KJ got up, took off his jeans and we found another position with our legs crossing each other. He pulled my feet closer to his mouth and started to lick under my toes. He’d rub my toes under his nose. I stopped rubbing his feet for a while.
He tried to put four of his fingers between all of my toes, but his fingers were too large and my toes were too small.
He pulled himself up to sitting and then folded himself down on me. He put his head under my chin and I stroked his hair. I put my nose in his hair—the smell made my cock throb more and also made me deeply relaxed. We started to make out. His lips are thick. He licked my upper lip under my nose, then pushed his tongue in my mouth.
He knelt on the floor beside the couch and started to suck me. Then he pulled a condom out of his jeans pocket and put it on my cock. “You’re gonna fuck me on my bed,” he said. He walked into his bedroom and lay flat on his stomach with his legs spread a little. I spread his legs more and kneeled between them. I held the tip of the lubricated condom against his asshole and started to push in. I lay on top of him with my arms under his chest, then holding his shoulders.
I started to fuck, but I knew I didn’t have the rhythm. The motion felt artificial. He was moaning, and I was wondering if I was doing it right.
“Ain’t no water…” the voice in the alley said followed by more jumbled words.
I was close to cumming and pulled out and came in the condom with my cock between his asscheeks. I lay on top of him for a few seconds and wondered what he was thinking. I rolled off and lay on my side. When he rolled onto his side I saw he’d cum on the blanket. We were facing each other and he pulled me into him, this time with my head under his chin. We hugged each other and fell asleep.
I woke up first about an hour later, afternoon sun still streaming in through the wood blinds. I moved away to look at KJ. His hair had been soft, and was now in a different arrangement. I was wondering what you asked for to get it cut at so many different angles. I liked that it was unpredictable. I looked at his waist that curved a bit before his hips—very much like a girl. He had an hourglass shape down his sides. I looked at his small cock.
When he opened his eyes five minutes later I wondered what he thought of me as a top. Maybe I was totally lame. He sure didn’t get a power-fucking like jock boys deliver. But I wanted him to say it was okay.
“Kinda fucking weird, huh?”
“No, it was good,” he said.
I felt relieved and didn’t feel small. I was generally pissed that I was still five-seven. Some of my hookups used to put one hand around my biceps, touching their fingers, enjoying how I had no muscles. Some of their cocks were thicker than my wrists. Although I liked that they were into me, I didn’t want them to think I was a girl. I wanted to grow and get more muscles and feel masculine. I didn’t want to play sports anymore or fuck girls, but I wanted to look like I could.
KJ was the first guy I’d played with who wasn’t a jock and who looked as fem as me.
“Did you like being a top?” he asked.
“Yeah, it was cool—but it felt weird too. Like I didn’t know how to fuck,” I said and smiled. “It’s like you have to learn that action, it’s not natural—it’s not genetic,” I said with a laugh in the last word.
The boys I had been with—I wondered if they had to learn how to fuck or if it came naturally?
I got crazy horny again looking at KJ, and moved on my side and started to suck him. My cock was by his face and he leaned over and we 69ed on our sides.
“Midnight Rambler” chords. I pulled the phone out of my jeans. Robert had sent me another weird Internet page about an Austrian baker making Nazi-themed cakes.
I texted KJ: Play?
Twenty minutes later he texted: Yeah, here or u?
Come here
’K, what time?
4:15
’K, cool
Can you wear your black-and-white high-tops?
Sure lol
I beeped KJ in the gate and cracked my front door open. He knocked as he pushed it open and came in.
“Awesome,” I smiled, looking down at his tennies. Such long legs and his jeans fit loosely on his hips. Another loud T-shirt, and that black hair that smells so good going all over.
“Any gel or mousse?” I asked.
“None.”
“I forgot to ask you about no deodorant.”
“I didn’t wear any.”
“Hot.”
“An Absolut Cape Cod, bitch!” he said, smiling.
I loaded it down with four ounces. I grabbed an Evian for myself.
He sat in a blue, fluffy leather chair that was kinda like the one in my dad’s study. I lay on the couch, propping myself up with a throw pillow, facing him.
“Thought you were gonna be naked with your ass in the air when I walked in,” he said.
“You didn’t ask. Next time if you want. ’Cept I might have to make a movie of Daryl and me so you’ll know how to tap it,” I said to him still smiling. I noticed how much I was smiling. It made my face muscles hurt. Then I thought maybe that would offend him, and I shouldn’t have said it.
“I don’t know if it would help. You’re probably right about the lessons. I don’t have a clue about how to fuck ass. Or girls. I like all the massage and sucking and kissing.”
“Throw me one of your tennis shoes,” I said.
He untied one and tossed it at me. Then he took off the other one and set it on the carpet by the chair. I played with the tennis shoes in both hands as we talked, sometimes smelling inside.
“So you like the foot play?” I asked him.
“Yeah. Had no idea it would feel good. Now I think about it a lot,” he said with that big smile with his straight white teeth.
The jocks I’d been with had always taken the initiative, which is something that really relaxed me. I had no moves for initiating sex. I thought this, plus two bottoms, was meaning things wouldn’t last long for KJ and me.
“Come over,” I said. He walked over and lay on top of me. Maybe initiating wasn’t that hard? I wrapped my arms around his back and he buried his face into my hair between my shoulder and neck. I shifted my body left a few inches so he could lie on his side next to me on the couch. His body naturally slid into the opening.
The smell of his hair and skin deeply relaxed me and got me hot like no other guy’s had.
“Take me to the bedroom,” I said.
He got up, I jumped on his back and he carried me into the bedroom.
“You’re supposed to kiss me, or squeeze my ass or put my hand on your cock,” I told him, smiling again. I noticed how often we smiled at each other, which was totally weird, nothing I’d done with anyone else. I liked being silly once in a while, being campy, teasing—if a part of me wondered when it was going to end, the message was no longer making it to my conscious mind.
He put my hand on his jeans over his cock, put his hand on my ass and pulled me toward him and kissed me.
“That how it’s supposed to go?” he teased.
“Yeah, it’s too much pressure to initiate; I got you in the bedroom and didn’t like the feeling.” (Still smiling as I talked to him…) “Your average baseball player jock really knows how to go for it without much language. Very rough. And you have to hold me,” I said, “because I’m smaller. It doesn’t work the other way.”
He jumped into bed under the covers. I pulled the covers back, jumped in front of him, then quickly pulled the covers back over us. He pulled me close.
“You learn pretty fast,” I told him. “Maybe you’re morphing into a top.”
We were both in our clothes, and he stroked my side above my T-shirt and shorts.
He put the side of his head against me, his lips just over my ear, and said, “I think I can get us going, if you want that, and tell you shit to do.” His head dropped back on a pillow and he squeezed me softly with his arms. I grabbed his right hand and, interlacing our fingers, put it on my stomach. I could feel his hard on agains
t my shorts.
“But the fucking part of top,” he said quietly, “I don’t think I can do it. I’ve never wanted to fuck.”
“‘S’all right.” I played with his large hand. Fingers long and strong. Big smooth nails. This boy is a god.
“How much you like getting fucked?” he asked.
“The first time I thought it was impossible. I was on my stomach and he was on top of me. When I told him to stop he whispered in my ear, ‘This your first time?’ When I said, ‘Yeah,’ he slowed down and started kissing my neck. And then I relaxed. It was great the first time. I had no idea it could feel so good.”
“I like all the other stuff better,” KJ said.
“How do you know if you never tried top?”
“I didn’t know feet were good until you. And I never knew I’d like getting rimmed or rimming until you.” He shifted his body so more was against me.
Silence for a few minutes. Guys not talking can be a real turn-on. I learned not to be embarrassed about my own silences like I learned how not to be embarrassed to ask questions. I think I learned both by third grade.
“But I don’t want to fuck you, and I don’t want you to fuck me again,” he said.
I wondered what was wrong.
“But the rest we do—I really like it,” he said. He put his big hand under my shorts, inside my briefs. I was hard and he played with my balls and squeezed my hard-on. “So I’ll be the one to get us started from now on. And you can introduce anything new that’s not fucking,” he said.
“How about my purple dildo?” I said.
“No problem as long as you don’t try to fuck me with it or want me to put it in you,” he said, and he squeezed me hard.
“You’re a freak, KJ.”
“We’re both freaks, you little fag,” he said, and put his nose in my ear.
THE KINGDOM OF HAEVEN
Eric Andrews-Katz
He could hear them. Whispered words in hushed voices that sank into long moments of silence. A hissing sound slithered through like an invisible serpent followed by a brief beeping noise. Then heavy silence before the cycle continued. Subtle movements of shadows shifted in the darkness without any distinguished formations.
“Are you ready?” a voice asked from the darkness.
“Yes,” came the solemn reply.
A red light flickered from somewhere in the corner, but no one turned to look.
“I love you, Tyler,” a frantic voice whispered. “Tyler?”
He felt fingers entwining his own. Comfortable, strong and familiar sensations transferred through the simple squeezing of his hand.
A high-pitched sound rang out, thundering from the darkness and exploding brightly, momentarily blinding him with light. Then blackness. Another voice faintly calling. It softly beckoned him, barely audible and quickly fading. He heard his name and felt the gentle touch on his arm.
“Tyler…
“Tyler…
“Tyler…”
“Tyler.” The gentle shaking continued and the soft voice called to him. “Tyler, wake up.”
General Tyler Addicott’s eyes fluttered opened to find Captain Wilyem Turrick waking him from his nap. He yawned with a stretch and smiled up at his husband of six years, taking in the wide hazel eyes, clean-shaven cheeks and head, and the full-toothed grin dominating his face.
“Hey, Honey,” Tyler said. He looked at the blinking red numbers from the clock on the wall. “How long was I napping?”
Wilyem stopped jostling Tyler’s arm and sat on the end of their bed. His hands twitched in his lap and the red tip of his tongue cradled the edge of his front teeth.
“About two hours,” Wilyem said. “But that’s not important.” He stilled himself with great effort and paused for a dramatic silence. “They called.”
It took the general a moment to fully comprehend what was being said. He bolted to an upright position. The light blanket fell to his naked waist exposing his broad shoulders, with a trimmed layer of downy hair crossing his chest. Tyler reached out, taking Wilyem’s hands into his own.
“What’d they say?” he demanded.
“Only that they wanted to see us both in the Royal Chambers within two hours.”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything,” Tyler replied, trying to keep control of his eagerness. Wilyem’s excitement was contagious, and he felt his chest tightening with anticipation.
“Except,” Wilyem said, his grin slowly expanding. “Conclave broke an hour ago and the Badge is being shown.”
Tyler followed the nudge from Wilyem’s head to the pulled shades. Throwing off the covers he leapt from the bed and ran naked to the window. He peeked through the blinds and saw Haeven’s purple insignia projected from the tower of Ravaggio Palace. From the distant hilltop the encircled silhouettes of two men, back-to-back with arms linked at the elbows, illuminated the Aresium dome that protected the capitol city from the toxicity of the planet’s atmosphere.
“It still doesn’t mean that I’ve been chosen,” Tyler said, turning back to his partner.
“I’d say it does!” Wilyem answered. Standing up, he strode over to the window and embraced his partner who was seven years his senior. He let his hands move over Tyler’s strong hips, sliding around his back to give the firm buttocks a playful swatting.
“Hail to the new King of Haeven!” Wilyem declared, placing his lips on his husband’s mouth.
Tyler gave in to the kiss’s passion before stopping.
“You don’t know that,” Tyler said, his breathing coming harder. His bottom lip trembled with excitement and his penis pressed against the front of Wilyem’s uniform. “You’re gonna jinx my chances.”
“I’m forty-three and don’t believe in jinxes. You know you got it,” Wilyem said, pulling Tyler closer to him by the small of his back. “Who else are they going to elect, General Smyth?”
“Don’t underestimate Ronald,” Tyler protested. “He’s a formidable army man.”
“Maybe,” Wilyem said, slapping Tyler’s butt. “But you’re better.” He withdrew his arms, returning to his seat on the bed’s edge. “Everyone knows that General Smyth has the social skills of a crater slug, and about the same emotional range. He doesn’t know how to express himself other than barking out orders at anyone within earshot. No one likes him enough to elect him king.”
“There have been worse kings of Haeven,” Tyler answered, playing devil’s advocate. “And they could choose General Stolzer, or Lozzi or half a dozen others.”
“They could,” Wilyem said. “But you and I both know they won’t. Stolzer’s Bisexual Support campaign hurt his political career too much to make him a serious candidate, and Lozzi? Get real. He’s still an Earth sympathizer and that’s not going to get him elected. There’s no one else that compares to your service record and charisma. It has to be you that they’ve chosen!”
“We better get going if we’re going to find out,” Tyler said. “I’ll get cleaned up if you schedule the Magno.”
“Already done,” Wilyem said showing off his proudest smile. The even teeth showed through full lips on a rounded face. He winked, allowing a boyish quality to settle on his cheeks. “And I made sure it was a seated car. The future king isn’t arriving for his coronation in a common standing booth.”
“You know,” Tyler said. “I love you more than the Great Rivers of the Svenson.”
“Then I’m a lucky, lucky man!” Wilyem answered. “Get ready. The clock is blinking away.”
“Do you remember your arrival on the planet?” Tyler muttered as the car-pod raced past the Docking Center. The building was well lit, signaling a recent arrival of men from Earth.
The two officers sat with their hands clasped together, hanging down between their reclined seats, and looking out the sides of the clear pod: their usual positions when riding the Magno together. A gentle hissing sounded as enriched oxygen was pumped into the car.
“It’s been twenty-five years and I still remember the fear and
the excitement of finally being in Haeven.”
“Fear?” Wilyem playfully scoffed. “I couldn’t wait to get here. I had the money together before I turned of age. I spent my twenty-fifth birthday at the Center for Relocation and was so ready to go! After all the restrictions and overpopulation issues the POGS created…”
“Wilyem!” Tyler reprimanded the usage of the vulgar vernacular.
“Sorry,” he said unapologetically. “The Pro-Populationists if you’d rather. I don’t know why any self-respecting Queer person would want to stay back on Earth.”
“You don’t think we’ve created another ghetto?” Tyler asked. “But on a planetary scale?”
“You’re crazier than a Saturn moth!” Wilyem said. He stared incredulously at Tyler’s rectangular face, squared jaw and angled nose. The longer spiked hair on top still showed a rich chestnut color, but the shorn sides of his head glistened with silver. “They depleted the natural resources by overpopulation and expelled all Queer people as a solution. It’s ironic that in a hundred and fifty years the two gender specific satellites have become prosperous, independent nations. Let Lozzi whine about reconciliation with Earth; I say the only purpose that planet serves is sending their gay men here, and their women to Minervite.”
“Well,” Tyler said. “You always were a chauvinist.”
“And soon,” Wilyem said with a wink. “It’ll be Mr. Regent Chauvinist.”
“By the Four Suns!” Tyler said with a rolling of his eyes. “You probably have the business card already picked out. You do know there’s no real power that goes with that title, right? It’s just an honorary position for the Husband of the King. And that’s only if I get elected, mind you.”
“Maybe,” Wilyem said with a self-righteous nodding of his head. “But since I won’t be eligible for the throne anymore, and will hold the title of regent for as long as you live, I’ll make the most of what I can.”
“You’re incorrigible,” Tyler replied, shaking his head. He gave Wilyem’s hand a playful squeeze.
“Yes,” came the cocky reply.
The car tilted back as it began its climb up Royal Hill. Through the pod’s front dome the Ravaggio Palace came into view. Constructed from the planet’s natural resource of aresium, the walls were tinted dark russet to make the fortress as private as it was impregnable. The purple emblem of the two men linked at the elbows was still being projected from the Donjon of the castle.
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