The Old

Kin

Conclusion

“Lewis,” he moaned, massaging his hair.

“Lewis!”

That night, when Lewis and Seth had started making love, they were sitting on the couch and Lewis put his hand on Seth’s thigh, and then Seth put his hand on Lewis’s and Lewis moved closer. He began to massage Seth’s thigh, and then he opened up his trousers and started to stroke his cock through his underwear. Seth made a moan like a cat purr and leaned his beautiful head against Lewis’s shoulder, opening his mouth a little, his brown eyes half closed. His mouth reached up for Lewis’s the same time Lewis squeezed him, and when Seth turned and thrust his tongue in Lewis’s mouth, the flat of Lewis’s hand held Seth’s balls, hot and hanging.

Lewis went to his knees because he knew Seth couldn’t ask, and he pulled down his black pants and his black briefs, pulled Seth into his mouth. He was firm and heavy, large and growing larger.

They were both naked now, and moving to the bed, now laying themselves down and coming together like vines. Seth pulled Lewis’s face up. He loved him, had always loved him. He wanted his eyes and arms and lips, his tongue, his heart, his comfort. He wanted to look up at Lewis in love and pull his face down and kiss him, press his flesh against flesh that was kin to his own.

They had stopped to relax and hold each other after this. Lewis took oil and rubbed it over Seth’s swollen cock. Seth knew just what to do, He fitted himself tightly between Lewis’s thighs and they glided together, each time Seth moaning in the shock of his pleasure.

“Caress my ass?” Seth begged.

He didn’t have to beg. Thin as Seth looked, he was well built with healthy thighs and buttocks that longed to be stroked, caressed massaged. Lewis had already buried his face inside of Seth and thrust his tongue deep into him. Now he thrust his finger in his ass as well, and massaged his asshole.

“Ohhh, fuck!” Seth cried, his dick jumping when Lewis did that.

So Lewis kept doing it, rubbing his hands up and down Seth’s back, caressing his shoulders, running his hands through his hair, pulling his face down to kiss him, running his hands back down.

“I’m about to…” he began, his voice shallow.

“It’s okay,” Lewis said, putting his hand on Seth’s cheek.

“But I’m about to…”

“Do it.”

With a relieved groan, Seth came, and Lewis felt the load, hot and thick between his thighs. He kept pressing his dick between Lewis’s thighs until everything was spilled out, and Seth came out, the length of his cock red and wet.

 They lay side by side, chests heaving, bodies slick, and Seth grinned and looked up at Lewis. Suddenly Seth lay on his side and pressed his mouth to his cousin’s.

They dozed and it was not that Lewis didn’t love being with Chris, only that he didn’t think he would love being with anyone else, didn’t think the desire could awake again so quickly. He didn’t think that Seth, his cousin, who had been made into a little brother figure and then blossomed into a lover only to sink back to little brother status again, could awaken desire in him like this again, that their bodies, side by side in sleep, could stir again so quickly and come back together, that his cock would rise and thicken and like a stiff compass, guide him back to the creamy limbs and smooth flesh of Seth Moore, to Seth’s kisses and the heat of his flesh, the curl of his hair, the strangeness of his spirit that linked with his own, even in sex, even in the smell of sweat and must in this bed that still bore the scent of Chris and the lovemaking the three of them had known as well.

He took Seth’s hair in his hands and pulled the boy’s face into his chest, wrapping his thighs around him while he fucked Lewis harder and harder.

 “Almost,” Seth panted, thrusting again, “there.”

 Lewis ran his hands down the boy’s sweating back, and pulled Seth in. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth feeling Seth fuck him, feeling Seth deep inside of him.

 “I’m gonna come…” Seth warned him.

 Lewis had already come against his belly a few minutes earlier and now, with the last few thrusts, Seth made a staggering noise and moaned, “Oh—fuck—” as, pulling back from Lewis, he came, and then finished coming, his damp head in Lewis’s arms.

 Seth rolled over and the two of them lay side by side on the bed, gasping.

 When Seth had finally caught his breath, he turned on his side and took the wet cloth from the little table at the end of the bed, wiping his chest, wiping the trailing semen from his stomach while Lewis got up and went into the bathroom. Seth waited for the water to finish running and said, “Do you want me to tell you about the man who came to me?”

 Lewis came out and lay on the bed beside him.

 “Man?”

 “He came before all of this. Before we made love again. He came after I went into the woods. He’s dead,” Seth said. “He’s a ghost.”

 “And you’re not afraid?”

 “No,” Seth said, sitting up. “I’m strong.”

 “I know you are.”

 “But I didn’t know. But I’m strong, and I’m a witch, and the things other people can’t see come to me. He said I had to send a message to Augustus. It was cryptic. I didn’t ask many questions. Just did it. And he said he will come around now and again. That he needs us. That we will meet very important people soon.”

 Lewis laughed and Seth grinned sideways.

 “What? You don’t believe me?”

 Lewis pulled Seth down and kissed him on the mouth.

 “I do believe you. I… just am happy to see you this way. In charge of yourself. Powerful.”

 Lewis turned on his side and Seth ran a hand over his chest.

 “I love looking at you,” he said.

 “I don’t know why,” Lewis said.

 “You’re amazing.”

 “I’m past forty with a pot belly.”

 “That’s not that old.”

 “I know it’s not,” Lewis said, brow furrowed. “But still.”

 “And I like your pot belly.”

 Seth kissed Lewis’s stomach, caressed his damp cock, dark and brown and still full in the midst of curling black hair.

 “I like all of you.”

 Lewis rested his hands in the curls of Seth’s hair.

 “Your dreams?” he prompted.

 “I drew a picture of the man,” Seth said. “In my book. You wanna see?”

 “Yes.”

 Seth squatted on his hams to reach for it, and because he was beautiful and well built, cream colored with a broad back that went to a firm bottom, Lewis got up and wrapped his arms around him.

 “He’s handsome,” Lewis said, looking at Nathan while his arms were still around Seth. “But sad.”

 “Yeah,” Seth agreed, kissing Lewis’s hand. “So much sadness.”

 “Will you stay?” Lewis asked him. “Stay with me and stay with us when Chris arrives?”

 “I don’t like to—”

 “Don’t say that. We both want you, and I think you want us too.”

 While Lewis rubbed Seth’s wavy hair, Seth rubbed his cheek against him like a kitten.

 “Then it’s settled, I guess,” he said.

 “Yes,” Lewis said, rising, and climbing back into bed, “I believe that it is.”

While he drove to Lynn’s apartment, he repeated to himself, “I will be a better man. I will be a better man. I will be a better man.”

 But wasn’t he a good man? Wasn’t he always trying to do the right thing? But no, no need to clap himself on the back, and no, this was not the time to reassure himself of his own goodness. Whatever good he had done in his life, over a hundred years ago he had given his children into the care of their aunt and walked away from them never looking back, and now who knew how many of his descendants were out there? Well, he could figure it out, he supposed. But one was Lynn, and she was waiting for him, and he wondered, what would become of them? After all, what would their lovemaking be like once they both knew the truth? And what had it been like the night before? What would Lynn think? He parked before the two storey house, and without knocking went up the landing steps to her apartment, to where she had let him in several nights before, where he had taken her in full desire, but not fully unoccupied desire, for Loreal and Loreal’s scent and laugh and kiss had been in him.

 But even as he climbed the stairs and entered the apartment, something was not right. He wondered, what had she done, had that bitch come over here, spirited Lynn away, planned to, like the dragon in the Book of Revelation, wait for the child to be born and then consume it? But even as he thought these wild thoughts, there was Lynn, sitting at the coffee table, and before her were manila envelopes and files and pictures, many pictures, and as he entered, she raised her confused face to him.

 “Laurie,” she said, showing him his own face, a direct, dirty faced Vietnam vet with his round helmet half off his head, straps undone, holding his gun. Beside it was another, older picture of a Marine in dress whites, clearly, unmistakably in the year 1943, his arm around one of his colleagues, and then, again, at an Armistice Day celebration, for the very first Armistice Day, name written under his portrait quite plainly, Lance Corporal Lawrence Malone. Yes, he had stopped spelling it with a U by then. His one little way of saying he had changed. There he was again and, with no way to deny, looking tired, and dignified, but happy in themselves, sitting outside of a long gone house in Bridgeport, in their too large and not fitting Sunday best were Veronica and Laurence Malone with their three children, Patrick in a sailor suit and chaps, Vanessa and Catherine in their overdone dresses and hair of the time, of a time nearly one hundred twenty years previous.

 Lawrence Malone did not know fear, not really. He’d been to war several times. He had vaulted from high buildings. He drove his car at sometimes two hundred miles an hour. To be a Drinker meant you knew no fear, or very little. But as he stood there looking at a century of himself looking back at him, and saw Lynn trembling with confusion, for the first time in longer than he could remember, fear was what was seizing him, shaking him, almost making him run out of the room. His stomach lurched. He wished he could vomit.

 “Laurie?” Lynn’s voice shook.

 “Please…. Help me understand.”

And now, friends, we will be moving toward the end of the old in the next several segments of part twelve. Join me, please.