You came to me that night, with tears in your baby blue eyes. I pulled you into my apartment, asking you what was wrong. You collapsed into an armchair, weeping. You managed to tell me you told Jack Kelly you loved him, but you were rejected.
"He, (hiccup) told me (sniffle) that he wasn't (choke) no faggot queer (sob) and to stop (hiccup) jokin' wit' him." You looked up at me, with tears running down your cheeks.
I pulled you into my arms, like a father, telling you that it would be okay and that one day you would find someone else: someone who would love everything about him, even the things that you didn't like about yourself.
You grabbed me by the collar and smashed your lips against mine. Past fantasies came rushing back into my mind: images of me undressing you, loving you, you trembling beneath my touch, you screaming my name in ecstasy. But this was wrong. I was a man, you were still a child. Seventeen is young when you're in your thirties.
I pushed you away. "David," I whispered.
"I want this…" you insisted pulling closer.
"You're upset!" I protested. "You may feel differently tomorrow."
"No, please, I want this." You gazed up at me, looking so pathetic; so helpless, I melted.
I bent down and kissed you again. You wrapped your arms around me. Somehow we ended up in my bed, kissing, touching, bumping; groping. Sometime later we're both undressed, down to nothing but skin. I saw you for the first time: nothing but a boy, confused and sad. But I burned for you and you were so distressed, you didn't understand.
I touched you and you moaned out my name: "Bryan."
I explored you, letting my fantasies come true. You opened yourself to me. I took you shamelessly. I went down on you, tasting your musky arousal: alone and naked you're like a man, but deep down you're just a boy. But I didn't think of that. You came for me and I swallowed everything you gave me, I savored your taste: salty and slightly sweet.
We lay together, you sweating and panting. I asked if you were okay. You told me you'd never been better. That you loved me and wanted me.
I kissed you until your lips were swollen. You wrapped you legs around me, as if to hold me in place forever. I wouldn't go anywhere else, I assured you.
You rolled onto your stomach and said you wanted me to take you. I froze, I had dreamt of doing such a thing, but actually do it? My morals came seeping back into my mind.
"Davey, I can't… you're just a boy… I couldn't…" I stammered.
"You didn't think I was just a boy before." You retorted.
I flushed. "No, but…"
You rolled back over and pulled me flush against your boy. "Take. Me." You growled.
I felt myself harden further and press against you. I surrendered to my lust.
You rolled back over and I grabbed your hips. "I don't want to hurt you," I murmured. "If you want to stop just tell me."
"Just do it." You replied, squirming a little.
I pushed inside of you. You screamed. And you kept screaming, it slowly turned from pain to ecstasy. You cried out my name, chanting it like a prayer.
When you came, your body shuddered and you screamed: "BRYAN!"
I came after you, spilling inside of you, crying your name: "DAVID!"
We lay together: sweaty, sticky, and gasping for breath. I held you close and ran my fingers through your curls. You murmured that you loved me and kissed my shoulders and my neck. Maybe, for once everything could just stay perfect: even if only for an instant.