I'l Fly Away part 3
2/1/06 11:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyTitle: I’ll Fly Away
Author: Roxy
Paring: Pete/Clark
Rating: ranges from PG to R
Historical Fic challenge for SV Historical
Thanks loads,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tabaqui I reeeeeeelly appreciate your help!
That’s how he ended up standing next to the only white person in the Royal, clutching his bottle of beer, bopping his head to the beat and grinning like a loon. It was great to watch the crowd, but he kept his ass glued to the sidelines with the big white boy.
“Kent, you just let me know when you’re ready to go, you hear?” Pete shouted up in his ear. He’d be damn if he stood on tiptoe to talk to the kid—they grew them pretty damn big in Kansas.
“Clark,” he yelled back. “Call me Clark—Pete right?”
Pete nodded and was distracted when a light kid with a big brown natural and freckles scattered across amazing cheekbones walked by. He liked that look, Afro’s were nice and soft and…
Nice. Very nice.
He glanced at Clark quickly, but Clark was staring at the gyrating figures on the floor with an open look of fascination on his face. His eyes sparkled, he had this cute bright smile, and sharp teeth, Pete thought, bet they’d feel good on his—he swallowed. Whoa, what the heck—he better derail that train of thought right quick--
“D’you dance, Kent? “
Clark shook his head emphatically. “Nope, and you should thank me that I’m not out there.” and Pete laughed, damn grateful to think of something else besides biting or licking and Kent…
The Royal was different from clubs Pete was used to at home, like someone heard all about fancy northern clubs and tried to grow their own. The walls were painted in bright colors, silhouettes of dancing figures. Strobe lights were pulsing through their color changes, red, blue, yellow--red blue yellow and sound seemed to bounce off the roof and shatter over the crowd, voices battled with the music. Smoke rolled over their heads like fog, and bodies pushed and jostled against them. Pete enjoyed it all; he liked the unpolished enthusiasm of the backwoods club.
The DJ set the arm on the turntable and stepped up to the front of a small stage with the microphone. “How’s everybody!” he yelled. The crowd yelled back and he said, “I can’t hear you,” and they rattled the tin roof of the Royal.
He went on, voice dropping into a smooth cadence, kind of like the DJ’s of the fifties. “I’m not the imitator, not the duplicator, you know I’m the mother--” He held two fingers over his mouth for a beat before going on”--originator—and I’m back on the scene with the record machine…” Pete shook his head.
The crowd went wild and echoed the DJ and Pete let the crowd rock him along. He grinned at Kent and Kent gave him one of those heart-stopping grins in return. God damn, he had some nice juicy lips…fuck.
He really was loosing his natural mind and he’d only had one beer…he needed to get away from him before he did something stupid. Right, past time for another beer. He reached down to adjust himself real quick and nudged Kent in the ribs, jerked his chin towards the bar, and Kent nodded.
Pete made it over to the bar and the yellow boy with the natural was there, looking right at him. Pete looked right back. The boy’s bright eyes gleamed like stars in the florescent bar light, he smiled wide and winked, earning a grin in turn from Pete. Clark disappeared from Pete’s mental landscape with a whoosh.
He was falling into whiskey-brown eyes and feeling a little warm when it hit him. How very long it’d been since he’d been with anybody. God, he missed hands on him, a mouth on him. His eyes kept going to full lips and he wondered, hoped…The kid headed to the exit and after making sure that no one was paying him any mind and as soon as was probably safe, Pete followed.
Out in the dark, beyond the parking lot and the one spot light trying to illuminate the lot and the entrance, deep in a thick ring of shrubs Pete found out first the boy’s name was Alvin and second that it was possible to bite a hole right through a shirt sleeve, if it was filling your mouth.
He was pumping into Alvin’s mouth slow and easy, enjoying that good old ‘after it’ feeling as Alvin licked ‘round, light and easy on his softening dick. Pete pulled the sleeve out of his cotton dry mouth, and groaned as he yanked his shirt back over his head. “Damn, boy that was so good,” he whispered. Alvin stood and leaned against Pete, and he liked that Alvin fit right under his chin. Few of his partners could. It was a feeling he thought he’d like to get used to. “Hey, you know what, let me get rid of my ride and you come back to my room with me.”
“Sure, sounds good,” Alvin said in that soft accent Pete was beginning to find kind of sexy. He smiled and wiped long slim across his mouth and Pete grabbed him by the back of the neck, pulled him close. He kissed him, wet, sloppy and hard before letting him go.
They stepped out of the bushes and headed back to the parking lot and there stood Kent, all tall and white and wide. And looking a little lost. Pete felt a twinge of guilt but hell, Kent wasn’t his responsibility. He whistled and waved at him.
When he saw Pete he jerked half a wave back and blushed violently. Pete watched with fascination as the red bloomed in his cheeks and rushed up to his hairline, and down his neck. Pete wondered idly how far down that blush ran.
“Ah, Nate said it was time to go—told me to get you but I couldn’t uh, find you….”
Pete said, “Tell him I’m walking back. I’ll meet you guys tomorrow.”
Clark blushed deeper, still looking at Alvin and Pete and then Alvin again before finally he nodded and walked away.
He dropped flat on the bed, rubbed the bottom of the bottle across his ribs, but it was almost already warm. He sucked a bit from the bottle and set it down on the floor next to the bed.
He’d load the trunk, gas up and hit the road before sunrise and with any luck be in Georgia by late noon. He rubbed his hand carefully over his face and draped an arm over his head. Skin touched skin and instantly bloomed sweat--Back to New York, it was all he could think of. Away from this, away from folks who wanted him dead and had the right to kill him just because he was black, away from broken bodies and spirits…away from crazy white boys and stuff that made no sense and made his head hurt. Away from boys who left you holding your stupid fucking heart in your hands….
Somehow Kent became his shadow, they were paired most times and Pete wasn’t sure if he liked that or not. Kent seemed to assume that just because they got paired up a few times, he and Pete were friends and Pete didn’t make friends like that. It annoyed him a bit but what could he do? He needed some kind of keeper, to keep his puppy ass in one piece.
Kent drew the people in, for sure. That kid radiated sincerity like the Easter Bunny. Old ladies and babies loved him, and those big green eyes and that goofy pointed puppy tooth grin almost always bought them the time to try and educate folks about voting. They made a beeline to Kent’s table when they did sign-ups and Kent was not afraid to work. He washed dishes and floors and hauled garbage, tutored at the School-- nothing was beneath him and everyone was interesting to him.
Respect, that was it…he gave everybody the same respect, white, colored, it didn’t matter to him. Sure, folks said it all the time but Kent—it was like he couldn’t even see the differences. He was okay. They ended up shoulder to shoulder so many times that Pete started to think of Kent as—well, his pet in a way. He began to look forward to seeing his grin in the morning; sometimes that grin was the only thing that got him to open his eyes and face the day. He kind of liked the mornings Kent would walk in without a by your leave and roust him out of bed, scold him for sleeping late. Pete always cursed bitterly when he did it, and throw him out of his room, but it’d take him a few good minutes to stop grinning like an idiot after the boy left. Hell, lunch wasn’t lunch unless he could argue with Kent over it. Plus it made him laugh to see folk’s faces when he yelled at the white boy.
Pete shut his room door and lit up before heading around to back side of the Motel where the phone was. It was past time to check in at home and let Ma holler at him and then fuss over him. He rolled the lighter between his fingers. He felt the need to talk to Pop too, just kind of catch up and connect with home.
He stopped when he saw Kent was using the phone, kind of hunched over it and shielding his mouth somewhat. He looked upset, maybe fighting with a girl back home. Now there was a kid probably knee deep in pussy—shame. He thought about leaving, but some deeply nosy part of him made him eavesdrop. He knew it was wrong—but he wanted to know if what Kent had to say to a girl was different than any lines he had. He was always ready to try a new one….
“No, Lex, I can’t come back yet. No! Don’t fly down here. I mean it—please. That’s—do you understand that’s just blackmail--I do love you, damn it…” he hissed it into the phone. “No. I’m sorry I didn’t mean—Please! Lex--Lex!” He slammed the phone on the hook and yelled “God damn it!” He winced and swallowed and looked up and caught Pete’s eyes and knew that Pete had heard.
Yeah. Pete was pretty sure Lex was not a girl’s name.
Looked like Kent had more in common with him then he’d thought. Pete considered letting it go, ignoring the whole incident, but Kent looked too scared, poor kid…he walked over, reached up to put a hand on Kent’s shoulder, squeezed it for a second before dropping it. “I understand, I had nearly the same conversation before I left New York.”
Kent nodded, a fraction of a movement, his lips were still pale and he opened his mouth to speak, “I…it’s not what you think…” He looked at Pete with every bit of the pain he was feeling in his eyes.
“Yes it is.” Pete shrugged. “My ‘friend’ didn’t want me to come down here either. I know how you’re feeling.” He emphasized ‘my ‘friend’. Color rushed into Clark face and even though hurt still darkened his eyes, a shy smile curved his lips.
“Yeah?” He said softly and Pete nodded.
“Exactly. Come on. Lets get breakfast, before we’re out of time, okay?”
Clark gave him a look of gratitude, and for the first time Pete felt more than a vague sense of arousal around Kent, he felt his heart stutter. ‘Lex,’ he thought, ‘whoever you are, you are a king size asshole for letting him walk around by himself.’
He was distracted with Alvin when he came to his room that night. The sex was good but….
Alvin sighed as he pulled his pants back on. “So, is this over?”
Pete tried to think of something to say. He wanted to say it wasn’t, that he wanted Alvin to come back and that he cared for him but the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth and that was probably a good thing.
Alvin washed his face and rinsed his mouth. He picked out his natural and came back to sit on the end of the bed and put his shoes on. His movements were unhurried and not angry, just, kind of resigned. He told Pete it was okay. He liked him. He understood. If whatever it was he wanted didn’t work out, call him. No strings, right.
Pete watched him walk out to the road. He heard a sound to his left and looked down the walk. He wasn’t sure, but he thought Clark’s door was just closing.
Pete stood there for a minute, debating. Yes? No? He seemed to be pretty wrapped up in that Lex guy. Shit, he was being stupid. Thinking about that boy was a waste of time; he could tell a guy ridden by obsession when he saw it. Besides, he didn’t do white boys.
He went back in the room and carefully closed his door.
TBC!
******
Author: Roxy
Paring: Pete/Clark
Rating: ranges from PG to R
Historical Fic challenge for SV Historical
Thanks loads,
tabaqui I reeeeeeelly appreciate your help!That’s how he ended up standing next to the only white person in the Royal, clutching his bottle of beer, bopping his head to the beat and grinning like a loon. It was great to watch the crowd, but he kept his ass glued to the sidelines with the big white boy.
“Kent, you just let me know when you’re ready to go, you hear?” Pete shouted up in his ear. He’d be damn if he stood on tiptoe to talk to the kid—they grew them pretty damn big in Kansas.
“Clark,” he yelled back. “Call me Clark—Pete right?”
Pete nodded and was distracted when a light kid with a big brown natural and freckles scattered across amazing cheekbones walked by. He liked that look, Afro’s were nice and soft and…
Nice. Very nice.
He glanced at Clark quickly, but Clark was staring at the gyrating figures on the floor with an open look of fascination on his face. His eyes sparkled, he had this cute bright smile, and sharp teeth, Pete thought, bet they’d feel good on his—he swallowed. Whoa, what the heck—he better derail that train of thought right quick--
“D’you dance, Kent? “
Clark shook his head emphatically. “Nope, and you should thank me that I’m not out there.” and Pete laughed, damn grateful to think of something else besides biting or licking and Kent…
The Royal was different from clubs Pete was used to at home, like someone heard all about fancy northern clubs and tried to grow their own. The walls were painted in bright colors, silhouettes of dancing figures. Strobe lights were pulsing through their color changes, red, blue, yellow--red blue yellow and sound seemed to bounce off the roof and shatter over the crowd, voices battled with the music. Smoke rolled over their heads like fog, and bodies pushed and jostled against them. Pete enjoyed it all; he liked the unpolished enthusiasm of the backwoods club.
The DJ set the arm on the turntable and stepped up to the front of a small stage with the microphone. “How’s everybody!” he yelled. The crowd yelled back and he said, “I can’t hear you,” and they rattled the tin roof of the Royal.
He went on, voice dropping into a smooth cadence, kind of like the DJ’s of the fifties. “I’m not the imitator, not the duplicator, you know I’m the mother--” He held two fingers over his mouth for a beat before going on”--originator—and I’m back on the scene with the record machine…” Pete shook his head.
The crowd went wild and echoed the DJ and Pete let the crowd rock him along. He grinned at Kent and Kent gave him one of those heart-stopping grins in return. God damn, he had some nice juicy lips…fuck.
He really was loosing his natural mind and he’d only had one beer…he needed to get away from him before he did something stupid. Right, past time for another beer. He reached down to adjust himself real quick and nudged Kent in the ribs, jerked his chin towards the bar, and Kent nodded.
Pete made it over to the bar and the yellow boy with the natural was there, looking right at him. Pete looked right back. The boy’s bright eyes gleamed like stars in the florescent bar light, he smiled wide and winked, earning a grin in turn from Pete. Clark disappeared from Pete’s mental landscape with a whoosh.
He was falling into whiskey-brown eyes and feeling a little warm when it hit him. How very long it’d been since he’d been with anybody. God, he missed hands on him, a mouth on him. His eyes kept going to full lips and he wondered, hoped…The kid headed to the exit and after making sure that no one was paying him any mind and as soon as was probably safe, Pete followed.
Out in the dark, beyond the parking lot and the one spot light trying to illuminate the lot and the entrance, deep in a thick ring of shrubs Pete found out first the boy’s name was Alvin and second that it was possible to bite a hole right through a shirt sleeve, if it was filling your mouth.
He was pumping into Alvin’s mouth slow and easy, enjoying that good old ‘after it’ feeling as Alvin licked ‘round, light and easy on his softening dick. Pete pulled the sleeve out of his cotton dry mouth, and groaned as he yanked his shirt back over his head. “Damn, boy that was so good,” he whispered. Alvin stood and leaned against Pete, and he liked that Alvin fit right under his chin. Few of his partners could. It was a feeling he thought he’d like to get used to. “Hey, you know what, let me get rid of my ride and you come back to my room with me.”
“Sure, sounds good,” Alvin said in that soft accent Pete was beginning to find kind of sexy. He smiled and wiped long slim across his mouth and Pete grabbed him by the back of the neck, pulled him close. He kissed him, wet, sloppy and hard before letting him go.
They stepped out of the bushes and headed back to the parking lot and there stood Kent, all tall and white and wide. And looking a little lost. Pete felt a twinge of guilt but hell, Kent wasn’t his responsibility. He whistled and waved at him.
When he saw Pete he jerked half a wave back and blushed violently. Pete watched with fascination as the red bloomed in his cheeks and rushed up to his hairline, and down his neck. Pete wondered idly how far down that blush ran.
“Ah, Nate said it was time to go—told me to get you but I couldn’t uh, find you….”
Pete said, “Tell him I’m walking back. I’ll meet you guys tomorrow.”
Clark blushed deeper, still looking at Alvin and Pete and then Alvin again before finally he nodded and walked away.
He dropped flat on the bed, rubbed the bottom of the bottle across his ribs, but it was almost already warm. He sucked a bit from the bottle and set it down on the floor next to the bed.
He’d load the trunk, gas up and hit the road before sunrise and with any luck be in Georgia by late noon. He rubbed his hand carefully over his face and draped an arm over his head. Skin touched skin and instantly bloomed sweat--Back to New York, it was all he could think of. Away from this, away from folks who wanted him dead and had the right to kill him just because he was black, away from broken bodies and spirits…away from crazy white boys and stuff that made no sense and made his head hurt. Away from boys who left you holding your stupid fucking heart in your hands….
Somehow Kent became his shadow, they were paired most times and Pete wasn’t sure if he liked that or not. Kent seemed to assume that just because they got paired up a few times, he and Pete were friends and Pete didn’t make friends like that. It annoyed him a bit but what could he do? He needed some kind of keeper, to keep his puppy ass in one piece.
Kent drew the people in, for sure. That kid radiated sincerity like the Easter Bunny. Old ladies and babies loved him, and those big green eyes and that goofy pointed puppy tooth grin almost always bought them the time to try and educate folks about voting. They made a beeline to Kent’s table when they did sign-ups and Kent was not afraid to work. He washed dishes and floors and hauled garbage, tutored at the School-- nothing was beneath him and everyone was interesting to him.
Respect, that was it…he gave everybody the same respect, white, colored, it didn’t matter to him. Sure, folks said it all the time but Kent—it was like he couldn’t even see the differences. He was okay. They ended up shoulder to shoulder so many times that Pete started to think of Kent as—well, his pet in a way. He began to look forward to seeing his grin in the morning; sometimes that grin was the only thing that got him to open his eyes and face the day. He kind of liked the mornings Kent would walk in without a by your leave and roust him out of bed, scold him for sleeping late. Pete always cursed bitterly when he did it, and throw him out of his room, but it’d take him a few good minutes to stop grinning like an idiot after the boy left. Hell, lunch wasn’t lunch unless he could argue with Kent over it. Plus it made him laugh to see folk’s faces when he yelled at the white boy.
Pete shut his room door and lit up before heading around to back side of the Motel where the phone was. It was past time to check in at home and let Ma holler at him and then fuss over him. He rolled the lighter between his fingers. He felt the need to talk to Pop too, just kind of catch up and connect with home.
He stopped when he saw Kent was using the phone, kind of hunched over it and shielding his mouth somewhat. He looked upset, maybe fighting with a girl back home. Now there was a kid probably knee deep in pussy—shame. He thought about leaving, but some deeply nosy part of him made him eavesdrop. He knew it was wrong—but he wanted to know if what Kent had to say to a girl was different than any lines he had. He was always ready to try a new one….
“No, Lex, I can’t come back yet. No! Don’t fly down here. I mean it—please. That’s—do you understand that’s just blackmail--I do love you, damn it…” he hissed it into the phone. “No. I’m sorry I didn’t mean—Please! Lex--Lex!” He slammed the phone on the hook and yelled “God damn it!” He winced and swallowed and looked up and caught Pete’s eyes and knew that Pete had heard.
Yeah. Pete was pretty sure Lex was not a girl’s name.
Looked like Kent had more in common with him then he’d thought. Pete considered letting it go, ignoring the whole incident, but Kent looked too scared, poor kid…he walked over, reached up to put a hand on Kent’s shoulder, squeezed it for a second before dropping it. “I understand, I had nearly the same conversation before I left New York.”
Kent nodded, a fraction of a movement, his lips were still pale and he opened his mouth to speak, “I…it’s not what you think…” He looked at Pete with every bit of the pain he was feeling in his eyes.
“Yes it is.” Pete shrugged. “My ‘friend’ didn’t want me to come down here either. I know how you’re feeling.” He emphasized ‘my ‘friend’. Color rushed into Clark face and even though hurt still darkened his eyes, a shy smile curved his lips.
“Yeah?” He said softly and Pete nodded.
“Exactly. Come on. Lets get breakfast, before we’re out of time, okay?”
Clark gave him a look of gratitude, and for the first time Pete felt more than a vague sense of arousal around Kent, he felt his heart stutter. ‘Lex,’ he thought, ‘whoever you are, you are a king size asshole for letting him walk around by himself.’
He was distracted with Alvin when he came to his room that night. The sex was good but….
Alvin sighed as he pulled his pants back on. “So, is this over?”
Pete tried to think of something to say. He wanted to say it wasn’t, that he wanted Alvin to come back and that he cared for him but the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth and that was probably a good thing.
Alvin washed his face and rinsed his mouth. He picked out his natural and came back to sit on the end of the bed and put his shoes on. His movements were unhurried and not angry, just, kind of resigned. He told Pete it was okay. He liked him. He understood. If whatever it was he wanted didn’t work out, call him. No strings, right.
Pete watched him walk out to the road. He heard a sound to his left and looked down the walk. He wasn’t sure, but he thought Clark’s door was just closing.
Pete stood there for a minute, debating. Yes? No? He seemed to be pretty wrapped up in that Lex guy. Shit, he was being stupid. Thinking about that boy was a waste of time; he could tell a guy ridden by obsession when he saw it. Besides, he didn’t do white boys.
He went back in the room and carefully closed his door.
TBC!
******
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