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Luxemburger Queen -- Part 7 As I said, this story is addictive! So here you go! 7: Teenage Angst Frank looked down at the slumbering little elf snuggling against him, blowjobbed and exhausted. He gently stroked a fringe of hair out of Brian's face. The boy stirred, but didn't wake up. Frank smiled. His fingers traced over Brian's neck and moved quickly down over his T-shirt. Why not, he asked himself. At least I want to see what I got myself here. He was careful not to wake Brian as he pushed up the T-shirt. It took him quite some effort and coordination to get Brian's arms out of it and to finally pull it over the boy's head without waking him, but Brian seemed to be dreaming deeply and happily, and aside from him muttering unintelligible words, his sleep wasn't bothered. Frank planted a kiss on the now naked shoulder before diving to take care of the jeans, which he had only cared to open for the blow job. Now it was time to get rid off them. To Frank's luck they weren't too tight, but still it was a little struggle. When he had finally succeeded in the task of undressing his most recent conquest, he examined the sight exposed to him and was very pleased. Jesus, was he cute! He slowly ran his hand over the smooth soft skin, unable to turn away his eyes, until Brian shivered slightly and Frank noticed goose bumps. Reluctantly and with a small sigh, he pulled the cover over them both and pressed the boy against himself to warm him up. Brian woke because a thousand needles were stinging in his arm, which, as he realized, he had been lying on. He muttered a curse and shifted his position to allow the blood access to his limb again, but found it more difficult than expected since something was blocking his way. Someone. He blinked. Frank. Right. He remembered, dimly at first but more and more clear then. What he didn't remember at all, though, was taking off his clothes, but nevertheless he felt quite naked - which he was, as he noticed at last, a bit confused. He peered at Frank, but the older boy seemed to be asleep. He really looked nice with his face relaxed like this, tousled hair falling over his forehead, skin illuminated by the twilight. Brian put the other arm around Frank and pressed his face against neck and shoulder. Then he froze. Twilight? His head jerked towards the window. The sunset was brilliant with deep red and purple colors, but it had almost faded already with the sun having disappeared below the horizon. Evening! Dinner! Fuck! He jumped out of the bed, saw his clothes lying on the floor in front of it and gathered them up. Frank moved, his hand groping for Brian. When he didn't find him, he opened his eyes a bit. "Hi." Then he noticed Brian was dressing himself and sat up. "What's the matter?" he asked concerned. "I didn't - I mean, I'm sorry if I -" Brian jerked his head in the direction of the window. "Evening. Damn it, I'm late already, it's almost eight o'clock, Mom will kill me!" Frank looked at his alarm clock. 7:54. Indeed, they had forgotten time entirely. He cursed and stood up. Brian was just pulling the T-shirt over his head again. A shame, thought Frank and sighed, but it couldn't be helped. He was angry with himself. He should have been more careful, he knew quite well how Brian was in trouble with his parents enough already. "Sorry, I forgot ..." "Yeah, so did I, never mind, but I'd better hurry now." Brian flashed him a small, coy smile. "See you in school?" Frank smiled back with relief. So he wasn't angry! "Yes, of course. Lunch tomorrow?" "Sure. Well, I'd better be going, so -" He hesitated for a moment, then suddenly pulled Frank closer and kissed him quickly. "Bye ..." With that, he turned, opened the door and rushed out of the room. Frank could hear his steps on the stairs and then the front door banged. He went to the window to watch the small figure run away. His parents were sitting in front of the TV watching the news when he entered the house. His mother turned her head to frown at him. "Yes, I know, I'm late, sorry," muttered Brian, blushing slightly because he realized that he hadn't even had time to wash his hands. A chuckle rose in his throat and was not easily stifled. He wondered how his mother would like him to spread an unknown boy's spunk around her blessed Christian house ... "Well, that's your problem, Brian, we've had dinner already," his father said without looking at him. "Ah, don't be so strict," his mother muttered, got up and walked Brian into the kitchen. "Here, I saved some of it for you, just warm it up, okay?" "You're pampering him," his father's voice rose from the living room, "he'd better learn the consequences of his deeds soon!" To Brian's surprise, his mother right out ignored this last comment. Instead, she sat down at the table and watched Brian fumbling with the microwave. "So, did you have fun?" Brian almost dropped the bowl with the food. "Uhm ... yeah, was nice." "What is this play about again?" Brian sighed. Why did she never listen when he told her important things? "It's a drama set at a school, Mom. I'm playing one of the lead roles, remember? Jason? The one killing himself?" "Ah, yes." His mother grimaced. "I don't see what's so thrilling about such a morbid role, but if you're happy ..." "I am," he answered brusquely. "And what was his name, Frank?" "What about him?" "What's his role?" his mother asked. "Oh. Well, he's one of the bullies that make me commit suicide in the end. Craig." His father entered the kitchen. "A waste of time if you ask me, this drama club and all." Well, thought Brian, nobody's asking you, so why don't you just go back to your TV? "Aw, it can't always be work only, he's only fifteen," his mother said, smiling at both of them. "You are supposed to have some fun at that age. Would you rather have him spending his afternoons downtown whistling after girls?" "I'd rather have him study, but if he needs to have some fun, why not something sensible? Sports, for example," Mr Molko replied with his usual joyless expression. Brian sneered. "Soccer? I don't think so!" "Doesn't have to be soccer, Brain, but you really SHOULD exercise a bit. You don't want to be feeble like a little girl, do you?" "You know, I'm getting along with the girls a lot better than with those basketball idiots," Brian answered before he was able to command his mouth to stay shut. That seemed to be the thing his father had waited for. "Yes, exactly! Nobody would dare to punch you if you looked a bit more muscular, I tell you that. It's all a matter of appearance. You look like a wimp -" "Thanks indeed!" hissed Brian. His father ignored him. "... and you get treated like one. You look like a tough guy and you're respected. That's how the world works." "Well, the world sucks, then!" growled Brian. "Oh, PLEASE!" moaned his mother. "Language!" Just then, the microwave beeped, announcing Brian's food to be warm. Gratefully, he took the bowl and sat down, shoving the fish and potatoes into his mouth, glad he had an excuse to stay silent. His father reached over and switched on the radio. "You know," he said to Mrs Molko after a little while, "the Moncleres are getting divorced." She gasped. "Really? Oh my God! Why?" "Well, as far as I heard it, Yvette came home early from work one day to find her husband in bed with his secretary." "Oh, please, not in front of the boy," Mrs Molko said, blushing. "The boy? He's fifteen, and besides that the TV is full of stories like this. Disgusting, isn't it?" Mrs Molko shook her head. "But Pierre Monclere! Really, I always pictured him to be a really nice person. Remember the garden party last year? Why, I spoke with him for almost fifteen minutes, he was a real gentleman." She sighed. "I can understand Yvette's anger, but then every man is a sinner and can make a mistake once. And certainly this woman, this secretary, well she doubtlessly talked him into this, and -" "It's no SHE, it's a HE. His secretary. Michel Devereux," Brian's father said scathingly. "I think you met him at that party, too. Seems the two have been in a relationship for almost two years now." Brian choked on his food, but his parents didn't pay attention. Mrs Molko gaped. "Devereux? And Pierre?" The expression of disbelief changed into abhorrence. "Oh, how could Pierre do that! That abominable sinner! With a wife like Yvette, really, the kindest, sweetest angel of a woman the world has ever seen, oh, dear God in Heaven, he deserves to burn in hell and that's where he'll end, serves him right! Still hungry, Brian?" she asked, seeing Brian stare at her. "Uhm ... no, thanks, I - I really need to do my homework, so ..." Brian muttered with numb lips, pushing back his chair. "Yes, do that," his father said smugly. "And don't forget to do your mathematics." At last, then, he realized his son's disturbed expression. "Yes, it's incredible what's going on in other families, isn't it? Disgusting! You know a guy for years and years and then it turns out he's one of those repulsing faggots!" Brian swallowed. "Yeah," he mumbled, gaze fixed onto a spot on the floor, "disgusting." He chose to hurry out of the kitchen and into his room before his parents could engage him into a discussion about the horrors of homosexuality. He couldn't bear that today. Not after what happened with Frank. He put a Bowie record on the player and fell down onto the bed with a sigh. They really had to spoil every single day that appeared to be great, didn't they? Last time all this buzz about Stuart and now this rage against alternative sexualities ... He giggled. Alternative sexualities! He liked that. He was curious what Frank would say about it. Frank. Did he have a crush on Frank? Brian pondered the question for a while. No, he decided then. He liked him, he was cute, but there weren't butterflies in his stomach when he thought about him. He wasn't sure how it was the other way round, though ... there had been something in Frank's eyes during that good-bye-kiss. And he had stripped him while he was sleeping, Brian was quite sure that he hadn't done it by himself. He smiled. Somehow, it was a very comforting idea that Frank had a crush on him. It felt nice to be liked. "Brian!" his father yelled suddenly. "Turn down that horrible music, will you?" With a low growl, Brian obeyed. He couldn't wait to get out of this house! But then he had to. Two more years. And then bye-bye, nice to have known you, have a great life - he'd be out of here! He closed his eyes and Frank's face appeared. It wasn't hard to imagine his lips again all over his face and throat, with the fingers exploring his nether parts; the taste of his tongue and fingers, the feeling of lips brushing against his cock ... Brian turned around on the bed and sighed. All right then, I stand corrected, he thought. I DO have a crush on him. But gosh, I mean, it's the first-ever person to give me a blow job, so it's no surprise really, is it? Another sigh, followed by an amused curse. Here he was, writhing on the bed sighing about a would-be-boyfriend like one of those girls in teenie soaps! He sat up with a giggle, but then became serious again. Would-be-boyfriend? Had he just really thought that? Was it that serious? It seemed so. Gosh. He was really in trouble then. He had obviously not been the first guy to be dragged into Frank's bed, but Frank was not openly gay and Brian felt that he didn't plan to come out very soon. A relationship with someone that 'wasn't gay'? Brian felt a pang of disappointment. Never. Frank wasn't going to do that. Some more meetings, yes; kisses, fumbling around, undressing, but that would be it. No long romantic walks in the moonlight ... well, metaphorically speaking, of course, Brian wasn't too keen on those, but plainly speaking, there'd be no public kisses or even hugs with Frank. He knew it. He didn't know why, but he knew. And he realized he was crying. Prev | Next Home |