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    Mark Arbour
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Poor Man's Son - 10. Chapter 9

July 12, 2000

Escorial

Palo Alto, CA

Will

Big dinners at Escorial were usually fun, but I figured this one could go either way. We sat down in our assigned places, with John on one side of me and my dad on the other. John and I hadn’t had a chance to do more than kiss and say hello, since my trek up to the City had taken up most of my time.

“It is so nice to have you all here,” Grandmaman said. “Nothing makes me happier than having all of my children home.”

“Plus a few extras,” Matt joked, as he smiled at her.

“You are very much like a child, so you count,” she said, teasing him back.

“How was your drive?” Stef asked.

“Interesting,” my dad said coolly. He’d been arguing with me all afternoon about not moving up here, yet the more he argued, the more certain I was that this was what I wanted to do: I wanted to be part of this group, this family, here at Escorial. “Will is not sure he wants to go to Malibu High.”

“Are you seriously considering Harvard-Westlake?” John asked me, wide-eyed. He knew I’d always thought of it as a snob school, and any mention of it usually made me roll my eyes.

“No, I’m thinking of going to Gunn.” There had been other, side conversations going on, but those ceased, and everyone stared at me. “If that’s OK with you?” I asked Grand and Grandmaman.

“You are always welcome here Will. There should never ever even be a question in your mind about that,” Grand said.

“Regardless of how I feel about it?” my dad demanded. He liked to argue with Grand.

“It seems to me that you said something pretty similar to my son some years ago,” Frank said to JP, which was another big surprise, since he usually didn’t say much. “As I recall, you didn’t ask for my permission at the time, and pretty much ignored my opinion.”

“I was 17,” Robbie snapped.

“Maturity isn’t measured in years,” I pointed out.

Frank zeroed in on Robbie and Dad. “And if I remember that chain of events correctly, the two of you were quite pleased with JP’s decision at the time.”

“You’d be living here?” John asked, his huge smile lighting up the table. “That would be the bomb!”

I smiled back at him, trying not to look too lovey-dovey. “Thanks, I was hoping you’d think it was a good idea.”

Robbie leaned forward so he could talk to me around my dad. “If you and your dad work this out, I’m not going to put up any road blocks, but I will miss you.”

Fucker. He made my eyes tear up. That was so like him. “Thanks,” I muttered.

My dad turned to me slowly, like a battleship rotating its gun turret, and I braced myself for its impact. I was surprised. “I think that you should take some time and think about this. You have a couple of months before you start high school. That also gives the rest of us a chance to get used to the idea.”

“So you’re telling me that if I want to move up here and go to Gunn, I can?” I asked, shocked.

“I am only one of your parents,” Dad said. “But since Robbie isn’t against it, we just have to convince your mother. I’m more concerned that this is really the choice you want to make. I want you to think about it.”

“I think that is excellent advice,” Stef said. “I will be happy to help you make up your mind while we are gone.”

“While we’re gone?” I asked him.

“You said you wanted to go to Paris with me,” he said as he dabbed his mouth with his napkin. “I would like to leave next week, after the Bastille Day festivities have ended. My presence here is required for our party.”

“That sounds tight!” I said. I was nervous because he didn’t say anything about John, but I caught that playful look in his eye and relaxed. I could feel John’s mood deflate at not being included, and at losing me for a while.

“I think, if we pack tightly, we might just have enough room to bring John along as well,” Stef said, then turned to John. “If you want to go, that is?”

“I’m all over that,” John said.

“I think it will be good to take you to Paris and try to repair some of the damage your mother has done to your wardrobe.” That was pure theater. Stef and my Aunt Claire had an ongoing rivalry over who was more fashionable, and he was clearly goading her.

“John’s good taste is so ingrained, not even you can derail it,” she said.

“We could take Ella too,” I offered. “Darius says she has better taste than either one of you.”

“He is clearly biased,” Stef said dismissively.

“When are you planning to talk to your mother about all of these plans?” Tiffany asked me coldly.

“You sound like her partner when you say that,” I shot back.

“Old habits die hard, and you didn’t answer my question.”

“Soon,” I said noncommittally. I was still so pissed off at her; I wasn’t willing to even give her a seat at the table of planning my life.

“We are planning to be here for the party,” Dad said, “but we need to go back to Malibu before that. I was planning to leave tomorrow, and then come back Friday night.”

My defenses were fully up now. “And?”

“And I was thinking that you could come back with us and talk to your mother, and if it is alright with my sister and her hot-as-hell husband, maybe John can come back with us too.” He winked at my Uncle Jack, which cracked me up. They had such a cool friendship. They could flirt with each other, yet it was totally platonic.

“I’m wondering if that gives Claire enough time to help him pack,” Jack said. Claire smacked him playfully.

“Can I go?” John asked, excitedly.

“You can,” Claire said. “It will be good to have you out from under foot for a few days.”

John got a nervous look on his face. “Is that why Aunt Jeanine didn’t want me around?” He was worried that he was a pain in the ass, and that was so ridiculous it was funny.

“John, it had nothing to do with you,” Tiffany said emphatically, which was cool since she was the best person to speak for my mom. “Pregnant women can be bitches.”

“This much is true,” Grandmaman agreed. Claire and my Aunt Cass nodded as well.

July 12, 2000

Claremont, OH

Gathan

Dinner had been nice. The Mayor and his family were pleasant enough, but the only way I’d been able to escape afterward was by promising Harry I’d go out to the river with him tomorrow. Even a blind man could tell Harry was into me. He stood way too close to me, and I don’t have a problem with people being close to me, but it was like he was violating my personal space. I liked Harry, he was a really nice guy, and he was extremely cute, but he was just trying way too hard. The boy had no game. I tried to overlook that, even though it was clouding my mind for the entire ride home. Maybe I could help him out with that, help him learn not to be such a complete spaz. I’d probably be here for another month at the most. I wasn’t sure if that was enough time.

I walked into the house in a pretty good mood, and found Wally and Clara in the front room, apparently waiting for me. The first thing Ma asked me about was my wound. “How are you doing?” she asked anxiously, as she put her hand on my arm near the bandage.

“I’m fine, Ma,” I reassured her. “I just got hit in the fleshy part of my arm. As long as I wear this sling, and this tight, uncomfortable bandage, I’m fine.” It was kind of irritating that I was getting all of this attention for a wound that didn’t really bother me. I mean, I could probably do just fine without the sling, but Ma would freak out if she saw me not wearing it. Then again, if I wasn’t constantly popping pain pills, it would hurt like a motherfucker.

She must have been placated, since she changed the subject. “How was dinner?”

“It was good, Ma,” I said as I kissed her cheek. “They had a roast, but it wasn’t even close to as good as yours.”

“Should have gotten a go bag,” Wally said.

“It’s not a restaurant,” Clara admonished.

“I know that,” he snapped, then turned to me. “When are you going out to California?”

That question kind of surprised me, since he usually wasn’t so direct about stuff like that. “Why, you excited to get rid of me?” I joked, trying to lighten his mood. I was usually successful at it, but it didn’t work this time.

“That didn’t sound like a date,” he said. He was really annoyed, and that was rare.

“I’m sorry, Pa,” I said. “I don’t have a set date, but I was thinking about the end of the month sometime. Is that alright?” I’d learned a long time ago that I could get just about anything I wanted out of Wally by being nice to him and treating him with respect.

“That will work,” he growled.

“Are you mad at me?”

“No,” he said simply. I looked over at Ma, letting her see my confusion.

“He’s just upset that you’re going; just like the rest of us, only he’s being grumpy about it.” He gave her a really dirty look, which told me that she’d nailed it.

“I’m going to miss you too,” I said to him. “I owe everything that I am to the two of you.”

He wiped a tear from his eye. “You’re a son to be proud of Gathan. Always have been.”

I gave them both big one-armed hugs then escaped down to the basement, pausing to dry off my eyes. Zach was the only one down there, playing Dead or Alive 2 on the Playstation 2 that Robbie had gotten us. We were probably the first people in Claremont to get one, and that had made Clara and Wally really uncomfortable, but that didn’t bother Zach.

“Here,” he said, tossing me a controller. I slipped my arm out of the sling and winked at him, then spent the next hour getting my ass kicked, which didn’t surprise me. Zach had latched onto the PS2 with the same kind of passion he had for football, and once he was into something, he was unstoppable.

“Dude, enough,” I said, tossing the controller down.

“You’re just tired of getting your ass kicked.”

“Damn straight.”

“I’ve got a different idea,” he said, leering at me. “Fuck me.”

“Dude, I cannot go there, not after last time,” I said. He’d tried to get me to fuck him since then, and I’d always said no.

“Fuck you,” he said, all pissed off. “You’re the one who did this to me. The least you can do is help me out.”

“I did not make you gay,” I said firmly.

“I’m not a fag,” he sneered. “I just like to get fucked.” I stared at him, blinking, trying to figure out the difference. “I think about girls when I jack off.”

“OK…” I said, looking at the ceiling in a disbelieving gesture.

“You’re an asshole. You’d do everyone else in town but you hold out on me just to be a dick.”

“That’s my game,” I said in a sarcastic way.

“Gathan, come on man,” he asked, almost pleading. He was changing strategies, and that made me nervous, because there was one he hadn’t tried that would probably work.

I shook my head and got up to leave the room, but he pulled me back down by grabbing onto my shirt. “What?”

“That was a really horrible experience for both of us,” he told me. “I think if we do it again, it will erase it. I’m tired of having this thing in my head, driving me crazy.”

I looked into his lavender eyes, and knew he had me. I moved in to kiss him, but he barely responded then pulled away. This wasn’t about intimacy with him; he just wanted me to fuck him. Kissing was gay, so if he didn’t kiss me, he wouldn’t be gay. “I’ll be right back,” I said. “Don’t go away.”

I tore up the stairs and grabbed a condom and lube, then tore back down them, to find Zach sitting on the couch just like I’d left him, but with only his boxers on. I held up the condom and lube and he grinned, then stood up, showing off his incredibly hot body. He was built like a rock, all muscle, but he still had that little layer of fat that all of us seemed to have. He pulled down his boxers, showing me his hardening cock, as he turned away and bent over, surrendering his ass to me.

I paused to think about how dangerous this was. There were six other people in this house, any one of whom could come down the stairs and catch us. I consoled myself with the knowledge that there was a door at the bottom of the stairs, so when we heard someone clomping down, we’d have a second to at least slip on our boxers and act like we were just playing video games. At the same time, the thought of being caught naked, fucking Zach, was pretty damned erotic. I undid my own pants and let them fall to the floor, followed by my boxers, as I moved up behind him. I ran my fingers up and down his crack, flicking the tips over his hole, making him moan in anticipation. I slipped the condom over my dick and slathered it with lube, then worked his hole to open him up.

“Come on Gathan,” he practically panted. “Come on.”

“I want to make sure you’re ready this time,” I cooed.

“I’m ready,” he said. I lined my dick up with his hole and pushed in. I expected it to be like last time, and a tear fell down my cheek as I remembered that experience, but it was completely different. He didn’t resist me at all; instead, he pushed back into me, his ass absorbing my big dick effortlessly.

I was frozen, not moving at all, while he moved his ass, doing all the work. “Fuck me,” he ordered, keeping his voice firm, but low. “Come on! Fuck me!”

I started moving my hips, the sensation of being inside him flying through my body and stimulating my primal lust. I picked up the pace, feeling the anger and rage I buried inside me starting to emerge. That scared me, but I couldn’t stop now, there was no way. I felt it consume me, felt it take me over, and I started really fucking him, just slamming into him over and over and over again. It was just like last time, only this time he was really into it. This time he was enjoying himself.

I pulled out of him and rolled him onto his back, then jammed my dick back into him. He just alternated between a smile and a snarl. I leaned in to kiss him, only this time he was into the fuck enough to kiss me back, so into it that I was the one that broke it off. I felt myself getting close, and I was worried that I’d blow and leave him high and dry, but just then I saw his eyes almost roll back in his head as he started to cum. His dick spewed rope after rope across his chest, and the sight and feel of him losing it just pushed me over the edge. I blew my load, biting my lip to avoid screaming, in an orgasm that seemed to last forever. I felt him struggling with me, trying to get me to stop now that his own load had blown, but there was no way I was doing that. I finished blowing and pulled out.

“That was great,” I said to him, smiling.

“Yeah, fucking great. This time was worse than before, because this time I really really liked it,” he said, being an asshole.

“Whatever,” I said. “Remember what a dick you were when you want a repeat performance and I say ‘no’,” I snapped. I pulled off the condom, then pulled up my pants and paused only to flush the condom down the toilet before heading up to my room. All of that exertion had aggravated my arm, so I popped another pain pill before I collapsed on my bed.

What the fuck was his deal anyway? One minute he makes me feel like the town rapist, then he’s begging me to fuck him, then when I do and I make him blast like a fucking rocket, he pours the guilt on because I was too good of a lover. Light bulbs went off in my mind, then, as I figured out what he was doing. He was trying to control me, to manipulate me using guilt and anger. I let that whirl through my mind as I lay in my bed, listening to Ella and Darius making out in the other bed. In the end, I decided that going to see this shrink might not be such a bad idea.

Copyright © 2011 Mark Arbour; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

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Chapter Comments

Gathan now as match-maker? Cute!

 

Gathan manipulated by Zack? Not cute.

 

Tiffany telling Will that pregnant women can be bitches: Too true.

 

Steff's upcoming trip to Paris: Sounds intriguing and fun!

 

Something for everyone.

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On 04/21/2011 08:45 AM, Daddydavek said:
Gathan now as match-maker? Cute!

 

Gathan manipulated by Zack? Not cute.

 

Tiffany telling Will that pregnant women can be bitches: Too true.

 

Steff's upcoming trip to Paris: Sounds intriguing and fun!

 

Something for everyone.

LOL
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Hmmm, well Will and John are going to Paris with Stef, I wonder how pissed off this will make Jeanine. I see Will's point on this to a certain extent but when push comes to shove, your parents opinion should count for something...

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I'll tell you this 420 has been a happy day for me for 55 years now, that's my birthday. Gathan did a good thing putting Harry and Ed together. They seemed to be a couple before that day but they were apparently so shy that neither had ever acted on the feelings that they felt. I hope it lasts for a long time.

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