I'll Fly Away part 4
2/5/06 04:56 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
Thank you,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tabaqui for making it readable!
It had been one hell of a long week, alternating between boredom and anger and boredom and fear and the kids needed some kind of outlet. It was time for a party, time to let loose a little and just be a kid again.
Nate was parked in his girlfriend’s yard, and Pete was parked on the Buick, spread-eagled on his back on the warm hood, blowing smoke rings through each other for the benefit of the little group of girls, staring hopefully at him, whispering and giggling. He was kind of exotic in a way, from New York and all. He didn’t mind the attention, but he’d much prefer it from one of those guys sitting on the porch steps, drinking that liquid rat poison they called moonshine. He rolled to his side and tossed the butt into the dirt. One of the girls came up and asked Pete if he wanted a beer.
“Stay right here, honey, I’ll get you one.” She smiled and winked and strolled off to the house.
He loved the South. Everyone was so accommodating. He loved the South, he loved house parties, he loved the Buick. He loved the crappy yard grown weed, he loved the dirt—he loved every damn thing. He loved that fucking house, ‘bout as big as a breadbox, and stuffed to the rafters with young people celebrating the fact that they weren’t dead yet. Music made the ground vibrate and anything you could bottle was being passed around.
A matchstick thin joint came his way, Pete was about to pass when Nate came up and introduced him to his cousin, Ricky. “Ya’ll got something in common, he’s from New York too.”
He was huge but yellow and Pete was a little high and a little horny. “Hey Ricky,” he grinned. What the hell, he’d talk to the guy; he’d find out in a minute what his flavor was.
Small talk ensued, Pete and Ricky got on well, very well. They had a lot in common. They liked the same music, bought their clothes at the same store, liked the same brand of beer, of smokes, Ricky liked getting fucked and Pete liked fucking so the evening progressed in a more than positive way, as far as he was concerned.
Around two in the morning, Pete and Nate were about ready to head back to the Motel, Ricky passed Pete his number and Pete thanked him warmly and had every intention of tossing it as soon as he was able. Nate smiled and Pete figured he’d just might empty a shotgun in him if he had the slightest idea what he’d been up to with his baby cousin out in the dark.
In the distance Pete heard the muffled roar of a truck motor and would have played it off but for the sudden hyper awareness of everyone around him…
He could make out lights bouncing up and down way back down the lane and then darkness but the motor kept running, coming closer.
Now the music stopped. It was dead quiet…and now the lights cut off and it was pitch black out in the woods…the truck squeaked and bumped down the lane, slow as a funeral procession…no one spoke, but Pete heard metallic clicks in the pitch black…he tried to tell himself he was ready…fuck that was a lie, he didn’t want to die in the woods with a bunch of people he didn’t really know…
It was over, the truck was past. Lights came back up but the music was dead, the mood gone. Fear and loathing hung in the air. Anger with no place to go bubbled in his chest.
It was three before he got back to the motel and he was strung out, shaky still in the aftermath of so much fear and rage mixed and battling in him.
Clark was sitting in the dark, head down on crossed arms resting on his knees, sitting right in front of his door like some giant puppy, lost and finally found it’s way home and Pete was instantly furious. Clark lifted his head, and stared.
“Where were you, I was worried--”
“Get from out my door.”
Clark shifted to the side without standing. “What’s wrong Pete?”
“What’s wrong? What’s wrong,” he laughed. “What isn’t wrong!” He stared down into Clark’s face, washed out and whiter in the dark. “Maybe you think I like you or we’re friends or something—we’re not. I hardly know you and you don’t know me. We’re here for a job. I’m here for a job—you’re here to try and dump some white race guilt, I guess. Well, leave me out of your plea for absolution, all right?” He tried to slam his door behind him but Clark was there, Pete turned and planted a hand in the middle of his chest and shoved, hard. He wanted to hurt him.
Clark didn’t even budge. The fucker just stood, and Pete shoved again, harder, and still—nothing.’ Am I that fucked up?’
“Get out mother fucker—get out of my room, get out of my life—get the fuck out of Mississippi, damn you!” Clark looked so hurt that Pete wanted to slap him.
“What happened tonight? Who did something to you?”
Pete growled but Clark pressed on. “You’re not a mean person Pete; it’s not in you.”
Pete laughed. What the fuck did he think? No one knew what was in him…it wasn’t nice and it was high time he knew. “Fuck you, you and your people they all can kiss my black ass,” Pete turned and dropped his pants, “black—ass.”
He heard Clark’s footsteps heading to the door. Good he thought. Leave me the fuck alone...and the door slammed shut and Clark was back.
“First of all…not my people. Secondly, you shouldn’t take your pants off, Pete.”
His voice was low and smoky and filled with something that raised gooseflesh, he looked at Clark and for a moment, he was frightened ---the boy actually looked dangerous.
Clark blinked and was Clark again. “Stop trying to hurt me because you got hurt. I want to help. You can push me away, scream and curse at me and it’s still going to be the same. I’ll help. That’s my life, that’s what I’m here for. Whether you want it or not.”
Pete stepped back and was hiking his pants back up, feeling stupid. The after effects of so much huge anger draining away left him weak and suddenly Clark was right there, his huge hands over his, keeping him from snapping shut his jeans, his hands were hot.
“Don’t…”
Pete tried to tell him he wasn’t interested in white boys, that they didn’t do a thing for him, but Clark’s tongue was doing things, warm slick things, it seemed his mouth didn’t mind if a white boy was sucking on his lip, making him moan. Teeth grazed his lip over and over exactly like he liked it, and then were on his neck, hard and soft, just like he liked it. His hands were big enough to fit around his waist and squeeze and that was something he didn’t know he liked. In the middle of a whole lot of noise brought on by biting Clark ‘s throat really pretty god damn hard, and slamming him against the wall hard enough to knock an ugly ass piece of shit painting to the floor, it occurred to him to lock the door. He used hips to urge Clark over to the door and by the time they got there he was hard enough to explode, and what Clark had in those jeans felt as big as his hands promised.
They moved harder and harder against each other, and Pete started to laugh, he felt like he was fifteen in the locker room again, so desperate to get off and not get caught…Clark had a hand around his dick and laughter was suddenly the last thing on his mind—it felt so good, just right, tight enough, fast enough…he was on his toes pushing into Clark’s big fist, his eyes were almost closed and he was reaching for it, reaching for it—and a finger went into places it had no business going---“Hey! Stop!”
Clark opened his eyes, looking confused, “what?” And blushed, “Oh. You don’t do that. But it feels good, really--”
“That’s not my thing, okay? I fuck, I’m going to fuck you Clark. Understand?”
Clark turned even redder, and Pete watched the wave of red stain him from cheek to navel and he nodded, “Yes, that’s my…thing,” he said with a little grin and Pete nodded.
“Good. Settled.” He pulled Clark back to the bed, laid him flat on the god awful lumpy mattress. It’s okay the back of his brain said, He lives in a dorm, this probably feels like home…
He searched around under the bed and pulled out a tub of Vaseline, and spread a finger full over his palm. He reached down for Clark’s dick, and began stroking, slow deep strokes, the kid was huge and he had to say, his dick was pretty. It felt good in his hand, big and hot, so smooth over steel hardness, the slip of skin under his palm felt good. He watched the head of the boy’s dick rise and sink in the circle of his fist, watched pre-come pearl up at the slit and loved the noises he made, the way he squirmed. Damn, Clark made the beat up crappy twin and the ancient dingy sheets look like finest linen on a pharaoh’s resting place. He was that hot, hot as hell. Damn, he was one sexy motherfucker, that much was sure.
Clark was gasping and begging him to stop and that was so novel for Pete to hear that he did. “What?”
“Change places.”
Pete started to argue and then figured—okay, why not? He laid down and smirked up at Kent, he was so gone he looked high as a kite. ‘Yeah, I have that effect.’ He grinned and lifted his hips so Clark could work his jeans and boxers down and then—he stopped—
“What’s the matter? Pete asked. He looked down and Kent was staring at him like he was seeing something he’d never seen before in his life. “What, didn’t think I’d be black all over?” He started to get up, mad as hell already and Clark pushed him down. “Oof! Damn it--”
“You’re beautiful.” he said, closer to his dick now and warm breath caressed him, long fingers smoothed his hair away from the root and kissed him there. “Beautiful,” and his tongue worked the same magic on the head of his dick as it had in his mouth. God, he was so good, that Lex was a perfect asshole, he’d never---ah!--let this kid---ah—out of his sight….Clark worked the skin back, and slid it up over the head, held it there and slid his tongue around under the skin and Pete yelled, “whoa! Stop, stop…wait a minute.”
He was panting when Clark moved off his dick and lower, licked his balls. He liked it, liked it when those hands wrapped around his whole ass and pulled him up, his balls were in his mouth, wet and warm and he could feel a little saliva leak out around them and then his tongue was working back, back and slipped into his hole.
“Stop! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“Um…getting ready to rim you?”
“No! Damn, that’s nasty! That’s just…nasty. What is wrong with you?”
“What? It’s no big deal, really, I mean it’s nice; you’ll like it--if you let me.”
Pete shook his head, “Unh-unh. Boy it’s true, ya’ll are freaky.” He looked at Clark speculatively. “They do say white boys will eat pussy before they’ll fuck…is that true? Cause that other thing--” He gestured towards Clark’s dick, “Sure isn’t. Damn, nothing small about you…”
Clark sat back on his heels, his eyebrows nearly in his hairline. “Eat pu--how the heck should I know? I’ve never asked, and I’ve never. Been with a girl. Lay back. And thank you—I see it’s true what they say about colored guys, too.” He grinned, pushed Pete to his back and Pete laughed. He was amazed…he’d never laughed in bed before, not like this. It felt damn good.
“Really, you never been with —hey! Didn’t I say no?” Clark wrapped his hands around his legs and pushed them back and started kissing him all around—there. It was weird but…weird. And suddenly it wasn’t so weird, it was getting…Pete groaned, “Oh god, don’t you ever tell,” and Clark laughed against the tender skin and the buzz made him groan again. “You like doing this don’t you,” and another amused buzz made his nerves flame, “okay really, stop, I want to fuck you….”
Clark pulled back and took Pete’s hand and pulled him to his shaky feet, laid down. Pete tried to turn him to his stomach but he said. “Please, face to face.”
“Okay.” Pete said, startled and a wave of warmth swept him. “Okay.”
Pushing into Clark was like pushing into a furnace, he never felt anyone so hot inside before, so slick and tight. For a second his brain sent a little wave to him, hello, isn’t this a little different—and then Clark tightened on him, released and tightened until he wasn’t thinking of anything else but hot and good and fuck you fuck you fuck you. Clark’s eyes were on him the entire time, not once did he look away, he looked almost pained but at the same time beautiful, like a martyr…Pete pushed the thought away. He better be doing this because he wanted to, not out of some sacrifice—his thoughts blew away like fluff, he was going to come, he felt the demand for release twist in him, and somehow his hand was on Clark and he could feel him swell and jerk and the first jet of come splattered against his chest, and Pete yelped as Clark clamped down, again, and he groaned--again and he was nearly howling when he came in Clark’s shuddering body.
The first thing Clark said when he was able to was, “I’m in love with Lex.”
Pete looked at him, a little confused as to why he mentioned it. “Yeah…I know.”
“I mean this doesn’t change the fact—I like you a lot Pete, a lot. If things were different…”
Pete said, “They’d have to be a hell of a lot different than they are now, Clark.” He reached down, grabbed his pants and yanked them on. “Different in a lot of ways,” he repeated. “Look, I know you love this guy. I’m not about to change your mind. I’m in love with someone too.”. He had to think a second. “Maybe. Maybe not.” He shrugged. “I’m not one to worry about that, Clark. I see a pretty face, a nice ass, that’s pretty much all I need.”
Clark looked hurt and Pete was seriously confused. Did he want him to *not* like him?
“What the fu—Clark. Shit.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and planted his elbows on his knees, took a deep breath. “Okay, here’s the truth, I like you a lot, more than I should. This—will probably screw me up. I’m going to regret this like a fucker but the plain truth is, I want it.” ‘You.’
Clark sighed. “Pete, Pete, I love Lex, but I don’t know how much longer I can be with him. He’s killing me.”
Pete tried not to feel his heart soar “Yeah? Well, some guys don’t know what they have…”
“He’s too possessive. He’s…He wants all of me, body and mind and soul. I love him but it’s too much. He wants things from me that.” he stopped and sighed. “Things better not to have. For his sake. But he won’t hear that. You know?” He looked up at Pete, all sad eyes and red swollen lips and Pete felt horrible, the boy was in pain, looking for some measure of comfort no doubt and all he could think was how much he wanted to fuck him again. If Clark were his, he wouldn’t make the same mistake that idiot Lex guy was making, that was for damn sure.
They spent the rest of the night together; this time just laying in each other’s arms and Pete was astonished at what this boy was making him do. Just lying in bed, close and touching and not even screwing. He smiled into the dark and thought, I’ve lost my fucking mind completely—the South has sucked my brain dry, Lord help me.
part 5 coming up soon!
Author: Roxy
Paring: Pete/Clark
Rating: ranges from PG to R
Historical Fic challenge for SV Historical
Thank you,
tabaqui for making it readable!It had been one hell of a long week, alternating between boredom and anger and boredom and fear and the kids needed some kind of outlet. It was time for a party, time to let loose a little and just be a kid again.
Nate was parked in his girlfriend’s yard, and Pete was parked on the Buick, spread-eagled on his back on the warm hood, blowing smoke rings through each other for the benefit of the little group of girls, staring hopefully at him, whispering and giggling. He was kind of exotic in a way, from New York and all. He didn’t mind the attention, but he’d much prefer it from one of those guys sitting on the porch steps, drinking that liquid rat poison they called moonshine. He rolled to his side and tossed the butt into the dirt. One of the girls came up and asked Pete if he wanted a beer.
“Stay right here, honey, I’ll get you one.” She smiled and winked and strolled off to the house.
He loved the South. Everyone was so accommodating. He loved the South, he loved house parties, he loved the Buick. He loved the crappy yard grown weed, he loved the dirt—he loved every damn thing. He loved that fucking house, ‘bout as big as a breadbox, and stuffed to the rafters with young people celebrating the fact that they weren’t dead yet. Music made the ground vibrate and anything you could bottle was being passed around.
A matchstick thin joint came his way, Pete was about to pass when Nate came up and introduced him to his cousin, Ricky. “Ya’ll got something in common, he’s from New York too.”
He was huge but yellow and Pete was a little high and a little horny. “Hey Ricky,” he grinned. What the hell, he’d talk to the guy; he’d find out in a minute what his flavor was.
Small talk ensued, Pete and Ricky got on well, very well. They had a lot in common. They liked the same music, bought their clothes at the same store, liked the same brand of beer, of smokes, Ricky liked getting fucked and Pete liked fucking so the evening progressed in a more than positive way, as far as he was concerned.
Around two in the morning, Pete and Nate were about ready to head back to the Motel, Ricky passed Pete his number and Pete thanked him warmly and had every intention of tossing it as soon as he was able. Nate smiled and Pete figured he’d just might empty a shotgun in him if he had the slightest idea what he’d been up to with his baby cousin out in the dark.
In the distance Pete heard the muffled roar of a truck motor and would have played it off but for the sudden hyper awareness of everyone around him…
He could make out lights bouncing up and down way back down the lane and then darkness but the motor kept running, coming closer.
Now the music stopped. It was dead quiet…and now the lights cut off and it was pitch black out in the woods…the truck squeaked and bumped down the lane, slow as a funeral procession…no one spoke, but Pete heard metallic clicks in the pitch black…he tried to tell himself he was ready…fuck that was a lie, he didn’t want to die in the woods with a bunch of people he didn’t really know…
It was over, the truck was past. Lights came back up but the music was dead, the mood gone. Fear and loathing hung in the air. Anger with no place to go bubbled in his chest.
It was three before he got back to the motel and he was strung out, shaky still in the aftermath of so much fear and rage mixed and battling in him.
Clark was sitting in the dark, head down on crossed arms resting on his knees, sitting right in front of his door like some giant puppy, lost and finally found it’s way home and Pete was instantly furious. Clark lifted his head, and stared.
“Where were you, I was worried--”
“Get from out my door.”
Clark shifted to the side without standing. “What’s wrong Pete?”
“What’s wrong? What’s wrong,” he laughed. “What isn’t wrong!” He stared down into Clark’s face, washed out and whiter in the dark. “Maybe you think I like you or we’re friends or something—we’re not. I hardly know you and you don’t know me. We’re here for a job. I’m here for a job—you’re here to try and dump some white race guilt, I guess. Well, leave me out of your plea for absolution, all right?” He tried to slam his door behind him but Clark was there, Pete turned and planted a hand in the middle of his chest and shoved, hard. He wanted to hurt him.
Clark didn’t even budge. The fucker just stood, and Pete shoved again, harder, and still—nothing.’ Am I that fucked up?’
“Get out mother fucker—get out of my room, get out of my life—get the fuck out of Mississippi, damn you!” Clark looked so hurt that Pete wanted to slap him.
“What happened tonight? Who did something to you?”
Pete growled but Clark pressed on. “You’re not a mean person Pete; it’s not in you.”
Pete laughed. What the fuck did he think? No one knew what was in him…it wasn’t nice and it was high time he knew. “Fuck you, you and your people they all can kiss my black ass,” Pete turned and dropped his pants, “black—ass.”
He heard Clark’s footsteps heading to the door. Good he thought. Leave me the fuck alone...and the door slammed shut and Clark was back.
“First of all…not my people. Secondly, you shouldn’t take your pants off, Pete.”
His voice was low and smoky and filled with something that raised gooseflesh, he looked at Clark and for a moment, he was frightened ---the boy actually looked dangerous.
Clark blinked and was Clark again. “Stop trying to hurt me because you got hurt. I want to help. You can push me away, scream and curse at me and it’s still going to be the same. I’ll help. That’s my life, that’s what I’m here for. Whether you want it or not.”
Pete stepped back and was hiking his pants back up, feeling stupid. The after effects of so much huge anger draining away left him weak and suddenly Clark was right there, his huge hands over his, keeping him from snapping shut his jeans, his hands were hot.
“Don’t…”
Pete tried to tell him he wasn’t interested in white boys, that they didn’t do a thing for him, but Clark’s tongue was doing things, warm slick things, it seemed his mouth didn’t mind if a white boy was sucking on his lip, making him moan. Teeth grazed his lip over and over exactly like he liked it, and then were on his neck, hard and soft, just like he liked it. His hands were big enough to fit around his waist and squeeze and that was something he didn’t know he liked. In the middle of a whole lot of noise brought on by biting Clark ‘s throat really pretty god damn hard, and slamming him against the wall hard enough to knock an ugly ass piece of shit painting to the floor, it occurred to him to lock the door. He used hips to urge Clark over to the door and by the time they got there he was hard enough to explode, and what Clark had in those jeans felt as big as his hands promised.
They moved harder and harder against each other, and Pete started to laugh, he felt like he was fifteen in the locker room again, so desperate to get off and not get caught…Clark had a hand around his dick and laughter was suddenly the last thing on his mind—it felt so good, just right, tight enough, fast enough…he was on his toes pushing into Clark’s big fist, his eyes were almost closed and he was reaching for it, reaching for it—and a finger went into places it had no business going---“Hey! Stop!”
Clark opened his eyes, looking confused, “what?” And blushed, “Oh. You don’t do that. But it feels good, really--”
“That’s not my thing, okay? I fuck, I’m going to fuck you Clark. Understand?”
Clark turned even redder, and Pete watched the wave of red stain him from cheek to navel and he nodded, “Yes, that’s my…thing,” he said with a little grin and Pete nodded.
“Good. Settled.” He pulled Clark back to the bed, laid him flat on the god awful lumpy mattress. It’s okay the back of his brain said, He lives in a dorm, this probably feels like home…
He searched around under the bed and pulled out a tub of Vaseline, and spread a finger full over his palm. He reached down for Clark’s dick, and began stroking, slow deep strokes, the kid was huge and he had to say, his dick was pretty. It felt good in his hand, big and hot, so smooth over steel hardness, the slip of skin under his palm felt good. He watched the head of the boy’s dick rise and sink in the circle of his fist, watched pre-come pearl up at the slit and loved the noises he made, the way he squirmed. Damn, Clark made the beat up crappy twin and the ancient dingy sheets look like finest linen on a pharaoh’s resting place. He was that hot, hot as hell. Damn, he was one sexy motherfucker, that much was sure.
Clark was gasping and begging him to stop and that was so novel for Pete to hear that he did. “What?”
“Change places.”
Pete started to argue and then figured—okay, why not? He laid down and smirked up at Kent, he was so gone he looked high as a kite. ‘Yeah, I have that effect.’ He grinned and lifted his hips so Clark could work his jeans and boxers down and then—he stopped—
“What’s the matter? Pete asked. He looked down and Kent was staring at him like he was seeing something he’d never seen before in his life. “What, didn’t think I’d be black all over?” He started to get up, mad as hell already and Clark pushed him down. “Oof! Damn it--”
“You’re beautiful.” he said, closer to his dick now and warm breath caressed him, long fingers smoothed his hair away from the root and kissed him there. “Beautiful,” and his tongue worked the same magic on the head of his dick as it had in his mouth. God, he was so good, that Lex was a perfect asshole, he’d never---ah!--let this kid---ah—out of his sight….Clark worked the skin back, and slid it up over the head, held it there and slid his tongue around under the skin and Pete yelled, “whoa! Stop, stop…wait a minute.”
He was panting when Clark moved off his dick and lower, licked his balls. He liked it, liked it when those hands wrapped around his whole ass and pulled him up, his balls were in his mouth, wet and warm and he could feel a little saliva leak out around them and then his tongue was working back, back and slipped into his hole.
“Stop! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“Um…getting ready to rim you?”
“No! Damn, that’s nasty! That’s just…nasty. What is wrong with you?”
“What? It’s no big deal, really, I mean it’s nice; you’ll like it--if you let me.”
Pete shook his head, “Unh-unh. Boy it’s true, ya’ll are freaky.” He looked at Clark speculatively. “They do say white boys will eat pussy before they’ll fuck…is that true? Cause that other thing--” He gestured towards Clark’s dick, “Sure isn’t. Damn, nothing small about you…”
Clark sat back on his heels, his eyebrows nearly in his hairline. “Eat pu--how the heck should I know? I’ve never asked, and I’ve never. Been with a girl. Lay back. And thank you—I see it’s true what they say about colored guys, too.” He grinned, pushed Pete to his back and Pete laughed. He was amazed…he’d never laughed in bed before, not like this. It felt damn good.
“Really, you never been with —hey! Didn’t I say no?” Clark wrapped his hands around his legs and pushed them back and started kissing him all around—there. It was weird but…weird. And suddenly it wasn’t so weird, it was getting…Pete groaned, “Oh god, don’t you ever tell,” and Clark laughed against the tender skin and the buzz made him groan again. “You like doing this don’t you,” and another amused buzz made his nerves flame, “okay really, stop, I want to fuck you….”
Clark pulled back and took Pete’s hand and pulled him to his shaky feet, laid down. Pete tried to turn him to his stomach but he said. “Please, face to face.”
“Okay.” Pete said, startled and a wave of warmth swept him. “Okay.”
Pushing into Clark was like pushing into a furnace, he never felt anyone so hot inside before, so slick and tight. For a second his brain sent a little wave to him, hello, isn’t this a little different—and then Clark tightened on him, released and tightened until he wasn’t thinking of anything else but hot and good and fuck you fuck you fuck you. Clark’s eyes were on him the entire time, not once did he look away, he looked almost pained but at the same time beautiful, like a martyr…Pete pushed the thought away. He better be doing this because he wanted to, not out of some sacrifice—his thoughts blew away like fluff, he was going to come, he felt the demand for release twist in him, and somehow his hand was on Clark and he could feel him swell and jerk and the first jet of come splattered against his chest, and Pete yelped as Clark clamped down, again, and he groaned--again and he was nearly howling when he came in Clark’s shuddering body.
The first thing Clark said when he was able to was, “I’m in love with Lex.”
Pete looked at him, a little confused as to why he mentioned it. “Yeah…I know.”
“I mean this doesn’t change the fact—I like you a lot Pete, a lot. If things were different…”
Pete said, “They’d have to be a hell of a lot different than they are now, Clark.” He reached down, grabbed his pants and yanked them on. “Different in a lot of ways,” he repeated. “Look, I know you love this guy. I’m not about to change your mind. I’m in love with someone too.”. He had to think a second. “Maybe. Maybe not.” He shrugged. “I’m not one to worry about that, Clark. I see a pretty face, a nice ass, that’s pretty much all I need.”
Clark looked hurt and Pete was seriously confused. Did he want him to *not* like him?
“What the fu—Clark. Shit.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and planted his elbows on his knees, took a deep breath. “Okay, here’s the truth, I like you a lot, more than I should. This—will probably screw me up. I’m going to regret this like a fucker but the plain truth is, I want it.” ‘You.’
Clark sighed. “Pete, Pete, I love Lex, but I don’t know how much longer I can be with him. He’s killing me.”
Pete tried not to feel his heart soar “Yeah? Well, some guys don’t know what they have…”
“He’s too possessive. He’s…He wants all of me, body and mind and soul. I love him but it’s too much. He wants things from me that.” he stopped and sighed. “Things better not to have. For his sake. But he won’t hear that. You know?” He looked up at Pete, all sad eyes and red swollen lips and Pete felt horrible, the boy was in pain, looking for some measure of comfort no doubt and all he could think was how much he wanted to fuck him again. If Clark were his, he wouldn’t make the same mistake that idiot Lex guy was making, that was for damn sure.
They spent the rest of the night together; this time just laying in each other’s arms and Pete was astonished at what this boy was making him do. Just lying in bed, close and touching and not even screwing. He smiled into the dark and thought, I’ve lost my fucking mind completely—the South has sucked my brain dry, Lord help me.
part 5 coming up soon!
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(no subject)
2/5/06 11:22 pm (UTC)Pete's inability to lie to himself is so well written. Clark's situation just sucks. Both Clark and Pete are so conflicted, but they find peace amid the turmoil together. Just wow, Miss Roxy!
(no subject)
2/6/06 12:32 am (UTC)(no subject)
2/5/06 11:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
2/6/06 12:38 am (UTC)I went to a couple of historical sites, I read a few personal histories, folks from the time talking about their experiences. I drew on some personal experience (no where near anything like what Pete went through) and the experiences of folks I know--thought god forbid they ever found out where their memories ended up, *G*
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2/6/06 12:40 am (UTC)(no subject)
2/6/06 12:54 am (UTC)(no subject)
2/6/06 12:56 am (UTC)http://members.cox.net/droolingfangirl/shocked.gif
(no subject)
2/6/06 01:06 am (UTC)(no subject)
2/6/06 02:44 am (UTC)Wheeee!
Pete needs to lighten up. Sheesh.
Clark just wants some comfort!
Snuggly sexy comfort!
:)
*smooch*
(no subject)
2/6/06 03:17 am (UTC)fuckinghugs and kisses now and then!(no subject)
2/6/06 03:23 am (UTC)I couldn't articulate this before, other than "this part good, next section please", but it hit me in rereading that scene. I got this nervous, tight feeling in my chest that didn't go away when the truck did. That feeling of what *could* happen, relief that it *didn't* and loathing of those that caused it and at loathing at one's self for feeling afraid and powerless...well, it's very effective writing, is what I'm getting at, for making one who's *never* been in that situation know what it's like.
Clark wrapped his hands around his legs and pushed them back and started kissing him all around—there. It was weird but…weird. And suddenly it wasn’t so weird, it was getting…Pete groaned, “Oh god, don’t you ever tell,” and Clark laughed against the tender skin and the buzz made him groan again.
And you don't know how refreshing it is to read a fic in which one person is *not* enthusiastic about rimming. I think Pete's response is the natural, if uneducated one. Until Clark shows him otherwise. ^_^
(no subject)
2/6/06 03:32 am (UTC)You have no idea how much what you said here means to me, especially someone like me who's never ever confident in what they do. That you could feel that from reading this bit makes me feel like a million dollars, like I'm floating on air!
Also the Pete bit--yeah, not everyone can be all "OOOO!" over every sexual thing, right? Though personally I think Pete is--goodness, is that my phone?
(no subject)
2/6/06 05:05 am (UTC)LOL!
(no subject)
2/6/06 05:25 pm (UTC)(no subject)
2/6/06 06:21 am (UTC)His reaction to the rimming was very entertaining. Holy cow! White boys are so weird! *g* Now, what the hell is going on with Lex that he's being a butthead?
(no subject)
2/6/06 05:13 pm (UTC)Hee! White boys *are* weird--but cute as puppies!
This Lex is concerned with his career and appearances and isn't as brave as Clark wants him to be. It was a time when being known as gay, and not having a funny little puppet or playing a gem-encrusted piano was sure public suicide. Lex is big in business and has political ambitions so Clark is shunted off to mistress status. Personally, I think the Lex in this fic is a big ole dick.
(no subject)
2/6/06 08:47 pm (UTC)(no subject)
2/7/06 11:26 pm (UTC)(no subject)
2/7/06 10:10 pm (UTC)(no subject)
2/7/06 11:27 pm (UTC)