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Light the Fire

By J.L. Merrow

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JMS Books LLC

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jms-books.com

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J.L. Merrow

ISBN 9781611524567

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WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your

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in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from
the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the
purposes of review.

This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains

substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which
may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your
files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and

incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination
and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to
actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published in the United States of America.

* * * *

Light the Fire

By J.L. Merrow

Kurt sighed as the kid bounded up to him like a puppy, all

floppy dark hair and enthusiasm.

“Wow! You can press three hundred pounds? That's

awesome!” He was wearing a loose t-shirt that hung off his wide
frame, like his bones had been growing and the rest of his body
hadn't quite woken up to the fact.

“You want something?” Kurt grunted.
The kid beamed as wide as if Kurt had just complimented

him on his blow job technique. “Would you spot me? Maybe
show me a couple of techniques? I'm trying to bulk up a bit. Hey,
do you take any supplements? Protein shakes, that kind of shit?”

“No.” Kurt sat up, wiping the sweat off his forehead with

the hem of his vest. “Do you ever shut up?”

The kid mimed zipping his lip, then ruined the effect by

shooting his mouth off again almost immediately. “I'm Matthew.
Or Matt, Matt's fine. You're Kurt, aren't you? I heard the guy at
the desk say your name when you came in. Hey, those triceps
are amazing. How big are they around?”

Kurt froze as Matt actually put his hands on Kurt's arm, in

an action that was about one part measurement to twenty parts
caress. “What the fuck do you think you're doing?” he hissed,
eyes flicking round the gym. “Jesus, kid, you want to get the shit
kicked out of you the minute you're out of here?”

Matt backed off about a whole quarter of an inch, hands

raised. “Hey, it's cool, don't sweat it. You think anyone's going to
mess with you? You gotta weigh, what, one-eighty? Two
hundred? No one's gonna mess with that.”

“Ain't me I'm worried about.” Kurt stood up, and Matt

stepped back, making space. “I got to shower.”

“Yeah, I'm done here, too. I'll go down there with you.

Hey, maybe we could grab some lunch, after?”

“I'm not hungry.”
“We could just get a drink, then.” Taking a hint didn't seem

to be the kid's strong suit.

Kurt folded his arms. “No. Now beat it. I'm going to take a

shower, and that ain't a spectator sport.”

Matt danced out of his way, smiling like he hadn't just been

given the brush-off. “Okay, okay! No big. I'll catch you later!”

Shaking his head, Kurt walked away. Damn, he was going

to have to find another gym at this rate. Couple of weeks ago it'd
been that Asian guy, Shingo—although at least he'd known enough
to take no for an answer. Matt, though, Kurt was thinking he might
have to get nasty with this one. Which he kind of didn't want to do.
It'd be like kicking a puppy right after it'd licked your hand.

But Matt was just wasting his time here, and the sooner

he knew it, the better.

* * * *

Kurt managed to have his shower in peace, but he might

have known it wouldn't last. Matt bounded up to him as he was
emptying his locker. “Hey, Kurt! You know, I was thinking. We
should meet up for a drink one night. Somewhere away from the
gym, you know?”

The locker door slammed a little harder than Kurt meant it

to, but he was pissed. “Damn it, kid, you always try to pick guys
up in the locker room? If you get yourself knocked down on one
of these tiled floors, it's going to hurt like shit. There is a time and
a place, and this fucking well ain't it.”

Matt shrugged, his sweaty hair falling over his face on one

side. “I think most people round here are pretty cool with me
being gay.”

“Most people? Kid, it only takes one who's not. If you want

to hook up with someone, stick to the gay bars.”

“Well, yeah, that's what I was planning. We could meet up

for a drink, maybe go to Castro's—”

“Listen, Matt. You're cute, but…” Kurt sighed.
“But what? You don't date cute?” Christ on a crutch. The

kid had honest-to-God dimples when he smiled.

“I don't date, period.” It came out kind of harsh, but maybe

that was what the kid needed.

Matt bit his lip, and the dimples disappeared. “Okay.

Okay. That's cool. I mean, I can see—I mean, that's cool.”

Kurt hefted his gym bag and made for the door. He'd just

reached it when Matt put his hand on him again. Kurt's shoulder
muscles tensed. “Look, I wrote it down, okay? In case you
change your mind. Castro's. Nine o'clock tonight. I'll be there,
you know, whatever.”

“Kid…”
“Just take it. You never know, right? Just take it.”
A vein in Kurt's temple started to throb. Guys were looking

at them, standing in the doorway. “If I take the damn note, will
you leave me alone and quit making a scene?”

“No problems, man!” Matt grinned, slapped Kurt on the

back and bounced off, turning back to wave at him once before
disappearing out of the building.

Kurt shook his head. Damn, he needed some caffeine after

that. He headed on in to the café and ordered a double espresso,
taking it to a table by the window and slinging his gym bag on the
floor. He closed his eyes as he took the first swallow, waiting for
the caffeine to work its soothing magic. Raoul always used to say
that was bullshit, coffee was an upper, not a downer—but then
he'd always drunk decaffeinated, so what did he know?

Kurt took another sip. Remembering the note, he unfolded

it. Just the name of the place, and the time, in carefully legible
handwriting. Damn, what must it be like to be so young and
optimistic? Kurt sure as hell couldn't remember. He was about to
crumple the note when he noticed Shingo sitting on his own by
the door. Kurt smiled to himself, and stood up, draining the last
of his coffee in one swallow.

Shingo looked up in surprise as Kurt paused at his table.

“Hey. You still want to go out for a drink?” Kurt kept his voice low
as he dropped the note on the table. “Tonight. Nine o'clock.”

He walked on out, chuckling to himself.

* * * *

That night, lying in the bed that had just seemed to get

bigger and bigger since Raoul had gone, Kurt pictured Matt and
Shingo in Castro's. He wondered if they'd hooked up. Or had they
spent the evening sitting at opposite ends of the bar, wondering
where the hell Kurt was and cussing into their beers? He liked to
think they'd gotten together. Matt was a good kid, and Shingo
seemed an okay guy, even if he wasn't Kurt's type. Shingo was
kind of built, and Kurt preferred them slender. Like Matt.

They'd look good together. Matt was all creamy white

skin, where Shingo was honey-gold. Pretty fit, too. Had a nice
shape to him; sculpted shoulders tapering down to slim hips.
Kurt figured Matt would go for that. Whether Shingo would go for
Matt, now—hell, who was he kidding? The boy was cute-on-a-
stick. Who wouldn’t go for that? They were probably dancing
together right now, hands on each others' asses. And later they'd
head on back to Matt's place, or to Shingo's—if they didn’t get
too impatient and make out in the john. Kids never could wait five
minutes. They'd be ripping at the fastenings of each others'
pants, desperate to get at what was inside.

Kurt took a deep breath and let his hand creep down to

his dick.

* * * *

Sunday morning, Kurt visited Raoul's grave. Put some

fresh flowers on it and dumped the week-old ones in the recycling
bin at the back of the cemetery. He stood there for a while, re-
reading the inscription on the headstone. Talking to Raoul.

“This kid from the gym's been hitting on me, would you

believe it? Another one. Skinny little thing, all dark hair and
mouth. Won't take 'no' for an answer. Won't take 'shut the fuck
up' for an answer either.” Kurt fell silent for a moment. “Kid's got
to learn it ain't clever to mouth off all the time. He's going to wind
up getting himself hurt.”

The old house seemed colder than usual when Kurt got

back, so he bumped up the thermostat a little. Funny how it'd
always seemed a lot warmer when Raoul was alive. But then,

he'd noticed how one guy seemed to take up only a quarter of
the space of two. That meant three times as much dead air in the
place, getting colder.

He could have lit a fire, but it didn't seem right, somehow.

The big antique fireplace in the living room, that had been Raoul's
baby. “You know what a fireplace is, Kurt? It's like the heart of
your home,” he'd insisted. “If you don't got that, it ain't a home at
all, just four walls and a roof. Just a place to crash.” He'd dragged
Kurt around fuck knew how many antique fairs, trawling through
all kinds of junk until he'd found his perfect fireplace. “You got to
picture it,” Raoul had said, his eyes already glowing like he was
gazing into the flames in his head. “Fire blazing, you and me
sitting on the couch, a couple of cold beers dripping condensation
all over our fingers. That's what it's all about.”

When they'd driven it back home in a rented truck, Raoul

had been antsier than a new dad. The guy selling it would have
delivered, but Raoul hadn't wanted anybody else's hands on his
baby once he'd made it his. And when they'd finally gotten it put
in, he hadn't given Kurt a moment's peace until he'd headed on
out and picked up some firewood. That evening they'd sat down
in front of a roaring log fire, and Kurt had had to admit all the
crap had been worth it. Even though it had been hotter than hell,
seeing as how it was the middle of August.

They'd only had one winter together, after that. Kurt still

had a shit load of logs sitting under the eaves, waiting for fires he
didn't have the heart to light.

Kurt took a sandwich into the living room and sat down

facing the fireplace. His eyes traced the familiar patterns on the
blue and white tiles. They showed country scenes, birds, plants
and animals. Some of them were kind of freaky looking, but
Raoul had said that was just artistic license. Said they didn't
have to be accurate, they just needed to look pretty.

Kurt's thoughts strayed to Matt and Shingo, wondering

again if anything had happened last night. Whatever, Kurt hoped
they'd gotten home safe afterward. That was one thing you
couldn't guarantee.

* * * *

Next Saturday morning he spotted them straight off. They

walked into the gym together, laughing and kidding each other.
Kurt felt a smile tickle at the corner of his mouth, and turned his
attention back to his workout.

“Hey, Kurt, good to see you!” What the hell was Matt doing,

coming onto him again with Shingo in the same room? At least
there was no one close enough to hear. “You have a good week?
I had a great week. Had a performance review, and the manager
told me I'm up for promotion in the fall, which is really cool, 'cause
it means I'll get a pay rise just in time for the holidays.”

“That's great, kid. You want to get out of my face now?”

Kurt started up on another set, grunting a little on this one. He'd
upped the weights some and was kind of at his limit.

Matt just laughed like Kurt had made a joke or something.

“You missed a great night out last weekend. Castro's was really
buzzing. Shingo was kinda pissed at that trick you played on us,
though. You might want to give the café a miss for a while. His
sister Yoshiko works on the counter there, and Shingo said he
was going to ask her to spit in your coffee next time you went in.”

Kurt set the weights back down on the stack, breathing

heavily. “I thought maybe you'd been making him forget all about me.”

“Who, me? No, he's, uh, not my type. No, we had a few

drinks together, that was all. Had a good time, though. You should
have been there. Tell you what, we're heading on down there
tonight. Down to Castro's. So you should come, you know?”

“If I say I'll think about it, will you leave me the hell alone?”
“Sure! Hey, that's great!” Matt was practically fizzing now.

“I'll see you tonight, yeah? Same place, same time, okay?”

“I said I'll think about it, kid,” Kurt muttered to empty space

after Matt had bounded over to the elliptical.

* * * *

Kurt kept one eye out for his bouncy little shadow while he

was in the locker room, but Matt seemed to have finally figured

out that Kurt wanted to be left in peace. Made the place feel kind
of quiet, somehow.

It seemed like a need for caffeine after a workout was

getting to be a regular thing, Kurt reflected as he headed up to
the café and ordered his usual. He handed over his money to the
pretty Asian girl behind the counter. “Hey, you Shingo's sister?
Yoshiko?” She nodded. She'd have looked a damn sight prettier
if she'd been smiling. “Nice to meet you, Yoshiko.” She didn't
reply. Kurt turned and walked to a table, shaking his head and
smiling to himself.

As he sat down, he looked at his espresso. Was it just

him, or did it look kind of foamier than usual? He looked up, and
saw Shingo watching him from his table by the door with no
expression what-so-fucking-ever.

Jesus. Those kids were starting to mess with his mind. Kurt

laughed, and downed the coffee, his eyes not leaving Shingo's.

He'd swallowed worse things in his time than a bit of spit

from a pretty girl, anyhow.

* * * *

“Matt was hitting on me again today. Mouthing off about

how we should go out together, right where anyone could hear.”
Kurt sighed. “He's going to get himself hurt, Raoul.” A stray leaf
had blown onto the grave, so Kurt picked it up and put it with last
week's flowers. “I know what you're going to say, Raoul. You're
going to say I can't look after everyone.” He sighed. “You think I
don't know that by now? But I don't want anything to happen to
him. He's cute, you know? And I don't just mean how he looks.
He's just…so alive.”

Kurt caught himself looking guiltily around the cemetery,

like he'd just said a dirty word. There was no one else nearby,
though. Just an old lady in gardening gloves a few rows down,
and a guy with a couple of sad-faced kids heading on out
already. “I don't know what to do, Raoul. That's why I came to
see you today. Because…hell, I've been telling myself he's not
getting to me, but I'm not buying that any more than he is. But I

kind of don't know. If I'm just worried about him ‘cause the kid's a
car crash waiting to happen, or if it's more than that.”

He knelt down and traced the lines of the inscription with

his fingertips. “Would you be mad at me, Raoul? If it was more
than that?”

A breeze ruffled the fresh flowers Kurt had put on the

grave, but no petals fell. Kurt nodded, and straightened.

* * * *

“You came! Oh wow, you came!” Matt was practically

bouncing, slapping Kurt on the back and grinning like he'd won
the lottery. “Hey, Shingo! He came!”

Shingo glared at Kurt from behind his beer glass. Kurt

nodded back, figuring he hadn't made any friends in that
direction by turning up. “Yeah, I came, kid. You going to buy me
a drink so Shingo can spit in that, too? Seeing as his sister ain't
here tonight.”

“Oh, man! Did Yoshiko really do that? I can't believe she did

that! Did you drink it?” Kurt found himself led by the hand across
the dance floor to the bar. “What are you drinking? Beer? Jack?”

“Neither.” Kurt made a sudden decision, and yanked Matt

back by the hand. “How about we have this dance?”

The dance was a slow one, and Kurt pulled Matt in close.

He fit real good against Kurt's body, that slender form seeming to
mold to his contours. Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt saw Shingo
go drape himself all over some blond twink, and chuckled softly.
Man, that guy was versatile. Or maybe just real pissed at Kurt.

“Something funny?” Matt murmured in his ear. “Cause,

you know, I'd kind of like to hear the joke.”

“Yeah. You, kid. And me, for being with you. Now shut up

and dance.”

* * * *

It was so late when they left the club it was fucking early.

Matt's slim body felt real good, snuggled up tight against Kurt's

side. Dawn would be breaking through the clouds by the time
they got home, he thought. Been a long time since he'd seen the
dawn from the outside in.

“Fucking faggots!”
Kurt's breath seemed to freeze in his throat. There were a half

dozen of them, mean as all hell and tanked up on fuck knew what.

“You got a problem with that?” Matt's voice was bright and

breezy as ever. “’Cause we don't have a problem with you guys.
Live and let live, that's my mantra.”

Kurt struggled to think. There was no way he could take

that many of them by himself. Maybe he should just charge on at
them, yell at Matt to run? He could take out two, maybe three of
them. But damn, once he was down there'd be nothing between
them and the kid. He was paralyzed, his gut all twisted up at the
thought of Matt getting beat up just like Raoul had…

“Yeah, we do have a problem with sick fucks like you.” The

guy was Kurt's height, easy. Mean-looking, with a scar over one
eyebrow. “It's fucking disgusting, fags like you walking the streets,
all over each other like you think it's normal, two guys shoving
their pricks up each others' asses.” He spat on the ground, right
next to Kurt's shoe. Kurt figured he hadn't aimed to miss.

“Fucking cocksuckers!” Kurt didn't see which one of them

shouted that. Not that it mattered much anyhow.

Matt's voice seemed to sharpen. “Well, I guess you're just

going to have to come over here and teach us a lesson then.
You can start with me. My boyfriend here's kind of big, so you
might want to start small and work up to that.”

“Matt, what the fuck do you think you're doing?” Kurt

hissed, shocked into speech.

“It's cool, Kurt, okay? Just trust me,” Matt whispered back.
“You hear that?” It was the first asshole again. “He wants

it. Probably gets off on having the shit kicked out of him, the
fucking pervert.”

“He's going to enjoy this, then.” The speaker charged

forward, fist raised. Kurt moved instinctively to block him, but
before he could get close—almost too fast to see—Matt's foot
flicked out and caught the guy under the chin, sending him flying

back into his companions. Shit, where the hell had Matt gotten
those moves? He barely had time to wonder before a second
guy was on him. Kurt might not have Matt's speed or grace, but
he figured an iron fist to the gut would do the job just as well as
one of those fancy kicks. The asshole proved him right by
dropping to the ground, wheezing.

Matt bounced on his toes, face flushed. “Anyone else got

a problem with me and my boyfriend?” There was a moment of
stillness, and at first Kurt figured that might be the end of it. But
then a third guy lunged at them, fueled up on drink and
adrenaline. This time Matt caught him with a side thrust kick to
the gut that doubled him over, winded.

“Any of you other motherfuckers want some?” Kurt

challenged, the rush of the fight surging through his veins. “Me or
the kid, we'll take you easy. That what you want? No?” The rest
of the gang were dropping back, muttering. One of them had his
hands up like he didn’t want trouble, which was kind of ironic as
Kurt was fairly sure he'd been the 'cocksucker' guy. “Guess we'll
be on our way.”

He tapped Matt on the shoulder and they walked past the

gang, not taking their eyes off of them for a second. The rest of
the street seemed a mile long, but Kurt forced himself to walk
normally, ears straining for any sign they might be back in the
shit. He figured it was the longest time he'd ever been with Matt
without the kid shooting his mouth off.

They got onto Main Street and hailed a cab, and that was

when the dam burst. “Man, did you see their faces? We scared
the crap out of those guys! Guess they're gonna think twice before
they try beating on any more fags, huh? Man, that was so cool!”

Kurt didn't answer. Reaction was setting in, and he found

he was shaking as he climbed into the cab.

“Kurt? Hey, Kurt, it's cool, okay? We beat them. It's cool.”

He slid an arm round Kurt's shoulders, pulling him in closer on
the back seat. “We're fine, okay? Don't freak out now.”

The cab driver's voice, a queasy mix of nicotine and

adenoids, cut across Matt's soothing words. “You guys want to
cool it till you get where you're going? This ain't a freakin' motel.”

“Hey, man, could you cut us some slack here? We just got

attacked back there.”

“Yeah? Hey, is he hurt? He been cut? You need me to get

you to a hospital?”

“Thanks, but we're cool. Just kind of shook up, you

know?” Matt's voice lowered. “Kurt, you going to talk to me? Tell
me why those assholes got to you?”

Kurt swallowed. “Later, okay?” His eyes flicked to the cab

driver. “Let's just get where we're going.”

“Okay, Kurt.” Matt nodded, still holding Kurt tight. “It's cool.”
They drove on in silence, and for once Matt let it be; didn't

try to fill it up with words. Kurt just listened to the hum of the
engine and let Matt's presence beside him, warm and alive, calm
his heartbeat back down.

“This is it, right?” The cab driver sounded a little more

respectful now as they drew up outside Kurt's place.

“This is it.” Kurt passed over a couple bills, his hands

pretty damn steady, and they got out.

Matt bounced up to the stoop. “Wow! This is amazing!

This is your house? Oh, man, I used to dream of a house like
this! This is so cool.”

Kurt looked up at his home, trying to see it with fresh

eyes. Hell, he'd fallen in love with it the first time he'd seen it, too.
Raoul had dragged him along after work one night. Kurt had
been bitching about the lousy day he'd had and just wanting to
go home, but Raoul had insisted. Said he'd found the perfect
place and Kurt had to see it that night.

It was a big, old-fashioned family home. All high, arched

windows and steeply pitched roofs, the kind of thing Kurt vaguely
thought of as Gothic but didn't really have a clue about either
way. “Ain't it kind of big?” he'd asked, already three-quarters sold
on the place and just needing a little push.

Raoul had laughed. “Too big? You kidding me? It's

perfect!” And Kurt had figured any place that could bring a smile
like that to Raoul's face was okay with him.

Matt's face was kind of like that right now, as he lingered

by the front door, looking up. “It's way too big just for me,” Kurt

said quietly.

“You…” Matt's eyes turned to him, the smile faded to a

ghost. “You used to live here with someone, right?”

Kurt nodded. “Raoul. He was my…hell, he was

everything, you know?” He turned away. The sun had just
started to daub streaks of color across the sky like a kid on his
first day of kindergarten. “He got beat up one night coming home
from a club. I wasn't there. Had an early start next morning, so
he went out without me.” Kurt felt Matt's hand rubbing soothing
patterns on his back. “He never woke up. I ought to be over it by
now, right? That was two years ago, and then some. But hell,
tonight…it brought it all back. Seeing him lying in that hospital
bed, so beat up I hardly knew him.”

“Kurt, I'm so sorry.” Matt sounded older now, more like

what Kurt guessed was his real age than a hyped-up kid. “Did
they get the bastards who did it?”

Kurt nodded. “Didn't help any.” He thought about that a

moment. “Ah, shit. It helped. Didn't bring him back, though.” He
took a deep breath, straightened his back and got out his keys.
“So kid, you going to tell me where you got those fancy moves?”

Matt gave a wry smile. “Well, I kind of had some trouble

when I started high school. There were these guys who didn't like
me wearing eyeliner, or thought I talked too much, that kind of shit.”

“Imagine that.”
“Yeah, well, anyhow, my mom took me along to a karate

class, and I really got into it. Got my first dan belt before I
graduated. Then, when I went to college, I found this kick-boxing
club, which was like really awesome—” He cut himself off
abruptly. “I guess this really isn't the time to go into all that.”

Something in his tone made Kurt stop just as he was

about to turn the key in the lock. “Hey. You sure you want to
come in, now you know I'm still kind of fucked up about Raoul?”

The security light, pale and artificial in the gathering dawn,

shone directly on Matt's face. He looked like a kid again as he bit
his lip. “Okay. Here's the deal. If I come in, are you going to feel
bad about it in the morning? ‘Cause, you know, I can wait until
you're ready. I know I come over as kind of pushy, and maybe I

am, but I can wait if I have to.”

Kurt let go of the key and put his hands on Matt's slim,

denim-covered hips. “I kind of talked it over with Raoul earlier
today. I think he'd be cool about you coming in.”

Matt's smile was damn near blinding. Somehow his arms

were around Kurt's neck, and they kissed, slow and relaxed.

“Let's take this indoors,” Kurt suggested.
The minute the door closed behind them, Matt was on

him, his arms back round Kurt's neck and his lips seeking out
every inch of exposed skin. Kurt's heartbeat raced and he felt
more alive than he had at any time for the last two years. Maybe
it was just the rush of testosterone from the fight, maybe it was
the sheer joy of having won, having survived, but Kurt felt a
sudden need to get naked. Fast. He grabbed Matt by the ass
and lifted him off the ground. “C'mon, kid. Bedroom's this way.”

“Going to carry me up the stairs?” Matt teased.
“Is that a challenge?” Kurt laughed, and slung the kid over his

shoulder, fireman-style. “Watch that head on the banisters, now.”

Matt was laughing helplessly, and didn't stop until Kurt

threw him down on the bed. “Man, you got any idea how hot all
this caveman shit is?” he said, sounding kind of winded. His
smile grew wicked. “Aren't you worried I might run away?”

Oh, this boy was something else. “Do I got to tie you to

the bed?”

Matt drew in his breath sharply. Kurt knew a 'fuck, yeah!'

when he heard one. He climbed on top of Matt, straddling him,
and drew the kid's unresisting arms up to the head of the iron
bedstead. “Keep 'em there,” he grunted, and unbuckled his belt,
drawing it through the loops. With a grin, he snapped the well-
worn, supple leather a couple of times in his hands before
leaning over to wrap it around Matt's wrists, binding them loosely
to the bars. “Shit, that's hot,” he breathed.

Kurt pulled off his t-shirt, then bent to undo the buttons of

Matt's shirt, laying it open to bare a sweet pair of pink nipples,
already hard and proud. Kurt leaned over to lick and nibble at each
one in turn, making Matt shiver. “You ever think of getting those
pierced?” Because hell, that'd just be the icing on the cake for Kurt.

Matt licked his lips. “Well, I might think about it. Up till now

I always figured two piercings were enough for me.”

“Two? That's the left ear and…Oh, kid,” Kurt breathed, as

he realized where the other piercing had to be. “You're going to
kill me, you know that?” Kurt's hands weren't quite steady as he
undid Matt's jeans and pulled them off along with his boxer
briefs. The sight of that little gold ring at the head of Matt's long,
slender cock nearly made him cream his pants. “Fuck, that is the
most beautiful thing I ever saw.”

Leaning on his elbows, his hands gripping lightly onto

Matt's hips, Kurt bent down to take it in his mouth. Matt bucked
upwards, and Kurt tightened his grasp on those lean hips.

“Not…not too much, man, okay? It's kind of sensitive.”
Kurt tongued the little ring and Matt gave a strangled

groan, but managed to hold it together. Figuring the kid could do
with a breather, Kurt pushed himself off of the bed and got naked.

From the look in Matt's eyes, it seemed he liked the view.

“Oh, wow! Man, you are awesome, you know that? I've never seen
anyone so ripped. You should be on the cover of a magazine.”

“What, just like this?” Kurt laughed, giving his hard cock a

gentle stroke, up and down. “I'm pretty certain that's illegal, kid.”

Matt grinned. “Well, maybe not exactly like that. You

could, uh, hold something in front of yourself, like a football or
something. Like they do in those calendar shoots, you know?”

“So which month do you figure I'd be?”
“Mr. January. See, that's when my birthday is. And after

that, I just wouldn't bother turning over any more pages. So I'd
get to look at you all year.”

“You'd better be doing more than just looking, kid,” Kurt

growled, climbing onto the bed, his erection bobbing. He
straddled Matt again and bent down to kiss him, their cocks
brushing so gently it made him shiver. “Okay if I fuck you?”

Matt moaned and arched his back, straining for more

contact, which Kurt figured was a 'yes'. He reached into the
bedside drawer and grabbed some lube and a condom.

Kurt took his time preparing the kid. Matt looked like he was

loving it, squirming on the bed, the cords in his neck tight as he

strained against the belt holding his wrists—although not so hard
that he might accidentally slip out of the loose bonds, Kurt noticed.

“Oh, man, that's so fucking good,” Matt breathed as Kurt's

fingers thrust in and out of that beautiful ass. “Want to feel you,
Kurt. Want you inside me. Want you in me now.”

Damn, was there a man alive who could have stood that?

Kurt sure as hell couldn’t. Fingers shaking a little, he smoothed
the condom onto his aching erection and slicked himself up.
“You ready for me?”

“Oh, fuck, yeah!” Matt couldn't seem to manage any more

words, just pulled his legs up to his chest, his whole body
begging Kurt to get on and fuck him. Kurt had to grin. He'd finally
found out how to shut the kid up. Gently, he lifted Matt's slender
legs onto his shoulders, before lining himself up and pressing
inside that greedy hole. Matt gave a long, drawn-out groan as
the head of Kurt's cock slid past the ring of muscle.

“You okay, kid? Matt?”
“Don't stop,” Matt gasped, his eyes clenched shut. Kurt

figured he'd never seen anything so damn beautiful as the kid's
expression when he slid on home, almost crying out himself at
the fiery heat that enveloped him.

“Oh, man, right there!”
Kurt wasn’t sure if it was the kid's words or the feeling of

that tight channel gripping onto him, but he almost came right
then. He pulled out a little then thrust back in, keeping the angle.
He knew he'd gotten it right by the way Matt cried out, so he
carried right on, slamming into the kid's gland faster and faster
until Matt's moans and whimpers and whispers of “Oh, yeah!”
blurred into one another. There was a thin sheen of sweat on the
kid's face, making it glow in the dim light trickling in past the
drapes. Kurt wanted to lick it off, to taste the saltiness of him. He
wanted to know every inch of this beautiful boy who'd somehow
managed to talk his way past Kurt's defenses.

Feeling his balls tighten, Kurt lifted a leg down from his

shoulder and reached in to take a hold of Matt's cock. It felt like
hot iron sheathed with silk in his hand as he pumped it up and
down to the tune of his lover's ragged breathing. He played with

the little gold ring and rubbed his thumb over the head, slick with
pre-come. Matt whimpered, and Kurt started pumping again.
Once, twice…and then Matt gasped and that slender cock was
pulsing in Kurt's fist, the kid's hot come shooting out over his
hand and onto Matt's chest. The salt-bleach smell of it hit him
and then Kurt was coming too, pumping out his load into Matt's
clenching channel. Kurt roared and then collapsed down by the
kid's side, pulling him into his arms.

They lay there for a few minutes, catching their breath,

before Matt spoke. “Was I the first?”

“What?”
“Since…since Raoul. Was I the first guy you'd fucked

since then?”

Kurt hesitated. There'd been other guys—casual fucks in

bars and toilets. Matt was the first guy he'd brought home,
though. Kinda strange, that he hadn't even had to think about it.
“First that mattered,” he said softly.

* * * *

When Kurt woke up it was getting on for noon and he was

alone in the bed. Didn't take much to figure out where Matt had
gotten to. Some off-key singing was coming from downstairs,
along with the kind of aroma that made Kurt's stomach rumble
and his mouth water. Kurt let the sounds and the smells lead him
to the kitchen.

“Hey, you're up! Damn, I was going to bring you breakfast

in bed. I couldn't find a waffle iron, so I made pancakes. You like
pancakes? I found a bottle of maple syrup in the cupboard, so I
figured—” He broke off as Kurt grabbed him and silenced him
with a deep, heartfelt kiss.

“Yeah, I like pancakes,” Kurt told him when they broke for

air. And maple syrup. And cute kids singing like a strangled cat
while they make me breakfast.

“Cool. They're my favorite ever breakfast, you know? Except

I don't eat them all that often, cause all that fried stuff's bad for you.
But I guess we burned off plenty of calories last night, right?”

“I guess we did. But right now you'd better watch that pan

or you'll end up burning something else.”

They ate the pancakes sitting at Kurt's kitchen table. The

sun was shining through the large bay window that looked onto the
yard, and it was fixing to be one of those crisp spring days that
made your heart sing, the sky so blue it damn near hurt to look at it.

“Thanks for breakfast, kid.” Kurt reached out with both

hands and pulled Matt onto his lap. They kissed, long and slow
and kind of sticky, what with the maple syrup. “Hey. You got
plans today?”

Matt grinned. “Well, there's this big old house I'd kind of

like to explore, and after that there's this big old muscle man I
really want to explore.”

Kurt looked at him, his eyes narrowed. “I figure I got

maybe five years on you. Ten, tops. So less of the 'old', kid, if
you know what's good for you.”

“Think you can take me?” Matt teased.
“Kid, I know I can take you. Or was that some other boy

getting his ass plowed last night?”

“If it was, you better tell him there's a black belt kick-boxer

who's not too happy about anyone else getting their hands on his
boyfriend.” Matt broke off, biting his lip once more. “Shit, I'm
being too pushy again, aren't I?”

“Hey,” Kurt told him gently. “You see me pushing back?”

He pulled Matt in for another kiss, then released him. “C'mon.
Let me show you the house.”

It was damn good for the ego, giving Matt the guided tour.

He freaking loved everything. When they got into the living room,
he gave a low whistle. “Oh, man, that fireplace is awesome! Are
those Delft tiles? Shit, that artwork's amazing. The detail in
them—you know these are all hand-painted, right? They're like
snowflakes, you know? You never get two exactly alike. Do you
ever light that fire?” Matt didn't wait for any answers, his attention
caught by the photograph on the mantel. “This is Raoul, right?”
His voice had softened.

“Yeah, that's him.” Kurt found his voice had gone kind of

quiet, too.

“He looks like a great guy.”
Kurt nodded. “He was. Listen, do you want to come for a ride?”
Matt looked at Kurt like he knew what he was asking, and

nodded. “Sure.”

* * * *

The sun might be bright but it was still bitterly cold in the

cemetery. Kurt hunkered down in front of the grave and tidied the
flowers a little out of habit. “Hey, Raoul, this is Matt, that kid I've
been telling you about. Turns out I was wrong about him. He's
pretty damn good at looking out for himself.” He rose. “Matt, this
is Raoul.”

Matt crouched down low to look at the headstone. “Raoul

Torres. 'One short sleep past'. That's a quote, right?”

Kurt nodded. “John Donne. Raoul loved all that shit.”
“It's good to meet you, Raoul.” Matt straightened. “Thanks

for bringing me here, Kurt. It means a lot. I know a lot of people
think I'm…hell, I don't know. Like I'm just this annoying kid who
won't stop talking long enough to think about anything?” He
shrugged awkwardly. “I guess I kind of like that, in a way. So
when I do anything that's even vaguely intelligent, everyone's all
surprised, you know? Shit, that must sound really lame.”

Kurt smiled, and slid his arm around Matt's waist. “No. It

ain't lame. Kind of immature, maybe, but what the hell. You'll
grow out of it.” He laughed. “Hell, I kind of like it anyway.”

The wind was picking up, and there was a chill in the air

that damn near took your breath away. Tenderly, Kurt pressed a
kiss to Matt's cheek. “Come on, baby. Let's go home.”

He figured he'd light that fire when they got back.

THE END

ABOUT J.L. MERROW

J.L. Merrow is that rare beast, an English person who

refuses to drink tea. She read Natural Sciences at Cambridge,
where she learned many things, chief amongst which was that
she never wanted to see the inside of a lab ever again. Her one
regret is that she never mastered the ability of punting one-
handed whilst holding a glass of champagne.

She writes across genres, with a preference for

contemporary gay romance and the paranormal, and is
frequently accused of humour. Find her online at

jlmerrow.com

ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC

JMS Books LLC is a small electronic press specializing in

gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender fiction (including erotica,
romance, and young adult), as well as popular and literary
fiction, nonfiction, and poetry. While our preference is for GLBT
stories, we accept stories containing any and all sexualities, as
well as general fiction without a romantic subplot. Visit our site at

jms-books.com

for our latest releases and submission guidelines!