A story (C) 2002/2003 by ZUSTARA ORUR. Contact address: firstname.lastname@example.org 2.0 May not be redistributed, commercial use prohibited!
English is a second language to me, so please excuse any goofs present herein regarding grammar, spelling. I try to do the best I can!
Legal mumbo-jumbo BS: this story features explicit descriptions of sexual acts between consenting male youths. The story is fictional, and only took place in my mind. If this sort of thing bothers you; you are under-age (and anybody cares about it); reading this story happens to be illegal wherever you may be right now; etc, please STOP READING. I won't get in trouble, but you might, who knows. If all is hunky-dory, feel free to continue, if that is your wish.
Also note that this is a real STORY centering around love rather than sex, those mainly interested in long descriptions of copulation and such may want to look elsewhere.
SPECIAL DEDICATION: My love and sincerest gratitude goes out to Dwayne, Pointblue, Daniel, Caeru, Blue, Taryn, Leonard, Warp1, Ryan, Ratatosk, Michael, Odius, Squidsgerbil, Tamsyn, Maxy and Genesis, all of you listed in reverse order of appearance, just to be a bit different. *Grin!* Special thanks to Jalaki for approving my posts in a prompt and regular fashion, my close friend IOMfAtS for looking over my stories and hosting them on his incredible website and finally, Comicality for having created the Library forum. Visit it at http://www.voy.com/17262/, read a story and give an author some comments. We all love it, please come and share the fun!
Chapter Twenty-Four - Loving Brazil:
Suddenly it had been at least five days (and five wonderful nights!) since the last dream, maybe that was the end of it. At least I hoped so, and now Brazil was part owner in my dad's business too! He'd wanted to spend all his money, but dad set an absolute limit at $25.000 because if his business couldn't be salvaged there should be a safety net left for Brazil he said. The cool thing about it was, Brazil didn't LOAN us the money. He was now truly a part owner in his own right, which is more than what I can say for myself! He'd get his share of any profits, though dad had now taken over guardianship of him so my boyfriend wouldn't actually see much of it other than on his bank statements until he became an adult. Of course, some of it would go towards paying for what he'd stolen, plus a 'fine' dad had invented. Brazil had to pay for planting twenty trees for every buck he'd stolen stuff for in a third-world reforestation project. He and dad had made a list of all the stuff Brazil could remember and then dad added another 10% in interest. In the end, it amounted to quite a few trees, but my boyfriend didn't complain. He saw it as a long-term investment, he said with a smile. Quite frankly, I just think he was happy enough getting to love me, let alone live with me as well... Any money he might earn on the deal was just pure gravy in comparison, he'd been totally satisfied with just my love... Going back to all those shops, paying and apologizing together with my dad didn't make him very proud though, but he felt better afterwards.
A few days later, we had a double-date thing at our favorite Burger King place with me and Brazil on one side of the table and Kurt and Simcha on the other. The goo-goo eyes they shot each other were simply more than words could describe, and they held hands every second they weren't eating their unhealthy fast food!
Brazil took a bite out of his chikkin whopper, chewed and swallowed. "So you're my mentor now, huh?", he asked with a sly grin after I told him my George Dubya quote. Then he laughed, me and Kurt too. Even Simcha gave a shy smile.
"Uh-huh! Sure am!", I replied. We shared a giggle and then scoffed down the rest of our food in short order while wrestling for space with our feet under the table. Was damn fun! Brazil's legs were so soft and smooth, I touched his skin with mine a couple times and it was almost like satin! I got really hard instantly but of course nobody could see it.
"I really like the thought of that", he said in return after having spent some time thinking it over, then he paused for just a few moments, lost in thoughts again. "Oh wow", he then added slowly. "Boyfriends sure are great, aren't they?", he added with like the biggest grin ever. Simcha blushed and nodded.
The Jewish boy sat there for a little while, not saying much, and then he suddenly raised his voice, still fairly quietly though, especially since he's so extremely shy. The subject matter was serious, and he hesitated a little, yet not nearly as much as I thought he would. "So when you do it... Who's top, and who's bottom?", he asked softly, looking at both of us at once sort of.
"What makes you so sure we 'do it'?", I asked, feeling my face getting hotter and hotter.
Brazil on the other hand merely smiled. "We both are", he said without a hint of embarrassment. "We take turns."
"Oh." Simcha seemed to ponder that answer for a little while. "How do you know you're like, ready...?", he then wanted to know, looking down at his lap, but then gathered some courage and raised up his head again.
"Not everybody does it you know. Some don't like it, and there's no shame at all in that", Brazil continued. "It's something you must decide for yourself, never do it because someone else wants you to. That's wrong!"
Kurt reached for Simcha's hand across the table. "That's true, sweetie. I would never want to pressure you into anything... In fact, I'm quite uncertain about it myself."
Suddenly the boy with the red curls smiled brightly. "Then there's no reason to rush, is there?"
Kurt giggled. "No." It was as if something that had bothered them was gone, allowing them to move in closer and get more comfortable with each other. Their hands grasped each other on top of the table, probably without them even knowing it. Their increased closeness made Brazil move in closer to me too and that triggered me into wrapping my arm around his shoulders.
My boyfriend nodded. "There's so many other ways to show your love", he said just as quietly as Simcha. "Nate showed me some of them before I understood what it was I feel for him, but I am sure there are many others...", and after saying that HE suddenly blushed too!
Simcha became curious and asked for an explanation, which the braided boy provided rather happily actually. Simcha's eyes goggled as he heard of the ways I had touched my pretty boyfriend with my penis while the object of my desires hadn't been fully aware of what was going on, other than the fact that feeling my hard penis jammed in forcefully against his tight body made him feel loved and safe and even desired on some deep sub-conscious level. I on the other hand sat there and smiled sheepishly and tried not to look too much like a fool.
"So Brazil... Who do you think is the cutest or hottest or prettiest in the whole world?", Kurt said all of a sudden. The question made my boyfriend blush a deep crimson red!
He kinda shrunk back and felt really embarrassed and looked so cute himself! "Uh... that would be Nate. He's all of those things", he mumbled really shyly. When I looked at him closely he turned to me. "Nate, I really mean it! You ARE the cutest and hottest and prettiest there is!" He was so sincere I couldn't do anything but smiling weakly at him as we both blushed fiercely.
Kurt laughed. "Okay, but second prettiest then. Second-prettiest GIRL even!"
If anything, that only made him blush even harder! "Umm... Alyssa Milano's kinda cute too...", he said so quietly we barely heard him at all. "...For a girl, I mean. Nate's way cuter though and I love only him!" His voice gained back some of its strength as he admitted his feelings to me yet again and that made me blush and want to smooch him! He looked down bashfully and tried to hide, so I did. I kissed his cheek and he moaned softly through his nose, a quiet little "mmH!" and I kissed him again, and then a third time and then I felt my lips touch his. Right then I noticed my dick was hard...
Seeing us kiss made Kurt and Simcha scoot closer together too, and soon their lips were grazing each other's cheeks softly, though not actually going as far as outright kissing. We all had to 'adjust' ourselves too. That was really funny (and it made me feel safe, showing it's not just me being a horn-dog)!
We decided to go watch a movie afterwards. We were maybe too young mentally for killer robots, but we still got tickets without too much trouble, and soon things were flying through the air or blowing up in great clouds of flame in awesome action sequences. It was the best day ever, perhaps. We held hands in the darkness of the movie theatre; me, then Simcha, then Brazil, then Kurt. It was the best day ever, until me and my boyfriend came home...
There was a letter waiting for me. A letter so similar to the one I'd received several months ago.
It was from Ali's grandmother on the maternal side. She was the only one that had stood up for him, the only one that had loved him after they all became aware what their son and brother had been, but she'd been turned away by the rest of the family, shunned by them all, except the little boy she loved. She'd never been allowed to see him though, never allowed to talk to him, not after they all found out he was gay. She hadn't seen him for years. Not until the day he had died...
She had been the one to claim the body, because none of his other family wanted anything to do with him, even though he was their son and their brother. She had been the one who had him cremated naked - according to his wishes - along with his favorite teddy bear. All that remained now of my beloved Ali was my memories, a small pile of dry, sterile ashes and two shiny brown glass-eye beads, and now she needed to see me. She was dying, and she needed to see me...
Someone had to bring Ali to his final resting place, and she was not the one to do it.
He'd asked for me to be the one. I could have refused, and she would not have blamed me. She would never have blamed me, not ever, not for any reason. She loved me as much as she had loved him, no matter what we were, she loved us...
I hadn't met her in years. Not since the family found out. She was the last living emotional link I had to Ali, and now she was dying. She was ancient, a solid rock of stability. Sanity, in the ocean of madness that had surrounded Ali.
We left the very next day. Yasirah did not have much time left, and I wanted to speak to her, I wanted to hear if there was anything else Ali wanted me to know. I wanted, needed to know where I was supposed to bring him...
Yasirah looked just like I remembered her, if slightly thinner perhaps. She seemed as old and gnarled as an oak tree, yet as slim and limber as a willow. Her skin certainly had the appearance of the oak; brown of color, wrinkled and weathered. She sat in a deep armchair at the retirement home where she lived, wrapped up in the draping, intricate, flowing clothes of her people, along with an IV bag that hung on a tall metal pole with wheels attached to the base of it and connected to her arm via a transparent tube. Yasirah smiled at me, looked at me with those soft brown eyes that reminded me so much of Ali, remembering who I was. I wept as I kneeled at her feet, as I felt her thin, frail fingers run through my hair, soothing me.
"When you see him... Will you tell him, that I love him?", I said in a squeaky voice in between shuddering sniffles. "I'll always love him!" Her room was filled with things from her old home country, things that spoke of old Arab traditions, things beautiful in design and at least as ancient as she was... It all told a little of where she'd come from, the pieces of art strewn about, the heavy wooden furniture like the chair she sat in, the table beside her, the bookcase along the far wall, the huge dresser, a wooden chest with iron bracings beneath the windows, and the thick hand-woven drapery-like curtains and rugs on the floor. Ali's family were fairly successful business-owners. They could afford to put this troublesome granny in the best of nursing homes there was, so they did. They put her there, to hide her away from their sight.
Yasirah stroked my head softly as my sobs made me shake. "He knows already", she said, her Persian accent thick, yet warm and pleasant in a familiar sense. Ali had spoken like that when he was younger, then it had vanished completely as the years passed, as he grew up and became increasingly Americanized. "Don't worry, he knows. Allah keeps him safe in his arms, my child. Don't worry..."
A story (C) 2002/2003 by ZUSTARA ORUR. Contact address: email@example.com 2.0 May not be redistributed, commercial use prohibited!
Please see chapter 1 for standard disclaimer blurb and the dedication and acknowledgements section.
Epilogue - Ali's Legacy:
The old, old woman had fallen asleep in the early evening, sitting in her favorite chair, one of her gnarled hands buried in my hair as I kneeled right at her side. I was as much a grandchild of hers as Ali had been, her most beloved of grandchildren in fact, and she loved me just as much too. She was safe, together with her family again, and thus she finally let go after so long, after so many years of pain. She closed her eyes, drew one last breath, then let it out, and thus the old woman was gone. I barely noticed when it happened, and then I cried into her wide, embroidered sleeve as dad and Brazil held me close from behind.
We stayed for four days, me and dad and Brazil, while taking care of everything. Strangely, the store managed to hobble along on its own while we were gone, there were more important things for us to do the staff let us know. Karen and Naomi and Rick and all the others stepped up to share the load, dad had told a little of what was going on, that his family was having some trouble and needed to sort stuff out. Of course, Brazil was now a part of my family, legally. Dad had officially adopted him, and the staff knew that. They all loved us, me and my sweet boyfriend, and didn't complain despite the extra work they'd have to put up with. It would only be for a couple days after all.
Dad fixed everything. He was amazing. I was pretty much useless though, I couldn't manage even the most ordinary of things, like picking out fresh underwear in the morning when it was time to get up and deal with the new day that lay ahead of me. I just walked around in a zombie-like state when I didn't cry against Brazil's shoulder as he held me, or dad's shoulder for that matter. I was glad dad didn't yell at me and tell me to snap out of it, because if he had I would have snapped instead. I was stretched so thin, only both of them keeping me together stopped me from breaking in half on the inside.
Me and dad and Brazil traveled south, always south. Dad drove the car, and I sat in the front seat holding the polished marble urn with Ali's ashes. Amongst the things the lenient Yasirah left for us was another letter, a letter from Ali, my noble Ali. In it, he told of a place. A place he'd been to while his parents had still loved him - in whatever capacity they had ever been capable of that - while his life had still been bearable, even good in fact while he still existed in the blissful ignorance of early childhood. A place he'd visited soon after first arriving from his previous home in the middle-east. There was this pasture there, at a point where you really couldn't get that much further south on the continental mainland... It was a pasture near the ocean, a forgotten borderland sort of. A wide sand-covered beach divided land from stormy sea, and there were three trees standing in an almost perfect triangle not far from that beach. In between the trees stood a pile of small boulders, much like a cairn of some sort, with no sign of who had built it or for what reason. The stones were large and fairly round and polished by the waters of the ocean, thus leaving large holes in between them. When dad lifted off the top-most stone of the nearly five feet tall and roughly pyramidal stack, we saw what Ali had discovered so many years ago using nothing but his curious child's eyes and hands. A hole, in between the other rocks. I don't know how he'd come to find it, I only knew that somehow he had.
The urn fitted perfectly in its new resting place, and then dad replaced the heavy top stone with a grunt.
This was it. I had to say goodbye, but I found it difficult, so very difficult. Tears came again, I didn't want to leave him! I had known him for so long, known him so intimately, known his every secret, all the little details, his idiosyncratic quirks and imperfections that made him a whole and unique person and still I had loved him. Loved him more than anything, the knowledge only strengthening that love, not weakening it!
I loved him so much, did I really have to leave him? Should I leave him? Was it right of me? I could have followed him where he went, maybe I even should have? I loved him more than I loved myself, more than life itself in fact...
Had I betrayed him? I was so afraid I'd betrayed him!
My head spun, my body felt strange and shaky. I fell to my knees, unable to stand, unable to move, unable to breathe. Everything went black on me.
The sun rose out of the azure-blue ocean right in front of me, filling the sky with its pure radiance. I stood on a beach with only water before me, all the way to the horizon... A wide, shining avenue of glittering golden-yellow light stretched out unbroken straight across that vast sea, connecting our mother star to land, and not very far away, right at the water's edge, sat a small figure.
His hair was all black, and his skin was a delicious brown cinnamon color, and his eyes black as coal, but happy and shiny. He was very beautiful, his body slim and beautiful and doe-like in its grace, framed in flaming morning light as he stood up on his cute little feet, smiling at me in a welcoming manner. He was in my arms, I held him tight as he kissed my face, still showing a happy smile on his pretty lips.
"I don't want to leave you!", I said to him, shedding tears in a steady stream. "There's a way, I can be with you! I know there is."
"Nathanael, where I go you cannot follow, must not follow."
"But I don't want to leave you!"
"No, Nathanael! You have to LIVE! Promise me!" He looked at me sharply, and it made my flow of tears subside. "You won't be leaving me, why would you think that? Don't you know half your heart will always be with me, just as half of mine will always be with you?" He stroked my cheek, and I saw the blood from his wounds was gone, as were the wounds themselves. His arms were all smooth cinnamon skin, no scars at all, not from any of his numerous cuts. "Your love has made me whole", he whispered. "Your love healed me, saved me... Now let mine do the same for you! Go now and be with him. Love him like you loved me, go with him and live. Please, I beg you."
I felt his touch and nodded my head. "Ali, I promise... I love him, and I love you..." He placed his lips delicately on mine to seal that promise, and then he faded... It all faded.
Air rushed into my lungs as I jerked and took a deep breath. Sound and light returned also, returning slowly as if I emerged out of a deep dark tunnel bored into a mountainside. Suddenly there was the screams of seagulls riding the ocean breeze, and waves breaking against the shore, and the rustle of wind rushing across the ground with its tall, shaggy grass and the leaved treetops high above me. Brazil's sweet face hovered only inches above mine, a look of deep worry and concern on it initially, then turning into total relief. I felt the lingering sense of his mouth on mine still, and I knew he'd been about to try to revive me. I saw nothing but him, and clear blue sky with hardly a cloud on it above me.
"Ah, okay... He's coming to now", I heard dad's voice. "Yes, I'm sure, his eyes just popped open. Uh, sorry about this, I- Yes, yes I know. Better safe than sorry. Look, I'll call you back if there's any problems- Yes. Yes, thank you. Thanks, and bye." I heard dad's cellphone emit a muted beep as the call was terminated, then I saw his face too appear in my field of vision. "Ahoy there, tiger", he joked, yet showing deep concern as well underneath. "You gotta remember to inhale fresh air into your lungs on an at least semi-regular basis or else you'll really start to worry us!"
I smiled weakly. "Sorry dad."
He reached down to ruffle my hair a little. "No problem. Looks like you won't get to ride in an ambulance helicopter after all", he said with a wry grin. "Hope that won't disappoint you too deeply."
"It's okay", I said, and then I saw emotion overflow in their eyes. I reached up for them as they reached down for me, and we sat there and hugged next to Ali's resting place. "Maybe another time..."
Had it all been a dream? A delusion caused by my oxygen-starved brain during my one and only panic-attack? I'm not sure. Guess I won't get to know, not for many long years I hope...
"I wish I'd known him...", Brazil said, tears dripping from his eyes.
I hugged my straight boyfriend close to me, brushing my lips against his skin, and he loved it. Loved me... "You will", I whispered. "Don't worry, you will."
Me and Brazil are happy together. We share everything, every secret, every little detail, all the quirks and flaws and little idiosyncrasies about ourselves that makes us a whole person. We know each other so intimately, and it just makes our love even stronger.
We kiss a lot. We hug and touch as often and as long as we can. It hurts whenever we do not feel the other's skin touching our own because just like with Ali, Brazil has given half his heart to me, and I half of mine to him, but despite that we don't actually make love every day. We don't have to, because like Brazil said, there are SO many ways of showing your love to the one you love, yet sometimes we do make love three times in one day just for the heck of it!
So far, neither of us have gotten pregnant though, but still we keep on trying...!
+ F + I + N +
Author's Notes: Sometimes I get people writing me and asking how I come up with my ideas, how I write my stories... Well, it's all a step-by-step process really, and it often varies greatly from story to story. Let me tell you some about this one...
I started this one a LONG time ago. It was just a few paragraphs of text initially, some ideas on a scrap of virtual paper, nothing more... It sat there untouched on my hard drive, the first scraps I'd written down keeping the rest of my ideas alive in my head.
One of the first scenes that crystallized itself into reality, THE first scene actually, was right after my two boys had been to the movies together and Nate looked at that guy's butt as he walked past. The actual visit to the movies came later (because the bridge my characters pass over isn't very far from a multiplex cinema in my city), as did the names of the individual characters, and most of their personalities as well, but the scene actually came from ME looking at a hot dude's butt and thinking what if someone noticed me doing it! (Imagine that huh? LOL!) Brazil's actually kinda angry words were there right at the beginning. It might have been the very first thing I wrote down as the story began its first slow, tentative steps towards completion.
Brazil was a lot more sullen and distant in my earliest concept of this story, as that very first line hints at. He was still a straight guy who became curious and got turned on by a gay guy, but he wasn't really quite as nice and pleasant initially as he is now. Eventually he simply grew into this incredible cock-tease just because I wanted to write a story featuring a boy that behaved like that... I knew he was a thief early too, the scenes in the second half of the first chapter where Nate buys Brazil clothes were also in my initial concept, though I fleshed them out considerably by the time I actually started writing the story for real. I had been to a sports goods store myself to buy some stuff, and I thought up this dialog exchange where one boy forced the other to empty out his backpack.
I think Ali materialized about ten seconds before I actually started writing. Maybe just five. He simply appeared out of nowhere, and he quickly became such a definitive character in my story even though he really isn't 'in' it at all, if you know what I mean... I wanted to have the element of loss and healing as part of the plot, and Ali is another of my boys I care deeply about. I hope you came to love him just as much as I do.
The name for Brazil came a little later after those first two scenes. The image for Brazil is a boy I passed in early spring one day when the weather was exceptionally warm for the season. The hair with the braids and the hair band was all there on that kid, though the real boy's a few years younger than in this story, and I added the beads just for effect. I looked at flag sites trying to find those colors on his hair band, and they simply weren't there. However, 'Brazil' simply was too good a name NOT to use, so I kept it anyway...! Nathanael is the name of a super-hunky Australian guy I had the pleasure of sharing room with for just one night at a youth hostel in London last year. He talks weird stuff in his sleep and have blonde dreads and an awesome, athletic body...! Nate as a character, in contrast to Brazil, is mostly pretty straight-forward apart from the points where he is joined with Ali; he's mostly just our narrator, the moon that circles the homeworld; Brazil. We discover the story through Nate's eyes, the strange and curious creature that is Brazil...!
Maybe this explains things. Maybe not, maybe it just raises more questions... I don't know. Anyway, if you liked the story, drop me a line okay?
Oh, by the way... 'Left Luggage' is a wonderful movie. Watch it.
A K A L V
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