Until I Fade

by Kol Anderson

  Matt suddenly remembered something else. "Jesse?" he said. "You didn't leave that journal at my place on purpose by any chance, did you baby?"

  Jesse tried to maintain a straight face. "What journal, Matt?"

  "Your journal Jesse, one of those notebooks you constantly keep scribbling in. That journal."

  "Oh. I was wondering where it was."

  "Were you now?" Matt said, turning to look at him. "Why don't I believe that for a second?"

  "I don't know."

  Matt started shaking his head, and stared right in front of him at the closed doors and then he started laughing. "You conniving bastard," he said. "You're going to pay for this. You just earned yourself a week of not coming."

  The smile on Jesse's face could no longer be contained. "Yes, Sir," he said. "And I would deserve every minute of it."

  Jessie saying this to Matt, settling back in their old, familiar roles, settling back into their lives, they knew everything would be right in their world.

  The door opened when they reached their desired floor and they both stepped out, Jesse a little behind Matt.

  "Matt," he said. "That journal wasn't a lie."

  "I know," Matt said, as they stopped at his room and he fished for his key. "And it was really touching, it was. But you're still getting your punishment."

  "Yes, one week. I heard."

  "Seven whole days."

  "Starting when?"

  "Starting right now."

  "But we just made up and everything."

  "Exactly. You wanted me back, didn't you?"

  "Can I interest you into something else? Another punishment perhaps?"

  "No. I'm pretty certain you can't."

  "Please?"

  "No."

  "Shit."

  "That just got you another day."

  EPILOGUE

  Matt's cock was hard from getting all that attention from Jesse's mouth. Jesse was on his knees, completely naked except for the collar around his neck and Matt was wearing his leather. "I want you down on all fours and begging," he said, and his hand forced him into position.

  "Yes, Sir," Jesse said, settling down on the floor without question. Matt could still see some of the scars from Noah and it still made him angry every time he saw it. But he had learned to keep his anger at bay about this. The scars would go away in time, there was no permanent damage. That was a good thing. It could have been worse, so much worse. He picked up the condom and pulled it over himself and lubed up. The tip of his cock touched Jesse and he squirmed, and when Matt shoved in deeper, Jesse was crying with pleasure.

  "Did you miss this?" Matt said, riding him hard, balls touching Jesse's body and making that familiar sound. "Miss getting my cock shoved up your ass?"

  "Yes," Jesse panted. "I fucking missed it Matt, I missed it so much!"

  Jesse's hand moved to his own cock instinctively but Matt slapped his ass hard. "Don't," he said. "No touching. Not without my permission. That's my fucking cock and you're not allowed to touch it unless I say so."

  "Sorry, Sir."

  "Good boy."

  "Fuck…Matt!"

  "You can't come," Matt said and his thrusts were coming faster now, driving Jesse insane. "You can't come, Jesse, you don't have permission."

  "Okay Sir," Jesse said, barely holding himself back from coming from just the feel of Matt inside him. "I won't come, Sir. I promise!"

  In a few more thrusts, he was ready to shoot his load.

  "Fuck Jesse!" Matt came at last, and Jesse said nothing, just stayed in position.

  Matt took a few moments, caught his breath and slid out of him. Jesse still stayed the way he was, on all fours until Matt spoke again. "Get on the bed," he said, using this time to dispose off the condom and cleaning himself.

  Jesse was on the bed, propping himself on the pillow. Matt lifted Jesse's arms over his head, cuffing his wrists to the headboard. "Nice and tight."

  "Something wrong?" Jesse asked, when he noticed Matt was quiet.

  "No," Matt said. "I just forgot how much I wanted to see you like this. Vulnerable. Unable to do anything."

  "Really?" Jesse said. "Cause I feel everything but vulnerable, knowing that you're the one in control."

  Matt kissed him. "I am in control. And so, so hot for you right now."

  "Me too, Matt."

  "You need me to control you?"

  "Yes, Sir." Jesse said, and there was a kind of sensuality to his words, that hit Matt deeper than ever before.

  "How could you let someone else get this close?" he said, suddenly. "How could I let you?"

  "Matt, it's okay. We're here now, that's what matters."

  "No. Let me say it," he began. "I was wrong. I was wrong to let you leave but you were wrong to try and find this in some stupid jerk like Noah. When the entire world knows what he's like."

  "I just," Jesse looked like he was searching for the right words. "I wanted to get hurt. I thought I could handle it."

  "Handle it?" Matt said. "Please, tell me you're smarter than that."

  "Look, I didn't know okay?" Jesse said, and his eyes were dewy. "I was angry. And hurt. I wasn't thinking straight!"

  Matt cupped Jesse's face and used his thumbs to wipe away tears. He kissed his forehead. Then his hand was touching Jesse's cock and stroking him, making him hard.

  "Matt—"

  "I missed you so much, Jesse."

  "Fuck!"

  "Don't come yet," Matt said, but his hands didn't stop and the grip was even firmer now.

  "Then stop…please…"

  "Don't come. I mean it."

  "Matt! Fuck!"

  "Don't come. You don't have permission. If you come right now, I won't let you come for another week. You know I never joke about this."

  Matt's free finger twisted Jesse's nipple at the site of the piercing, hurting him.

  "Fuck, you're not helping Matt!"

  And then Matt stopped, grinning, enjoying the torture and the look on Jesse's face. A few seconds more and order and punishment be damned Jesse would have come anyway, Matt was sure of it. It was funny how he remembered his exact timing, how he could tell by the look on his face how close he was.

  "Matt?"

  But Matt wasn't answering. He climbed on top of him, and planted a hand in Jesse's hair, pulling it to the side to reveal his neck. Jesse squeezed his eyes shut when Matt's tongue started going over the stretched skin of his neck, and he lowered himself to his chest, and when his tongue went over a nipple Jesse's wrists strained against the cuffs. Going lower, Matt took his time, trailing his tongue over the slight growth on Jesse's navel, making him squirm again. When he started going even lower, Jesse looked like he was about to beg.

  "Matt, please!"

  "Please what, baby?"

  "Fuck, Matt please make me come!"

  Matt grinned again, but didn't stop licking him with his tongue some more. And when he placed his mouth over Jesse's cock, Jesse was squirming and screaming again. His tongue flicked at the crown and then dipped into the slit, slick with pre-cum. His cock was stiff with need and Jesse was still moaning. Matt let him be tortured some more and then he took Jesse's balls in his hand and gave them a slight squeeze, only enough to make him squirm again and then his tongue was feverishly licking the tip again until Jesse was fighting to keep himself still. His mouth didn't come off until Jesse was bucking his hips and shooting his load into Matt's throat. Even when he did, Matt stayed there, wanting to feel every drop of his release on his tongue, helping him relax again. When he finally crawled up over Jesse's body and looked into his eyes, everything seemed right with the world again. He kissed Jesse on the mouth and Jesse kissed him back and smiled.

  "That was fucking awesome," he said. "We should do that more often."

  "We can. If you don't piss me off again and earn another week of not coming."

  "Please," Jesse said. "Anything but that."

  "Careful what you wish for."

  "I love you, Matt."

 
Matt kissed a tear away from Jesse's eyes. "I love you too, baby."

  You can't fix people.

  No more than you can fix life.

  But sometimes, I guess you can give them a little nudge in the right direction. If you think they're worth it, then don't make it easy for them to let go. And yes, that sounds like a crappy public service message but I'm a writer, not an intellectual and sometimes, we forget the little things in our quest for bigger and better.

  Me and Matt, we're a work in progress and so is every other human being that I know.

  We have our good days and our bad days.

  What's important then, isn't that we have no bad days, but whether or not we have it in ourselves to pull through.

  I figure if my mom can find it in herself the strength to pull through from something as heart breaking as cancer and force those bad cells to go into remission (yes we got the results today), we can find it in ourselves to forgive, forget and move the fuck on. Because life really isn't as long as you think it is.

  THE END

  SIN

  KOL ANDERSON

  Trademark Acknowledgments

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following trademarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Corona: Crown Imports LLC

  ESPN: ESPN Internet Ventures

  Forbes Magazine: Forbes.com LLC™

  BLURB

  Samuel “Sin” Taylor doesn’t know the difference between sex and intimacy, but maybe that’s not his fault. He grew up in a world where it was easier to get physical pleasure than to find love. But as a prostitute working the streets, Sin thinks he’s finally found his true calling. After all, sex is the one thing he’s good at, right? But when Isaac enters his life through mere coincidence, Sin finds it a relief to be someone other than Sin.

  How long can he keep up the charade?

  Chapter 1

  Wages of Sin

  I had my first taste of sin when I was thirteen.

  At first I couldn’t even tell the fear from the excitement, but when this older guy, the man my mother was dating at the time, asked me to lie down on the floor of the living room, my first response was to run, go somewhere far away from all this. But when he kept insisting, I caved. Come to think of it, I’ve always had trouble saying no. Even though he wasn’t my real father, he was nice to me and I felt obligated to do what he wanted. As though it was a sin to refuse someone who was paying my bills. When the man started touching me while I lay there with my back against the carpet, I started to get aroused. I didn’t even know what masturbation was back then, I just knew that touching myself was the best feeling in the world. When the man got on top of me, I was completely freaked out. I felt so embarrassed I wouldn’t even look at his face.

  “Sammie,” he said. “You’re not scared are you?”

  I shook my head no.

  I couldn’t stand being thought of as someone who was afraid. When he kissed me on the lips, it was a little gross at first but when he kept at it, I started liking it. He slid my hand down his pants, and when I touched him down there, I felt the hair and a pair of wrinkle-skin balls and because I was the person who wasn’t afraid, I even started touching his semi. He started gasping; moaning like I’d heard my mother moan when he fucked her in our home, when they thought I was asleep in the next room. “You can’t tell anyone, Sam,” he said, between moans.

  I had an erection just being that close to him. It was something forbidden, something I knew I wasn’t supposed to be doing and that made it hot. When he finally reached inside my pants and touched me, I felt the kind of pleasure that was obscenely close to what I thought being in heaven must feel like. Having someone else’s hand touching me felt amazing, and having him that close to me didn’t hurt. I had never truly masturbated before, never did anything more than stroke myself and had no clue before that day what it was like to achieve an orgasm. But when step-dad-of-the-month kept stroking me, I felt a strange sensation, kind of like you feel when you need to piss and I thought I needed to go but he wouldn’t let me and before I knew it, he was taking his soiled hand out of my pants and holding his fingers up for me to see. “See that?” he said, showing me the white gunk. “That’s you Sammie. That’s all you.” He said and slid the same hand down his pants to stroke himself and he was sweating and his hand was going so fast—

  “Sam!” I heard my mother’s voice.

  Not Sammie, like I was used to hearing from her, but Sam, the name she used only when she was yelling at me. The bags of groceries in her hand had spilled and everything was on the floor—milk cartons and bottles of ketchup all ruining the carpet. I remember thinking she would be annoyed cleaning that up. I zipped up my pants and stood and step-dad did the same. We were all standing awkwardly in that room and between the three of us we didn’t have a single word to say.

  ***

  My life became miserable after that.

  My mother treated me like a bunch of healthy, affluent people might treat a colony of lepers, like I was a sick thing to be kept at a distance and never come into contact with. I tried to apologize and I tried to explain how sorry I was, but she wouldn’t have it. She never called me Sammie after that, always Sam or even worse; Samuel on the days that she was really mad. My step-dad however, received a few days of silent treatment and was back in her good graces.

  I couldn’t understand it.

  I watched them talking and laughing and watching game shows on TV together, and I couldn’t understand why I was being treated the way I was while he was still with her, when we had committed the same crime.

  ***

  That guy lasted about a year in our house.

  My mother still talked to me, I guess because she had no choice, but kept it to the bare minimum. I still felt like a pariah. We no longer shared jokes or stories or laughed together. She was doing what was required of her but in her heart I think she was wishing for me to just disappear and for that day to not have happened in her life. I loved her so completely, she was my world and I wanted things to be the way they used to be between us. I wasn’t the sort of kid who found solace in people outside of the house. I didn’t have a lot of friends, and my mother had always been a friend to me, but now she was disgusted by me and there was no worse feeling in the world.

  What was more horrifying yet was that I knew there was nothing I could do to change her mind.

  What was done was done; I had committed a sin and that sin was going to ruin the remainder of my childhood.

  ***

  After the incident with my sort-of step-dad I became more cautious. Winning my mother’s love was still a big deal to me and I kept trying, telling myself that if I was straight long enough she’d eventually forget what happened. So I made these big plans, to graduate summa cum laude and get a high-paying job just so she could be proud of me. I must have 'stayed straight' for another year or so. Freshman year I found out my father wasn’t dead, as my mother had been telling me all these years. She finally decided to tell me that he was alive and that he had showed interest in seeing me. I felt excited, even though my mother kept telling me not to get my hopes up. Her recently developed distaste for me might have been strong, but I had a feeling she disliked my father even more. Of course, despite her warnings, I couldn’t help feeling that meeting my father would be the most monumental day of my life.

  As it turns out, that was probably the one time I should have listened to my mother.

  ***

  The first time I met my father was in his hotel room. He lived elsewhere, he was in the city for work, and that was the main reason he was here, as he reminded me before our conversation even began. The whole time I was there, he kept taking phone calls and it was impossible to really talk to him. Not that we had much to say. My mother always said I looked just like him and sometimes I wondered if maybe that was the reason she hated me. Perhaps I was starting to remind her of him a little too much.

  When I met my father, my first thou
ght was that he was a handsome guy. Better looking than any of my friends’ fathers or any of the men my mother dates, and I felt a little proud of that fact. If I supposedly looked like him, there was a good chance I was good looking too. I always sensed the attraction from the girls at my school, they were always trying to find ways to talk to me, but somehow that wasn’t enough for me. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for but I figured I’d know when I saw it.

  Meeting my father that day made me understand why my mother broke up with him. He was casual about our meeting to the point where he almost seemed like a stranger. Not the man whose sperm was the reason I existed. I didn't think he was particularly cruel or rude, just indifferent. He kept talking to me about his other kids, the ones from the family he started after he and mom broke up. There were three of them to be exact and he told me what they were doing in their lives and I could tell how proud he was. When he asked me how I was doing, I told him I was doing well in school.

  I didn’t tell him I tried to fuck my mother’s boyfriend last year, or that I had recently found out women didn’t do it for me, that I felt nothing when they touched me. I also didn't tell him the minute I started fantasizing about my hot science teacher with that huge bulge in the front of his pants, just picturing what it would be like to suck on that cock, I would come like crazy. I didn’t tell him I masturbated to that image a dozen times a day or that I was afraid I was going to go to hell for it. I didn’t tell him that my mom and I were simply strangers living in the same house and I hated the way that felt.

  I told him none of that, only what was appropriate to share with a virtual stranger.