A week later, Peter was happier than he’d ever imagined himself being. Living with Parrish and John was a wonder to him, and slowly, very gradually, he was learning to relax. He’d developed his belligerent, feisty attitude as a shield against a world that often didn’t make sense to him, a world that forced him at a young age to fight to survive. As a result, he’d always been vigilant, a little on edge, always ready to react in an instant should he need to.
He didn’t need to be that way where he was living now. Kids seemed aware that Parrish was living with John and that John was a cop, and they didn’t give Parrish any guff at all. They wouldn’t have needed to in any event, because he was a very open and friendly boy, but some kids, like Greg, saw anyone who was smaller than he was as a target, easy pickings, someone to have his way with. However, no one messed with Parrish. And because Peter was now with Parrish, not glued to him but almost, no one gave him any trouble, either. He had no need to have his guard up all the time, and finding that he could lower it and nothing bad would happen was a revelation.
He and Parrish were doing most of the cooking now and having a ball doing it. Each had their own things they liked to cook, so the menu in the house had expanded. John never said much in the way of compliments, but he shoveled in the food when it was placed in front of him, and sometimes the boys snickered while watching him.
John remained grouchy, but Peter had learned to ignore it like Parrish did. It was just the way John was. Peter was starting to sense that the man liked Parrish a lot and didn’t mind having a new boy, around, either.
After a week of snuggling up when they went to bed, Parrish asked Peter a question. Peter was halfway to dreamland, lying as usual with Parrish behind him, when Parrish whispered, “Peter?”
“Mmmm?”
“Uh, do you ever get horny?”
That woke Peter back up. He even squirmed out of Parrish’s grasp, rolled over on his back and asked, “Huh?”
Parrish giggled. “You heard me. I was just wondering something. Sometimes when we’re like this, especially in the morning but at night, too, I get hard. You know, a boner. You have to feel it because I’m up against you. I was just wondering. Do you get that way, too? Do you ever think about sex?”
Peter didn’t say anything for a long-enough moment for Parrish to wonder if he’d upset him. But then Peter did answer, very quietly.
“My dad sold meth. He was one of the guys John arrested. But he didn’t just sell it. He used it, too. One of the things it does, one of the reasons people like it, is it makes them really horny. And when they’re having sex, they can do it for a long time.
“My dad would use it and get horny. Often he had women over, but sometimes not. Sometimes...”
“Peter?” Parrish reached out and put his arm back around Peter. “It’s OK. You don’t have to say any more.”
“Yes, I do. I need to answer your question. You have to know. Sometimes, I was the only one around. And he was a lot bigger and stronger than I was. I couldn’t do anything. So he’d do what he wanted to do, and it hurt. If I cried out, he’d hit me till I stopped. I got so I’d watch him, and if I saw him using and no woman was there, I’d get out of the house. I slept someplace else lots of times. But sometimes I’d be asleep before he’d hit the meth. Then, I didn’t have any chance.”
“Peter!”
“I’m almost done. Sure, I get horny. I’m normal. I’m old enough to feel what we all feel. But at the same time, when I think of sex, I think of pain, of being forced, of not being able to stop him.”
“Peter, stop! I didn’t know, I’m sorry.” Peter could hear the tears in Parrish’s voice, and now, he slipped his arm around Parrish.
“You want to try stuff. I know. I do, too. I want to with you, Parrish. The way you make me feel, I like you a lot. A whole lot. I know we’ve really only known each other for a week, but before I got to know you, I already had feelings about you. I thought about you all the time. Now we’ve been together, and what I… well, do you know what being in love feels like? Are we too young for that? I don’t know, but maybe I’m starting to feel…love. I want to do what you want to do. I’m just scared.”
“Peter…” Parrish didn’t know what to say.
“Can we wait a bit more?” Peter asked. “I’m so comfortable just sleeping with you and waking up with you, but I’m getting the same feelings you are, and I don’t think it’ll be long before they’ll be strong enough that I won’t want to say no. When that time comes—if you just go really slow, maybe let me set the pace and decide what to do—maybe it’ll be OK.”
“Of course, Peter. And you know what? I love you, too. More than just a little. But, Peter?”
“Huh?”
“Peter, I don’t want to do the thing your father did! Maybe someday. I don’t know. But I’ve never done anything with another boy. I want to with you, but not that. I want to try all the things I’ve seen on the internet, everything other that that. That doesn’t look like fun at all. I think you have to be older to want to do that. The other stuff, though…”
Peter heard the yearning in Parrish’s voice and smiled, then said, “That sounds good. Maybe we can do that. When I’m ready.” He got back on his side, and Parrish formed himself against Peter’s back, maximizing contact. Eventually, as Peter was nodding off, he felt himself being poked again. This time, he almost smiled, but sleep took him before he could react.
««« »»»
The next day, the two boys made a pot roast for dinner. Neither of them had made one before, but according to Parrish, how could you screw up a pot roast? All you had to do was season it, pat it with flour, brown it in a large pan, then pour in some beef stock or simply water, and cook it for two or three hours at low heat.
Some recipes called for adding carrots and onions and stuff, but they thought, for a first try, they’d keep it simple.
So they did it. They found a beginner’s recipe on the internet. It was easy, and kind of fun. OK, the browning part would be easier the next time they tried it now that they knew not to make the pan too hot, and the gravy might be better if they mixed up their flour and water a little better to get the lumps out and added it more slowly to the cooking liquid, but, well, the final product was still great. The meat was tender and moist, the potatoes cooked in the braising liquid were excellent, and the carrots they’d finally decided to add at the last minute might need just a tad longer cooking time, but al dente carrots were still good. Overall, it was a great success. Even John thought so.
Maybe it was a full stomach, maybe something else, but he was in an expansive mood. For him that meant less grouch, more human being.
“So, you must have had a good day,” Parrish said to him as they were finishing the meal. He’d noticed John smiling, a rare occurrence.
John grimaced and shook his head. “Actually, no. This food is the best part of it. You guys did good.”
As compliments were rarer than smiles, Parrish basked in the praise. Peter was still in a feeling-out stage with John and didn’t react at all, just filed the compliment away.
“We’re still getting crystal meth here. Shutting that guy down in the mall, those two guys at least, didn’t make any difference at all. We questioned the one who first grabbed you, Parrish. He was just a street seller. He said he got the product from the other guy, the one who ran. He said that guy was the supplier.”
“That makes sense,” Parrish interjected. “The one who ran off told the one we caught to pull me back along the corridor. I think he wanted a commotion, all eyes to be looking back away from you, John. As soon as that was happening, he took off.”
“So that means we got a look at him. The security footage was vague and blurry, as usual, but I saw him. From my brief look, he fit the description we’ve got from the other street dealers we’ve caught. But, I don’t think he’s the boss. I think he’s a middleman.”
“Why?” Peter asked.
“Well, I’m not sure, of course, but it makes sense. The pushers we’ve caught have all been young—eighteen to twenty-five years old, say. That’s how it often works, because one of their markets is kids, middle-school- and high-school-aged kids, and kids that age are more comfortable dealing with younger guys than older dudes. But, guys their age would be hard pressed to have the capital needed to make large buys of meth. I think someone older is doing that. I think there’s a boss who brings the stuff in and a middleman who distributes it to the street dealers. This way, the boss is protected. Only the middle man knows who he is. If we can catch the middle man, we might be able to learn who the boss is.”
Peter was thinking, and when John paused for a gulp of ice tea, he asked, “You keep saying it’s brought in. But I’ve read it’s easy to make, and doing that would be much more profitable, wouldn’t it? Why don’t you look into it being made locally? Maybe not in town, but there are lots of woods outside the city.”
John nodded and almost smiled. He liked Peter. He wasn’t about to admit it, but the kid was smart and stood up for himself, traits he liked in boys. “Making it isn’t hard if you know how and if you have access to the stuff needed to make it. But, making it is nasty business. It stinks to high heaven, and the one making it ends up breathing it in and getting the stench on his clothes and in his hair. The odor is pervasive and difficult to disperse. In the city, someone would notice it. In the country, it kills foliage, and so if you look for that, you can find where it’s being made. We’ve trained our patrols to be sniffing around, if I can make that pun, and we’ve talked to people who hike in the woods about what to look for. We haven’t found the first trace of it being manufactured locally, and I think we would have. So, my theory is, they’re bringing it in. Smaller profit this way, but way less risk.”
“And you’re sure it’s still being sold here?” This from Parrish.
“We’re sure. Just today, we had another OD. A kid going to college this fall. Freshman. His friends say he bought it so he’d be able to be more alert and stay up later studying. He didn’t die so when we can, we’ll talk to him. But what his friends said, it makes sense. See, that’s the thing. It does have some attractive uses. It gives you added energy, makes you happier, it does keep you awake when you’re tired, and what teenagers like, it increases libido. Increased libido means you’re more into sex.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “I know what libido means,” he said.
“You do? You’re twelve.”
“I do.”
John gave him a look, but Peter simply met it and held it, and John went back to what he’d been saying. “The thing is, the stuff is very addictive, it damages your brain and other organs, and once you’re hooked on it, it doesn’t take much before…well, as I said, we had another OD today. It was only luck that it wasn’t lethal. This kid was new to the stuff, just trying it out, and took too much. That happens, and addiction happens as well, and it’s really easy to get addicted. Once you’re hooked, it can lead to depression, suicidal thoughts, and violent behavior. Meth is just really bad stuff.”
Neither boy said anything, just thinking about what he’d said. John got up and started helping the boys clear the table and then said, “If either of you can find out if your friends or other kids you know have been approached by anyone selling this shit, tell me about it. I don’t like kids dying. And, since you guys did such a good job on dinner, I’ll wash.”
Peter looked at him. “You mean you’ll put the dishes in the dishwasher and hit the start button?”
“Yeah, isn’t that what I said?” John growled. “I’ll do the dishes.”
««« »»»
In their room later, when they were getting ready for bed, Parrish watched as Peter undressed. He always watched as Peter undressed, just as Peter watched him. Parrish was in for a surprise, however. This time, Peter didn’t stop at his underwear. He took them off, too.
He was aroused and blushed and then hopped into bed. Parrish quickly took off his boxers and joined him. “Does this mean what I think it means?” he asked softly.
Peter nodded. “Let’s go really slow, OK? And if I say stop, you’ll stop? I’m just not sure how I’m going to react.”
“Of course I will,” said Parrish, and he leaned in and kissed Peter on the lips.
It was the first time either boy had kissed the other. Although Peter had been hard before the kiss, he felt twice as hard after.
They were both on their sides, facing each other. Parrish reached out, hugged Peter, and drew him closer so their bodies were touching. Then, they both let their mutual desires lead them. Parrish kept reminding himself that caution was more important right then than passion and kept holding back. Peter was lost in the moment, lost in the feelings he was having.
What they were doing was nothing like what happened to Peter with his father. That had been a forced and painful act with nothing but lust involved. This wasn’t forced, and they didn’t do what Peter’s father had done anyway. This was tenderness. This was love. There’d been very little love in Peter’s life before meeting Parrish. Now everything had changed.
Peter slept very soundly that night and awoke in a position in bed new to him. Now, he was behind Parrish, their bodies together but with Peter behind and doing the holding. This felt as good as it did the other way around. Peter couldn’t stop smiling and wiggled a little, getting more comfortable against Parrish, getting all of his fully aroused body just where it felt best.
Which was when Parrish woke up.