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Chapter Four: The Compromise
THEY STAYED AT the dinner table long after everyone had left, sitting opposite each other with the light from the oil lamp between them dancing in their faces. Carl noticed then that Pete looked much older than his age, but in a good way, as it attested to a meaningful life—a huge contrast to his own aging, which he felt only made him look too beaten and used up from all those hopeless years of staying alive for lack of any other possible option.
“Why do you have to insist on staying?” Pete started, maintaining a calm voice. “You don't belong here. Right now you're an intruder and there are even talks about you having been the one who squealed on those sympathizers.”
Carl was taken aback. He hadn't expected to be that easy a target to their suspicions. His eyebrows furrowed. “The hell I am,” he said, sarcasm surfacing like a solid object. “Didn't you tell them I'm your cousin? And that I will never do that sort of thing to you?”
“Of course, I did. And they believe me. But I know your presence here is still making them uncomfortable.” The sigh that escaped Pete's lips indicated that he was getting tired. “What happened, Carl? Why exactly are you here?”
It was involuntary for Carl to suddenly look down. He figured he had better stop beating around the bush with Pete and give him a straight answer. “I was just tired with the way things were back home. I couldn't figure out what I wanted to do, I felt useless. You've always been the only one who really understands me. I was hoping I could belong here. Maybe I could begin understanding you, too.” He had sounded sincere. Carl felt at that moment that that was what he really wanted.
Pete gave him a long, hard look. Carl was right. Pete had been the only one who really felt with his younger cousin. But then again he knew his cousin too much that he knew better. “You always get tired, Carl,” he said. “What makes you think things here aren't going to be any different.”
“I wouldn't know that,” Carl admitted. “I know there's no telling if I'll be the same here or not. But I'm giving it a shot. It's just that back home, I was miserable. I wasn't interested in anything, no one interested me... and I tried to change, but I just couldn't. I figured maybe I didn't need to change. Maybe I needed someplace where who I am wouldn't be such a problem.” For the first time in years Carl was able to say something deeply true about himself. And for a moment there he got scared.
A smile involuntarily crept across Pete's face. He had to admire Carl for clinging on to the very little hope his younger cousin thankfully believed still possible. “I hope you're telling the truth,” he said. “You know I'm always here to help you out.”
“I know. That's why I chose it here.”
Pete nodded off with finality. “All right,” he said, his voice firm with decision. “I'll give you a chance. We'll try you out. And we'll see how that goes.”
Carl thought he should be at least a little suspicious about Pete's sudden change of mind, but he let his cousin continue.
“I'll assign you with a task, and we'll see how that molds you. If you do end up giving us the fullest of your dedication, then you will become a part of us.”
“OK...” Carl said carefully, a little confounded. He couldn't tell if Pete was being serious, but looking at him he felt that Pete meant every word. “What do I have to do?”
Pete stood up slowly with a smirk on his face. “Don't get too excited. I'll let you know tomorrow morning. Right now I need to get some rest. It's been a long day.” Then Pete started making his way back to his own dwelling.
Carl immediately followed.
“Hey, Pete...” he said as he trailed behind Pete. He wanted to ask his cousin why he told Nestor about what he did when he was ten, because it lingered like a thorn in his foot, but then he changed his mind. If he started a heated discussion Pete might change his mind about having him stay.
“What?”
Carl immediately struggled for something clever to say. “I just wanted to know where people here bathe. I smell so sour and I feel so sticky I can't stand myself.”
Pete grinned. “I'll have Nestor take you to there. He usually bathes during these hours so you can bathe together.”
“Great,” Carl said, his tone bland, disguising the lump in his throat that had all of a sudden felt like the size of a fist.
“You're not still mad at me, are you?” Nestor said through the sound of water splashing on the ground.
Carl shook his head. “I was never mad at you,” he retorted, wiping the water running off his face.
“Really? You seemed really uptight this morning.”
Carl chose not to say anything back. He wondered why the hell Nestor found it necessary to bring it up. It had made him uncomfortable, and now it was making him even more uncomfortable. Thankfully he had his back toward Nestor so the distaste in his face was hidden from view.
“Are you all right?” Nestor said.
Carl could sense Nestor coming closer so he decided to take a step forward. “Yes, I am. Why do you have to ask?” He bent down to scoop water from the well in the plastic container he had in his hand.
“I just can't understand how someone at that young an age do something like that. I mean, you were ten, I—”
“You don't have to bother understanding. You might only die trying.” Carl's tone had been sharp, and it quietened Nestor for some time. And for a while Carl was able to revel in the stinging-cold water he was pouring all over his body. He was thankful as the coldness distracted him from the growing annoyance he was feeling toward Nestor.
The improvised well was a little excavated land walled by pebbles. Its water source flowed from a nearby waterfall—which only reached neck-high—through portions of banana trunks attached together to form a trough. Carl would never have imagined himself coming up with such a primitive construct.
“Will you soap my back?” Nestor finally spoke, nonchalantly, as he handed Carl a bar of soap. He had sounded oblivious to the choked hostility Carl was prepared to treat him with in full form.
Carl instantly felt his knees buckling. The annoyance he was feeling seemed to have eroded with the water he was pouring on his head. He turned and said, “OK,” grabbing the soap from Nestor's hand in a manner that made him appear unaffected. His eyes darted straight at the improvised well. He had thought at first that it was stupid, constructing a well when there was flowing water nearby. But then he realized it would have taken them much longer time to fetch a sufficient amount of water had there been no well at all.
He decided to look around. It had been a long walk to the bathing area from the main camp, something Pete never hinted when Carl asked where it was.
Carl's eyes flew back up to his own hands, shivering hands in front of him that were traversing Nestor's skin. He cursed himself for not being able to help it. He decided to look up, as though patches of sky seen through spaces between leaves promised him deliverance.
Tomorrow morning was going to be the mark of a new day. Pete was assigning him a task. He wondered what it would be. If he ended up as Atticus's babysitter he'd know Pete had only been lying all along. But if it was something that had more meaning...
Nestor's back was smooth and sinewy. Its feel was like electricity in Carl's hands, and it was making him grow weaker each time.
He made a mental note to thank Pete again later for the change of clean clothes Pete gave him earlier.
He couldn't tell how long he had been soaping Nestor's back, for he had been absentmindedly enjoying the feel. But he had started to notice that his breathing had gotten heavy that he had to immediately give out a fake cough.
Nestor turned to face him, shooting a grin. “Well, hello there, Mister,” Nestor said, slightly looking down with a smile wide with mischief.
“What?” Carl jolted a bit. He looked down and realized what exactly Nestor was grinning at. The head of his penis was jutting out of his briefs, throbbing as though it were about to erupt. He quickly adjusted the garter of his underwear as he turned his back again toward Nestor.
For a long moment there was just silence.
“It's OK,” Nestor whispered, his mouth against Carl's ear.
Carl almost jumped, but Nestor held him by the waist that he found it hard to make another move.
“Your turn,” Nestor said as he reached over to get the soap from Carl's hand. He started soaping Carl's back.
There was nothing else Carl could do but stand still. He felt like his skull had been emptied out of a working brain for he could no longer decide what to do next. When Nestor poured water over his back to rinse the soap suds off, he only twitched a little, biting back a moan.
“There, there...” Nestor, locking Carl in his arms, started running his soapy hands all over Carl's front, starting from the belly up. He had stood closer, pressing his body hard against Carl's. Slowly, his fingers found their way on Carl's nipples, making circular movements.
Carl couldn't help but groan.
“You like that?”
Carl nodded, failing to find his voice. Then he started feeling Nestor's lips trailing soft kisses on his back, starting from his nape down his spine. He heaved deeply when he felt Nestor's hot breath against the small of his back. His own hands immediately started gripping his phallus, tightly, as he pulled it out of his briefs; It was the only thing he knew what to do next.
After that, it was unmistakable—Nestor's tongue was prodding deep between his buttocks, tracing the round opening.
Curses started escaping Carl's lips. All curses known to man, he threw them in the wind as though he hated what Nestor was doing to his body. But he was feeling the opposite. He couldn't help but marvel at the necessity of profanity when one's body was experiencing summit pleasure.
“You like that, Carl?”
“Uh-huh,” a course whisper came out.
“Is this your first time getting rimmed?”
Carl nodded. “Hell, yes. Don't stop.” His plea was followed by his legs caving in to the weight of his torso. He bent down on all fours with eyes closed, not minding the feel of rough ground against his elbows and knees.
After a few minutes Carl felt Nestor's hand on his back. Nestor's other hand was digitally loosening his opening.
“May I?” Nestor said.
“Be my guest.”
Slowly, Nestor entered Carl, and in the minutes that followed only their cries of pain and pleasure could be heard.
Carl felt like he had just survived a whirlwind. They had been almost everywhere—on the ground, against a tree, by the waterfall, and finally on this boulder. Their bodies were glimmering with sweat and semen, and the visuals were making Carl hard again.
“You still up for another round?” Nestor grinned, opening one eye for Carl.
Carl hissed with humor. “You're kidding me, right? You just fucked my brains out.”
“As you did mine...” Nestor reached over and held Carl's hand. For a moment Carl was frozen.
“We've got to get back to the camp,” Carl said as he sat up. He looked down on his belly. Nestor's cum was dripping from his navel so he wiped it off with his hands. Looking furtively at Nestor's face, he tried to trace a hint of his own. Nestor had asked him earlier to spray it in his face, and Carl was interested to know whether or not Nestor swallowed.
Nestor grabbed Carl by the arm. “What are you doing? Get back here.” He pulled Carl towards him.
“We can't anymore,” Carl prostested. “I'm beat,”
“I didn't say we're having sex again. I just want you close.”
Carl paused for a while. Because of Nestor's strength it was difficult to push him away, so Carl let his head rest on Nestor's chest for a while.
In his head he wanted to implode.
“We really have to get going now.” Carl pushed himself up so fast Nestor jolted.
Nestor stood up after him. “What's wrong?”
“Nothing,” Carl said as he started his way back to the well. He scooped some water from the well and started rinsing himself.
“What's the matter, Carl? You find it corny?” Nestor's laugh was mocking, but his kiss on Carl's lips felt otherwise as he held Carl tight.
It was difficult for Carl, but he broke himself free anyway. “Don't!” he said.
“Oh, come on.” Nestor was persistent. He pulled Carl towards him by the waist, his laugh even more mocking this time. “What's wrong with cuddling?”
“Dammit. What's wrong with you?” Carl was able to pull away again but this time it seemed like a punch. “I'm not as lonely as you think,” he said. He walked straight to the tree where they had left their clean clothes then started changing, never once looking back at Nestor. Nestor just stood frozen by the well saying nothing.
The next day they didn't speak to each other. They didn't exchange words when Pete finally revealed to Carl what his task was, even if Nestor was there to supposedly help Carl out. They didn't even so much as look at each other during dinner, even when Carl needed Nestor to pass him the salt. Things, however, changed after dinner, when they had to go back again to the well to bathe.
Book Two is supposed to end with the next chapter, but I realized I need one more before I get to this book's finale. To be honest I really wish I could hurry this up because I want Carl to be back in the city.
To all my readers, even the silent ones (hehehe), thank you for reading.
