Abernathy: Chapter 8
The Abernathy Trilogy
Abernathy, Abandon, America
by Kristen
Abernathy
Chapter 8
Brian
I am just about to knock on my own bedroom door when I realize the foolishness of it. I take a breath and let myself in, absorbing the image that unfolds before me.
Justin is indeed there, though nothing could have prepared me for the shock of finding him entirely naked, and sitting patiently on the bed. He stands up to face me, and no sense of shame or decency inside me could force me to turn my eyes away.
In the flickering light of the candle, his ivory skin warms to the color of amber. I take in his smooth, alabaster chest and the lean musculature of his arms. My willful gaze descends to his thatch of golden curls, trailing a path from his navel to his soft, pinkish cock. My legs weaken-no doubt in obeisance of my desire to fall on my knees right there before him.
As it is, I cannot move at all, nor speak or even breathe. My eyes trail back up to his face, and there find no smoldering passion, nor even a demure smile. His resolute demeanor argues with fear-filled eyes. What is going on here?
"Justin…what is this?" I stammer.
"What you wanted," he says softly, sounding almost defeated. "Last night. Before I…made you stop…"
"I don’t understand."
"You must think me so ungrateful. I am not; I swear it! Last night, I was merely…startled." His voice takes on a pleading tone, and I cannot help but draw closer to him. We stand, inches apart beside the bed, and he tentatively touches my arm. "You are so good to me, master. I will show you how grateful I am." He smiles up at me, unconvincingly.
I stand, utterly speechless, trying to turn his words into meaningful thoughts in my head. Finally noticing that I have been dripping wax onto my fingers, I walk over to set the taper on the nightstand. I turn around again to find that, mistaking my action for confirmation, he has proceeded to climb upon the bed, crawling on hands and knees toward the pillows. He then lowers his upper body to rest on his elbows, head to the pillow and ass in the air.
Dear God! I think, as the scene unfolds before my eyes. The reality of this affair finally confronts me. Does he imagine that I would just climb up behind him and…mount him…as some animal? I suddenly think, in horror, of all the wanton dreams I’ve recently had of him, naked in my bed…but not like this--this twisted distortion of all my fantasies!
And as if this scene could be no more horrifying, his position leaves me in perfect view of the lattice of scars upon his back, and the branding of another man’s name into his neck. On my bed is an abused, broken boy who gives himself to me as though I were demanding sex as some sort of tithe!
"Justin, please...just come down from there."
He lifts his head from the pillow to look at me, voice rising in confused desperation. "Have I angered you?" He slowly makes his way back towards the edge.
"No," I say, taking him by the shoulders and pulling him off the bed.
"I thought this was what...I thought that you...desired me?"
"I...yes! No!" My eyes follow his gaze to where it rests, at the front of my breeches, where the bulge of my erection is blatantly obvious. Of course, this will not help my argument! "I...please, just...put your clothes back on."
He goes about redressing, his face a red mask of embarrassment. I can only imagine my own. I retrieve my candle, and extend my arm towards the door. "Come."
I walk back down the hallway, Justin trailing behind me. Once at his room, I usher him inside, and pull back the sheets on his bed.
"Here. Get in." He climbs inside, never taking his gaze from me. "Please just go to sleep," I say. I know those are not the right words, but my mind is a muddle. I head back towards the door, and stop, turning around to face him again. I cannot leave things as they are.
"Justin, what happened last night was my mistake, and it is I that must apologize to you."
He sits up in disagreement. "It is your right, master!"
"No," I affirm. "I will never force myself upon you. And I am ashamed that I led you to believe that it was what I wanted."
"You don’t want me, then?"
I sigh, and sit myself lightly on the edge of the bed. My admission comes as a whisper. "I do, Justin. I have ever since…" I trail off. Since the moment I first saw you.
"Then why do you refuse?"
I look into his eyes, to the confusion there. How can I explain?
"I want the part of you that you cannot give me," I say finally, reaching over to point at his heart. My fingertip lingers for a moment at his shirtfront, before falling, defeated. For once, he is speechless, and I exit the room, closing the door softly behind me.
Abernathy, Abandon, America
by Kristen
Abernathy
Chapter 8
Brian
I am just about to knock on my own bedroom door when I realize the foolishness of it. I take a breath and let myself in, absorbing the image that unfolds before me.
Justin is indeed there, though nothing could have prepared me for the shock of finding him entirely naked, and sitting patiently on the bed. He stands up to face me, and no sense of shame or decency inside me could force me to turn my eyes away.
In the flickering light of the candle, his ivory skin warms to the color of amber. I take in his smooth, alabaster chest and the lean musculature of his arms. My willful gaze descends to his thatch of golden curls, trailing a path from his navel to his soft, pinkish cock. My legs weaken-no doubt in obeisance of my desire to fall on my knees right there before him.
As it is, I cannot move at all, nor speak or even breathe. My eyes trail back up to his face, and there find no smoldering passion, nor even a demure smile. His resolute demeanor argues with fear-filled eyes. What is going on here?
"Justin…what is this?" I stammer.
"What you wanted," he says softly, sounding almost defeated. "Last night. Before I…made you stop…"
"I don’t understand."
"You must think me so ungrateful. I am not; I swear it! Last night, I was merely…startled." His voice takes on a pleading tone, and I cannot help but draw closer to him. We stand, inches apart beside the bed, and he tentatively touches my arm. "You are so good to me, master. I will show you how grateful I am." He smiles up at me, unconvincingly.
I stand, utterly speechless, trying to turn his words into meaningful thoughts in my head. Finally noticing that I have been dripping wax onto my fingers, I walk over to set the taper on the nightstand. I turn around again to find that, mistaking my action for confirmation, he has proceeded to climb upon the bed, crawling on hands and knees toward the pillows. He then lowers his upper body to rest on his elbows, head to the pillow and ass in the air.
Dear God! I think, as the scene unfolds before my eyes. The reality of this affair finally confronts me. Does he imagine that I would just climb up behind him and…mount him…as some animal? I suddenly think, in horror, of all the wanton dreams I’ve recently had of him, naked in my bed…but not like this--this twisted distortion of all my fantasies!
And as if this scene could be no more horrifying, his position leaves me in perfect view of the lattice of scars upon his back, and the branding of another man’s name into his neck. On my bed is an abused, broken boy who gives himself to me as though I were demanding sex as some sort of tithe!
"Justin, please...just come down from there."
He lifts his head from the pillow to look at me, voice rising in confused desperation. "Have I angered you?" He slowly makes his way back towards the edge.
"No," I say, taking him by the shoulders and pulling him off the bed.
"I thought this was what...I thought that you...desired me?"
"I...yes! No!" My eyes follow his gaze to where it rests, at the front of my breeches, where the bulge of my erection is blatantly obvious. Of course, this will not help my argument! "I...please, just...put your clothes back on."
He goes about redressing, his face a red mask of embarrassment. I can only imagine my own. I retrieve my candle, and extend my arm towards the door. "Come."
I walk back down the hallway, Justin trailing behind me. Once at his room, I usher him inside, and pull back the sheets on his bed.
"Here. Get in." He climbs inside, never taking his gaze from me. "Please just go to sleep," I say. I know those are not the right words, but my mind is a muddle. I head back towards the door, and stop, turning around to face him again. I cannot leave things as they are.
"Justin, what happened last night was my mistake, and it is I that must apologize to you."
He sits up in disagreement. "It is your right, master!"
"No," I affirm. "I will never force myself upon you. And I am ashamed that I led you to believe that it was what I wanted."
"You don’t want me, then?"
I sigh, and sit myself lightly on the edge of the bed. My admission comes as a whisper. "I do, Justin. I have ever since…" I trail off. Since the moment I first saw you.
"Then why do you refuse?"
I look into his eyes, to the confusion there. How can I explain?
"I want the part of you that you cannot give me," I say finally, reaching over to point at his heart. My fingertip lingers for a moment at his shirtfront, before falling, defeated. For once, he is speechless, and I exit the room, closing the door softly behind me.