Kissing Kyle

by Laurie Lochs

  “Thank you,” I said, grinning at Mark. Thank you, Daddy. I heard you slip up, and there’s no way in hell I’m letting you forget it.

  And, oh my God… I’d kill for Mark to say that word again. I hated to admit it but it almost made me feel like the young boy who’d lived with him so many mornings ago.

  But Mark didn’t want to say the word. All he wanted to do was get to work. “Hold the down-tube for me, boy. Steady the frame so the bike doesn’t fall.”

  “T-The down-tube?” I asked, arching my eyebrows. I knew absolutely nothing about bikes. But God, this man was stunning.

  Play your cards right, Kyle. Keep focusing. He’ll come around… He has to.

  “Yes, boy. The part in the middle.”

  “Okay, Da—” I bit my tongue. Mark shot a glance at me. “Okay, Mark. I’ll hold it for you.”

  Mark nodded and returned to the bicycle. Argh, what a grump. Don’t be so obvious next time, you idiot. You’re supposed to come onto him slowly…

  So instead of throwing myself at him for a kiss, I grabbed the down-tube and got on my knees to hold it. Mark pulled a wrench out of his toolbox and began to tighten the spokes. He pulled a can of WD-40 out and sprayed the chain so that it’d run smoothly. When he finished, he came up behind me and straightened the handlebars, but he did so in such a way that he almost was thrusting into my back….

  My body trembled. The tip of his cock even pressed against the nape of my neck… Or maybe it was just the zipper.

  This isn’t sexual, you moron. He’s helping you fix a bike, that’s it.

  When we finished, Mark gripped my bike to make sure it wouldn’t break apart. “It’s sturdy, boy. Not going to bust on you any time soon.”

  My cheeks burst into flames. I tried to respond but I couldn’t do anything but stare at the bicycle. It was so beautiful, so shiny and new. I wanted to sit on it and hold it between my legs, but all I could think of was Mark’s generosity. It was so sexy, the way he’d let me sit in the front seat of his brand-new BMW while my hands were covered in grease from trying to reattach the chain by myself earlier this afternoon… The way he’d asked me gentle questions to make sure I never got uncomfortable… Jesus, even the way he glanced at me lit a fire in my gut, a fierce fire with plenty of kindling to burn a hole through my stomach. Even though I’d completely ruined his life, he’d fixed my bike. He was a beautiful man.

  “Good job,” Mark said when we finally finished. I glanced up. He had a goofy grin plastered across his face that made him look ten years younger than he was.

  A wave of warmth washed over me. “Thanks,” I whispered, running my fingers over the new tire he’d put on. The old tire lay in the garden, no longer needed.

  “Follow me, boy. It’s time for our treat.” Mark led me to the house. I grinned and followed. When we reach the kitchen, Mark wasted no time in sitting nearby the centre island and pouring two enormous glasses of a delicious looking citrus drink. I brought it to my nose and sniffed. Oh, Jesus, it smelled absolutely delicious. “It’s raspberry lemonade,” Mark explained, sliding a second glass across the marble countertop.

  “It smells really good. Like, really good.” I took the drink and brought it to my lips. I trembled as the cool citrus washed down my parched throat. It almost felt like I’d been thirsty my entire life and this lemonade was the only thing capable of quenching it. “It’s delicious,” I said, licking my lips to show him just how much I liked it.

  “Yes, boy. Drink it all.”

  The truth was I liked it a lot… Almost as much as I liked being in this house again, sitting at the same centre island I’d sat on so many years ago, admiring the man who I wanted to pin me against the refrigerator, slip a finger down my underwear and just breed me, take me to town.

  Oh my fucking God. Enough.

  “It’s just like before,” I whispered, gripping the glass. Mark had turned around to put a plate in the sink, so he couldn’t hear me. “You have to stop, Kyle. You’re going to ruin everything just like you did five years ago.”

  Mark interrupted my thoughts by setting a plate of brownies on the table. My jaw dropped. They looked heavenly. “Go to the sink and wash up again, boy. We can dig into these when you’re done.”

  His words lit a fire in my soul. Go to the sink, boy. His eyes were on me, following me, judging my every move… But I couldn’t stop thinking that he was consuming me, optically, on the spot.

  Except I knew that any second, he was going to send me out like the first time. He’d already made it clear that he had zero intention of being my Daddy… I needed to expel any thoughts of us getting together from my mind and focus on thanking him his kindness.

  “Thank you again for fixing my bike.” I dried my hand on the fluffy towel he provided. “It was the first nice thing anyone’s ever done to me in a long time. Really.”

  Mark grabbed a brownie and handed it to me, which I assumed was his way of saying “thank you.” I had no choice but to slid it into my mouth. An explosion of warmth rocketed through me the second the soft chocolate hit my tongue. “Oh my God,” I said, my eyeballs shooting out of my head. This was easily the best brownie I’d ever had.

  “Is it good, boy?”

  “Yes,” I whispered, unable to swallow. I wanted to savor the taste forever. Placing his hands on my shoulders, Mark led me to the center island sat me down. At once, realization washed over me… It was the same counter Blakely and I sat on so many mornings ago, getting ready for school days neither of us wanted to go to. Blakely sat in the big chair right across, and I sat over here. All these years later is, and nothing had changed.

  Well, except for Bruce.

  Which only reminded me all the more of how I’d fucked up the Godins’ life.

  I sighed. The brownie no longer tasted delicious at all. I felt stupid for sitting here and I couldn’t believe Mark let me back in his house. I could only imagine the optics.

  And yet clearly, he trusted me enough to know that I wouldn’t hurt him… He wanted to help. That’s what this visit was all about, nothing more. Mark wasn’t going to fuck me, and he sure wasn’t going to see what I looked like without my cartoon rocket ship underwear. That was a fantasy that would never happen.

  Mark ordered me to bring my plate to the sink. I did as told. When I finished rinsing the dishes, I mentally prepared myself to be kicked out.

  This is the part where he drives you back to Ma’s house and forgets about you.

  Except Mark suddenly said something that made my heart stop. “As long as you’re here, boy, I might as well give you the grand tour. God knows it’s been too long.”

  “Oh.” My heart froze. “That’s not necessary. Really.”

  Mark arched his eyebrows. “You don’t want to?”

  “No, no,” I stammered, shaking my head. “That’s not what I meant at all. I’d love to see the house. But only if you want to show me. Please don’t just do it because you feel bad for me.”

  “I do want to show you, boy.” He refilled my lemonade. “Now take this lemonade and follow me down the hall.”

  My jaw dropped. Okay, sir… Yes, yes please. I beamed and took a sip of the lemonade. Mark led me down the hall.

  Which coincidentally happened to be the same hall I’d seen him wearing nothing but a towel all those years ago.

  Oh, fuck.

  Was it even going to be possible to hold back?

  Chapter 6

  Mark

  * * *

  I led Kyle down the hallway, guiding him past the chandelier and framed photos of Renaissance boys that used to give the house distinction but now only seemed in poor taste compared to the living beauty beside me. He sipped his big cup of lemonade and allowed me to lead him. He was eager to follow, even more so to please.

  All I could think was, What the hell are you thinking?

  As sexy as he was, it was monumentally stupid bringing him back into the house. I’d spent years getting over the destruction. Getting over the damage he’d caused
. He’d upended my life, ruined my marriage I valued above all. My confidence, since I’d welcomed this boy into my life, had circled the drain. I’d wasted so many years. And now I was letting him back in?

  You’re not just “letting him back.” You’ve already called him “boy” about ten million times and he’s been giving you googley eyes all afternoon. He wants you, Mark.

  I was back.

  With the boy who damn near destroyed it all.

  “Jesus,” I muttered, pressing my head against the wall. Kyle was still staring at a framed picture of the Apollo Belvedere, the pinnacle achievement of the Leochares, the 4th-century BCE Athenian master, hanging on the wall. He was enraptured with the artwork no less than Johann Winckelmann, the so-called father of classical archeology who wrote about the Roman masterpiece for the first time when he was a young gay man in Rome. It seemed like all lovers of classical antiquity like myself were gay or closeted, not that the two were mutually exclusive. I was no different.

  But for now, I couldn’t shake the questions from my mind.

  What would CPS say if they saw Kyle back in my house? What would Bruce say? For God’s sake, didn’t this practically give new life to the pedophile rumors? I couldn’t believe that I was doing this. Even though I was only giving the boy a tour, it felt wrong.

  And yet at the same time, all I was really doing was showing Kyle where he used to live. It was no different than having a friend over and showing them the prints on the walls. There was nothing salacious about it in the lease. Everyone gave tours, it was what friends did.

  Although… It certainly felt like more.

  Knock it off, Mark. Nip it in the bud.

  I composed myself and led Kyle to his former room.

  “Do you remember this room, boy?”

  Kyle’s jaw dropped open. “Oh.”

  I smiled reassuringly. “This is where you and your little friend stayed. What was his name again? Didn’t it start with a B?”

  “Yes.” Kyle brought his hands to his cheeks. “His name was Blakely.”

  I grinned. I wanted to pat Kyle on the back for being so brave. Because this was clearly making him uncomfortable, I went to give him a quick hug… But to my surprise, he started wiping his eyes like they burned. And then a second later, he buried his face in my shirt and rubbed his eyes even harder. My jaw dropped. His body trembled beneath me. I wrapped my arms around him and stroked his hair.

  “You okay, boy?”

  Kyle tore himself away from my shirt and stared up at me. To my horror, he was crying.

  “Oh, boy,” I whispered, steadying his shoulder. “It’s okay to be emotional, Kyle. I understand this was a big time in your life.”

  Kyle sniffled and nodded. No doubt, he was playing back the conversations he'd had with Blakely in this very room in his mind. I could see it in his eyes, the way they were filled with sadness and nostalgia. I wanted to kiss his eyelids, press my lips against his translucent corneas and suck away his pain.

  It was time to leave the room. Wrapping my arm even tighter around his shoulder, I led him past the framed photos and windows until we reached the end of the corridor. I planned on taking him through the last hallway before leading him back downstairs for more brownies. But before I could, Kyle suddenly spotted the door I’d purposely left shut.

  He grew quiet and stared at his toes.

  Oh, fuck. He remembers.

  I took a deep breath. “We’re not going in there, boy.”

  Kyle trembled. “Is that the room?”

  “Yes. That’s the room where you kissed me.”

  This was the horrible moment, the time to talk about the thing. I’d had a million chances to bring it up, like in the car when he’d first gotten in or when I’d been replacing the tire. Even when we were eating brownies I could have briefly mentioned it and spared him the drama of discussing it in front of the very room in which it happened. But I didn’t think Kyle remembered, not when we were in the kitchen or the car. For all I knew, I’d just been one of many foster dads he’d lived with for a brief moment in time…

  And hell, if the boy had undergone childhood trauma, there was a good chance that the event had been scrubbed from his memory. He wouldn’t remember creeping into my bed in the middle of the night any more than I’d remember what I’d had for breakfast, just three hours before I pulled into Nino’s Italian restaurant and met the boy who was quickly changing my life for the better.

  Except, well… It was clear that Kyle remembered everything. And by everything, I meant, well… Everything. I didn’t need to see the way he’d glanced at his toes to know that the events of that night, the fatal night that had changed the trajectory of our lives forever, were replaying in 4D in his nineteen-year-old mind. He was probably two seconds away from tasting my sleeping lips, stealing the kiss he’d so desperately sought and failed to possess before it disappeared forever. No doubt he was reveling in the shame — dark, dense, pervasive — associated with his forbidden lust. A boy’s lust for a man.

  But what was crystal clear was that the boy was on the verge of tears… Even if he hated me, he needed someone to comfort him.

  “Kyle,” I whispered, “talk to me. Please.”

  He bit his lip. “N-No, sir. I can’t.”

  “You’re scared because this is the room, isn’t it?”

  Kyle nodded and finally met my eyes. “Yeah.”

  I moved to speak. Yet before I could, Kyle suddenly burst into tears all over again. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, breaking away from my arms and leaning against the wall. “I-I don’t know exactly what happened that night, but I’m so sorry, Mark. I don’t know what got into me. Blakely and I were just playing a game… We never expected you to wake up. Y-You have to believe me.”

  “Shh,” I whispered, crossing the chasm between us and burying him in my arms. “It’s okay, Kyle. I understand. It was very wrong of you boys to do that. And you did ruin my career, my marriage, my life. But Kyle,” I continued, stroking his cheek. “I’m not mad at you, okay? I might have been at first. But I can see how much shit you’ve put yourself through. It’s not right at all. I should have been clear from the start that you were not to enter my room under any circumstances. I won’t have you feeling guilty for something you couldn’t control. You and your friend, well… You got excited, that’s all. It sometimes happens to boys when they’re going through changes. I’m not going to let you put yourself through the wringer. It’s clear you’ve suffered enough.”

  Kyle sniffled. “I’m horrible.”

  I cleared my throat. “Boy,” I said, “it’s not your fault. If anything, it was mine. I was your foster Dad. There were clear boundaries that I must have overstepped to make you feel that it was okay to try to seduce me.”

  “Yeah,” Kyle said with a curt laugh, “like walking out in a towel in front of me and Blakely. And then drying off in the hall.”

  His words were a punch to the gut. “Excuse me?”

  “The night we seduced you,” Kyle muttered, staring up at me, “you walked into the living room in a seafoam-pink towel and whipped it off. I’m sure you didn’t mean to but, well… You showed us everything. We saw your back, thick legs, your ass.”

  My jaw dropped. “My ass?”

  “Yeah,” Kyle said, “your ass.”

  I growled and tried to fend off the thoughts. But there was nothing I could do. So the truth was… I’d exposed myself to the boys?

  Fuck. Although it was unintentional, this put everything in perspective.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, looking the boy in the eye. I wiped a tear from his cheek. “I’m so sorry, little one. I never should have done that. I made a big mistake.”

  “B-But you can see why I got confused?” Kyle asked, his voice barely a whisper.

  “Yes, little one,” I said, hugging him tight. “I’m so sorry. I never should have put you in that position. I had no idea.”

  How the hell could I have been so stupid? And how many times had it happ
ened? For all I knew, Kyle had seen me naked every night for the duration of his stay. It was possible he’d seen me strip in the hallway — which I always stripped in — countless times.

  Fuck.

  Talk about a punch to the gut.

  Kyle glanced back up. “W-Would you be mad if I told you…”

  “Told me what?”

  “Well,” he began, choosing his words carefully. “That it made me… Well, that it — oh, I’m so sorry, Mark. When I saw you in the hallway, it made me so…”

  My heart froze. “Tell me, Kyle,” I whispered. My voice shook. “It made you… What?”

  Kyle swallowed. “You promise you won’t be mad?”

  I shook my head. No, Kyle. Tell me everything.

  “Oh, fuck,” Kyle whispered, biting his lip. “It made me so hard.”

  My jaw dropped. I made to say something, anything, but nothing came out. After an eternity I managed to sputter out, “Hard?”

  “Yeah,” Kyle responded with a soft shrug, “hard. You know, like—”

  “Yes, boy. I know what hard is.”

  “That’s all I had to tell you,” Kyle whispered, shaking his head vigorously. From his eye, a small bead of water leapt to the floor like a parachuter or marine who knows the ship is going down. “I’m sorry, Mark. I didn’t want it to end like that.”

  “Please, little one,” I murmured, wrapping the boy in my arms. He smelled like soft things and light rain. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Do you hear me? You were a horny little boy. That’s it.”

  “I was such a horny little boy,” Kyle echoed, his voice raspy. “I-I couldn’t help myself.”

  Something jolted in my groin. But I shot it down. “You were an excited young little untouched virgin boy who’d never seen a naked man before… You weren’t actually attracted to me. It was the allure of the forbidden fruit. Le fruit défendu, as is said by some. You wanted to experiment and see what it would be like to touch a man.”