "I d-d-don't eat much... in the mornings. N-not that hhhungry. The drugs... I get a bit of... t-tummyache."

I watched him intently. "What did you have for dinner yesterday?"

He chewed on his lip and poked halfheartedly at his remaining piece of toast with his fork. He shrugged again. "Tea."

I sighed. "Buddy! I know we said no serious things today, but..."

"Please... don't!" he groaned, dropping his fork.

"You're so skinny!" I exclaimed without thinking.

His mouth clamped shut with an audible *snap*. He seemed to shrink even smaller, sliding down in his seat, face reddening.

"Buddy..." I breathed, regretting my words. "I didn't mean..."

He covered his face with his hands and spoke through them: "I'm sorry!"

"Don't be sorry! Buddy, that wasn't a criticism of your looks." I put my fork down and reached out to touch his shoulder. "I shouldn't have said that. There's nothing wrong with being thin. I just want you to be... well."

He pushed his chair back from my little table, and from my touch, and stood, taking a few steps back toward the kitchen. His bare feet made gentle slapping noises on the cool linoleum floor. He stopped, facing directly away from me. "I'm... always... going to be... s-s-ssscrawny," he said quietly.

"Do you think that's a problem for me?" I wondered. "Do you think I'm going to make fun of you, or think less of you? Do you think I'd like you better if you were big and muscle-y? Because that's completely not the case."

He turned himself halfway around, peeking back at me with a conflicted look, like a beaten pup that wasn't sure whether or not to run away. After a few moments, he looked down at his feet and then reached back to grip his shirt collar, abruptly stripping it off and tossing it aside. Just as quickly, he dropped his PJ bottoms, along with his underpants, and turned to face me directly, buck naked, and still staring at his feet.

I could barely breathe. I hadn't expected this. I followed the fascinating galaxies of freckles down his neck, across his shoulders, his hairless chest, all the way down. He was skinny, certainly—very bony, with hardly any fat or muscle. I followed the freckles to a little halo of rusty-coloured pubic hair crowning a penis that was uncut, soft, and not a whole lot bigger than my thumb. Of course Buddy didn't have the sort of body I had ever fantasized about, but the more I looked at him, the more I realized how little I needed, or even wanted a fantasy-made-reality. Buddy was real, and mine, and beautiful in his imperfection.




Sugar Heart Ch. 04



I stood up from the table. My legs felt a little wobbly as I stepped over to him. As I approached, his ruddy cheeks grew even redder, and his chin dropped right down onto his chest, shoulders hunching.

"Look at me," I whispered.

He shook his head.

"Buddy. Please?"

His head very slowly inclined, but he stopped when he was staring at my chest.

"Buddy...." I placed both hands on his bare, freckled shoulders, and began to slide them gradually down his back, watching him to gauge his reaction. He was breathing hard and fast, and he twitched a little, but he didn't shy away. Gently I pulled him close to me, and he gasped when our bare chests touched. I placed one hand on the back of his head and encouraged him to lean on my shoulder. He nuzzled in against my neck.

"Buddy," I whispered against his ear. "You... are... gorgeous. Every inch."

He let out a quick breath. "Y-y-you're just... saying that."

"Hey—I'm not a bullshitter!" I protested, running my hands up and down his bare back. "If it's going to take you some time to trust me on that, I don't mind. But there's one guy you can inherently trust never to lie to you about what's sexy." I took one of his hands and placed it on top of my boxers so that he could feel the quickly growing hardness beneath. "See? Richard Jr. is no bullshitter."

Buddy gasped. He squeezed my cock and tried to nuzzle a bit closer to me.

"One sec," I whispered, shifting slightly away and reaching down to shed my boxers completely before slipping a hand around to the small of his back and pulling him against me. I sighed deeply. Nothing but skin on skin. "Fuck... this feels amazing!"

He finally looked up at me fully, his expression reflecting both astonishment and lust. He locked his arms around my neck and pulled himself up a little, pressing his cock against mine. "Oh—!"

"Ohh!"

"Oh...." He bucked against me.

"Fuck!"

"Mmm!"

I abruptly picked him up, and his legs wrapped naturally around my waist. I carried him as far as my living room sofa, it being slightly closer than the bedroom, and laid him down, leaning over him hungrily. "Buddy, oh my god! Can I touch you?"

"Yes!" he gasped. "Yes, yes—everything!"

I kissed him deeply, urgently. The room was filled with our frantic breathing. My mouth stayed connected to him, moving down his neck, across his collarbone, down his chest. My tongue flicked against one of his nipples. He arched and moaned. I nibbled the tiny nub and then kept moving downward, kissing him, tasting him. His skin was irresistibly soft and sweet. Every tiny freckle was a target for a kiss. I couldn't get enough.

After dipping my tongue into his bellybutton I shifted down and plunged my nose into the coarse curls of his hair, inhaling his subtle musk. Buddy wrapped his legs around my shoulders, howling with pleasure. It spurred me on to hear him making all that noise, letting loose. I grabbed hold of his cock, now standing straight and firm and significantly larger than it had been only a couple of minutes ago, though it still fit neatly within my fist. I enjoyed watching the excited purple head strain through his foreskin. The only cock I'd ever been up close and personal with was my own circumcised model; his was different and fascinating.

He continued his boisterous baying and squeezed me with his legs. I kissed, licked, and nuzzled his inner thighs as I squeezed and tugged on his excited little cock. He grabbed my hair with both fists and pulled, steering me toward the work my hand was doing.

"Something you want, Buddy?" I laughed joyfully, meeting his intense gaze.

"Nnngghhh!" he growled incoherently, gripping my face between his hands.

I caught one of his thumbs between my lips and began to suck on it enthusiastically, just to tease him. He wailed and threw his head back. The poor little guy was beside himself. At last I let up and popped his stubby hard-on into my mouth, moving my hands beneath him to squeeze his cute bottom.

"AH!" Buddy screamed, his legs tightening into a vise grip around me. "HA—AHH!"

I smiled around his cock. The taste of him was as delicious as the sensation. My tongue felt a little precum ooze out of him; I savoured the robust and salty essence. I took in all of him easily, first bobbing up and down, and then staying rooted to him and sucking hard. He thrust against my face and continued to make hysterical noises that I vaguely hoped my noisy neighbours were around to witness. I stuck my tongue out and thoroughly licked the loose, soft skin between his balls. He sucked in a long, noisy breath and rent at my scalp with his fingertips. His eyes were wide open, and his mouth formed into an astonished "O".

His entire body began to seize up—first his legs, then his hips and ass, his back, his shoulders, and finally his mouth dropped all the way open and he let out the breath he'd been holding in a long, desperate moan as a powerful jet of hot cum surged against the back of my throat. I swallowed quickly. His voice softened to a gentle sob, and a few more spurts coated the inside of my mouth. I let it slide over my tongue and enjoyed the full flavour—similar to my own, yet somehow distinctively, exotically different—before swallowing. I kept his softening tool inside my mouth for a bit, just licking, tasting, enjoying the sensation. Finally, I let it slip out from between my lips, and kissed each of his sensitive balls, making him gasp and spasm. Even his testicles were cute—egg-shaped marbles in a blushing pink pouch.

"Buddy," I whispered. Crawling up to reach his mouth, I planted a firm kiss against his lips and then stared into his eyes. He looked very close to tears. "Was I okay?"

His mouth twitched and groped to find the shape of words. Giving up, he nodded firmly and wrapped his arms and legs around me. I pulled him up and sank back on the couch, settling him atop me. He clung to me, scorching hot, trembling, and gradually catching his breath. I could feel the throb of his pulse all over.

"Buddy," I whispered again. "You are so hot, and so sweet... huggable, kissable, suckable, and incredibly delicious." It was tempting to also tell him he was fuckable, but, I told myself, all in good time.

"Th... thhhhank you!" he gushed after a pause.

"You don't need to thank me," I chuckled. "What I would like, though... is for you to make sure you're eating enough. You're going to need your strength and energy, with all the sex we're clearly gonna want to be having all the fucking time."

He laughed unsteadily and squeezed me. "That... p-p-puts things in... p-perspective," he admitted. "I'll f-fffinish my toast... in a few minutes. And my milk."

I stroked his hair. "Good boy. I could even make you protein shakes whenever you want—if you've got an upset stomach, it'll be easier to get down than food. I used to make shakes for myself back when I did a lot of sports and working out. Milk, protein powder, maybe some fruit—it'll be good for you."

"That sounds p-perfect," he whispered.

"And we could go out somewhere nice for dinner tonight, maybe. I mean, nice-ish—with me being unemployed I'm not taking you out for gold-plated lobster or anything—but somewhere you'd like. A real date!" I grinned.

"Our f-fffirst real date?" He grinned back at me. "Oh yes—let's! And let me t-treat you... okay? I'm the one with a j-j-job. And I d-don't even pay rent."

We returned to the table to finish breakfast, and when I expressed surprise that he was living for free, he explained his living situation to me. Bernie didn't charge him rent, but instead put him to work. Buddy had a natural affinity for numbers and had taken over all of the bookkeeping duties for Bernie's business. Bernie reimbursed him in room and board, a situation that was of mutual benefit. He added that he didn't plan to stay there forever, or continue working at a coffee shop for the rest of his life—he'd saved up enough money for some college courses. He wanted to further his education, but his anxiety and unpleasant past experiences soured him on the idea of actually going back to school. He found a college that offered a robust assortment of correspondence programs, so he was happily completing courses without actually having to go to school.

"I'm h-hoping to become a t-t-technical writer," he explained. "I was th-thhhinking of... accounting... um, since that's wh-what I do for Bernie... but... I like writing. And... it's like... a job I could p-potentially do f-fffreelance. From home, even. My c-c-courses are going... really well. I get, um... high marks." He smiled and flushed slightly.

"I believe that!" I chuckled, leaning over to kiss him. "That's fantastic, you know—that you knew what you wanted to do, and you just went for it. I'm impressed. I don't know if I'd ever have the mental energy to do more school. I still don't even know what I want to be when I grow up. And here I am... grown up." I smiled weakly.

"You'll f-figure it out," he said sweetly, shifting his chair closer to mine and snuggling close. "I'll help you. If... if I can."

"Sweetie...."

We were both still naked, and I was finding it hard to stop grinning and intermittently laughing. I pushed back my chair a little and patted my lap. He slung a leg over and straddled my lap, facing me. We both giggled, wriggling against each other.

"I don't think I want to wear clothes around you at all from now on," I chuckled. "This is way too much fun."

He nodded in agreement, drawing his fingers up and down my sides and giving me goosebumps.

"Buddy," I said softly, watching his face, "did you really think I wasn't going to like your body?"

He shrugged. "I've hhhad... uh, b-bad experiences," he mumbled.

I kissed his pouting lip and rested my forehead against his. I said nothing, but I trusted he would know by now that I craved to know every detail about him.

"J-just... yunno...," he sighed, shutting his eyes. "K-k-kids at school. When I was... young. Gym... ch-changing rooms."

I felt his shudder, and held him tighter.

"I t-t-tried not to... d-draw attention to mys-ssself. But... there was this one k-kid... who thought it was so f-fffunny to t-tease me. Once, he... um... t-took my clothes... while I was ch-ch-changing. One of his friends... p-pulled down my... underpants. They... laughed. P-pointed and laughed."

I stroked his back, his hair. He'd succumbed to quiet sobs by this point, and I kissed his cheeks, wetting my lips with his salty tears. "Oh, Buddy... I wish I'd been there for you," I whispered.

"M-me too," he huffed, leaning on my shoulder and hugging me firmly.

"Kids are as mean as they are stupid. If I'd been there, I would have kicked those little assholes square in the balls."

He managed a laugh through his tears. "I w-would have liked to s-sssee that. But you'd have... g-g-gotten in trouble!"

"Worth it!" I insisted. "Those creeps deserved to be expelled for treating you that way. I'd have happily taken the same punishment if it meant taking them down with me—and making them hurt for giving you this pain!"

"My hero," Buddy whispered, kissing my cheek and pressing his damp face against mine.

"You've certainly been mine," I whispered back.

I kept him there on my lap for a while, passionately making out, both of us getting thoroughly turned on all over again and pressing against each other.

"If we," I panted into his ear, "are going to go... on a date... we should get ourselves... clean."

"N-naked in the shower with you?" he giggled. "All... s-ssslippery and soapy? Mhm—yes, yes!"

He continued to giggle as I pushed up from the chair, taking him with me. I loved the feeling of carrying Buddy like a little kid. The way he clung to me was both sexy and sweet, and made me feel needed. Everything seemed perfect in that moment. Aroused and charged with excitement and mutual adoration, we were perfectly primed to enjoy the cuddliest, grabbiest, sexiest shower of our lives.



Sugar Heart Ch. 05



Three weeks into our relationship, Buddy and I were nearly inseparable. We hadn't spent a single night apart, and had taken to storing overnight things in our cars so we could keep it spontaneous. For the past week I'd been staying in his bedroom every night, as my shithole apartment building had developed a particularly bad pest problem, and between that and my barely-functioning refrigerator, obnoxious neighbours, and assorted other plagues, I was dreading going back there at all. This weekend they were spraying for bed bugs, so I couldn't go back if I wanted to.

Bernie had gotten accustomed to me hanging around, even if he still acted overprotective of the boy who was like a son to him. I could tell he was really starting to like me. If nothing else, I was putting plenty of smiles on Buddy's face, and that was worth a great deal to the gruff mechanic.

I woke up warm and happy in Buddy's bed. The little guy was curled up almost in a fetal position with his back against my front. I nuzzled his hair and breathed in the scent of him. He always smelled so clean.

"Richard," he mumbled, stirring. His voice was husky with sleep. "I was... d-dreaming of you."

"It came true." I wrapped an arm around his slender middle and pulled him closer to me. "I'm right here."

"Mm. I love you."

I grinned into his wild red hair. I would never get tired of hearing these words from him. "Love you too, button."

Button. As in cute-as-a, or possibly his irresistible button nose. Maybe it was a stupid nickname, one I might have facepalmed at if I hadn't been absurdly in love, but it seemed to work. It made him smile every time.

He wriggled his little butt, grinding it against my stiffened rod and making me gasp. We were both in our underwear and nothing else.

"He-hello, morning wood," he giggled.

"Tease," I quipped, playfully biting his neck and making him laugh harder. "Why don't we see what you've got going this fine morning?"

I slid one hand down his flat belly and beneath the waistband of his underpants. I found him nice and hard, and deliciously warm. His cock, small enough to fit within my fist but very stiff and excited, was a tactile delight. As I squeezed him, he whimpered in the familiar way I had come to adore. I enjoyed holding him like a joystick, with my thumb over the deep scarlet tip that strained out of its foreskin, and fondled him sleepily until I could feel the slick wetness of precum at the slit.

"Somebody likes it," I whispered, placing my lips right against the edge of his ear in the way I had learned made him tremble and break out in goosebumps.

"Ohhh..."

"Do you want me to keep going?"

Buddy's bum pressed back against my stiff bulge again, so firmly and deliberately that I groaned and gave a little thrust against him. I'd been cautious thus far of being too pushy—we hadn't yet gone beyond handjobs and blowjobs, and Buddy was a particularly sensitive, timorous little guy. I couldn't forget how Bernie had compared him to a squirrel, and just as if I were trying to feed a squirrel in the park, I knew that I had to be patient and let him come to me rather than risk scaring him off with big movements.

Still, Buddy also had a great big horny beast hiding somewhere inside him, and every time that beast showed itself a little was a delight to me.

"You know exactly what you're doing to me, you adorable monster," I snarled between kisses along his ear and neck that made him shiver. "Don't grind against me if you don't want to be humped."

I listened to his rapid breaths. I could practically feel him internally processing my playful warning. After a few moments, he reached one small hand back and gripped my thigh, and then jerked his little ass back hard against my stiff rod, drawing a deep grunt from me.

"Oh! You're pushing your luck, little man," I said in my best Soup Nazi accent. We'd watched the legendary episode of "Seinfeld" last night on Bernie's couch, and laughed our asses off.

Buddy laughed again at my impression, but proved to be undeterred. He started teasing me continuously with his cute behind, rolling his hips in saucy little strokes against my hard-on. He wanted it—he wanted me to hump him, and good.

"Oh... oh... you've been warned," I said huskily, and rolled him onto his front. I straddled his narrow hips and let my shaft settle against his crack. I watched his hands grab the pillow and bunch handfuls of it in his tense fists. He peeked back over his shoulder. His riotously freckled cheeks were especially ruddy.

"Is this okay?" I whispered, always careful with him, even in the heat of teasing play.

"Go!" he urged, wiggling his bottom.

I grinned widely. He was so cute and so sexy when he was desperately horny like this. I pressed firmly against his bum and started slowly rubbing up and down, pleasuring my cock exquisitely with his tempting cleft. For a few minutes the only sounds were our heavy breathing and the occasional subtle creak of his mattress springs.

"Uhhn... underwear... off," he moaned into his pillow.

"Are you serious?" I gasped. "Mine, yours?"

"Both!"

"Seriously?"

"Richard! Now!" he huffed.

I growled with pleasure. There was my beast. I rolled off of him long enough to shed my boxers and liberate him of his, and then I spread his round little cheeks wide and nestled my cock between them.

"Mmmm," we moaned in unison. He'd never let me do this before, and it had my heart thumping crazily.

"How's that feel?" I whispered, thrusting a little.

"Oh g-g-good!" he stammered.

"Could I use some lube to make this ride a bit smoother?" I asked. "I promise I won't try to go inside."

"Y-yes, I trust you!"

I rummaged in his bedside table for the bottle I knew he kept there for his solo self-love sessions, which he hadn't had need for over the past few weeks. He also had a bright pink silicone dildo in his drawer, which turned me on like crazy whenever I caught a glimpse of it, but I hadn't had the pleasure of seeing him use it. He'd never even talked about it, but I knew he was telling me something simply by allowing me the opportunity to discover it. In addition to giving me wonderful mental pictures, it told me that he did, eventually, want to get fucked.

I squirted some of the water-based lube over my cock and gave it a few strokes to spread it around before settling back in between Buddy's luscious cheeks. He squealed with delight and gripped his pillow tighter.

"Hump me good!" he exclaimed.

I laughed at his enthusiasm. "Shh... what if Bernie hears?" I hissed, knowing he was intensely self-conscious about these things.

"He'll b-be out back... working... by now," Buddy assured me. "I s-ssswear I heard his tools a minute ago."

"Well, in that case, I want to hear you squall nice and loud."

He did not disappoint me as my slick cock slid along his warm cleft. His thrilled noises were half-muffled by the pillow but wholly satisfying. I placed my hand over my prick to tuck in nice and tight. It was almost like fucking a nice, tight hole... as far as I knew. I hadn't yet had the pleasure.

"Richarrrrd," Buddy purred, his feet pounding excitedly against the mattress. "Mm... mmm... touch me...? P-please..."

I chuckled and withdrew a little. He took the opportunity to pop his bum up into the air, and I reached under him to grasp his cock.

"N-not that," he giggled. "I w-wanted you to t-touch my..." He gave his bottom a little wiggle.

"Ohh," I breathed, releasing his rigid member and settling back on my heels. Buddy was in a doggy position, and he looked luscious. God, I wanted him badly. My eyes slid down his pale, lightly freckled back to the cleft I had just been enjoying. My hands covered both of his round cheeks and gently spread them. I stared down at the tiny, unassuming pink bud on display before me and licked my lips.

"Okay," I whispered. "I'm going to touch you now. Tell me if you want me to stop."

I slid my right thumb slowly toward his little pucker. He hugged his pillow, pressing his cheek against it as he kept his bottom stuck way up for me. I heard him breathing rapidly. My thumb circled around the pink. I saw his little hole twitch excitedly. My cock throbbed.

"God, you're beautiful," I breathed. "You're so fucking sexy. This gorgeous ass... I can't believe I'm allowed to touch it."

Buddy had felt anything but gorgeous and sexy his whole life, and I therefore made sure to remind him at every opportunity that he was. He deserved to feel sexy, especially since I'd overlooked him all the years he'd crushed on me, pining from a distance throughout high school, and then at the coffee shop, gazing at me across the counter and sneaking little hearts onto my cups that I'd ignorantly failed to notice... moron that I was. No longer would I be a moron, and no longer would Buddy be overlooked.

He shivered as I continued to tease around the edge of his virgin pink pucker, and when I finally slid the pad of my thumb straight toward his centre, he made a little mewling puppy noise and jerked slightly. He was still reasonably slick from the lube I'd slathered across his cleft, and his hole felt so inviting. I continued to massage him in little circles, and could feel the tightness of his tiny ring of muscle begin to relax.

On the bedside table, one of our phones buzzed with the arrival of a text message, which went blissfully ignored.

"This feels so nice," I whispered. My cock was painfully rigid and leaking precum onto his sheets. "Does it feel nice for you, button?"

"Yuh-yuh... yyyessss!" He sounded almost like he was sobbing. Usually I didn't hear this charmingly feeble tone until he was cumming, or on the verge.

"Buddy... I want to put my mouth on you, if you'll let me," I continued, unable to resist the prospect of escalating. "If you're the least bit unsure, please say 'no'. I don't want to push you but I really would—"

"Lick it!" he exclaimed wildly. "Rim me, do it!"

I bit back a laugh at his unexpected enthusiasm, and growled instead. "You're the boss," I murmured as I leaned down and slid my thumb aside. I continued spreading his cheeks wide and got a nice close-up look at him before kissing him softly, right on his little asshole.

"UH!" Buddy barked. He pushed his bum back urgently against my face, tacitly begging for more.

I darted my tongue out and tasted him. All I tasted at first was lube, but Buddy's reaction at that first touch of my tongue was a profoundly delicious experience. I felt his entire body writhe. He pulled in a huge gasp and pressed back against my mouth even more insistently, rooting himself to my tongue.

There was another buzzing from where our phones perched. I didn't give the merest trace of a fuck who was texting either of us right now. All I wanted in the world was Buddy's sweet ass.

I obliged him by lapping at him harder and more broadly, licking all the way up his crack, and then flexing my tongue to push a little more aggressively at his hole. Buddy's breathing was frantic, and his body was very warm and beginning to sweat. He was loving this. I was loving it. I was tasting more than lube now, tasting his own intimate essence. It made me hungrier.

There was a loud pounding on the door that made us both wrench apart, gasping, and scramble for the blanket.

"Richie!" Bernie's brusque, gravelly voice barked. "Don't care whatchyer doin', just make yerself decent and come outside, on the double! You'll wanna come too, Bud."

Buddy and I looked at each other, still panting. My chin was damp with lube and saliva; his freckled cheeks were scarlet. He shrugged. We heard Bernie's heavy clodhoppers retreating back down the hallway, leaving no opportunity to ask questions.

I grabbed for my phone. The texts, of course, had been from him, and did not give any information but only reiterated what he'd just assaulted Buddy's bedroom door to say. I knew Buddy did a lot of paperwork for Bernie's auto repair business, but I couldn't come up with a reason why he would come specifically calling for me. I was nothing to him but the guy his late girlfriend's son was dating.

"Holy shit, what's going on?" I huffed as I dug around to find my clothes.

"I-I-I don't know!" Buddy stammered.

I accidentally tried to put on Buddy's boxers, which only got as far as my knees, and we both burst into laughter. I found my own and quickly scrambled into the rest of my things. Buddy, too, hastily got dressed along with me. We both had to awkwardly force stiff cocks into our underpants.

"You know him better than I do," I pointed out. "Did that sound like a 'something's tragically amiss' voice, a 'you're in big trouble' voice, or a 'come help me move something heavy' voice?"

Again, Buddy shrugged. A moment later, I helped him straighten out the polo shirt he'd suddenly gotten trapped in while trying to clamber into it.

"Th-those would all kinda sound the same," he admitted. "He's always been h-hhhard to read that way."

I slapped on some deodorant, and then Buddy grabbed my hand and dragged me to the bathroom, where he thrust a washcloth, soap, and a bottle of Listerine at me.

Right... I probably didn't want to go straight from trying to tongue-fuck my boyfriend to... whatever the hell Bernie had happening. While Buddy took his daily medications for asthma and anxiety, I washed up, gargled, and smoothed out my hair.

"Decent enough?" I asked, submitting myself for Buddy's approval.

He looked me over, taking especial notice of my crotch to ensure my erection had abated enough to escape notice, and then nodded and kissed me. I likewise approved of his appearance, and combed my fingers affectionately through his red hair before we left the bathroom. He stayed by my side as we went to the back door and stepped into our shoes. I was grateful for his presence. Shy, stuttering, and anxiety-ridden as he was, Buddy was my hero, and a surprisingly dependable rock when I was insecure.

We stepped out into the sizeable rear yard, which accommodated Bernie's garage, equipment, lift, and a variety of cars and parts. Bernie was laughing his booming, boisterous laugh as he stood chatting with an unfamiliar figure, the two of them tucked beneath the open hood of a car.

"Morning!" I called out as we approached them.

The pair straightened and turned to face us, and I saw that Bernie's companion was a middle-aged woman. She wore jeans and a cozy-looking red flannel shirt, and her hair, dark brown with wisps of grey, was tied back in a tidy ponytail. She had an easy smile and a pleasant face, her comfortable good looks undiminished by a few wrinkles and a complete lack of makeup.

"Hey, Buddy!" she said warmly, striding over to us, her hiking boots making crunching noises on the gravel beneath them. I glanced down and saw Buddy smiling widely. He clearly recognized her, and even stepped forward to claim the hug she offered.

She came to me next, and I was surprised to find she was ready to hug me too. "And this must be handsome Richard!"

I accepted the embrace, and couldn't help but smile. Whoever she was, she was instantly likeable. She squeezed me as if I were her own son and patted my back.

"Great to meet you, kiddo!" she exclaimed, pulling back from the hug to take me firmly by the shoulders and have a good look at me. "You can call me Joanna. Or just Jo. This lug nut here's my brother."

She jerked her head in the direction of Bernie, who rolled his eyes as he wiped his greasy hands on a rag, but he had a pleasant expression on his face.

"Nice to meet you too," I replied, grinning as I belatedly noticed the resemblance between Bernie and Joanna.

"Look at this face!" she exclaimed, taking my chin in one of her callused hands and gripping it. "You look like a young Robert Redford! Blonde hair and all."

She turned to her brother, still holding onto my chin. "Don't he look like a young Robert Redford?"

Bernie stuffed his rag into a pocket and flung his hands up in the air. "I have no opinion!"

Joanna finally let go of my face, which by now had to have been turning a bit pink. She patted my burning cheek and pulled Buddy close again, slinging an arm around his shoulders. "You've got taste, kiddo, that's for sure," she told him, and kissed the top of his head. He giggled and nodded in agreement, grinning widely at me.

"All right, all right," Bernie cut in, pretending to have zero patience for love and affection. "Listen, Richie—I've been telling Jo about yer, uh... situation."

"That's right," Joanna continued. "I hear you're looking for a job, Rich!"

My eyebrows went up. "Yeah—yes ma'am, I am!" I replied, standing up straighter now and realizing that if Joanna was going to provide me a job opportunity, I ought to be on my best behaviour.

Joanna smirked and gave her brother a sidelong glance. "'Yes ma'am', he says," she chuckled.

Bernie mirrored back her smirk. "He knows how to polish the apple. You'd better believe I got plenty of 'yessir' when he first started hangin' around here."

My cheeks were really burning now, and Joanna chuckled at me when she saw. She smacked me on the back in the same way her brother had a habit of doing. "Aren't you adorable! Yeah, well, I've been looking at hiring someone, at least seasonally, but it could turn into a permanent spot, depending on a few factors. You look like you're in decent shape. Long as you're not a slacker and you don't mind working outdoors a lot, you should do all right."

"I love working outdoors!" I replied enthusiastically, not much caring at this point if the job was shovelling horse shit as long as it earned me a paycheck. Still, I was curious. "What sort of work would it be?"

"Landscaping," she replied. "If you can mow a decent lawn, I don't need many more qualifications. I can train you in the rest."

"That sounds fantastic!" I exclaimed. "Sure, I used to do tons of yard work for my parents back in the day. I'm absolutely willing to learn more!"

"Good man—good attitude! We should discuss a few more things first, though. How's everyone feel about brunch? My treat!"

Joanna took all three of us out for a fantastic brunch at a hole-in-the-wall diner that looked like a haven for greasy truckers, but turned out to have some of the best breakfast food I'd ever eaten. Even Buddy ate quite a lot, and I whispered in his ear that I was proud of him, as he usually had a difficult time eating in the morning due to side effects from his medication.

I discussed my employment history and a few other matters with Joanna, and by the end of the meal I felt confident not only that I was going to have a job by next week, but also that I was now part of a family, and that latter revelation threatened to bring tears to my eyes. Traditionally I had not been an especially emotional guy, but the events that had led to my meeting Buddy and the process of falling in love with him seemed to have knocked a few things loose that didn't seem like they intended to tighten back up again. If anything, I was opening up more and more, growing profoundly in touch with my inner self. At the moment, my inner self felt deeply touched by the wholehearted acceptance of the people around this table, particularly in contrast with the rejection I'd endured from my parents upon coming out. The people who had raised me and had seemingly loved me unconditionally were unwilling to accept me as a man who loved men, but these strangers who had no reason to trust or even like me were ready to consider me one of their own.

Best of all was Buddy, who seemed proud just to be by my side. He squeezed my hand from time to time. He was usually so careful about public displays of affection and didn't like to take risks, so every touch from him was extra sweet, even if no one could actually see. When he put his hand on my thigh, I was pleased as well as surprised. He looked up at me with an expression that made my heart race. It was an expression that told me he was still thinking of what we'd done in his bed this morning, and that he wanted more. The hand on my leg slid up, and I fought not to gasp when he felt out my package beneath the table and gave my cock a squeeze.




Sugar Heart Ch. 05



Cheeky boy. Delicious, naughty boy, so riled up as to cop a feel of my junk right here in the diner, right across from the two people who were the closest thing he had to parents. Every time I thought I loved Buddy as much as humanly possible, he gave me reason to love him a little bit more. My heart raced even faster. I couldn't take my eyes off of his.

"You two!" Joanna guffawed across the table. "Twitterpated as all get-out!"

We finally quit gazing at each other, and Buddy's hand surreptitiously returned to his own lap.

"S-s-sssorry," Buddy stammered, turning a deep shade of red that darkened his galaxies of freckles.

"Oh, don't you dare be sorry!" Joanna exclaimed, reaching across the table to ruffle his hair. "It's great seeing you so happy. You go on and be young and in love, and don't you mind anyone who might have a problem with that. There are too many miserable people on this planet—be the joy!"

A sheepish smile found its way to Buddy's sweet lips, and he leaned over to rest his head against my shoulder. I grinned at the gesture.

"Do I get any say in this?" Bernie griped, though I couldn't miss the amusement twitching at the corners of his mouth. He fished a few drippy slivers of ice from his water glass and tossed them at us. "There, cold shower for ya!"

Soon the four of us were laughing as Buddy and I attempted to pitch ice missiles back at Bernie, and his sister tried to get him in a headlock.

Joanna paid the bill and included a generous tip for the waitress who had patiently put up with four adults behaving like children. As we left the diner, Buddy took my hand and held onto it. It was the first time he'd done this quite so openly in public, and I felt as if my heart could burst.

While we would have liked to cloister ourselves back in Buddy's bedroom, we didn't have the opportunity. Bernie had a number of errands for us. It was Buddy's job to keep the groceries stocked, and their fridge was emptying quickly. Our relationship had somewhat interfered with his usual responsibilities, so neither of us dared to complain about having to go grocery shopping, nor about the several other small quests Bernie asked us to complete for him in order to pick up assorted parts and tools for his business. We even looked forward to it by the time we had set out in my car, finding a certain charm in doing little everyday domestic things as a couple. I was especially glad to be out and about with my boyfriend, now that he was brave enough to hold my hand in front of people. It didn't matter whether we were at an expensive restaurant or the local hardware store; it only mattered that we were together.

Our errands kept us out all afternoon, and we were starting to get hungry for dinner by the time we were in the midst of grocery shopping. We were following a list, but also loaded our cart with extra things because they looked delicious. I started feeling guilty for grabbing things off shelves—this wasn't my own kitchen I was stocking, and I couldn't afford to chip in much. I didn't want to make Bernie and Buddy pay to feed me.

I groaned aloud when we directed our cart into the freezer aisles.

"Don't let me anywhere near the ice cream," I warned.

Buddy giggled and blithely ignored me, pushing me along to direct me straight toward the Ben & Jerry's. "C-c'mon, let's... g-get some!" he encouraged, pulling the freezer door open and grabbing my favourite flavours.

"You're gonna be the death of me!" I chuckled. "Really, I shouldn't."

"Yes you sh-shhhould!" he pressed, waggling two pints in my face tauntingly. He smiled a particularly coy little smile, and lowered his voice: "I'll feed you... w-with my tongue...?"

I grinned at the thought of cold ice cream kisses from Buddy, and shifted closer to him. He didn't pull away as I pressed my front against his. Would he let me kiss him, right here in the grocery store? He looked like he might... until his eyes shifted away, and he spotted something that made his smile disappear. He turned away from me and dropped his eyes, placing the ice cream in the cart.

I turned my head in the direction he'd been looking, expecting some random, possibly judgemental stranger giving us the stinkeye, but my heart leaped up into my throat as I recognized the figure of my mother. She was perusing bags of frozen fruit. I didn't think she'd seen us yet.

"Buddy," I whispered very softly, "that's my mom."

He looked up at me, his freckled brow gently creased with worry. "I th-thought she looked f-fffamiliar." He swallowed and glanced at her again, and then back at me. "We should s-say 'hi', maybe...?"

My expression twisted. Say 'hi'? All I wanted to do was slip away to the next aisle and hope she didn't spot us. I shook my head quickly and motioned for us to move on.

Buddy stopped me, grabbing my arm. "T-talk to her," he whispered, his unfathomable grey-green-blue eyes taking on that stormy look of stubbornness that was so paradoxical against his bashful personality.

"I'm not ashamed," he added, taking my hand and lacing our fingers together. "Are you?"

I admired the hell out of his moments of bravery. Buddy knew exactly how badly my parents had reacted when I came out to them, and here he was, willing to stand by my side before the mother who had rejected me over my sexual orientation. "Fuck no, I'm not ashamed!" I affirmed, squeezing his hand. "I love you, you amazing, wonderful man."

My mother was walking toward us now, and I saw her pause, balking with recognition.

"Hi mom," I managed.

Her face seemed to crumple, trying to decide on a single emotion but only collapsing under the weight of all of them at once. "Hi Richie," she said softly, rolling her cart closer to ours. I watched her eyes flick over Buddy with almost morbid fascination. "How've things been?"

"They were pretty awful for a little while," I said honestly. "But just lately... absolutely phenomenal. It's true that sometimes you need to hit rock bottom before things really start to turn up."

Her eyebrows went up. She looked as if she wanted to express some politely positive emotion in response to my happiness, but couldn't quite manage it. If she suspected she was an instrumental part of my "rock bottom", she would have been right, and I couldn't blame her for feeling crappy about that. In fact, I sort of hoped she'd been feeling crappy. I didn't want to be the only one who had suffered over our last conversation.

"I should introduce you to my boyfriend," I continued. I could hear my own voice growing more confident. I stared straight into her wide eyes and did not waver. "Mom, this is Buddy. Buddy... my mother."

Mom stared at him in wonderment. She seemed to melt a little. For this I didn't blame her either—Buddy was pretty disarming, standing barely up to my shoulder, scrawny and boyish, covered in freckles, with wild ginger hair and a cute snub nose that made me think of Peter Pan. I don't know what she'd expected her son's boyfriend to look like—some ripped pornstar type, or a loud-and-proud diva covered in rainbows?—but Buddy certainly appeared to be a surprise to her.

"Hi," Buddy said softly. "H-hi... Mrs. C-C-Callahan."

He extended the hand that wasn't holding mine, and my mom slowly reached out to take it, giving him a little shake. She seemed very cautious now, and I wondered if it was because of his stutter. I could have told her he always stuttered, but the idea that she might be worrying she was scaring him half to death sort of amused me.

"Hello... Buddy," my mother said, and an actual smile spread across her face. She cocked her head, studying him very closely. "You look familiar. Where have I seen you before?"

"Oh... um... c-coffee shop!" he replied, grinning sheepishly. He looked up at me and giggled, jostling me with his hip. "Years I wait for you to n-nnotice I'm alive... and your m-mom r-remembers me after s-s-ssseeing me just... once?"

"I know, I'm an idiot!" I sighed, pouting at him melodramatically. "My mom may have given me her eyes, but the observational skills didn't come with them."

My mom bit down on her lower lip, looking almost amused.

"Hm... um...," Buddy stammered, glancing between the two of us, and then down at the crumpled grocery list Bernie had given us. "Oh, I... f-ffforgot... laundry soap. I'll be b-back in a minute."

He flashed me a quick smile and then withdrew his hand from mine and retreated from the freezer aisle. I grinned after him. Smart little guy, feeling out a perfect moment for me to have a bit of time alone with my mother, and picking a task that would take him all the way across the store.

"He's a sweetheart," I said, returning my attention to mom.

"Seems to be," she agreed. Her eyes dropped for a few moments, and when they returned to mine, they were full of tears. "Honey... it's been terrible since we fought. I can hardly sleep through the night. I've been thinking about the whole thing, constantly, reading my Bible, praying... trying to reconcile my faith with my love for my son."

I nodded slowly, keeping my expression neutral. "Come to any conclusions?"

"I didn't think so. But I started having... doubts. There are so many different people that have so many different things to say about God's position on homosexuality. I always thought it was a clear-cut issue, but... I'm just not sure anymore. And if I'm not sure... well, what right do I have to use it as a reason to keep me from my own sweet baby boy?" She sniffed and pulled a Kleenex out of her purse. "I'm sorry, Richie. I need to tell you I'm sorry. I think the only reason I couldn't handle this was because I was scared. I was scared for you, for our family... scared of something I didn't really understand. But now that I see you with your... your Buddy... I don't feel that there's anything to be afraid of anymore."

She smiled through her tears, and I stepped forward to pull her into a hug. She squeezed me tightly, shaking with emotion. I might not have agreed with her religious proclivities, but she had obviously been embroiled in a real struggle. She had suffered enough—I wanted peace. I wanted family.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"I forgive you."

"Thank you, honey." She pulled back and gave me a bleary smile. "I'm still not sure of much... and your dad's not likely to come around... but Richie, I want you to be happy. I didn't think I could be happy for you, but... I am. I really am."

I still had a lot of mixed feelings, but this was progress, and I was ready to accept what was offered. "That's great, mom. I'm glad you've been able to shift a little. It was a really horrible feeling, losing my family because of... love."

"I don't want to lose you. I'm going to do my best to understand. And this Buddy... gosh, he's a cutie, isn't he?" She smiled and wiped her face with the crumpled Kleenex. Bit by bit, the uncertainty was leaving her expression.

"He is," I chuckled, feeling a little flutter in the pit of my stomach. "He's the cutest! Mom, I love him—he's incredible!"

She held her hands to her heart and laughed. "I've never seen you like this before!" she marvelled. "I think I like it."

Buddy returned lugging a great big jug of laundry soap, and I helped him heave it into the cart. My mom beamed at him.

"Buddy... I truly am glad to see my son looking so happy. You must be taking good care of him."

Buddy blushed and grinned back at her, clinging bashfully to my side. "W-well... he t-takes such... good c-c-care of me."

After a few more minutes of pleasant chat, we all had to get moving, wary of our cold groceries getting too warm. My mother hugged both of us before she went on her way, which made Buddy smile especially brightly.

I felt bad about the Ben & Jerry's again and tried to put it back, but Buddy insisted I must have it, that he wanted to spoil me. In the end, I couldn't refuse him.

Joanna stuck around for dinner, and it seemed like she planned to stay the evening as well. While Buddy and I took care of the dishes and finished putting groceries away, Bernie and his sister settled in front of the TV. I heard them talking loudly about a hockey game.

I couldn't help staring at Buddy's cute little round ass as he bent over to grab things out of grocery bags and load them into cupboards. When he looked around and caught me ogling him, he reddened and grinned.

"You looking at... at my butt?" he whispered, letting his eyes slide down my body. They paused halfway.

"You looking at my package?" I retorted, winking. It was clear we were both thinking back to what we'd been up to this morning, both thinking about picking up where we'd left off.

I edged closer to him, and he moved up to meet me in the middle of the kitchen. He hooked his fingers through the belt loops of my jeans to keep me close to him as he inclined his head to beg me tacitly for a kiss. As our lips met I felt him pull harder on my jeans. His breathing intensified. Buddy the Beast had made a sudden appearance. Usually he was so careful when anyone, even if it was only Bernie, was in the house, but sometimes he just turned recklessly ravenous, and I adored these moments.

He began to push me with his skinny little body, and I let him, backing up until I was hard up against the refrigerator. I widened my stance and slid down until my hips were level with his—ever since the day we'd first become an item, the day he'd passionately dry humped me in the bathroom of the coffee shop where he worked, this had become an automatic thing for me every time he shoved me against a wall. I wanted to feel his little bulge grinding against mine.

Bernie's heavy plodding footsteps in the hallways were impossible to mistake. Buddy tore himself away from me just as he entered the kitchen, though Bernie still flinched when he saw us there, red-cheeked and breathless.

"You boys!" he grumbled, rolling his eyes dramatically. "I'm gonna have to start keeping spray bottles fulla' water around here."

He mimed a trigger motion, complete with spritzing sound effects, as if we were a pair of cats he was trying to keep from jumping up onto the kitchen counter.

"S-s-s-sorry!" Buddy forced out from behind his hands.

Bernie grabbed him in an embrace that was halfway between a hug and a headlock, and ruffled his hair aggressively. "Now listen, you," he said, turning Buddy to face him. He glanced my way and beckoned me over. "You too, Richie."

Curious, I drifted over and stood next to Buddy. Bernie placed a thick hand on each of our shoulders.

"I'm alright with you guys, okay?" he said gruffly. The look on his face suggested it was taking a lot of effort for him to say what he wanted to say at the moment. "I give y'a hard time, but it's bluster, yunno? I like you both fine, and what y' got goin', it's... well, it's good. Good stuff."

Buddy and I both smiled gratefully, but cautiously. We could sense there was a "but" ahead.

"Listen," Bernie continued, "I got some hockey buddies comin' over to watch the game. I'm not gonna ask you to pretend like yer just pals—that'd make me an asshole, and I know it. But I just wanted you both to be... aware."

Buddy and I glanced at each other. We hadn't even paused to wonder why Bernie had had us pick up four bags of chips and two cases of beer on top of the regular groceries.

"So..." I hesitated. "So these hockey friends of yours... they don't already know Buddy's gay? And... you think they might not react well to a couple of dudes being cuddly around the house?"

Bernie let go of our shoulders and ran his hands over his bald head as he leaned back against the counter. "I dunno, really. Some shit just don't come up with friendships that're mainly about sports. For all I know none of 'em will give a crap, but on the other hand, they might be homophobes."

It took me a few moments to process this, but I could feel Buddy bristling next to me.

"I get it!" he snapped, crossing his arms stiffly. "Suh-suh-sssweep us under the rug for your huh-homophobe friends... so you can enjoy your t-t-t... testosterone fest in peace?"

"Buddy—for fuck's sake, I didn't mean that!" Bernie exclaimed, reddening. "I don't want you to disappear. In fact, I'd love y' both to watch the game with us. I'm just saying, I dunno what they're gonna think. I dunno! I thought you should be... forewarned."

"About b-bigotry in my own home?" Buddy charged onward, his whole body rigid with anger. "I thought you... supported me!"

"I do!"

"But you'll... you'll... have friends who are anti-gay? And welcome them in your home? Our home?"

Bernie was flustered and very flushed now, looking caught between embarrassment and exasperation. "Well shit, boy, maybe you've forgot how much we both loved your ma, regardless—!"

Buddy dropped his arms and flinched back. I held my breath, watching him react. I knew Buddy's mother hadn't spoken kindly of gays, and that he'd kept his secret from her right up through her dying day. I felt my heart sink as his eyes grew shiny with tears.

Buddy clenched his jaw, sniffed sharply, and turned to flee the kitchen. A moment later, we heard his door slam.

"Shee-yit," Bernie muttered, pacing back and forth slowly. "He's a tender kid. I shouldn't a' brought up his ma."

"Hm," I mumbled, plopping into a chair next to the dinner table. Although I wanted to go and comfort Buddy, I also knew that excessively coddling him wouldn't help him. Moreover, I actually felt sorry for Bernie. He had never been a dad, and had never asked to be, but he'd been open-heartedly looking after Buddy for years even though he obviously had limited capacity for dealing with sensitive people.

Joanna ventured up the hallway and poked her head into the kitchen, frowning. "You guys okay?"

Bernie nodded and waved her away with a waggle of his arm. She looked exasperated, but returned to the television.

I sighed and looked up at Bernie, curious. "Did you know Buddy was gay, when his mom was alive?"

He rubbed his chin, his callused fingers making a faint scraping noise against his stubble. "I had my suspicions, but I didn't really know 'til later. I think it was a subject we all tried to avoid." He looked back at me, conflicted. "You ever just completely avoid certain things with yer friends, 'cause there are some things you don't really wanna know?"

I nodded. "I pretty much lost all my friends when I came out. It sucked. But I think it was my fault for choosing idiots for friends. I just wanted to fit in. But that's high school. Good riddance."

"Yeh. I'm fuckin' forty years old—I don't want none o' that drama bullshit."

I chewed on my bottom lip as I mulled a few things over. "Maybe Buddy might feel differently... but I don't think I actually care if any of your friends don't like that I'm dating him, so long as they don't give us any trouble."

Bernie shrugged. "Not like they'd try to beat ya with a shovel or somethin'. They're not like that. They're good guys, with families. If any of 'em make smartass comments about gays, I don't mind giving 'em a piece of my mind. But I'm not gonna kick 'em outta my house for disagreeing with me. For disrespect, though, that's different. I'd draw a line at name-calling. Respect is non-negotiable."

I nodded and pushed myself out of the chair. "I think that's fair. Respect, really, is all I need from most people, regardless of their beliefs. I only wish people who 'disagree' with my sexuality would be a bit less like my dad, who thinks it's okay to equate me with pedophiles."

Bernie exhaled noisily through partially pursed lips. "Well. That ain't right."

I shook my head slowly.

"Say... you feel like talkin' to Buddy for me? We been through a lot together, that kid and me, but you've got that soft touch that just don't come natural to me."

I agreed to this, and turned to leave the kitchen.

"Richie!" he called after me. When I glanced back, he continued soberly: "Yer a good kid. And a smart cookie."




Sugar Heart Ch. 05



"Oh... thanks," I chuckled, giving him a lopsided smile.

"I really would like to have the both o' you join us for the game. If Buddy feels up to it."

Buddy didn't answer when I first knocked. When I told him it was just me, he made some kind of muffled noise that I decided to take as an invitation to enter. I locked the door behind me.

Buddy was curled up tightly on his bed, facing the wall and hugging a pillow. I crawled in behind him and cuddled up close to his trembling little body.

"Please," I whispered against his soft hair, "tell me why you're crying, button."

Buddy sobbed and whimpered. I heard him swallow noisily, and make some vague guttural noises that I recognized as him struggling to form words. It was difficult enough for him when he wasn't crying. He gave up, and did not answer.

"Is it because Bernie's a great big butthead?" I ventured, hoping an attempt at levity would not go awry.

A short, staccato chuckle broke through Buddy's tears. "Mm... n-no."

I coaxed and cuddled him a while longer until he had calmed and was better able to speak. I shut off the light to help him. He always stuttered a lot less in the dark. He whispered to me about his mother, how she had been everything to him, and how he punished himself for ever thinking ill of her. He never doubted she loved him, even when she was on drugs and couldn't take care of him. He loved her, even when she made disparaging comments about "the gays", even when he had to lie about who he was. He loved her because she was his mother, and she was dying. He loved her because she'd been his safe place and his comfort when he was wracked with anxiety and bullied at school. He loved her because she'd stubbornly fought off cancer long enough to see him graduate high school. When she was gone, he hated himself, because some part of him was relieved, and not only because of her suffering.

"I feel sick," he breathed, "when I think about... how things would have gone... had she lived, and I'd had to tell her the truth of who I was. Me and her and Bernie, we were a family. For a little while, things were so close to perfect. But if I'd told... don't you see how it would have torn us all apart? She would have been so, so disappointed in me. I would have been so hurt. And poor Bernie... would be caught in the middle, wanting to defend both of us. No more happy family. All the good... soured. It's like... she left while we were all ahead. And I feel disgusting when I think that's for the best."

I squeezed him more firmly against me. My hand pressed against his and felt a warm throbbing pulse wherever it touched—his, or mine, or perhaps our hearts were beating together.

"You have to stop being so hard on yourself," I spoke up after a lengthy pause. "These things are always... emotionally complicated. You can't blame yourself for your feelings, or for thoughts that just pop into your head. You've endured so much, Buddy, and it's difficult for anyone to have to face the worst flaws of the people they love. At the end of the day, whether you love her or hate her or feel some crazy mix of things about her... you're allowed. You're still a good person. So was she. She had to have been, to have raised you to be such a sweet and caring person. And what might have been doesn't matter. What you have now matters. I love you, Buddy, and Bernie does too."

"I know," he mumbled, and broke off sobbing and shaking again.

I held him and stroked his hair, letting him get his emotions out. I'd done plenty of reading online lately about anxiety disorders, and I knew that telling him to calm down or get over his feelings would only make things worse.

"Buddy," I whispered, "I'm gonna go get some of that ice cream, okay?"

He nodded, and I popped up to go grab a pint of Ben & Jerry's from the freezer, and a single spoon. As I was walking back to Buddy's room, I could hear unfamiliar voices in the living room, and knew some of Bernie's friends had arrived.

I settled back in with Buddy, lights on this time, and coaxed him to sit up. I fed him a great big spoonful, and at last he smiled around a mouthful of ice cream, cookie dough, and gooey brownie, despite the tears still rimming his eyes and matting his lashes. I leaned in to kiss him, and, true to his word in the grocery store about feeding me with his tongue, he passed the whole mouthful to me. We both laughed and fought not to dribble on Buddy's sheets as we continued goofing off and abusing the ice cream.

We finished most of the pint by the time we'd descended to purely making out and grinding a little in Buddy's bed. I could hear guys—and Joanna—yelling at the television down the hall. Buddy broke our kiss, panting.

"I d-don't wanna do stuff... while people are over!" he gasped, rolling off of me and straightening his clothes.

"That's fine," I sighed, awkwardly adjusting my stiffening cock beneath my jeans. I figured we were pretty safe from interruptions while the game was on, but Buddy was paranoid about doing anything sexual even when it was just Bernie in the house. I supposed I couldn't blame him. He had a lot of trouble controlling his volume when he was being pleasured. I smiled at the thought.

"Th-thank you... for respecting me," he said in a soft, almost sheepish tone.

"Respect. Ah... respect is non-negotiable. That's what Bernie said to me earlier. Good policy." I paused, looking seriously at him and taking one of his hands between mine. "You know he'll expect his friends to be respectful... right? We could go out there and say hello, watch some of the hockey game..."

Buddy cringed. "I... I was... rude. I know I c-can't expect him to kick anyone out of his life who isn't... pro-gay. I mean... my mom. Point taken."

"Well, I don't think he's very happy with himself for bringing up such a sensitive subject the way he did."

"Richard... I d-don't know if I can go out there. I'm scared."

"Of Bernie's friends? You know them, don't you? They've all been around here before, haven't they?"

"Yeah, but... not when..."

"...When you've had a boyfriend?"

He nodded, and hung his head. "P-please don't think I'm ashamed."

"I don't. You're allowed to be scared. Coming out can be really fucking terrifying. It's up to you, okay, Bud? I'd like to watch the game, but I don't mind chilling in here with you. Or we could just go out there as friends. I won't be hurt if you're more comfortable that way for now. You've already taken so many brave steps with me today. One at a time, right?"

He shut his eyes for a few moments, gravely considering his options. When they popped back open again, he looked both determined and guilty. "O-okay. We'll go. I'll say... I'll... I'll say you're my friend. Okay?"

"Sure thing, Buddy-boy." I tousled his hair. "Don't feel bad, okay? I really don't mind!"

He sighed and hugged me one last time. "You're s-s-ssso much more than I deserve."

"Nonsense."

I let Buddy go on ahead while I put the remaining ice cream back in the freezer. When I ventured into the living room, it was just in time for a commercial break. He was busy stuttering his way through standard small talk with Bernie's hockey buddies, four guys around Bernie's age. Their eyes flicked up to me with curiosity when I entered, hands casually in my pockets.

Buddy turned to face me, and his expression brightened. There was something in his eyes that flooded my chest with warmth. I felt a spark pass between us, as if we were seeing each other for the first time and falling head-over-heels in love all over again. I was pulled back in time to the first few days of our relationship, walking into the coffee shop to see him looking at me with that exact expression across the counter, ready to write my name on my cup with a little heart above the "i". I was so smitten with him, I couldn't breathe for several moments.

"This is Richard," Buddy blurted out in a loud, clear voice, without stammering for even a moment. His mouth stretched into a delighted smile. "My boyfriend!"

I was so touched by his unexpected surge of bravery, I must have looked like a complete moron as I grinned back at him. I pulled one hand out of my pocket in time for him to squeeze up to my side, letting my arm naturally settle around him. I was proud as hell to be beside him in this moment.

Once I could tear my eyes away from the gorgeous little guy winding his arm around my waist, I looked around the room to gauge the reactions of Bernie's friends. At first, I wasn't sure what to make of the four blank expressions turned our way.

"Don't he look like a young Robert Redford?" Joanna exclaimed into the silence. "A mustache and another decade on him, he's the Sundance Kid!"

"Dammit, Jo, cut that out!" Bernie bellowed, whipping a pretzel at her. "Yer embarrassin' the boy! Quit bein' a creep!"

Jo deflected the snack missile with her beer bottle and flung a pillow at him. Soon the whole room was in an uproar of laughter, punctuated by good-natured argument as to whether or not I bore significant resemblance to Redford's Sundance Kid.

"Well, good to meet you Richard," one of the guys said once the noise had calmed down. He seemed genuinely friendly, and two others uttered polite greetings. The fourth seemed more interested in the Skittles commercial on TV than anything else at the moment. I was happy enough to accept apathy. It was far better than hostility.

"Well, are Butch and Sundance gonna join us for the rest of the game?" Bernie wondered, smirking in our direction and tossing us the pillow his sister had thrown at him.

I looked to Buddy, and he smiled and nodded. Every seat in the living room was taken, but several more pillows were tossed our way. We made ourselves comfortable in front of the coffee table, and for the rest of the evening we were just guys. Buddy even accepted a beer, though he could barely finish half the bottle. I finished mine, and his.

Buddy and I retired to his bedroom once the game was over, and cuddled in the dark as we listened to the noise down the hall of the guys and Jo continuing to shoot the shit, and then eventually depart. I heard Bernie put some things away in the kitchen, and then head to bed.

"Sweet cheeks," I whispered. I was growing hard against his cute butt, having been anticipating a continuation of our morning's exploration all day long. "Hey, little cowboy. I'm so proud of you. And I want you so fucking much."

Buddy did not answer. I listened to his deep, even breathing. He'd already fallen asleep. I sighed softly and willed my hard-on to calm down. We could both wait till morning.

* * * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * * *

Buddy woke before I did. I must have been deeply asleep, because he was already naked and working at undressing me when I returned to consciousness.

"Hey," I mumbled hazily, "you trying to molest me in my sleep?"

"Yup. But... n-now you're awake. So... awake molesting."

"I'd prefer that," I chuckled, and squirmed around the bed to help him pull off my boxers. Buddy seemed to have awoken in Beast mode, and it certainly made for a fantastic morning.

"I'm so... so... horny," he huffed, flinging my clothes across the room. "And so are you."

"Fuck!" I blurted out as he grabbed hold of my admittedly impressive morning wood and stroked it firmly. I was suddenly much more awake. "Bernie?"

"Garage."

"Good!" I sat up and pushed him face down onto the bed. "You want to continue where we left off yesterday?"

"Yes, yes!" he exclaimed, gamely popping his ass up into the air.

"Mmm... that is one fine-lookin' behind you've got there, Butch," I drawled.

"All yours... Sundance," he giggled, wiggling a little to tempt me further.

I kissed both of his round cheeks, and then the tender apex of his cleft. He sighed and hugged his pillow. I spread him wide and licked a steady line downward until I reached his sweet little opening, which was already more relaxed than when we'd started out yesterday. I massaged his sensitive pucker slowly with my tongue, and his moans were beautiful music to me.

"More," he groaned, pressing back against my mouth. "In... in."

I poked my tongue firmly against his asshole and began to prod in earnest, working my way in. I felt his ring relax a little more, and I pushed through, shoving my tongue as deep into him as I could.

"Ohhh Richard!" he wailed. "Ohhh your tongue! Oh yes, oh yes, make love to me with your mouth!"

I did as he commanded, though I wished he would use the word "fuck". It was a challenge to get any dirty words out of Buddy. Perhaps it was for the best that he was reluctant at this phase—if he'd suddenly begged me to fuck him, I'd be so turned on by the mere words that I might bust a nut before I even got halfway to pointing my cock at him.

I slid my tongue in and out of him until it ached with the strain of overwork, but I powered through, enjoying myself—and Buddy's cries—far too much to let my body crap out on me.

I had been too absorbed in feasting on him to notice he was reaching for the lube, but all of a sudden I felt the bottle pressing insistently against my knee. I pulled back and took a minute to catch my breath. Buddy rolled over onto his back. A deep flush had spread from his cheeks all the way down his neck and even his chest. There was a sheen of sweat across his face. His eyes blazed up at me, blue and green and grey all at once, looking like a storm at sea. When I didn't immediately pick up the lube bottle, he grabbed it again and pressed it against my chest until I took it from him, chuckling.

"Tell me what you want, button," I encouraged, my voice shaking a little. I wasn't sure exactly where this was going to go, but I knew where I hoped it would.

"Finger... two fingers!" he demanded, settling back and spreading his legs wide.

"Two, right away? You're sure?"

"Richarrrd!" he wailed.

I laughed and squeezed out a generous amount of lube. The way he got impatient and pushy with me when he was horny was one of my favourite things about him. I settled down and placed the well-lubricated pad of my middle finger against the hungry orifice that was already slick and partially relaxed from the labours of my tongue. I massaged him in little circles, and then began to press in with my middle and index fingers together.

"Ohh... whoa," I whispered. At first it didn't seem like my fingers would fit, but I pressed a little more firmly with some encouragement from Buddy, and then, gradually, I felt his snug passage relax and admit my fingers all the way inside. He gasped and twisted the sheets beneath him in desperate handfuls.

"Does it hurt?" I asked.

He looked like he didn't know how to answer the question. "Not in a bad way!" he decided after a few moments' hesitation. He took several deep, slow breaths. "Now... move a little."

I started to gently move my fingers in and out of him, carefully thrusting as I kept my eyes fixed on his, drinking in his enjoyment. The tight embrace of his inner muscles around my fingers was the most astonishingly pleasing sensation. I didn't realize how hard I was breathing, and I had even forgotten my cock for the time being.

"Like this," Buddy panted, making a beckoning motion with his fingers.

I curled my fingers the way he showed me, as if trying to tickle his bellybutton from the inside, and I felt my fingertips press against a spongy swelling that I quickly realized was his prostate. Buddy pulled in a sharp breath and nearly leaped right up off the mattress.

"THERE, yes!" he yelped, grabbing my forearm and keeping a tight hold on it as if to prevent me from pulling out. He looked enraptured, and I could scarcely believe the subtle press of my fingertips could have such a profound effect. I continued rubbing his prostate, and stroked his rigid little cock with my free hand. When I wasn't watching his rapt expression, I looked down at his excited prick, which was drooling an almost continuous stream of precum. He looked like he was close to an earth-shattering climax.

"Stop!" he exclaimed suddenly, his fingernails digging into my arm.

Startled, I froze. "Buddy... did I hurt you?"

He shook his head and grinned dreamily, gasping for breath. "No, no, not at all! So good, Richard, oh... so good! Just... so intense. Take a break."

I pulled my fingers free of him very slowly and stretched out beside him, soaking up the cozy heat his body was radiating. "God, you're gorgeous," I whispered. "I'll do that for you anytime. You're so hot when you're turned on. I wanna make you cum."

He kissed me fervently, locking his skinny arms around my neck and plunging his tongue into my mouth. After making out with me for a few minutes, he pulled back and looked me in the eyes. "Richard, I want to make you cum too. I want to feel it. I want to feel it inside me. I want you inside... your cock inside me, Richard. Please, I'm ready!"

I groaned and squeezed him tightly. I didn't ask if he was sure. My cock was aching to get inside that hot, snug little hole that I'd been fucking with my tongue and fingers. Remembering the pink dildo in his bedside drawer, I believed him when he said he was ready. I believed he had been preparing himself for this even before we'd ever spoken a word to one another. The thought of him fantasizing about me while he fucked himself with a dildo was incredibly sexy.

I crawled between his thighs and pushed them upward. Buddy grabbed them and held them for me, leaving my hands free. I slid one beneath his cute bottom, and used the other to point my rigid cock at his well-prepared hole.

"I've been imagining this moment," I whispered tremulously, hesitating now that I was right here, on the brink. I wanted to savour this. Or perhaps I just wanted to tease him, and force him to yell at me.

Buddy breathed as rapidly as a little puppy, waiting for me to properly pop his cherry. "Stop imagining and do it!" he burst out, grimacing with need.

I grinned wickedly. "Do what, Buddy-boy?" I whispered.

He whined and squirmed beneath me. "Richarrrrrd!" he growled. "PUT your COCK in me, NOW!"

A shudder rippled through me. I leaned in and pressed the dripping, scarlet-tipped head of my steel-hard cock against his waiting asshole. I fixed my eyes on his and pressed a little more firmly. It was going to be a tight squeeze. Buddy let go of his thighs so he could wrap his legs around me. Just when I was worried about hurting him, his heels dug into my bottom, encouraging me to push harder still.

"Go on!" he wheedled. "I can take it!"

I smiled gratefully at his encouragement. He was tugging anxiously at his hair. I grabbed his hands in mine and laced our fingers together, holding his arms above his head. I gave one sharp thrust, and felt my head pop through his ring all at once. We gasped in unison. His ass was so, so tight around my cock. Buddy's jaw fell open, and his mouth widened into a huge smile. His eyes glimmered with gathering tears. My chest felt like it might burst with the swelling warmth that was gathering there. Every beat of my heart was calling his name, and pulsing down through my body, through the swollen organ that was stretching his beautiful ass so wide.

"Richard!" he whimpered. "Love you so much!"

"I love you, button."

I leaned down over him and slowly licked the salty flesh of his face and neck. He moaned and sighed, and I could feel his inner passage relaxing a little around the broad head of my cock. He prodded me again with his heels, and I pushed in a little further, slowly sliding more and more of my hard shaft inside him.

"God!" I groaned against his neck. "Buddy... fuck... you feel so fucking amazing! Oh, your sweet little ass is squeezing me so tight!"

Buddy spluttered something incoherent, but I knew he wanted more of what I was giving him. His legs hugged my waist, and I started rocking my hips steadily, grinding more than thrusting. I could feel his small but very hard prick pressed between our bellies, and my lush crop of pubic hair was tickling his tight balls. I squeezed his hands; he squeezed back, and squeezed his inner muscles at the same time, clamping down deliciously on my cock.




Sugar Heart Ch. 05



"Ohh!" I groaned.

Buddy began to instinctively roll his hips in time with mine. The sensation was mind-blowing. We moved like a single organism, panting, sweating, moaning, sighing. It was hypnotic, practically intoxicating. It was quite some time before Buddy pushed me to change things up. He released the grip of his legs around my waist and pulled his hands free of mine. I sat back on my heels and took several deep breaths, gazing down at his flushed, perspiring body, dotted here and there with little crops of freckles.

"Grab my legs, hold them!" he urged, sticking his legs up in the air. "Take me, do me real hard now. Hard! I need it!"

"You horny little beast," I snarled. My heart thundered at his demands. I gripped his slender thighs in my strong hands and gave him a saucy grin before pulling almost all the way out, and slamming back in, balls deep. Buddy grunted loudly. He stretched his arms up and braced his hands against the headboard. He nodded rapidly, encouraging me to continue. I thrust again, and again, steadily faster and faster. The slap of my balls against his ass was incredible, both the sensation and the noise. When I really started to pick up the pace, the mattress squeaked frantically, making me smile.

"Yes, Richard, oh, yes!" Buddy cried out. "Oh, harder!"

"You want me to fuck you, bad boy?" I growled. "That what you want? A good, hard fuck?"

"Yes! Yes!"

"Tell me! Tell me what you want!"

"Want... Richard... your cock..."

"Say it!"

"F..."

"SAY IT!"

Buddy furrowed his brow and drew a mighty breath. "FUCK me!"

There it was, at last. Buddy's first f-bomb. I moaned with delight and squeezed his thighs, pulling his body right up off the mattress and pounding into him hard and fast. His ass was exquisite, gripping my cock every time I entered him, coaxing, squeezing, wanting my cum. His little body was so small beneath mine, so light, just a cute little boyish creature, but he was so entirely in control. I was nearly sent over the edge in seconds, but by a tremendous force of will I managed to hold off, determined to give Buddy the good, hard fuck he was begging for, the fuck we'd both needed so badly.

"FUCK me, Richard!" he demanded, looking very pleased with himself. "Fuck me harder! Harder!"

Sweat rolled down my face. This was the most challenging workout I'd had in years, and by far the most rewarding. I hammered into him so feverishly, I was surprised I wasn't hurting him. He took my huge cock like a champ, and continued to shout encouragements at me. I fucked him so frantically, the bed frame itself was beginning to shudder and slam against the wall. Every thrust was a glorious grunting, bellowing, creaking, thumping cacophony.

"Fuck, yeah!" I cried out, feeling like a god.

"YEAH!" he echoed back, working his ass like a pro.

"Fuck! Buddy! I'm gonna cum!"

"YES! Cum in me! Fill me up!"

I slammed into him rapidly as the ecstasy rose up in me, overflowing in a climax so heavenly, my eyes rolled back, and I roared at the ceiling, gripping Buddy's thighs desperately to hold him in place as I flooded his newly deflowered ass with my seed in several powerful gouts. My voice died away into a pathetic whimper as the strength began to seep out of me. I released his legs, and they dropped to either side. I couldn't even see straight as I sank down overtop of his scorching body, but immediately as our fronts connected I knew he had cum, and copiously. I had landed in a very large, very warm puddle of something that definitely wasn't sweat.

"R-Richard!" he wailed, wrapping all four of his limbs around me. He was crying; I had fucked him to tears. "Richarrrd... ohh... thank you!"

"Fffuuuuck," I moaned into his shoulder. "That... was... incredible!"

We both babbled away for a few more minutes as we cuddled through the sweet afterglow of our first fuck, reiterating how much we loved each other, and how amazing the sex had been. Finally, we wiped off with some dirty clothes and peeled ourselves away from the damp bed, agreeing we needed a shower posthaste. Buddy grabbed two clean towels, and we wrapped them around our waists. I paused at the door before leaving his bedroom.

"Um... you said Bernie was in the garage... right?" I whispered, only now coming to the full realization of just how much of a racket we'd made. "Not... in the house?"

Buddy's eyes widened. "Yeah. I mean... I thought..." The flush that had left his cheeks now started to return. "Oh... oh dear. I'm not... a hundred percent sure."

He squeezed my hand as we ventured out into the hallway. As we passed by the kitchen door on our way to the bathroom, we peeked in hesitantly and, to our mutual dismay, saw Bernie, sitting there at the table with a large cup of coffee and trying very hard to concentrate on the newspaper in front of him.

"Uhhh...!" I gaped, wondering if I should apologize.

Bernie glanced over at us. His eyebrows went up. Abruptly, he let go of his coffee cup to give us a hearty round of applause.

"Oh," Buddy squeaked out, covering his eyes with his hands. "Shhh...it."

Bernie burst into loud, barking laughter at Buddy's stammered curse. I couldn't help but join him. It was still such a novelty to hear Buddy utter any swear word. After a few moments, during which I was a little worried Buddy might burst into tears of embarrassment, he finally pressed his face against my chest and started giggling along with us. I pulled him along to the bathroom, and the sound of Bernie's enthusiastic applause and congratulatory hooting followed us down the hallway.