Golden Boy Two-Volume Set

by Claire Thompson

  Eric, who had been studying the pictures with interest as Johnny flipped through them, stopped him as he started to move to the next picture. “Wait. Let me see that. That’s your mom?” He pointed to the picture of Ann, looking quite lovely in her formal dress, her grayish blonde hair swept up, her eyes as green as Johnny’s.

  “Eric, what’s the matter? You look sick? Are you okay?”

  “Johnny. I know that woman! She came to see me on Thursday.” Eric leaned back against the headboard, putting his hand on his forehead. “Jesus, Johnny. Your mom came to my office!”

  “What? And you didn’t tell me? What are you talking about?”

  Eric was quiet a moment, gathering his thoughts. “Yes, now it’s making some sense! I can’t believe she did that. And the weird thing is, she looked familiar! It’s those eyes, though hers don’t have that golden ring around the iris like yours…”

  “Come on, Eric! Focus! What the hell was my mother doing at your office?”

  Eric sat up. “She said her name was Ann Peterson.”

  “Her maiden name!”

  “Okay. Well, she certainly didn’t identify herself as your mom!”

  “So what did she say?”

  “Well, I can’t really divulge the details of the session but—”

  “The session! She came to you for therapy? She drove to Manhattan to see a gay therapist? This is a woman who never leaves Brooklyn. A woman who would rather die than admit to her best friend, much less some stranger, there were problems in her family! How in God’s name did she go to see you?”

  Eric thought a moment and offered, “Did you tell Billy and Sandy about me? Enough details so they could identify me and my practice here? Maybe they told your mom. Maybe they were trying to bolster your case—‘at least the faggot he’s destroying his life for is a professional’!” He grinned, raising his eyebrows at Johnny, who smiled back weakly.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I did tell Billy. When we met for lunch, I told him all about you—your name, how you were a psychologist with your own practice. I guess I was trying to impress him—car mechanic makes good.”

  “Graphics design student with successful job at an art gallery, you mean. Who happens to be very good with cars!” Eric ruffled Johnny’s hair affectionately. “But anyway, back to your mom. I guess she was scoping me out. Maybe wanting to see just who had perverted her innocent boy.”

  “Well, what did you talk about? What did she say?”

  “Well, I know she’s your mom and was there under false pretenses, but she actually did share some pretty intense stuff. It was quite an emotional experience for her.”

  “Really. That is so bizarre. My mom going to my lover to spill her guts.”

  “She really loves you, Johnny,” Eric said softly.

  “Yeah?” Johnny’s tone was angry. “This is a woman who used to call me at least twice a week. A woman who had a fit if I missed Sunday dinner at their house. A woman who was constantly trying to fix me up with her friends’ daughters and nieces, who worried I was going to end up all alone. She loves me so much she hasn’t tried to contact me in six months. Six months! Why? Because she found some dirty pictures of me in my own place? What the fuck kind of love is that, huh?”

  Eric took the photos Johnny was still holding in his hands. Leaning back against the pillows, he said, “Lie here with me, Johnny. Let me hold you.” Johnny sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, his face turned away. Eric reached up and pulled him down. “Come on, stop it. You have to remember who she is, Johnny, and what she’s dealing with at home.”

  Despite himself, Johnny was intrigued. “What did she tell you? Did she talk about my dad? Can’t you tell me anything?”

  Eric was quiet a moment. Finally he said, “I don’t want to betray her confidences, Johnny. But I guess she approached me with less than sincere motives.”

  “I’ll say,” Johnny interjected.

  “Well, she’s clearly frightened of your father. I think she loves him but he’s—well, you’ve said it yourself. He’s a bully. She told me how he used to beat you for the littlest thing—how he’d fly into a rage over something like your art project or how you wore your hair. It broke her heart when he did it but she didn’t have the courage to intervene. She’s racked with guilt by it now.”

  He smoothed Johnny’s golden hair from his forehead. “It’s amazing what people come up with. She thinks they turned you into a masochistic homosexual. Gay because she coddled you and made you a mama’s boy, and sexually masochistic because your dad beat you and somehow you turned it around into something sexual in order to deal with it.”

  Johnny was staring at Eric speechless. Finally he sputtered, “She what? She thinks they turned me into a gay sub?” He began to laugh. “Jesus, if that doesn’t take the fucking cake! Not only am I this twisted mess but they did it to me!”

  Eric smiled but said, “It’s really not that uncommon. Parents trying to understand their child’s behavior, even if that child is a grown man, try to find reasons for it. To explain it away. To try to figure out what they did to cause it. It’s a mistake a lot of people make—viewing their children as ego extensions in a way—taking the blame and of course the credit as well, for how their kids turn out.”

  “So what did you tell her?”

  “Well, I didn’t know who she was, of course. But I explained a little about the science of sexual orientation—that events or actions don’t turn a person one way or the other, though of course a deterring or nurturing environment can affect how a person manifests that orientation.”

  Johnny looked a little baffled and Eric grinned. “Sorry, I was shifting into lecture mode. What I mean is, you can’t turn a person gay or straight for that matter. They are what they are. You can force them to hide it because of your own expectations or denial, and clearly that’s what they did to you all those years. You’re still dealing with it, still coming to grips and figuring out who you are. It’s a process really.”

  “So where did you leave it with my mom? Is she coming back to see you?”

  “Well, she seemed as if she really wanted to, that’s the funny thing now I know who she is. And not to talk about you. She has some of her own issues she wanted to discuss—about her marriage and her concept of herself as a woman.”

  “No way.” Johnny stared at Eric. “Did she forget who you were? That she was there to spy on the enemy?”

  “I don’t know. She started to make an appointment for next week but then backed down, saying she’d call me. I realize now she probably won’t call and under the circumstances of course I couldn’t treat her. Though I’ll refer her to someone else if she does call. She might actually do quite well with a female colleague of mine.”

  “My mom in therapy.” Johnny shook his head. “It won’t happen. When my dad gets wind of this, he’ll put a stop to it.” Suddenly Johnny’s voice deepened, his eyebrows furrowing over flashing eyes. “No Wilson goes to no goddamned shrink! We have no problems! No problems that can’t be fixed with some guts and determination! With a good hard talking to! With a belt or a fist or kick in the ass…” Johnny’s voice faltered and he turned away from Eric on the bed, curling up into a fetal position, his face hidden in the pillow.

  His shoulders began to shake, otherwise he was still. Eric turned toward him, gently touching his back, spreading his hand against it. Johnny didn’t respond. Eric felt his heart break for Johnny and for the hundreds of thousands of other people like him who’d been needlessly made to feel shame and confusion over who they were. Ostracized by their families, humiliated and even destroyed because their hardwiring, their genetic makeup, made them prefer the touch of a man when they were told only a woman would do or the kiss of girl when they were supposed to be waiting for Prince Charming.

  Eric moved closer to Johnny, who remained turned away. He curled his body around Johnny’s as he embraced him, holding him while he cried. For several minutes they lay that way, Johnny’s body finally stilling, his breathing slowing. He turned ov
er, pressing his wet face against Eric’s chest. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. Those are tears that have been waiting a long time to be shed. Te amo. You are my golden boy.”

  Chapter 6

  “What is it? I can tell you’ve been wanting to say something but you keep stopping yourself. You can ask me anything, you know that.” Johnny and Eric were lying together in their huge old bathtub, Johnny leaning against Eric, whose arms were around him, his hands idly playing with Johnny’s cock and balls beneath the hot, fragrant water.

  Johnny smiled. It felt at once wonderful and a little disconcerting to have someone know him so well. It was hard to concentrate with Eric’s strong fingers skimming over his cock, teasing him to a rock-hard erection.

  “Well, it’s about Michael,” he finally admitted.

  “What about him?” After Johnny had gone to bed the night Michael had visited, he’d awoken some time after midnight. Eric hadn’t been beside him in the bed and his initial feeling was one of dread. Eric and Michael were making love in the other room—he just knew it. Johnny wasn’t a good enough sub, not a good enough lover, to keep Eric’s full attention.

  He lay in bed a while, wondering what to do. Should he go out, possibly interrupting the two of them having sex? Though they lived together, they had never expressly discussed not seeing other guys. And Eric as a Dom, didn’t he have the right to take other lovers? Wasn’t Johnny his “property” in a way—his possession however prized? Johnny didn’t really think Eric would do that, not without discussing it with Johnny. But he’d done a lot of reading online about D/s relationships and from what he could glean, the Dom had carte blanche when playing the field and the sub had very little to say about it. Who was to say Eric didn’t just assume Johnny understood that?

  Yet that wasn’t Eric’s style surely. Johnny knew him better than that. Eric wouldn’t just go have sex with someone without including Johnny or at least telling him, would he? On the other hand, the three of them had already engaged in some intense D/s sexual play. Johnny had sucked the guy off, for God’s sake! Maybe Eric was just finishing up as it were, ending the scene. If Johnny burst in uninvited, wouldn’t he look like an untrained sub? Like he was controlling the scene, topping from the bottom?

  At that moment Eric had come into the dark bedroom, slipping quietly into bed next to Johnny, who lay still, allowing Eric to think he was asleep. In fact he had drifted back to sleep and in the morning, when they’d talked about the scene with Michael, Eric hadn’t mentioned anything about what had happened after Johnny had fallen asleep. They had talked about what they’d done together, with Eric assuring Johnny he’d been a wonderful, beautifully submissive and very hot slave boy, and he was very proud to be his Dom.

  Tentatively Johnny had ventured, “So, did Michael stay long after I fell asleep?”

  “No,” Eric had answered. “He had to be up early.” Not wanting to seem too needy or inquisitive, Johnny hadn’t pressed for details and as more time had passed, he’d decided to let it go. But it wouldn’t let him go.

  Now in the tub, relaxed as he leaned into the strong, warm body of his lover, Johnny confessed, “I guess I’ve been wondering what happened between the two of you.”

  “What were you wondering?”

  “Well,” Johnny plunged on, recalling Eric’s emphasis on communication as the key to any successful relationship. “You never really said what happened after I left. There’s no denying Michael is super hot and I could feel the sexual tension between the two of you. I mean, I’m not criticizing,” he hastened to add, “but I was kind of wondering if maybe, you know. If maybe…”

  Eric nuzzled Johnny’s ear with his nose. “Oh Johnny. Have you been worrying all week Michael and I had sex while you were sleeping? And now I’m secretly in love with him and just plotting ways to get rid of you so I can run off with him?”

  Johnny laughed and Eric laughed with him. It did sound ridiculous put in those terms. “Johnny, I’m glad you finally said something, because I knew something was bothering you all week and I guess that was it? I mean, I hope that was it? Is there anything else?”

  “Should there be something else?” Johnny teased back. “Is there another guy in the wings I don’t know about? Or is Michael the only one you’re plotting with?”

  “Johnny, I should have told you about what happened after he left. I felt kind of strange about it myself because it forced me to face some issues I’m dealing with. Maybe I’m to blame too for not sharing everything I’ve been feeling since that day.”

  Johnny felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Stop it, he told himself. You don’t even know what he’s going to say. “Let’s get out of the tub and we’ll talk, okay?” Eric said. They climbed out, each drying the other with large yellow towels. Eric looked so hot, his strong, tan body warm and damp, his cock half erect, responding as Johnny knelt to cover it with little kisses before kneeling to kiss the tops of Eric’s feet in a sudden rush of submissive love.

  Eric touched Johnny’s shoulder. “Get up, sweetheart. Let’s talk before we play. You keep kneeling like that with your hot ass sticking up and I’m going to forget all about talking!”

  Together they moved to the bedroom, snuggling under the sheets, Johnny’s wet hair gleaming dark golden against Eric’s strong arm. “Johnny, just to be clear from the outset, Michael and I did not have sex after you fell asleep. We got dressed and sat on the couch and had a drink.”

  Eric smoothed Johnny’s wet hair and admitted, “But Michael did make a move on me. He wanted me to fuck him. ‘For old time’s sake,’ he said. The thing of it is, for a fraction of a second I considered it.” Johnny shifted against Eric, trying to quell the jealousy squirting into his brain like poison.

  “You know I used to play the scene,” Eric continued. “I always had a guy or two around, ones who were special, ones who liked to call themselves my sub boys.” “But I thought nothing of fucking someone else if the mood struck me and the timing was right. I was never in love before, you see. Everyone else was so casual about it and I figured no harm was done because I never led any of them on. That’s how I behaved back when Michael and I were involved. He apparently still behaves that way and I’m not saying he shouldn’t.

  “But, Johnny—what you and I share, it’s different. I know it sounds corny, but we’re in love. At least I’m in love with you. When Michael wanted to have sex and I refused, realizing it didn’t feel right for me, he got angry. He was acting out of his own hurt feelings, assuming I was rejecting him, which I guess I was. He made rude remarks about you and about us as a couple. He offended me and I, well, I kicked him out. I was going to tell you about it but I didn’t want to upset you. When he didn’t call the next day to get together, I thought maybe you’d wonder about that but you had your visit with Billy and Sandy and I guess I just let it go. I’m sorry I didn’t say something and spare you a week of worrying and wondering.”

  I’m in love with you. The words played like music in Johnny’s head, like a warm liquor flowing through his veins. He sat up and grinned at Eric. “So that’s your issue? That you’re in love with me?”

  Eric smiled back but then his expression sobered. “Yeah. To be perfectly honest, it kind of freaked me out to admit that out loud to someone. I mean, it was the truth and I’m glad I said it. I’m glad I was honest with him. But all week I’ve been thinking about what it means. To be in love. To feel this kind of commitment to another person, this kind of vulnerability.” Eric paused, gathering his thoughts. “Someone like Michael, he’s older—he’s been around, he knows what’s what. You, on the other hand—”

  “Jesus, Eric, am I going to have to beat you?” Johnny cut him off, playfully grabbing the unsuspecting naked man next to him and pinning him down in a wrestling hold on the bed. “How many times are you going to use my youth and inexperience against me? Do I have to date seven dickheads and be dumped on by four assholes before I can realize how a
mazing you are? Do I have to break up with you and ruin my life for a few years in order to finally properly appreciate you and come crawling to you on bleeding knees, begging you to take me back?”

  Eric twisted his wrists and moved his leg, effectively dislodging Johnny’s grip and flipping him on his back. They were both laughing as a playful wrestling match began. Though Eric was as strong as Johnny, Johnny was bigger and had actually wrestled in high school. In just a few moments he had Eric beneath him. They were both breathing hard. Johnny straddled Eric’s chest, his rising cock just inches from Eric’s mouth. Gripping Eric’s wrists, he pulled his arms over his head, pinning him to the bed.

  “Not a very submissive pose for a sub boy,” Eric said, still in control despite being pinned beneath his lover. “About your ‘youth and inexperience’—point taken. It’s just something I have to work through, I guess. To accept you aren’t going to leave me the second someone sexier comes along.”

  “There is no one sexier,” Johnny said softly, leaning down to kiss Eric’s mouth. He felt his cock tingling and aching. How easy it would be to continue to hold Eric down and slide his own cock into Eric’s mouth. How hot to use his “master” like a submissive slut. Johnny’s heart was beating hard and he knew it wasn’t just from the tussle they’d had.

  “Let me up, Johnny,” Eric said quietly.

  Johnny wasn’t sure what was coming over him. He just knew his blood felt hot in his loins. He felt like fighting, like throwing back his head and howling a primal howl of animal lust. He thrilled to find the man who’d used him so many times suddenly in his control. “And if I don’t?”

  “If you don’t, you’ll pay the consequences afterward.” Johnny knew Eric could have fought back, wrested control back from Johnny or at least gotten himself out of Johnny’s grip, yet he lay there passively, waiting to see what Johnny would do next.