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Brave Little Soldiers

By Chris Carr

Copyright © Sept, 2012

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Hey! We goin’ or not?” Startled, Russell stirred, glancing at the boy. His steely eyes regarding him, Damion tilted his head to the side in a ‘well?’ gesture.

“Told you I wasn’t going today,” Russell muttered, lighting his cigar.

“Aw, com’on, Mr. G, I thought you was gonna hook me up?” Shaking his head Russell blew a plume of smoke.

“Then when?”

“When I say!” 

Huffing, Damion plopped down on a bucket in Russell’s garage. He hated when Mr. G got like this, but he really liked the old sucker’s company so he didn’t trip too hard. Taking his phone out, he opened his Facebook account, checking for updates. As he studied his phone Russell watched him. That he kept coming back proved both bothersome and intriguing.

“What time is the game?” Damion said, eyes still on his phone.

“3:00.”

“Think San Francisco got a chance?”

“They got a good offence. Good quarterback. Should do good.”

“Yeah,” Damion assented, nodding his head. Flipping another screen on his phone he continued studying it.

“What is that?” Looking up, Damion replied,

“My phone?”

“No. What is that you’re doing?”

“Facebook.”

“On your phone?”

“Yeah,” Damion replied, walking over to Mr. G’s chair. The same chair he’d caught him dosing in the day his ball went astray…

 

 

 

 

“Sorry!” He called, running into Mr. G’s garage. Rubbing his head, Russell glared at him.

“The fuck?”

“Sorry,” Damion apologized again, his eyes darting away as Russell glared at him. “I was tryna hit it at the tree,” He explained, pointing to a tree in the yard.

“The TREE?! Fuckin’ tree is over THERE!” Dropping his head, Damion muttered,

“I need practice.”

“I’ll say!!” Russell said, snatching his ball. “Get yo’ ass over there.”

Taken back by the man’s gruff demeanor, Damion nevertheless jogged opposite him, picking up his bat. Staring at him, Mr. G barked,

“That the way you hold it?”

“Huh?”

“Your bat boy! That how you hold it? No wonder you beaned me on the head.” Walking over to the boy Russell moved his slight hands about the bat until they were more properly positioned.

“And hold your elbow up,” He added, moving the boy’s slight arms. “Spread your legs.” Kicking the boy’s feet apart, he pushed down on the boy’s back until he was in a proper stance. Walking away, he stood opposite him once more, aiming the ball towards him.

Amazed the old man would address him so harshly, Damion found himself complying. There was something about the man’s sure handling that put him at ease; like he’d done this with countless boys before.

The ball suddenly propelled towards him, his eyes bugged and he ducked, Mr. G’s delivery one he’d never seen before.

“The hell you runnin’ away for?” Russell irked.

“Dang! How fast was that ball moving?” Damion gushed, looking behind him to see where the ball landed.

“Pick it up!” Darting for the ball, Damion flicked it towards Mr. G, the ball falling short of the man. Retrieving the ball, Mr. G wound up again.

“But don’t throw it so fast this time,” Damion cautioned.

“How I’m supposed to throw it? Like a girl?”

“I ain’t no girl!” Damion protested.

“Then shut the fuck up and hit the damn ball!”

Flinging it again, the ball sailed towards Damion. His urge to duck surfacing again, he held his ground, swinging his bat at the fast moving ball only to hear a swoosh of empty air. Throwing the ball back, he assumed his stance again, his hairless balls cringing nervously close to his groin when the ball whizzed past his head once more.  

“Too slow,” Russell said. “Swing before the ball gets to you.”

Following several failed attempts, Damion eventually hit the ball, his eyes popping wide as it sailed towards Mr. G’s window. Both of them watching, Damion’s balls snuggled even closer to his groin as it just missed the window. Ecstatic, he jumped up and down until he heard Mr. G say,

“Now go get it.”  

 

 

 

 

In a neighborhood like any other, a unique friendship has been forged. 

 

 

 

When Damion first saw Mr. G perched in his garage, he imagined the old man was no doubt cool, just cranky at times. He never yelled at him or his friends if they rode in his yard like Mrs. Richards.

“You boys stay out my yard!” Damion and his buddies tried to stay out her yard but sometimes they couldn’t all fit on the sidewalk so one or two of them would spill over into her yard. When he passed Mr. G’s yard, he’d regard them with some scrutiny but never said anything.

 

In the evenings Damion would see Mr. G watering his yard. A well-worn cigar almost always on his bottom lip, he didn’t seem like the kind of guy you’d have sodas with. That is, until he beaned him with his baseball. And although Mr. G took time to give him needed pointers on how to hit the ball, he didn’t always seem cool about the boy coming around.

One day Damion noticed him loading an old lawnmower onto the back of his truck. Running over he inquired as to where Mr. G was going. Shifting his cigar from one side of his mouth to the other, he hitched his pants up as he stared down at the boy.

“Cut some lawns,” He muttered, returning to his garage. Picking up some tools, he headed for his truck, flicking the remote on his automatic garage door as he exited, the closing door almost trapping Damion inside before he darted out.

“Can I come?”

“What for?”

“To help?”

“Help what boy?” He smirked, regarding the diminutive youth.

“I can help. I cut my granny’s lawn.”

“With what, a pair of scissors?” Walking off, Mr. G opened the door to his truck.

“Com’on Mr. G, give me a chance,” Damion said, running to the opposite door. Opening it, he plopped his small frame on the seat.

“What’re you doin?!”

“I’m gonna help you.”

“I don’t need any help,” Russell grumbled, still standing in his door. “Besides, where’s your momma? She know where your little scrawny ass is?”

“She doesn’t care!”

“How you know?” Pausing, Damion blinked a couple of times.

“Want me to ask her?”

“Yeah!” Russell said, swinging into the truck. Expecting the boy to dart off to his house, he’d planned to leave the little snot. But to his chagrin the little rugrat extracted a small phone from his pocket and pushed his thumb across the number pad.

“Mom? Can I go with Mr. G… I mean, Mr. Gilkes to cut lawns?” A short pause, then he quickly added, “You know, Mr. G? The guy’s been helping me with my baseball?” Another pause, then he looked up at Russell. “I dunno, where we goin?”

Russell wanted to tell him he wasn’t going anywhere but he was so outdone he dropped his head and merely replied “The Nelsons, two blocks over.”

“You hear that?” Damion said, smiling at Mr. G.

 

Damion kept an eye on Mr. G after that, running across the street the moment he noticed him loading his old lawnmower. At first Mr. G mostly tolerated him, refusing to let him push his old mower. But eventually Damion showed him he could handle more than he assumed, the boy helping him load the lawnmower one day, just as Mr. G almost lost it on the ramp to his truck.

His back bothering him that day, Russell shouldn’t have been cutting lawns but “need-mo” dictated a lot of things, his pockets bare.

“What’s ‘need-mo’?” Damion asked, the first time he heard Mr. G use the term.

“Need-mo boy! You never heard of that?” Shaking his head, Damion waited.

“Need-mo. Need-mo money, need-mo food, need-mo, gas. Need-Mo!”

“Oh, I get it,” Damion said, smiling.

Struggling with the old heavy mower, he’d made it halfway up the ramp when his back shot him a pain that almost made him cry out. Grabbing his back, the lawnmower lurched, heading back towards him. Jumping on the old makeshift ramp, Damion grabbed the mower, holding it in place. The boy’s scrawny arms a bold relief pattern of sinewy muscles, he held the heavy mower in place until Russell gathered himself enough to push it into the bed of his truck.

“Thanks,” He mumbled, lighting his ever-present cigar. With a simple nod, Damion hitched up his low hanging pants, dashing back to the yard to retrieve Mr. G’s weed whacker. It was the first time Russell actually appreciated the boy tagging along.

 

 

 

Eventually Russell cut him in on a percentage of his profits, the youth proving helpful on more than one occasion. Thrilled, Damion was like sticky gum on the bottom of his shoe after that. Learning the man’s schedule, he no longer waited until Russell started loading his equipment onto his truck, instead accosting him about their prospective customers like he did today.

Theirs was a tentative relationship, founded on their mutual need for each other, despite Russell’s misgivings. He’d lived alone for some years and hadn’t anticipated a kid tagging along at this stage. Damion wasn’t all bad, however, the kid intuitively aware when he should shut the fuck up and when it was cool to talk. When given a chance to gab, Damion could really go, his animated repartee almost endless, it seemed, but, to his credit, he didn’t gab all the time. That day Russell almost lost the lawnmower, Damion never said anything, even though he might’ve saved Russell’s life. When he ran to the yard to retrieve Russell’s weed whacker it was like he knew the man needed his help more than ever that day. He needed little thanks for his ‘help’, gladly pitching in where he could. Russell would’ve been loathed to admit it but the little twerp had actually made his way into his heart. Which is why he was hurt more than ever the day Damion showed up with that black eye.

“What tha hell?” He said, hopping up from his chair. Grabbing the boy’s face, he examined the puffy eye. Steamed, Damion said nothing, yanking his face away when he felt Mr. G had looked long enough.

“What happened?”

“Terriyon ,” Damion muttered with a scowl.

“How you know Terriyon?” Russell accosted.

“School… he’s my tutor.”

“Tutor?”

“Yeah, in math. I go to him twice a week.”

 Trying to imagine a more mature Terriyon, Russell went back a few years in his mind.....

 

 

Passing the house a third time, he was certain his eyes had to be playing tricks on him. Completely on a whim he’d glanced at the house, his mind on the pastrami sandwich at the corner burger stand. Doing an actual double take, he only saw a flash but couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Walking up the block he casually doubled back, coolly darting his eyes several times to make sure. To his utter shock, the boy passed the security door again, his form almost a shadow behind it. Almost tripping over his feet, Russell’s eyes grew large as he spied the half-naked boy.

His heart thundering in his chest, he still couldn’t believe his eyes. No way, he gaped. Your eyes are playing tricks on you. Stopping up the block, he stilled his racing heart, composing himself. Waiting a respectable period of time, he walked back, this time paying special attention to the house.

Slowing as he approached, he shoved his hands in his pockets. Straining at the door, at first he saw nothing, concluding that his mind had played tricks on him. Then the form reappeared and this time the boy was wagging his erect dick at him! Naked from the waist down, his only piece of clothing was a very revealing shirt he’d obviously outgrown and a pair of briefs, which he was pulling down to reveal his upright boy hardness!

Captivated, Russell stopped, gawking at the boy. A car passed and the boy darted away from the door. His heart thumping in his ears, Russell continued on, not wanting to get caught. Walking more than halfway to the corner, he could no more stop himself from doubling back than stop the sun from rising.

His third time past the house, his dick shot up with his heart rate, the boy actually pressing his stiffness against the door. Frozen, Russell looked up the block to his left, then his right. Not seeing anyone, he cautiously stepped closer.

Not wanting to scare him away, Russell just stared. What the fuck? No way this little runt was flashing strangers through his door? But there it was, right in front him. The hottest cutie you’d ever seen. Cute as a button, he was a pint sized, coco brown version of Damion, his frame smooth as a baby’s, his unmistakable boy dick pointed straight at him.

At a loss, Russell wasn’t sure how long he’d stood there, his head reeling. The world suddenly quiet, the birds in the trees fell into the background while the ambient noise of the city was quelled. He’d almost walked into the yard when the sound of an approaching car startled both of them. Practically hopping in the air the boy ran off, his retreating brown bottom heartbreaking to watch.

His world becoming the boy behind the door, he lost several nights’ sleep. He couldn’t count the times he’d passed the house, his heart in his throat but, to his great disappointment, he didn’t see the gorgeous boy. How Terriyon’s mom never caught him passing the house so many times, he didn’t know. All he knew was his heart ached for just one more glimpse of the beautiful boy...

 

 

 

 

He was at the neighborhood grocery store a few days later when a flash passed him going down an aisle. Russell was at the front of the store about to get in line when he spied the cutie walking down the middle aisle that traversed the center of the store. Certain his eyes were playing tricks on him again, he bounded up the nearest aisle, hot in pursuit. Abandoning his basket near the front, he all but ran down the aisle, hell bent on catching the vision.

Making a quick turn at the center aisle he looked to his right and left as he passed each aisle. He was so busy looking from side to side, he almost ran right into the boy. Both of them freezing, Terriyon gawked at him, his eyes like the deer in the headlights. It’s him! His eyes screamed.

Gawking at each other they stood frozen in place, the boy eventually dashing off towards the back of the store. Russell followed, his heart thumping in his chest as he threw caution to the wind. Although he’d talked to a lot of boy’s he’d never done anything so risky. Who was this boy and what if someone caught him pursuing him through the store?

Terriyon turned at the back aisle, walking deliberately towards the deli section. Russell followed, his heart in his throat as he stopped near the cold cuts. Hanging back a couple of seconds, Russell cautiously approached. Sidling up beside the boy, he idly shopped the various meats. Glancing a couple of times at him, his heart practically jumped into his throat at his inordinate beauty. Gathering his courage, he finally whispered,

“What’s your name?” The boy glanced up at him, his face troubled, but Russell never noticed.

My name is Russell,” He said, smiling at the boy. Darting his eyes over his shoulder, Terriyon looked more nervous than ever.

“My mom...” He whispered.

“Huh?” Tossing his eyes towards the aisle behind them, he nervously repeated,

“My mom.

 

His heart leaping into his throat, Russell casually moved on, as if nothing had happened. Seconds later Terriyon’s mom appeared, pushing a shopping cart laden with groceries.

“You find it?” Shaking his head, Terriyon scoured the wall of deli meats.

“What you been doin’ then?” She accosted. “Right here boy! Can’t you read?”

“Yeah,” Terriyon muttered, reaching for the package of smoked ham and they walked off.

His heart bleeding, Russell watched them leave, everything in him wanting to follow. They were half way up the aisle when he heard Terriyon say,

“I gotta pee.” His mother expressing frustration, Russell almost fainted when he heard her say,

“You better hurry up, I’m about to get in line!”

With a flick of his eyes towards Russell, Terriyon  dashed past him towards the bathrooms. Waiting until his mother was well out of sight, Russell made haste to the bathrooms.

Standing at the urinals, Terriyon  was actually peeing, his eyes down on his steady flow. Was he here because he really needed to pee or was this the chance of a lifetime? Taking another risk, Russell walked to a urinal closest to the boy. Reaching in his pants, he pulled his hardening dick out and pointed it at the urinal. Seconds passed, Terriyon ’s flow eventually ebbing until they were both just standing there.

His eyes straight ahead, Russell could hear the blood rushing in his ears, his heart was beating so loud. Now what? He thought, both of them still standing. After what seemed an eternity, Russell dared to look down. When he saw the boy’s growth proudly erect he let out a surprised gasp.

Without thinking, he reached out, encircling the boy’s hardness in his hand. With an audible gasp, Terriyon  actually stepped back, his eyes nevertheless glued on his dick. His boy dick a solid projectile of hard flesh, it swelled in Russell’s hand.

Time of the essence, Russell slipped his hand up the boy’s hard as steel pipe a couple of times then, with great effort, released it.

“Come to my place,” He whispered, his own dick hard as a fence post. Terriyon  said nothing, his eyes glancing at the door.

 

 

 

 

 

When he returned home, he was so filled with emotions, he couldn’t really function. Going through the motions, he put his groceries up, his head whirring as he absently worked. God, if that gorgeous boy shows up, I’m fucked, he thought. He’s not coming, he kept saying, trying to lessen the blow should the boy not show.

Hours passed, Russell’s desire slowly turning to dire sadness as the evening approached. The air slightly chilled, he refused to close his door, still hoping the boy might show. He’d just made a pot of coffee in preparation for his even shows when a nervous shadow appeared in his door. Still wearing the same blue t-shirt and low hanging shorts he’d worn at the grocery store, he peered into the door. Russell was so unprepared for the boy’s appearance, he almost forgot to let him in.

His brain finally kicking in gear, he ran for the door, pushing it open so fast he almost banged the boy’s nose. With a quick glance over his shoulder, Terriyon looked up at Russell, then passed under his outstretched arm to nervously stand in his living room.

Closing the door behind him, Russell turned to face the brave little soldier. “Hey,” he quietly greeted, smiling at the boy. Terriyon’s eyes darting up at him, they darted around the room, nervously checking things like a cornered field mouse. Gushing, Russell blinked, amazed the little vision was really in his living room.

“How much time you have?” He said, walking further into the room. Glancing at Russell’s clock, Terriyon finally spoke.

“My mother don’t know I’m here.”

“What did you tell her?” Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Terriyon looked anxiously at the door. He’s going to bolt, Russell thought, disheartened.

Without thinking, he reached between the boy’s legs, deftly fondling his concealed package. Leaping, Terriyon stepped back, looking at his groin like he’d been scalded, then up at Russell.

“I have to go,” He said, heading for the door. His first inclination to let him leave, Russell couldn’t bear losing the heavenly creature again.

“Can you stay a few minutes?” He called, following the boy. “Don’t you want me to suck it?” And with that, he reached around the boy, sliding his hand in his oversized shorts until it rested on the extending growth in his briefs. Trembling, Terriyon paused, his eyes fixed on what Russell’s hand was doing in his shorts.

Making haste, Russell popped the boy’s shorts open, his heart racing when they fell about his scraggily ankles. The same ass he’d seen running away from the door that day inches away, he swooned at its outline through the boy’s snug briefs.

Emitting a soft gasp, Terriyon shuddered when Russell’s hand slipped inside, encircling his rapidly hardening boy tool once more. Terriyon was so breathtakingly adorable, Russell felt weak in the knees. Fighting the urge to grab the boy and ram his tongue down his throat, he gently massaged his wickedly hard growth, praying he wouldn’t leave.

After a few minutes stroking, he heard the boy’s breathing picking up as his smallish hips edged forward. Not wanting to spook the boy he quietly circled around him to kneel before his anxious tool. Before Terriyon could protest, he’d enclosed his achingly hard inches in his mouth... 

 

 

 

 

Take a precocious boy and a crusty old hardnose... add a cute teen; pit the boys against each other and what do you get? 

Poor Russell's life of quiet contentment will never be the same once Damion and Terriyon (his math tutor) come into the picture. Both boys competitive, they vie for his attention in ways he'll never anticipate. 

 

 

 

 

"Yo, wassup? We doing this or not?” Glancing at the boy, Terriyon felt his ire rise.

“You late,” He spat, taking a seat.

“Don’t hate the playa, hate the game,” Damion quipped, turning a chair backwards and spreading his spindly legs about the seat.

“Whatever. You finished those assignments?”

“Whoa. What’s up with you? Am I feeling a bit of the green-eyed monster from this way?” Damion smirked, swerving his hands in Terriyon’s direction.

“Why yo’ mouth always gotta be goin’?” Terriyon snapped.

“Told you, cain’t be hatin’ on me because my game’s tight,” Damion quipped, a smug look on his face.

“Oh, what’s that supposed to mean?” Ignoring him, Damion reached in his back pack. Pulling his math book out, he plopped it on the desk.

“No, tell me,” Terriyon pressed, his irritation elevating.

“It ain’t nothin’,” Damion said, opening his book.

“I ain’t feelin’ this shit today,” Terriyon scowled, gathering his things. Eyebrows rising, Damion looked at him as he stood.

“What… you leaving?” Terriyon said nothing, angrily slamming his belongings in his back pack. “Because of what I said? Wow, ok, I see somebody on the rag today.” Glowering at him, Terriyon fought the urge to pummel him. “But ok, I’ll tell you. All I’m sayin’ is that it’s too bad you and Russell ain’t tight like us. But I didn’t mean to rub it in,” Damion said, that smug grin on his face.

“Fuck you Damion! I don’t know why I waste my time with you! All you do is run yo’ BIG mouth but you ain’t got game. Whatever you thinking, I’m sure I could blow you out the water!”

“Everybody that’s kickin’ it with Russell after school, raise your hand,” Damion goaded. Looking around the empty classroom he slowly raised his hand. “Oh… what’s this? It’s just moi?” Giggling, he slapped his hand on the desk.

“That’s why yo’ ass is flunkin’ math!” A sullen look on his face, Terriyon shook his head.

“What’s math got to do with it?”

“Because yo’ little ho ass always gettin’ fucked and not doing your math assignments.”

“Uh… you don’t know what we do. And maybe it ain’t me but my tutor! He’s all uptight because he can’t get none, so he’s a lousy tutor.”

“Damn! You so immature! And you don’t know shit about my sex life.”

“Oh really? How many people gettin’ busy today? Raise yo’ hands,” Damion taunted, raising his hand. Suddenly face to face with the smug boy, Terriyon snapped through clenched teeth,

“Who you think called moi  yesterday?” When Damion’s eyebrows raised, he gleefully added, “Who got game now?”

Irked, Damion said nothing. Why was Russell messing around with Terriyon and what did that mean for him? Regretting his previous gloating, he couldn’t afford to let Terriyon see him sweat.

“Yeah, whatever. We doing this or not?”

“You did your assignments?” Opening his notebook Damion produced the work he’d been assigned, that smug look on his face again. Sitting, Terriyon started their session, secretly smiling inside at his small victory.

A small rivalry developing ever since the boy’s encounter with Russell, they’d been competing for the man’s attention. Secure in his knowledge Russell wanted him, Damion’s confidence had been rattled by Terriyon’s revelation.

 

 

 

 

Who will Russell choose? What will the boys do to win him? What adventures await the unsuspecting old grouch in the quaint house across the street?

 

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