Take me anywhere but here
I could go down forever
I look into your ocean eyes and suddenly
Hell seems not so far to fall
So go ahead and bring me down
Bring me down to you...

I was dreaming.

I dreamed Tripper was the one fronting the band instead of Gabe. His voice was nowhere near as amazing, but it was sweet and high and clear, a chorus cherub's voice. I dreamed I leaned over to his mike and sang backup to him. My voice went down and his went up and it was the most beautiful harmony in the world.

And then I dreamed he turned his face to me, and I dreamed that we kissed in front of the band and the whole live house.

I still don't want to wake up. The dream's fading, but I can still feel his rose-soft lips on mine.

It isn't a dream.

I am awake and Tripper is kissing me. Sunlight is streaming in through the shutters and the old screens to flood the place with early-morning light. The place doesn't feel depressing anymore; it feels lovely and melancholy. And Tripper is kissing me.

I put my hands on his face and break the kiss to look at him. He looks puzzled. I just smile and go in for a slightly more intense kiss. And he melts in my mouth.

It's true what Gabe says: everything looks better in the morning.

* * *

I was never the kind of kid who dressed up in pearls and high heels, the kind who told his friend "I'll be the mommy and you can be the daddy." I'm a quiet queer. Is that a bad way to say it? I've always hated the term "queer". It always comes up in books I read meaning a totally different thing from what it means now, and I always get a weird feeling in my stomach when I see it.

I found out I was gay in installments. Little clues. Whenever Julian and I were out together he'd always slide an appreciative eye over passing girls' butts, but I was a little freaked out to realize that my own gaze would be drawn more to the tight cheeks of their boyfriends. I once stopped hanging out with Julian for almost a whole month because I caught myself watching the shadows his eyelashes made on his cheeks as he played.

During those weeks I conducted a scientific survey. We were taking chemistry at the time, which I liked, believe it or not....Anyway, the first thing they teach you in any science course is the scientific method. Make an observation of a pattern, form a hypothesis, test it through experimentation, and come to a conclusion based on the results of the experiment.

I didn't have any other way to find out at the time. What would you have done if you thought you might be gay? So I got to work.

I went across the railroad tracks, to the red-light districts. First week I tried girls: not the ugly ones who suck you off for a few bucks but the pretty ones, the ones in bars who weasel a few drinks and a hotel room out of you as well as a good ride. I got a discount by telling them I was trying to find out whether I was gay or not. They laughed, but they lowered their prices.

Still, I spent the better part of my allowance, and I had to endure instant noodles and cafeteria food for a while. Not very comfortable.

Then I tried boys. And it was like something in me had opened up.

I soon found out I liked them pretty and small. Some were quiet and some weren't. But all of them made me feel little explosions in my belly when they smiled at me, or touched me, or kissed me. I realized that I liked to be top as often as possible, and that the more time I spent with boys, the less I felt for girls. Finally I had decided, or at least recognized my preference. I was definitely gay.

I also realized that if I still wanted to be friends with Julian, I had better explain my absence from the friendship before I lost it. He was looking pretty hurt in the first week, then mad, then, after a while, acted like he didn't care. By this time I'd lost the small attraction I'd been feeling for him. I guess being sensible and thinking things out actually works.

When I finally caught up with him at his locker, though, he heard me out and accepted my apology. The best thing about Julian is that he's always nice enough to hear you out. He was definitely surprised--and, at first, a little freaked out--to find out I was gay, but he laughed when I told him how I'd found out for sure.

"That's just like you, Max," he said. "You always like to be sure. You never just go and do things. You always have to wait until you have no doubts left."

That was true...before Tripper.

* * *

Hey, this bed is actually comfy. Lumpy in parts, but very comfy.

I snuggle in deeper with Tripper. Surprisingly, he smiles at me. "Ohayo, Max."

"Is that 'good morning'?"

"Yes."

I nuzzle his jaw. "Good morning to you too."

He tightens his arms around me. "Max...about paying...you should not pay. It's not for paying I brought you here."

The pulse in his neck throbs against my ear. I don't want to talk. I want to kiss him, and lick him, and feel him squirming under me. I don't want to feel the way I did last night. I just want to feel warm and happy and clueless like I do now. Like I used to before last night.

I put my mouth where his pulse is, and he makes a kind of sexy little moan. Is everybody hornier in the morning? I know I am.

"You have a really cute accent, you know."

"Eh?"

I run my tongue across his throat. "Don't talk right now, okay? You don't have to tell me yet." Be mine for just a little longer.

"Okay," he says softly.

I run my hand down his thigh and he archs his back and moans again. I spread his legs gently and he's almost as hard as I am. His hands slide down my ribs and up to my back, drawing me in close, and I groan and bend down to suck on his warm live tongue

One of his hands leaves my skin to scrabble in a shelf a little above us, and I stop to look up. It's a little jar of lube.

"Oh shit--sorry, I forgot--"

"Do you mind?" he asks.

"Isn't it going to hurt if I don't?"

He shrugs, as if this were of no consequence. "Some don't like it because they have to stop. They say it makes them lose...ah..."

"Momentum?"

"I...think so...?" He sounds confused. It irritates me that he doesn't even seem to know when he's being ill-treated.

"The customer is always right, huh?"

He's still not too good at sarcasm, obviously. "Yes."

I don't like the way this is going. He senses my mood and strokes my hip, looking puzzled. "What is it, Max? Are you losing... mo-men-tun too?"

Mo-men-tun? I smile. A *really* cute accent. "Nothing. Let me just put this on."

"I can help." He dips a finger into the Vaseline-like stuff and rubs it in his palms. Slicked fingers slide over my cock.

"OhhhhhmyGOD." This boy is GOOD. And it's so nice not to have to think, or feel anything more than pure sensation. Just for now, I'd rather give up on the other things I wanted last night...and take what I can get.

"It's strawberry flavor," he says, and giggles like a girl.

"Ooooh, you just know how to push my buttons, don't you? Let me have a taste."

He considers this for a second, then leans down and streaks the tip of his tongue across the wet slit of my cock. Before I can cry out he slides his strawberry tongue into my mouth. It's not bad....Lifesaver-ish.

"Mmmm...nice, but not enough. Would you turn over?"

He looks a bit surprised to be asked. Eagerly he rolls onto his belly, his peach-like cheeks tilted expectantly upwards. I take some lube and put the jar safely back up on the shelf. Then I run a finger round the little purplish ring in his ass, staining it red. He makes a fervent "OH!" and wiggles delightfully into the old cushions.

The ring widens with a touch--he really is well trained. I coat him properly inside, enjoying his little squeals and squirmings. For a few moments I distract myself tracing little designs on the backs of his thighs with leftover lube, then I grasp his hips and lower my mouth to his ass.

"AH! Max--!"

My tongue isn't that strong, but his pliant muscles let it in easily. I slide it around, savoring the fake-candy taste, the slippery, trembling walls of his rectum. Tripper is lost, moaning and arching on the bed, and it pleases me to be able to affect him this much.

Now it's my game he's playing. Now I can take control for a little while.

He's trembling all over, gripping the pillows. I take out my tongue and give him a last little kiss right at his asshole. Then I nuzzle behind his left knee and sit up, and gently turn him over.

I'd like to play with him for a while, but I'm seriously aching now and I am not a patient person when I'm aroused. I lean down first and slide my arms around his skinny body, and he wraps his legs round my waist. I arch my back...

...and the first squeeze, the first slide into that heavenly tightness is enough to send my eyes back in my head. My mouth falls open and I can only make a kind of choking ecstatic sound as Tripper tightens his body around me, his arms and legs and...inside...

Ah, God, he's good. Ah, sweet God...

"D...deeper...onegai..." he whispers. His head is flung back and his eyes are closed and his mouth is wide open like mine, but he manages to gasp again, "Please...deeper..."

I sink in deeper and it's like I'm being swallowed alive. One of his heels sets against my tailbone and pushes, driving me in to the root. We begin to rock back and forth, and I bury my head in his neck as he sobs and pulls me in again and again and again.

The release is beyond imagination. It's as if I were being rocked by explosion after explosion until I am swallowed by a white-hot light that burns away my body, my mind, everything, except--

Love.

That deep sucking hole in me that is my love for Tripper is the only thing that doesn't disappear. I can feel the ecstasy draining away with my come, with his come pulsing onto our skin, as our breathing slows to deep, heavy gasps and we sink wearily into each other's arms.

He moves as if to pull away but I tighten my hold around him. I don't want to let go; I don't want to come out of him just yet.

He's so warm, and soft...I've dreamed of holding him, of being inside of him and in his arms, just like this. When I sing, sometimes I close my eyes and think of being in this exact position and singing to him like this, and a special softness comes into my voice. A real quality, is what Julian says.

When I do pull out, Tripper makes a tiny sound of pain. He smiles, though, when I am instantly guilty.

"Don't feel bad, Max. It is perfectly normal."

His soft, slightly lecturing voice...it all seems right, somehow. He leans into my arms, his back against my chest, my body curled protectively around his. This all feels so comfortable, as if we've been doing it for years. The bed is a little sticky, but I don't care, and Tripper doesn't seem to either.

"Is it like this for you all the time?" I ask him, tightening my embrace. "Is this how you usually, um...work?"

He sighs and snuggles into me. "No, not really. I only sometimes show people my home."

I blink. "Really? Only sometimes? So this isn't where you usually..."

"Motel," he says, his short tone a surprise after his usual soft speech. He doesn't seem much inclined to talk about it.

I don't want to let it go just yet, though, any more than I want to let him go. I run my lips over his shoulder. "Then...why me...? Is it because of that person you were talking about last night?"

He nods; turns his face toward the pillow and is silent. But his words from last night hang between us.

Someone I loved. You're not him...you're just human.

By now pain is familiar to me. I just wish I didn't have to go through that squeeze in my chest all the time...it's only gotten annoying instead of saddening.

"Why did you say that, Tripper? What's wrong with being human?"

He turns his head to look at me. We stare puzzled at each other for a moment, naked in more ways than one. I feel exposed, unfairly so. I opened my heart to him. And what has he shown me?

His home. His life. Well, some of it. All in all that's really not too bad, especially considering I barely know him. I really have to be more patient. I guess I'm getting greedy.

"Sorry." I kiss the little bumps of his spine, one by one, as far down as I can reach. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

A pleasing warmth spreads under my hands and my mouth. When I look at him, Tripper is blushing from hairline to waist.

"Thank you Max...but...I think I have to tell you now." Sank you Mak-ku-su. Te-ru you. I think I'm even in love with his accent.

He twists his body into my arms, twining our legs together, and strokes my face with a dreamy expression in his eyes. "You look just like him," he murmurs. "The lover I left Japan with."

END PART 4