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The Pale Blue Sky

by Jack Lynch

Part 1 - Carey and Connor, Chapter 4

Sunday. Overwatch.

Raindrops dancing off of the sidewalks and streets. A summertime cloud burst. Sunday had started out gray and turned gloomier as the clouds darkened and the humidity rose. Then the skies opened up. The temperature plummeted at least ten degrees. Carey opened the window in his living room to breathe in the cool fresh air. It was that good rain smell. Lowering it back down because the windowsill was getting wet, he returned to the couch and flopped back down. Mindlessly, he scrolled through his Twitter feed.

The doorbell rang. Then rang again. He jumped off the couch and went to the side of his bay window facing the exterior door to his apartment. Looking down, his heart skipped a beat. It was the boy. Connor! Standing in the rain, getting soaked, ringing his doorbell. Moving quickly, he pressed the button on the door jamb to buzz the outside door open. Opening the door and leaning out into the stairway, he looked down to the first floor as Connor pushed the outside door open.

He looked up and smiled at Carey through the wet hair plastering his face. "Come on in!" Carey said when Connor finished climbing the twelve steps up from ground level.

"Look at you!" Carey laughed. The kid smiled up at him with those amazing blue eyes. He was totally soaked through. His t-shirt was so wet it stuck to his skin. His hair was matted down around his head, stuck to his face, and curled under his chin. Connor laughed. Rain water dripped off his nose..

"How did you know where I lived?" Carey asked.

"Um…I followed you home after you left work the other day."

"You did?!?" Carey responded with surprise. His mouth opened. He wanted to ask, why. But, before he got to that he said, "You've gotta get that wet shirt off." Without thinking, he grabbed the waistband of the dripping shirt and tugged it off of Connor who willingly complied by raising his arms over his head. Carey dropped the t-shirt on the floor.

"Just a minute," he said as he looked at the soaking wet kid. He went to his linen closet and grabbed two bath towels. Coming back, he wrapped one around the now shivering boy's upper body. He took the other one and, with one hand on each side of Connor's head, roughly dried his hair. Connor giggled as he scrunched his eyes closed.

"I'll be right back," Carey said. He picked up the t-shirt from the floor. It was so wet it actually left a small puddle of water on the floor. Grabbing some coins from his change dish, he dashed down the steps. With the storm already slowing to a drizzle, he dodged raindrops as he ran the few steps to the laundromat door. Pushing it open, he first went to the big sink at the side of the room, rung out as much water from the t-shirt as he could, and threw it into the first available dryer. Inserting enough coins for an hour, he pressed the start button.

When he returned to his apartment, Connor was standing in the middle of the living room bare chested and bare foot. He had the towel wrapped around his head in a big turban that added nearly a foot to his 5 foot plus frame. Carey laughed heartily.

"Where did you ever learn to do that?"

Connor giggled with a squirrelly smile and just shrugged his shoulders. He still had the other towel wrapped around his shoulders.

Closing the door to the apartment, Carey asked, "Still cold?"

"Sort of."

"Hey. How about some hot chocolate?" Carey asked.

"Sure, that would be great!" Connor replied. Carey went into the small galley kitchen, took a packet of instant hot chocolate out of the cupboard, quickly mixed it with some milk from his refrigerator, and put it into the microwave. Standing in the kitchen watching the cup rotate in the microwave, he looked at his reflection in the glass of the door.

What is going on here? The kid followed him home?

When the bell dinged, he opened the door and put the now hot and steaming cup onto a saucer and carried it carefully out to the living room. Connor was still standing in the middle of the room.

Carey looked at him and chuckled. He still looked ridiculous with the turban on his head and the towel clutched around his shoulders. "Over here," he said as he directed him to the couch. Carey pulled a small TV table over for the hot chocolate. Now seated on the couch, Connor bent over, sniffed the steam coming up from the cup, and carefully picked it up with his fingers.

Gingerly, he sipped from the cup. "Mmm…good!" he said.

Sitting down next to Connor, Carey cleared his throat. Putting on a satirically officious sounding voice and tone, "So, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Connor smiled into his hot chocolate and he took a longer sip. When he turned to look at Carey, he had a narrow chocolate mustache over his top lip.

"I thought we could play," Connor said with a smile. And, with that, he drew a cute pink tongue across his upper lip. Carey's heart skipped a beat.

How could the kid be this brazen? His mind raced.

After a beat, "Play…what?" Carey asked cautiously.

"Play Overwatch," Connor replied.

"Of course!" Carey, relieved, responded with a laugh. He mentally slapped his hand against his forehead. He took the game console out from a shelf under the TV. Sitting down next to Connor, he clicked the TV on and navigated to the Overwatch site. After logging in he showed Connor the game interface and the different menus. Connor pulled the turban off of his head, shook his hair out a couple of times, and used his fingers to halfway brush it into place.

As he methodically went through the menus, he noticed Connor had also let the towel slip off his shoulders. Carey had trouble keeping to the task at hand. His eyes kept roaming to Connor's bare shoulders, small chest with barely a hint of definition, and his tiny nipples. His flat stomach and a cute "innie" belly button.

The distraction led Connor to impatiently say, "Next!" to jog his attention back to explaining the game menus and settings.

When they finally were ready to get started with a practice game, Carey helped Connor pick out a hero. He chose McCree. They went through the set-up to get McCree's outfit, weapons, and sounds. Finally, Carey directed Connor to tutorial mode so he could play.

As they began, Connor slipped off the couch to the floor and pushed his back against the couch. Carey slumped over behind him on his side, one leg up, supporting his upper body with his elbow. Periodically, he would bend over to put his hand over Connor's to help him take a shot or steer McCree through an obstacle. A couple of times, he allowed his hand to brush over Connor's chest as he returned it to the couch.

Carey could tell Connor was quickly catching on to the game. After a few minutes, he excused himself to go to the bathroom. As he stood peeing into the toilet, he failed to notice the catch on the door hadn't quite caught. This was one of those little things Carey had meant to fix but had never gotten around to. Before he realized it, the door had slowly swung open. When it opened to just the right angle, the full length mirror mounted on the door reflected his image so someone in the living room could see him as he stood in front of the toilet.

That someone was Connor. He apparently had paused the game. Standing up on his knees, he stared right at Carey and his exposed dick. It was too late to cover up. Carey was in mid-stream pee. He tried to kick the door shut with his foot but couldn't quite do it without spraying piss all over the floor. Giving up and blushing deeply, he finished up and washed and dried his hands.

Before he returned to the living room, he looked at his reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror. Something about Connor ignited a raw sexual energy in him. The kid was sublimely sexual. But, something else about the boy tugged at his heart. He took a deep breath. Play it cool.

Connor still had the game on pause when Carey returned. He had shifted to the couch and was now laying on his back with one knee up and the other dangling off the side of the couch. He perused one of several Overwatch magazines Carey owned. Sitting down next to Connor's head, he pointed out a chart of fundamental Overwatch strategies. Scooting closer, Carey lifted Connor's head, and laid it on the top of his thigh.

As they continued to talk, he absentmindedly stroked Connor's hair. A uniquely beautiful shade of, what was it? Carey tried to think of an apt comparison. Straw? Wheat? Sort of yellowish? Silky, soft, thick. From time to time, he stopped to untangle knots in it. Looking down at his face from this angle, Connor's eyelashes looked so long and perfect, they seemed almost like they had been glued on.

Suddenly, as though it had just occurred to him, Connor sat up and turned to Carey. "Can I use your bathroom?"

"Of course!" Carey responded.

Connor got up, went to the bathroom, and slowly closed the door as he peaked around it to see if Carey was watching. Carelessly or, perhaps, on purpose, Connor barely closed the door. In a few seconds, it slowly swung open just as it had before. Carey could see everything in the mirror's reflection. Connor had pulled his shorts and underpants all the way to his ankles as he peed into the toilet.

Without his shirt, the kid was essentially naked. Carey's eyes tried to absorb every inch of the beautiful boy. First, his eyes went to his dick. Naturally. It was a perfect two inches long, circumcised, with a cute head surrounded by a wrinkled pink collar. A sparse growth of blond-gray pubic hair sat above his dick. The smooth contours of his side and hips resembled an ancient Greek sculpture. As Connor finished, he glanced up and saw Carey watching him. Their eyes met. Carey quickly looked away, pretending to watch the television screen. He heard the toilet flush and the water in the sink running.

Connor returned and without a word bounced himself back onto the couch returning to his previous position, his head on Carey's lap. He grabbed the magazine and went back to browsing through it. As they chatted quietly about some of the game features and strategy, Carey's hand returned to Connor's head.

After playing with his hair a bit more, he reached to point out an illustration on one of the pages of the magazine. Instead of returning to Connor's hair, he softly laid his hand on the right side of his bare chest. He slowly started to move his hand around until the tips of two of his fingers lightly tweaked Connor's nipple. From there, Carey moved his hand across the center of his chest. Connor closed his eyes and with an audible sigh, dropped the magazine and let it fall to the floor. Carey continued to massage the boy's chest, paying special attention to his tiny nipples. With another sigh, Connor lifted his arms and placed his hands behind his head.

The only sound in the room came from the TV where the pause mode had put the Overwatch theme song in a loop. Carey's hand dipped lower across Connor's tummy and circled up to lightly tickle his arm pits. Connor giggled softly but laid still with his eyes remaining closed. After making a couple of circles from tummy to armpit and back, Carey lightly brushed the waistband of Connor's shorts.

As he brushed the tips of his fingers from side to side, Carey could clearly see a curved mound rising on the front of Connor's shorts. With his right hand on Connor's chest, he felt his heart thumping. The tips of the fingers on Carey's left hand dipped just under the waistband of his shorts. Sliding across his tummy, he caressed Connor's hip bone. On the way back across, his fingers dipped a little deeper under the waistband of his shorts. Lower, a little lower. The tips of his fingers came in direct contact with the head of Connor's now fully erect cock. Connor let out a soft groan. Carey could hardly breathe. There was a long pause.

Connor's eyes suddenly jerked open. He looked straight up at the ceiling and then turned his gaze to Carey.

"I gotta go," he said breathlessly.

Cary immediately pulled his hands and arms off of Connor as he tumbled to the floor and stood up. They just looked at each other. Carey felt his face turning scarlet. Connor's face was equally flushed.

Standing up quickly, Carey sputtered, "Sure sure. Your t-shirt should be dry by now."

He went down to the laundromat, grabbed the toasty warm t-shirt out of the dryer, and took the steps two at a time back up to his apartment. Connor was waiting for him, having already shoved his feet back into his shoes. Carey held the t-shirt out to Connor. Grabbing it, he tugged it over his head and pulled his arms through.

Pulling the apartment door open, he mumbled, "See ya," as he hung his head down. Carey was devastated and completely speechless. At the very last moment, Connor flashed him a quick smile. "Thanks for showing me Overwatch."

And he was gone.

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