Agape Ch. 06

"Would you like more coffee?" Dmitri finally broke the silence that he had shared with Dusty for over half an hour.

"That would be lovely."

Dmitri disappeared into the kitchen like a good little host, and Dusty wondered whether the younger man was up to continuing their chat. There was still so very much he wanted to know about his new lover.

While Dmitri took his time heating up coffee, spooning honey into it and cooking a quick omelet for them to share, Dusty wandered deep into thought. How much of his own story should he tell Dmitri? He had nothing to hide, but at the same time he thought his own story much less interesting than Dmitri's and didn't want to bore him with too many mundane details.

Eventually, Dusty was torn from his reverie by the delicious scents of freshly cooked eggs, sharp feta cheese and rich honey blended into hot coffee. Dmitri had opened the door between the kitchen and the balcony.

"Breakfast is almost ready." The boy grinned shyly. "Would you like to eat inside or outside?"

"It smells wonderful. Would it be too much trouble out here? The morning air is nice... It's peaceful."

"Outside, then," announced Dmitri. He prepared to close the door.

Dusty jumped up from his seat and stilled the boy's hand. He took the fingers wrapped 'round the door handle and kissed them, one by one. Then he embraced the surprised boy in a fierce bear hug.

"Just in case you didn't believe me when I said that your story made me think no less of you. If anything, I'm proud that you didn't let your horrific experiences break you." He squeezed Dmitri again. "And leave the door open, please. It smells like heaven in there, and when you give me the nod I'll help you carry everything out." Dusty winked at the younger man, smiling broadly. Dmitri grinned back, showing his teeth.

The little Greek god made a mean omelet, as Dusty discovered on the miniature terrace that morning. Once they had eaten, cleared the dishes, and finally sat smoking while they enjoyed a third cup of strong coffee, Dusty finally dared to continue their earlier conversation. He hoped that he would not diminish the younger man's impressively cheery mood, but at the same time he couldn't help himself.

"Do you still have the sugar daddy?"

"No!" Dmitri laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"Do not worry. If you want me as you say, I am all yours. No other man will have me." He slipped his fingers through Dusty's. "Now, I believe it is your turn."

"I don't even know where to begin after your story," Dusty thought aloud.

"The beginning?" Dmitri offered helpfully.

* * *

Dusty had married young, barely a legal adult, and done so because his new wife was pregnant. They both knew that her strict Christian parents would likely have heart attacks immediately upon hearing that their virginal daughter had gone and gotten knocked up by some poor Irishman's son from Dorchester, so they married the day after they found out that she was with child.

Telling Kathy's parents that they had gotten married was no easy feat, either. They were furious that the kids could be so stupid, so bold as to run off and elope without their parents' knowledge or consent. In truth, Dusty's folks knew all about the baby slowly forming in Kathy's womb. They had been the ones to urge the pair to hurry up and tie the knot so they could claim that the conception had occurred on their wedding night. If nothing else, Dusty's parents were practical and understanding when he went to them in a crisis.

Kathy's parents eventually warmed to the idea of their daughter being such a young bride. Her mother was secretly ecstatic to hear that she would be a grandmother soon, as her own children had all grown up by then.

When it was time for the baby to be born, Kathy had freaked out. Suddenly, she couldn't bear the idea of giving up her freedom at such a young age. She called her mother to the hospital. Without speaking to Dusty or his folks, Kathy and her mom signed papers, which made the older woman the unborn baby's guardian. Neither of them breathed a word of it to anyone else. The doting husband was working an overnight factory shift and missed the birth of his daughter. He had no idea that his name did not appear on the birth certificate.

As soon as she was pronounced fit to leave the hospital, Kathy did so. She gathered her belongings from the apartment that she shared with Dusty and snuck off in the middle of the night like a fugitive. He was shocked at her betrayal. For a long time, Dusty trusted no one and was a lonely, celibate young man.

His daughter's name was Angela. For years, her guardians would not allow Dusty to see her, no matter how many different tactics he tried. They snapped at him that he could not prove his paternity; that he was too young and would have been a terrible father.

Eventually, much like Dmitri's dad, Dusty grew so lonely and fed up with life that he began to drown himself in liquor. He had no conscious plan to hurt himself, but to any thoughtful observer, town drunk or death by bottle seemed his likely outcome. For a few years, he made no move to sway the opinion held by such onlookers. His parents worried about him perpetually, particularly his mother.

Then, when Dusty was thirty-six years old, someone rang the buzzer to his apartment. He thumbed the switch to the intercom, asked who had business with him and was floored when a cheerful young woman's voice asked if he was Dusty. She went on, once he had verified that he was indeed Dusty, to tell him that she was his daughter. By the time Angela made it up to his apartment, he had gone from sloppy drunk to dead sober.

In the three years since, she had become his best friend. His mother had ceased her frantic worrying about him. He had started drinking socially instead of alone, and once Angela turned twenty-one, they had a ritual of going out for a drink or three on Friday nights. This week she'd had a date, so she had asked her father to postpone their meeting until the following night.

And then Dusty met Dmitri.

* * *

"Have you been with many men? Or women?" Dmitri inquired gently, genuinely curious; Dusty had not mentioned any other than his young bride.

"A handful of each over the years," Dusty replied, "But I never loved any of them. Most were one-night stands. Like the man you thought I might have been, they just wanted a night's farce, a handsome lie and an orgasm or two. They had no desire to be loved. So I gave them what they wanted and took the same in return." He smiled joylessly at his lover.

"Oh, Dusty!" Dmitri proclaimed, squeezing the older man's hand.

"It's okay, kiddo." He laughed it off. "I've got my little Angel. And now I've got you too, right?"

"Of course!" Dmitri smiled sadly, silently thankful that, although he had been used by many over the few short years he had been in America, he had cheerfully used them in return. While there had been no real intimacy like that he had shared with Alexander, his boyhood friend in Greece, at least he had never been so lonely as Dusty. He didn't think he could ever bear that burden of utter loneliness for so many years.

"So," Dusty began, "Would you like to meet Angela tonight? We're having dinner at my place. Her new boyfriend should be joining her–why not mine, as well? Unless, of course, you have other plans."

"I would be honoured," the young man replied, solemnly.

Dusty could tell that he meant it. He suggested that they get cleaned up and head back to his apartment for a nap. He did not expect that the evening to follow would be an early one, what with the excitement of introductions and all that would entail.

Dmitri agreed, on the sole condition that they would shower together. Dusty thought that was a fine idea.

* * *

The bathroom in Dmitri's apartment wasn't exactly what most people would refer to as spacious, so Dusty shed his clothing in the hallway while Dmitri turned on the water to let it warm up and then stripped himself naked.

"I must have something clean that you can wear home," Dmitri said, eyeing the pile of rumpled clothing Dusty had left outside the bathroom door. "Those have seen a lot of use tonight, on and off and on again." Since they had not slept, it felt like Friday night had just been unusually long. The lack of sleep made everything in the sunlight look just a bit off.

"It's no problem," Dusty quipped, "If you remember, they were off more than on since we got back here. I'm sure they'll work for getting home, too." He stepped closer to Dmitri, who stood on tiptoes to wrap his arms around Dusty and rest his chin on the older man's shoulder.

After returning the embrace, Dusty pulled back to look at Dmitri. Then he leaned in to place a kiss on the boy's forehead before nodding toward the running shower.

"We're wasting water."

"I suppose we are."

Dmitri pulled back the curtain and stepped in under the spray of hot water, then beckoned Dusty to join him. The older man accepted the invitation as happily as he had the previous ones from his little god, gently turning Dmitri around so that he could wash his back for him.

Dusty lathered a washcloth with soap that smelled of myrrh and used it to gently scrub the boy's back clean. Of course, he didn't stop there. He worked his way down Dmitri's legs, one after the other, sure to work the sweat and dirt from every tiny pore before he moved on to the next area. Dmitri looked back over his shoulder, chiding playfully that he wasn't quite so dirty as to require so much attention. Dusty returned that he would be the judge of just when that backside was clean enough since Dmitri couldn't see it properly himself.

Tickling Dmitri behind one knee with the foamy washcloth, Dusty playfully bit the boy's bottom.

"Hey! Watch that!" Dmitri chuckled and almost fell. Dusty caught him easily, steadied him carefully and then asked him to turn around. When he had, Dusty worked his way up from each of Dmitri's feet, inadvertently tickling each toe as he wiggled the cloth between them. Dmitri giggled self-consciously.

Dmitri's laughter gave way to seriously happy groans when Dusty made his way to the boy's cock, discarding the washcloth in favour of using his bare hand.

"I thought you wanted to get clean," he protested, "Not dirtied again."

"Right," Dusty said with a wicked grin. "So, what better place to make a lovely mess?"

Dmitri could think of no sensible argument, so he lost himself in the moment, finding that in Dusty was certainly his new favourite place to lose bits of himself.

While Dmitri stood, gripping the slick floor with his toes and the tile wall with one hand, Dusty knelt on the tub's floor and teasingly ran his fingers over Dmitri's most sensitive bits. His tongue darted out frequently to swirl around the head of his lover's dick, whisking away droplets of water while others drizzled down to occupy the same spots. Dmitri groaned in anticipation.

The boy closed his eyes and Dusty took that opportunity to surprise his lover by taking the head of his cock into his mouth. Dmitri whimpered and thrust lazily as his fingers found their way to the hair plastered down to Dusty's head. He felt Dusty look up at him and then pause; when Dmitri looked down again, the older man continued to lavish attention on the cock in his mouth. Suddenly, he let the boy's flesh fall wetly from his lips.

"Watch me swallow your wonderful penis," Dusty said, teasingly.

Obediently, Dmitri looked down and met Dusty's gaze. The man on his knees went back to work, slid slowly forward over Dmitri's dick until his nose collided with the thick hair spread around the boy's crotch. He smiled around Dmitri's cock and began to work it over, fingers dancing over the thick shaft whenever it emerged from between his lips.

Dmitri, for his part, kept watch as he'd been instructed. Eyes cast downward, his gaze faltered only when he had to blink, which he did infrequently. He could not, however, keep up that task once Dusty began to caress his balls, picking up speed as he moved Dmitri's dick in and out of his throat. At that point, his eyes screwed shut and fingers tightened in Dusty's wet curls, he groaned and tried to pull away from his lover. Just as Dmitri had done hours before, Dusty grabbed hold of the boy's ass with a grip like iron wrapped in velvet. Dmitri had no choice but to unload his burden into Dusty, whimpering and moaning the entire time.

Afterwards, Dusty kissed Dmitri and happily announced that it was his turn under the shower's spray. He allowed Dmitri to wash his back for him, then dismissed the boy kindly and finished cleaning himself. It was now after noon, he explained, and they had to hurry back to his place if he was going to have dinner ready in time for the arrival of Angela and her beau.

Dmitri understood the line of reasoning, so he excused himself and went to get dressed.

Dusty emerged from the bathroom after quickly toweling himself dry and found that, despite his protests, Dmitri had insisted upon laying out fresh clothes for him.

"You can leave the others here," Dmitri said, once more shy. "They may be useful. I will wash them for you if you do not mind."

Dusty told him that the thought was sweet and appreciated. Then he put on the rumpled clothing he'd worn the night before.

"Next time I spend the night, I'll bring a change of clothes," he soothed his pouting lover. "I'm old and out of shape. Your stuff wouldn't fit me well anyway."

Dmitri was at least able to convince Dusty to borrow a fresh pair of socks.