Kissing Kyle

by Laurie Lochs

  “A Vikings jersey?” She had to be kidding.

  Rachel nodded. “You’re damn right. You know how Minnesotans are with football.”

  I hadn’t given her the “Mark” stamp of approval on that one. The truth was I had no idea how Minnesotans were with sports. Since starting my business I hadn’t had time to even watch a hockey game, which I used to love when I was single. The business took up every hour of my day especially now that it was on its last legs. When I wasn’t meeting clients I was prospecting, advertising, or on-boarding new agents to increase revenue in different markets.

  But if nothing else, depositing the checks was a welcome distraction from Kyle… Because holy shit, did I fucking need it or what. Even though I’d promised myself less than 3 seconds ago I wouldn’t return to the pizzeria, all I really wanted to do was throw the checks into my account, zip right back to Nino’s and take the beautiful boy in my arms. “Did you get my tip, boy?”

  “Yes,” he’d whisper with a nod, too timid to look up.

  Then I’d ask him what he’d do to earn the next $100 I planned on giving him and bend him over the counter. I’d peel off his little khakis and plant kisses all over his hole, sliding my cock in hard.

  I took a sharp breath and forced the fantasies from my mind. I signed the deposit slip and hurried back to the car. I opened the door of the BMW and attempted to scrub the lingering vision of Kyle from my mind.

  “Jesus Christ,” I muttered, thumbing the steering wheel. Yeah, this was the boy all right… The boy who sent my life in a fucking tailspin, destroyed my self-confidence, and ruined my life.

  Stop, Mark. Cut that shit out. Stop thinking about the boy.

  But this was proving to be impossible… My thoughts were in overdrive, like my cock the night Bruce dressed up like a little and forced me to teach him the ABCs… The night he wore a pair of sky-blue pajamas and held a brown Build-A-Bear that made his eyes sparkle. “P-Pwease, Daddy,” he’d whispered, “t-teach Brucey counting to thwee.”

  At first, I thought he was nuts. What grown man wanted their partner to teach them the alphabet? And what man wanted to teach the alphabet to another grown man?

  But I soon discovered it was a fairly common thing called age play. With Bruce, it wasn’t sexual — he just liked dressing up and “regressing.” That was when you entered a state far away from adulthood and regressed mentally to an earlier age.

  But I had, well… I’d grown a little too excited for my own good. This was the part I fucking hated admitting to myself, but it was true… I’d wanted to fuck Brucey in his rocketship pajamas and I didn’t care who knew. Twenty-nine-year-old Bruce was what they called a little, a man who liked baby things. I never called him that because I hated labels but a quick Google search told me everything. He was a little, which meant he liked bottles, bibs, and baby things… Though I’d never been with a “little” before, I’d been willing to try.

  Yet when we started welcoming fosters into the home, the play stopped. There were no more scenes between us because all of our energy was focused on making the home the most welcoming and safe place it could be for the boys. Except in the end, we’d made it a little too comfortable. Or maybe they mistook our kindness for something more than guidance. It wasn’t my fault, but it was wrong nonetheless. A foster family should support their placements, not turn them on… Even by accident.

  But if the quick trip to Nino’s had been any indication, Kyle was older now: harsher around the edges, mature. He was cute in an enticing, jailbait way that I didn’t know how to reckon with. My cock stirred in my khakis, threatening to burst.

  I finished depositing the checks and returned to my BMW. I’d done little more than pull out of the parking lot when a cop suddenly blared its siren behind me and rushed by. My heart stopped. I moved to restart the BMW but, before I had a chance to press the button, I saw out of the corner of my eye a beautiful boy sitting on the side of the road… It looked like he was trying to put his chain back on his bicycle.

  My heart seized. I narrowed my eyes and took my finger off the START button. I went to roll down the window but I quickly removed my finger when I saw it was…

  Oh, fuck. It was Kyle.

  And holy shit — His bicycle was broken. He has no way to get home.

  I rolled down the window. I figured it was best to play dumb and pretend I didn’t know who he was. I didn’t want to scare him off… At least not yet. So I decided to go with the least intimidating option, which was to vaguely pretend that I didn’t know him at all.

  “Hey. You’re the Nino’s boy, right?”

  Kyle’s eyes shot open. His jaw dropped. For a second, I was sure he was going to say he recognized me. But then he glanced back down at his bicycle and pretended I didn’t exist at all. “I don’t think I know you, sir. I’m sorry.”

  “Look, boy. I’m only trying to help. It looks like you’re having trouble with your bike. Your chain fell off. Do you need help putting it back on?”

  Kyle said nothing.

  I parked the BMW and walked to his side. “I’m not going to beat around the bush, Kyle. I recognized you the instant I saw you behind the counter.”

  This time, Kyle practically collapsed on the sidewalk. “Fuck,” he said. “So it is you, after all… Goddamnit, Mr. Godin. I was kind of hoping you didn’t.”

  My heart fluttered when he said he’d recognized me. I stared into the boy’s beautiful face. His blue eyes sparkled in the afternoon sunlight. He was gorgeous up close. “Of course it was you, Kyle. Come on. Let’s fix your bike.”

  Kyle looked at me questioningly. “I don’t need your help, Mark. Thank you for the tip… But I’m not going to accept help from you.”

  “It’s broken, boy,” I said, gesturing to the back tire. “It’s not just the chain. Even when you get it back on, it’s going to need a full tune-up before you can ride it again.”

  “It’s fine.” Kyle seemed on the verge of tears. “J-Just needs a little air, that’s all.”

  “Definitely needs more than a little air.” I bit my lip. I ignored his wide eyes and crouched behind the back tire. “Is not just the tire, Kyle,” I said, squeezing the rubber. “It needs an oil change and a new set of breaks.”

  “An oil change?”

  “Yes, boy.” I moved to the front tire. “And here,” I said, “the bearings are totally loose. It needs to be realigned. In fact,” I said with a grimace, “I’m surprised you didn’t fall off while riding it. The thing is loose enough to send you flying.”

  “Goddamnit,” Kyle muttered, staring at a crack in the sidewalk. “So I really won’t be able to get home?”

  “No, boy. You’ve got to get that bicycle fixed up. If you don’t, you’re going to kill yourself on busy streets.”

  Kyle glanced up at me again. This time, my heart did a little flip-flop… I almost wanted to press his beautiful lips against mine in the middle of the sidewalk, but I beat the urge down. The boy needed help, not his former foster Dad crushing on him.

  You’re going to regret this, Mark. He’s already fucked you over once. Why wouldn’t he do it again?

  “Follow me,” I said, picking up the bicycle. Kyle opened his mouth to protest but he quickly shut it when I open the trunk of the BMW. “Here,” I said, pointing to the golf bag in the backseat. I never golfed but I still had clubs for the odd time a client invited me to for a round. It was a great way to meet new clients and get business. “Move that.”

  He didn’t flinch. He did as told.

  Oh, this could be a very good boy.

  “I don’t know what kind of riding you’ve been doing but it needs a full makeover,” I said, heaving the frame into the trunk. “Tires, breaks, seat. The frame is solid but it needs work.”

  Kyle nodded quietly and shuffled his feet.

  “Come on, boy.” I took Kyle’s arm and led him to the passenger seat. I opened the door and ushered him inside the car. “As long as you’re here, I’ll take you home.”

  Kyle bit hi
s lip. “No, Mark. I can’t go.”

  “What do you mean? You don’t have anywhere to stay?”

  “I mean I can’t go home right now,” he said, settling into the seat and buckling his seatbelt. He nervously wiped his forehead with his palm. “Ma is sleeping. She hasn’t been feeling well. She rests in the afternoon.”

  “Ma?”

  Kyle swallowed and stared at his thumbs. “The woman who looks after me. She’s had chest pains for weeks. But she doesn’t want to go to the hospital. I was supposed to stay at the pizza shop until eight but Nino said I should go home,” he muttered, staring at his knees.

  It hit me like a pile of bricks. The boy was crying at the pizza shop because he’d gotten fired. How could I have been so stupid? I decided to ask him as much.

  “Were you fired, Kyle?” I asked softly.

  But Kyle only nodded. He didn’t want to respond.

  I took a deep breath and thumbed the steering wheel anxiously. I gazed into the busy street and contemplated my options. I could bring him to a restaurant or coffee shop for the afternoon, but I didn’t see the point in that. Or I could bring him to a bicycle repair shop so he could fix his bike… But that didn’t make sense, especially since I had all the tools we’d need back at my house in Maple Grove.

  Oh my God Mark. You can’t possibly take him back to your house.

  Except… Well, why couldn’t I? He needed his bike fixed, and I had the tools to do it. Yeah, I was scared as hell I’d touch him and ruin everything I’d built for myself over the past 5 years… But as long as I controlled myself, I’d be fine. Plus, the boy was clearly struggling. Even if I brought him to a repair shop, there was no guarantee he even had the funds to cover the costs of fixing the bike. And I sure as hell didn’t want him using the $100 tip I’d given him to get a fucking tune up. That was supposed to be a gift… How horrible would it be to spend it on a bike?

  I took a sharp breath. “Answer me, boy. Where should I take you?”

  Kyle stared into my eyes. “I don’t know, sir. I can’t go home right now… I was planning to go to the library, but now that my bike chain’s fallen off, I’ll have no way to get back when it closes. It’s too far from Ma’s house.”’

  “I tell you what,” I said, mulling it over. “Why don’t you swing by my house this afternoon? I’ve got everything your bicycle needs in the garage.”

  Kyle wasn’t sure.

  "I promise, Kyle. Nothing will happen. You don’t have to worry at all. I’ll take you there this afternoon and we’ll fix your bike, okay? I live in Maple Grove. It’s not out of the way. I’ll bring you home when Ma isn’t sleeping later this afternoon. If you want, text Ma the address and let her know where you are.”

  Kyle sighed. “Okay.” He took a deep breath and sheepishly glanced into my eyes. “Thank you.”

  My heart fluttered. I smiled at the boy and fought the urge to touch his hand…

  For God’s sake, Mark. Stop.

  Prying my gaze away from the boy’s beautiful face, I pressed the START button and brought the slick sedan to life. Before I flicked on the left turn signal and pulled into the street, I shot Rachel a quick text letting her know I wouldn’t be back to the office the rest of the afternoon and that I certainly wouldn’t be finishing up the admin tasks I’d scheduled.

  No problem, Mark, she responded. As long as you’re not playing hooky with some guy.

  I fought back a grin as I turned the steering wheel and merged onto Hennepin. When we reach the turnoff for I 35-W, the interstate that took you all the way to Duluth, I snuck a glance at Kyle sitting in the passenger’s seat, his pale legs spaced evenly apart, his hands resting on his thighs because he didn’t want them to touch the leather seats. His palms were still grimy from his failed attempts to reattach his chain. And, oh Jesus, his eyes were almost water-like in the afternoon sun. They glistened like little puddles of sea before dawn. I wanted to swim in his eyes, build sandcastles around his black lashes and play in them. Then I could surf down the ridge of his nose until I reached the cresting waves of his sun-kissed red lips.

  Snap out of it, moron. He’s barely looks nineteen. He’s a fucking child.

  I drove the boy down the interstate until I arrived at the exit to Maple Grove. We arrived at the house. I glanced at Kyle to see if his face betrayed any emotion at being back at the house where he lived for less than four months five years ago. At last we pulled into the cobblestone driveway. I parked in front of the double garage. “Kyle,” I said, “we’re going to head inside so you can wash your hands. Then we’re going to get right to work, boy. Don’t touch the door handle — I’ll open it from the outside.”

  Kyle nodded politely. I stepped out of the BMW and opened the passenger side door. Kyle stepped out of the BMW, and his jaw dropped the second he took in the hedges, tulips, the small fountain by the oak tree, and the big yard he’d played in so many years ago. Thank God he was still smiling. I hoped the memories wouldn’t be too bad, even if I’d only brought him here for an afternoon.

  I took a deep breath and led him inside. “Let’s go, boy. We’ve got some serious manual labor to do.”

  Kyle laughed and whipped around to face me. “I appreciate this so much, Mark. You have no idea how grateful I am.”

  My heart melted. “It’s my pleasure, boy. Now let’s go and wash up. If we finish quickly, I’ve got a snack in the fridge for when we’re done.”

  Kyle gasped and brought his hands to his cheeks. But I quickly grabbed his wrist and pulled it down to his waist. “Here,” I whispered, rubbing his cheek with my palm. In his excitement, he’d gotten a smudge of bike grease on his beautiful skin. “Don’t touch yourself again, boy. Not until you’ve washed your hands.”

  Kyle’s cheeks burst into flames. “T-Thank you. I mean, oh my God… Fuck. Thank you… Ah, I’m so sorry. Please… Just pretend I didn’t open my mouth.”

  I laughed and led Kyle inside. Suddenly, I wanted to press him against the foyer wall and kiss him, just kiss him, press his hot lips to mine and forget about the bike, the afternoon sun, the vows I’d made never to speak to him again. My heart raced and I wanted to taste this boy’s lips, flick my tongue inside his mouth and get lost in his body. In that moment, I didn’t care if anyone found out or even saw… I wanted to be with him, and only him, and I had a horrible feeling that it was something I’d wanted for a very long time.

  With a shaky heart, I brought Kyle to the sink and flicked on the faucet. “Here, boy,” I said, guiding his hands to the stream. My hands were trembling.

  “Thank you,” Kyle whispered. He glanced at me sheepishly. His cheeks were bright red.

  “Wash up, boy. Daddy’s going to—”

  I froze.

  Oh fucking Christ. Did I really just accidentally say “Daddy?”

  Chapter 5

  Kyle

  * * *

  Mark stood in the middle of the kitchen, his limbs frozen. My heart raced in my chest. I wanted to ask him, Did you really just say that? Did you really just call yourself as my Daddy?

  But before I had a chance to speak, Mark suddenly walked next to me, grabbed the bottle of Dawn on the counter, and squirted a generous amount of blue soap on my hands. He turned on the faucet and brought me right up to the sink. “As I was saying,” he said, “I’ve got to get the treat from the fridge for when we’re done. You just make sure to get every bit of grease off, boy. When we head back to the bike, we’ll wear gloves.”

  “Okay.” I grinned and forced my hands under the faucet. “Thank you.”

  Mark took a step back and began searching for something in the cabinet. He was probably searching for a glass. But all I could think was, Oh my God. He seriously just said "Daddy."

  I took a deep breath and pressed my thighs together. I was so fucking tempted to just… Gah, squeeze my legs together and let go in my underwear. But I’d be damned if I “messed” myself, especially since I wasn’t actually wearing a diaper… I was just wearing a pair of really cute cartoon
rocket ship underwear that would get totally soaking wet if I let myself “go.”

  I glanced down and, to my horror, saw that the band of the underwear was fully visible from under my shirt. My cheeks burst into flames. I quickly finished washing my hands and yanked my shirt down hard enough so the band could no longer be seen. I glanced up at Mark, but he was looking at his phone. Oh thank God. He hadn’t seen.

  When I finished washing up, Mark handed me a fluffy towel to dry my hands. When I finished, he led me back to the front yard and, for a second, I completely forgot that he’d ever said “Daddy.” All I could think about was the fact that I was back. I was in the beautiful home where I’d stayed all those years ago… It was almost like I’d never left.

  “It’s so big, Mark,” I whispered, surveying the black fence, white marble statues, and willow trees that decorated the front. “Your home is beautiful.”

  Mark laughed. “Thanks, boy. I’m surprised you remember it all.”

  I grinned. “I mean… I do, but only a little.”

  I was playing coy. Because the truth was that the three-story neocolonial was exactly as I remembered. The high ceilings, eggshell-grey walls. Through the window, I even spotted the couch where Blakely and I plotted to seduce Mark that fateful Saturday night… I couldn’t believe I was back.

  Beckoning me over his shoulder, Mark led me down the steps and back to the car. He pulled the bicycle from the trunk and brought me to the head of the familiar driveway I’d walked on so many mornings ago. “Wait here,” he ordered, setting the bike against the house. He retrieved the pump we’d need from the garage and met me on the driveway.

  When he came back, Mark explained our plan. “We’re going to fix your bicycle quickly, Kyle. I know we’re both busy, and I’ve got a few tasks I need to complete this afternoon. I know you took a leap of faith following me here and I want to show you that I’m a man of my word. I’m going to fix your bicycle as fast as I can, and then I’ll take you home as soon as Ma has finished her nap. Deal?”