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This is a work of fiction.

Characters, places, and incidents are products of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events,
locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. This work may not
be sold, manipulated, or reproduced in any format without express written
permission from the author.

This work contains graphic language and explicit sexual content between two
men. Intended for adult audiences only. Not intended for anyone under the age
of 18.

Keep Me
©2011 Kerry Freeman
Cover photo, “An Intimate Moment”
©2007-2011 Stuart/cub69.deviantart.com, used with permission

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Keep Me
By Kerry Freeman

I’d just pulled off my boots and sat down with a glass of sweet tea when the
doorbell chimed.

“Fuck me.” After a long, sweaty day on the construction site, I just wanted
five minutes to relax. Apparently that was too fucking much to ask. I slammed
the glass on the coffee table and kicked a boot across the room before heading
for the door.

Yanking the door open, I focused on the face staring at me. To anyone else,
the boy on my front step would have been unrecognizable. But I’d not forgotten
the pale green eyes or the bowed lips for even an instant.

I stretched my arm across the doorway to block it. “What are you doing
here?”

He swallowed hard. “Hello, Marcus. I’d like to talk to you if you have a few
minutes.” His voice was soft, his words obviously practiced.

“Are you sober?” Cold. Detached.

“Yes.” His gaze was steady.

I stepped back. “You have five minutes.”

“Thank you,” he whispered before entering.

God, he was so skinny. I shook my head and closed the door, determined not
to give in to the twisted urge to take care of the boy no matter what he did. Still,
I couldn’t help but notice the absence of the thick, blond curls I’d once loved to

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tug. I remembered how soft the hair covering his arms was, how the softness
extended over every inch of skin.

Clenching my fists, I followed him into the living room. He waited until I
pointed out a spot on the couch before sitting. I smirked, thinking how some old
habits die hard.

I got resettled in my leather chair and took a long gulp of my tea, unwilling
to put him at ease. “So… talk.”

“How are you?” He picked at a frayed spot on his jeans.

“You wanted to talk about me?”

“Yes… no… yes.” He passed his palm over his shorn head. Closing his eyes
for several seconds, he took a deep breath. “I came to apologize. To make
amends.”

I tamped down the spark of hope the words gave me. “Apologize?” I wasn’t
going to make it easy. “For what?”

Those eyes were again steady. “For choosing the drugs over you.”

No. I wasn’t going to fall for his shit. Not again. “Have you seen your
parents?”

“Yes, but…”

“Where do they think you are?”

“Here, with you, but…”

“I’m sure they were happy about that. What did they say?”

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“Damn it!” He looked at the ceiling and bit his lip hard. “I’ll tell you
everything. I promise. Can you please just acknowledge what I said?”

“I… I can’t.” I scrubbed my hand over my face. “I won’t let you hurt me
anymore.”

The boy stood and walked to me. He dropped to his knees and leaned down
to gently kiss the tops of my feet. “Please Papa. I need you to believe me. I’ll do
anything.”

My name, the one only the boy called me, spoken with so much love, caused
chills to shoot down my spine. I gripped the arms of my chair, my hands aching
to touch him just one more time. With a sigh, he rested his head on my thigh.

“I missed you so much.”

Losing my battle with restraint, I traced his ear with a shaking finger. “I
missed you, too.” My mouth was parched, and my voice was hoarse and quiet.

“I understand now. You had to send me away before I destroyed you. I’m
sorry I couldn’t understand before.”

Only the reality of his flesh kept me from believing I was in a dream. I’d
dreamt so many times of my boy returning, but, in those dreams, the flesh under
my fingertips was cold and pale. The ear I now caressed was rosy pink. The
cheek against my leg was warm. My boy was shiny clean and well dressed,
nothing like an out-of-control junkie.

I licked my lips, wetting them with the little bit of moisture left in my mouth.
“It’s been so long. I thought maybe…”

“I’d died?” He shook his head. “No, though sometimes I wished I had. I was
on the streets for a few months. Then prison for six.”

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After a few moments of silence, I realized he was waiting to see if he’d be
turned away again. If nothing else, I wanted to know what had happened since
the night I’d cut my heart out and told him to leave.

“Tell me,” I whispered.

He began softly. “On the streets, I managed to fund my habit by purse
snatching, then I started burglarizing the neighborhood shops. I got caught and
sent to Kilby Correctional.” He began to tremble. “I couldn’t handle the
withdrawal, and I did… bad things… to get drugs.”

Waves of nausea roiled my stomach. “Oh God.”

“One day I was on my knees, the fifth cock of the day still in my mouth, and
I knew how disgusted you would be if you could see me. My friends, my
family… I’d learned to live with their disappointment. But the thought of you
hating me for what I was? I couldn’t stand it.”

I tried to pull hair that was no longer there then finally grabbed and raised
his face with both hands until our eyes locked. “I have never… could never…
hate you. I love you, Ben.”

Tears began to flow down Ben’s cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I tried to stay good
for you.”

“I know.”

“I wouldn’t let anyone touch me on the street. They wanted me to whore, but
I didn’t. But in prison, the withdrawal hurt so much…” Ben’s voice broke, and
he buried his face in my lap.

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Stroking the back of Ben’s head, I struggled not to pull him up onto my lap
and promise that everything would be all right. I wanted it to be, I prayed that it
was, but I needed to know the rest. I waited and petted him while he sobbed.

Ben spoke again, more quietly and slowly than before. “My johns weren’t
happy when I stopped cocksucking. But there’s always a new kid coming in,
and they eventually left me alone. I joined the prison recovery group.” He sat
back on his heels, his back straight, and looked square at me. “I’ve been sober
one year yesterday.”

One year? One year he could have come back to me and didn’t? My skin
chilled, and my chest hurt. I didn’t want to think about who’d been my boy’s
daddy for the last year. Someone from the streets? One of his prison johns?
Maybe he’d finally turned to someone his own age. When Ben reached for my
hand, I yanked it back.

Ben grabbed my hand again and held it tightly. “Our relationship, the way
were together… I thought if I submitted to you you’d make me stay clean. I
used you as a crutch, and it was unfair.”

I looked away. I couldn’t look at his earnest face and know he’d no longer
be mine. Just as I took a deep breath to give him my final forgiveness, I felt
fingers tug my short beard, urging me to turn my head.

Ben played with the coarse hair between his fingertips. “I wanted to be sure
that when I came back and fell at your feet it was because it was where I
belonged. You are my center, Papa, and I need to be your boy.”

Eyes closed, I let my head fall back, baring more of my beard for attention.
God, I’d missed being touched. The hands now traveling my face were adoring,
worshipping me. There was love in every touch, love I’d been without for so
long…
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I grabbed Ben’s wrists and wrenched his hands away. “Show me. Show me
you aren’t using.”

He nodded and, taking off his shirt, moved into the familiar position in the
center of the living room. On his knees, arms stretched forward, palms up. I
stood over him and examined his body for track marks. There were none. There
weren’t even the old, scabbed-over sores that would dot his skin when he’d
clean up just enough to gain entry to my bed in the months before he left. As I
circled behind Ben, I gasped.

Falling to my knees, I ran my hands over the thick, black lines of ink
covering Ben’s back. Head bowed, the angel was sad and beautiful, its wings
spread in hope of salvation. A soft kiss to the crown of the angel’s head
dissolved Ben into sobs.

I pulled Ben back against my chest and forced his head to the side until our
lips met. Sobs trailed off as I thrust my tongue between his soft lips. Our
mouths moved in concert, the rhythm as familiar as the beat of our own hearts.

“Fuck, you even taste clean,” I said, my voice low and rough between kisses.

Ben pulled away and nuzzled against my jaw. “Please forgive me. I love you
so much.”

There was only one way to show my forgiveness, only one way to let Ben
know that no matter what was in his past he would be cherished. I rose to my
feet to look down at my young lover.

“You know what to do, boy.”

Smiling wide, Ben fumbled with the belt and struggled with the button and
zipper of my pants while I ripped off my t-shirt. I gently stroked the back of his
head until I finally felt my cock surrounded by sweet, wet warmth. Shrugging
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off thoughts of how my boy’s beautiful mouth must have been abused, I fucked
his loving mouth with slow, deep thrusts. Nothing in my forty-three years had
felt so incredible, so right. With no hair to clench, I rubbed his prickly scalp
while he bobbed up and down on my dick.

I barely contained my need to claim him, to erase any memory of another his
soft flesh might hold. There was time enough later to return to our rough play.
Tonight, I reminded myself, was about forgiveness, about welcoming my fallen
angel home.

His lips stretched tight around my cock, Ben hummed, and suddenly I could
feel his throat open for me. One swallow was all it took for me to crush his head
against me and empty into him. Smooth muscles milked me until I could barely
stand. Ben licked me clean and fell back on his heels. As I tucked myself back
into my jeans, I could feel his eyes on me. I fastened my pants before looking
down at him.

“Get up here and kiss me.”

My boy jumped to his feet and pressed his mouth to mine. I darted my
tongue out, tasting myself on his lips, and urged him to open his mouth to me so
I could taste more. Once I had my fill, I bent forward, burying my face in the
crook of his neck. I bit down hard on his salty flesh.

“Time for bed.”

Not waiting for his consent, I threw him over my shoulder in a fireman’s
carry and relished how his body curled around me. Together we went to the
bedroom we once shared, and I gently lowered him onto the center of the bed.
His entire body completely limp, Ben smiled weakly. I removed his shoes and
peeled his jeans and boxers off before I removed my own jeans and lay down
beside him.
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“Come here,” I whispered as I opened my arms wide. He lay his head on my
shoulder and quickly fell asleep.

I couldn’t close my eyes. I believed Ben was clean, but I’d woken up alone
too many times to believe he’d stay. I listened to his soft breath as it fanned
across my chest and ran my fingers over the soft hair covering his back.

A few hours later, I watched as his eyelids fluttered and opened, revealing
those beautiful, clear eyes.

“Hey,” he said as he rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t mean to pass out on you.”

I ran my hand over his head, feeling the sharp stubble rasp against my palm.
“It’s okay.”

“Did you sleep at all?”

I kissed his forehead. “No, I’m good.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered. “I promise.”

“It may be a while before I’m sure of that.” I lifted his chin and looked into
his eyes. “And there’s nothing you can do to make me sure other than stay.”

“I will. And I’ll tell you I’m sorry every day.”

I dug my fingers into his chin. “No. You’ve apologized, and I’ve accepted it.
We can’t go through the rest of our lives rehashing it again and again.” I
loosened my grip and lightly kissed him. “I forgive you.” I kissed him again. “I
love you.” I kissed him once more. “I want you to come home.”

Ben wrapped his arms around me and squeezed tightly. “Oh God, yes. I love
you so much, Papa.”

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I yanked him on top of me and cradled his face in my hands. “Call me by my
name.”

Eyes full of tears, he worried his bottom lip. “Marcus,” he said, his voice
thick. “I love you.”

I pulled him down and took the abused lip between mine, caressing it with
my tongue. It had been so long since I’d tasted his full, sweet flavor, and, just
like those early days, I was instantly hard. And, unlike the days when he was
using, so was he.

I let my legs fall open, and he nestled between them. The rhythm started out
slow, deliberate, teasing. Soon, we frotted hard and fast, and our moans grew
louder. I pressed down on his ass as I rolled my hips faster, happy to come like
this.

Ben arched his body and threw his head back. “Need you inside me. Need
you to f-fuck me!”

I crushed him against my chest and rolled us over. After a blind, one-handed
search for the bottle while we kissed, my hands were finally covered in lube. I
wrapped one around his cock and circled two fingers of the other around his
hole.

Looking down at my moving fingers, I smiled. “Still so pink and greedy.
Think you can take two, baby?”

He nodded eagerly and didn’t stop, even as he hissed through the burn of my
fingers entering him. The snugness of his body lessened only slightly as my
fingers eased in and out of him. Continuing to pleasure him with my hands, I
leaned down and ran my tongue through the dark hair around his cock before
moving to his balls.

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“Hurry,” he pleaded. “I’m too close.”

I laughed. “There’s no such thing as too close.”

Still, I rushed to sheath myself and paused only when I had his legs resting
on my shoulders. Without another word, I pressed into him, filling him with one
thrust. I leaned forward until the only thing separating our chests were his
thighs.

“Is this what you wanted?” I asked through clenched teeth.

He was gasping for air. “Fuck… yeah.”

“Don’t you ever fucking hurt me again. Do you hear me, boy?”

“Never, Papa.” He shook his head wildly. “Never again.”

Whether it was his words or the desperate way he said them, I didn’t know,
but I gave into the urge to claim him. The speed and force of our fucking was
punishing. Others might have wanted a gentle, loving reconnection. Not us. We
needed the power. And I needed his submission as much as he did.

Being inside him was heaven. The delicious clench of his body was unlike
anything else I’d ever felt. The nameless, faceless tricks of the last two years
could never have taken his place. No one else could have been my boy. Only
him.

He began to writhe underneath me, and his entire body was vibrating. I
released his legs, and he immediately wrapped them around my waist. I
captured his shaking head between my hands to force him to look at me. I
wanted to see him come. Finally his eyes focused on me, and as he screamed I
felt his release cover our stomachs.

“That’s it, my beautiful boy. Show me how good I make you feel.”
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His body gripping me tight… his cum coating my skin… I couldn’t hold off
anymore. Burying myself deep inside him, I came hard. I could hear Ben urging
me on, telling me how much he’d missed feeling so full and complete. I
couldn’t speak. I just kept thrusting until the last drop and collapsed into his
arms.

I was only vaguely aware of Ben’s hands moving me to my back. As was
always his way, he cleaned and pampered me. He climbed into the bed next to
me, running his hands over my skin and murmuring words of admiration.

“I think this is the part I missed the most,” he whispered. “Lying here with
you and knowing I’d made you happy.” He kissed the center of my chest. “I’m
sorry…”

I stopped him with a hand over his mouth. “I meant what I said. We’re going
on from here. Got me?”

He smiled against my hand. “Got ya’.”

Snuggled up against my side, he rested his head over my heart. I snaked my
arms around his waist and pulled him closer. The only sound in the room was
our breathing. Sure Ben had fallen asleep, I kissed the top of his head and was
surprised to hear him sigh.

“When can you move back in?”

He tugged the hair around my left nipple. “There’s not much, and it’s all at
my parents’ house. I haven’t even unpacked it all.”

“Good. We’ll get everything in the morning.”

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“Okay.” He twirled tuffs of my chest hair around his fingers, a sure sign he
was still pondering something. “Would you go to my next NA meeting with
me?”

I stilled his hand and brought it to my mouth to kiss his palm. “Yes.”

His wide smile made me breathless. It had been so long since he’d looked
young and happy and alive, the way he had the day we met. I’d forgotten how
just seeing him smile could tie my stomach up in knots of desire and need. I
knew there was still a lot of hurdles in our future, a lot of shoes waiting to drop,
but right now I wanted to bask in that smile. The hurdles and shoes could wait
until tomorrow.

I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him to my side. He was quickly
asleep, a grin still on his face. I held him close, and all through the night he
clung to me as if he were the one afraid of being alone in the morning. I let his
love seep into my bones and eventually fell into a content, dreamless sleep.

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About the Author

Born and raised in the Southern US, Kerry Freeman was the quintessential
tomboy who’d rather play war with the neighborhood boys than get near a doll.
She discovered a love of words early, reading everything in sight.

Kerry writes contemporary gay romance/Boys’ Love novels, and her dream
is to have her books translated for the Asian market. Many of her stories,
including “One Last Road Trip” in the Rainbow Award-winning Playing Ball,
are about baseball players. As Jamie in What We Deserve would say, you have
to love the guys in those tight baseball pants.

Loves: Oxford Comma, baseball, reading non-fiction

Hates: Bananas, underwire bras, stories without a happy ending

Kerry lives in the Southern US with her husband and spoiled rotten furbabies.

https://kerryfreeman.com/

https://www.instagram.com/kerryfreemanauthor/

https://twitter.com/AuthorKerry

https://www.facebook.com/authorkerryfreeman/

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Other Works by Kerry Freeman

What We Deserve

Pine Tar & Sweet Tea

“One Last Road Trip,” Playing Ball anthology

“The Lifecycle of the North American Love Virus,”
kerryfreeman.com

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