In The Dark...

Fawkes’ sandy skin tantalised him as he took the corner.

The boy just left, the recently moved in, Brazilian family’s curb house to make it for his. It’d been a long day filled with excitement over the football match between Germany and Argentina and it was nearly 10 o’clock on this cool Trinidadian night.

Milo had never gotten to see him take off his shirt even in the heated football matches the block boys got into. So this was a treat.

With shirt hem in mouth revealing a relatively smooth, barely rippling stomach, the young man walked slowly down the street, oblivious that he was being watched, or that he had been watched for quite some time.

Milo had to know where the boy lived. The crush was getting unbearable and he needed at least some information other than a name.

He jumped down off his perch from his one-storey balcony and hit the ground hard on his feet. It was a little painful but with the amount of practice he’d had in his spare time, due to a lack of a social life, he’d trained himself to get used to the shock and had developed a number of other useful skills as well.

He ran up to his wall and ran up the face landing on his palms with his legs hanging lazily behind him. He brought them over his head and secured his feet onto the wall’s flat top. He ran across the top and when he reached his neighbour’s gate he hurled himself into the air and landed hard onto the wall on the other side.

He quickly regained his equilibrium and continued until he reached the Jamaicans’ house and slowly took the bending wall.

Shuffle!

He’d stumbled on the wall.

Fawkes had already reached the end of the little street that turned into another circular of houses. He turned around immediately at the sound.

Milo held his breath as he froze up.

Fawkes looked directly at him. Or at least in his direction. Then he looked away, shaking his head, not showing any sign of having knowledge of being followed.

Milo exhaled a relieved sigh.

The night’s darkness was blocking him from sight. But he was getting dangerously close to the orange pools of light that the streetlight cast on top of Fawkes.

He watched as Fawkes disappeared into one of the open yards of the circular’s houses. Milo slowly dismounted the wall. Moving cautiously so he may not reveal himself in the pools of light, for he knew that that was the weakness of his clever trick.

Milo crept closer to Fawkes’ circular as he left his.

“Boy,” a deep voice came.

He was petrified the instant the voice came.

“Leave that boy be.”

He knew who it was. It was that old witch that lived behind the Jamaicans.

“Maman,” he addressed her respectfully, “I’m not doing mischief, just...looking.”

He turned to her.

She was probably the only one who could see him, next to baser creatures, like animals. Their eyes met. Hers were as cold as ice. But he maintained the stare for a few seconds. Then they thawed.

She took more puffs of her smoking burning cigar.

“Oh,” she breathed and turned away, “Shade what you are looking for is to be presented before you. But will you know what to do with it?”

She continued disappeared into her house.

Milo leered into the dark house until the door slammed on its own, spooking him off balance and throwing him onto the ground.

He felt the light of the streetlights hit him. He was no longer out of sight! He launched to his feet and looked around to see if he’d been spotted.

No one was outside. No one saw.

He turned to the house Fawkes had gone into. He’d have to dodge the entire ring of street lights that covered the houses in revealing orange light; which was absolutely impossible.

His pursuit was over.

Creak!

He jumped. A side gate swung open a bit. He looked at it then up at the house. The witch’s house.

“Thank you witch,” he said to himself and he entered the premises.

He trailed into the backyard until he reached a weathered wall smudged with moss and various fungal growths that bordered the neighbourhood. In it was a cast iron gate that opened into the wild bushes which spread around the neighbourhood.

Each house had a gate leading inside their backyard. He had to figure out which one was Fawkes’ own.

He trailed along the wall looking into each cast iron gate to see whose house he was looking into. After four houses he reached one with a bicycle leaned up against the house’s back wall that looked familiarly like Fawkes’.

This house was much closer to the wall, possibly due to individual renovations. A light went on in one of the back rooms. Milo cowered behind the wall, peeping inside the gate. He could see Fawkes, bareback. His heart jumped.

Fawkes was picking some things off the ground while a laptop adjacent to the side window of the room booted up.

Milo looked at the boy’s body. He felt a little awkward since the boy was a year younger than he was. Still he was bigger than he was and was pretty sure could get beaten up by him.

Click!

Creak!

The gate, that Milo was pretty sure was locked tightly, creaked open.

“Thanks witch but I didn’t need that.”

He swallowed hard as readied himself to get closer. He moved from behind the wall and walked right into the gate, walking through it as if it were just air. It swung back as his entire body passed through and made a quiet creak.

He hoped that they didn’t own any dogs. Looking to see if there were any, he made a quickly survey of the premises and noticed a mango tree. Standing in front of a small deck was a tall mango tree which provided enough shade for him to hide and watch into the room. He quickly made his way into it and climbed up the branches and toward the branch that clawed at the room’s open sash windows.

He hid behind the wall next to the window and peeped in. Someone could easily access the house if they wanted to. This room seemed to have no burglar-proofing over the wide open windows. He could jump in if he wanted to.

He was closer now to see the boy. Beginnings a six pack etched its way across his stomach, while his chest warned that if some hard work were put in would fill out very nicely. His legs were already big and every time he bent down to pick something up off the floor revealed his stone-hard calves.

Milo bit his lip.

He took out his iPhone and played around with it until he came upon the camera app, set the camera on multi-shot option. He held his breath and stretched his arm out and pressed the capture button. A flourish of electronically generated camera flashes came and stopped.

He pulled his hand back immediately, buried his iPhone in his hoodie’s frontal pocket to hide the light and pressed his body against the wall, hoping he hadn’t been heard.

Milo slowly poked his head out to look into the room. Fawkes was sitting down on the chair in front of the laptop. His hand was below his waist, disappeared into his crotch. Milo’s eyes were wide open.

He watched as he pulled the waist of his pants down and let out his erect penis. Milo licked his lips and pursed them tightly.

An electronic chime filled his room. His laptop had finished booted up. Fawkes immediately turned down the volume.

He moved the mouse’s pointer to the red O on the desktop and double clicked.
Milo’s hand instinctively went down to his crotch as he watched his pursuit play with his own crotch.

A window opened and pornographic images splashed across the screen.

Milo almost choked when he realised what Fawkes was gawking at. That can’t be true. Milo knew those images.

A video popped up and Fawkes directed the cursor to the play button. A younger man was sitting on top of an older hairier guy while he lay back letting the younger one ride his penis. It was gay porn.

Milo set his iPhone on the camera app again and set it on Fawkes this time he wasn’t being cautious not to be seen. He positioned the iPhone in just the right place so he could catch Fawkes. Then when he was satisfied with the angle he selected the multi-shot option and clicked the capture button.

Voom!

The electricity was cut off with a loud sound. The entire place got dark. Milo’s iPhone and Fawkes’ laptop shone in the darkness.

“Shit!” Fawkes swore.

He saw the laptop screen close down. Then the lights flickered on but his head was still poked
out into the room.

Milo didn’t even notice that Fawkes had moved to his door and he was now in his line of sight.
But Milo’s eyes were fixed on the laptop.

“What the fuck! You! What the fuck are you doing there!”

Shit!

Milo tumbled off the mango tree’s branch onto ground but felt something yank him up by his hoodie’s hood. He almost choked. He needed to think fast without pissing Fawkes off anymore.

“I...I...I have photos of you, leave me alone,” Milo whimpered trying to bargain with the, obviously, pissed Fawkes.

He felt him let go and he dropped face first on the floor.

Thud!

Fawkes vaulted through the window and landed over him.

He felt a heavy foot clamp down on his neck. “Give me the pictures, now!”

“No, I can’t.”

He felt Fawkes’ foot ease off his neck.

“I’ll let you go if you just give me the pictures,” Fawkes backed away.

Milo raised his face slowly off the ground. He came to a kneeling position. His face was nearly in kissing distance of Fawkes’ hot crotch. He looked at it and then up at Fawkes. He couldn’t believe what he was about to say. But Fawkes could kill him if he wanted to, pictures and all.

“We’ll do a trade,” Milo looked at the boy’s crotch and then down on the ground.

Fawkes looked down at the boy and knew exactly what he was talking about. The thought flashed acorss his mind; the pictures were more incriminating than one bad memory. He clenched his teeth and pulled down his pants.

Milo watched as the silky pants dropped to the floor. Fawkes’ penis was long between his legs, about 6 or 7 inches semi-hard. It bounced up and down as the pants slid along it. Milo swallowed.

Fawkes grabbed Milo’s brown hair and pulled his head to face him. His olive skin shone in the light from his room. Those hazel eyes were filled with fear and a twinkle of excitement.

His eyes dropped to his fairly round lips. It was better than his hand and Milo wasn’t bad looking. But, it was somewhat discomforting that he was going to do what he was going to do with the boy he and the block boys had labelled queer, and weird.

Fawkes stooped and looked into his eyes, “Just give me the camera. This is the beginning of something you don’t want to continue.”

“You and I both know that I’ve just uncovered the biggest secret since Area 51.” Why the hell was he bargaining with a boy who had nothing to lose if he just beat him up and take the phone?

“Do it quick. And don’t even fucking think about choking. You vomit, I fucking kill you,” Fawkes growled and pushed his face away.

He reclined slowly placing his elbows on the ground behind him. He closed his eyes, spread his legs. His erect penis sprung up excitedly.

Milo came forward hesitantly. He was trembling--nervous. He crawled closer up to Fawkes' crotch and slowly grabbed the boy's penis. He lowered his face and brought his lips to the head. He licked it like he'd seen in the movies. Then he wrapped his lips around its hardness. His tongue slid down the shaft, then up.

Fawkes shuddered. Milo stopped when he did and looked up at him. Dark eyes shot lasers at him as if to scream, "Why did you stop!". Milo continued.

Up and down he pushed and pulled his lips, mouth and tongue. It wasn't as enjoyable as he'd seen in those movies because he had to continue lubricate his tongue with spit that seemed to be running out. After a tiring process of Milo trying not to gag, while keeping his mouth wet, and trying not to drag his teeth too close to the boy's skin, Fawkes breathing grew ragged and faster.

Moments after Milo heard him let out a sharp grunt and something wet and warm shot behind his mouth. Coughing, Milo recoiled quickly and slammed into the wall behind him. Milo swiped his hand around his mouth after spitting the ejaculate out.

Fawkes looked at Milo sitting with his back against the wall. His expression was mortified. He knew the boy would regret it.

“Happy now, battyboy? Pictures,” he said with his hand outstretched, after he’d pulled up his pants over his monster.

Milo looked down. Ashamed, he couldn't even face him even though the embarrassment was on Fawkes, for allowing him to.

He fished in his hoodie’s front pocket and took out the iPhone. He crawled over to the side of him and gave him.

Fawkes yanked it from his hands and got up. He walked to the deck behind the mango tree. He turned on the light and sat down on a chair.

Milo followed him.

Fawkes looked up at him. “What! You’re not getting this back.”

“It’s my phone—“ he whined.

“It's my backyard. I could call the motherfucking police.”

Milo bit down on his lips. He was right. He began to turn to walk away.

“Serves me right, then,” he said solemnly, remembering the witch’s warning.

He snailed away heavily.

Fawkes stared up at him. In a few seconds, everything flashed across his mind. Summer was beginning, his sexuality was getting harder and harder to deal with, the spying had caught him on a terrible time, there was too much to deal with having to deal with this too. Probably this was a chance to deal with it. He couldn't have a boyfriend, no, this would be like therapy--yeah therapy.

His thoughts chewed at him. He clenched his teeth behind his pursed lips and balled his hand up into a fist, squeezing the phone in the other. He couldn't believe what he'd decided next.

Fawkes let out a sharp breath. “Hey.”

Milo wheeled around.

“Keep it, keep everything,” he said throwing the boy’s phone back at him.

Milo caught it and tried hard to stifle his forming smile, but the relief was too great. He looked up at Fawkes in unsureness, steel eyes stared back.

“Thanks. And I'm really really sorry.”

“I'm not,” a devious glint came at the side of his eye, “Um,” he scratched his head and looked down, “Tomorrow, same time?”

Milo looked at him confused and just to make sure he asked, “Is that uh...a date?”

“You're fucking up the moment, man.”

“Ye-Ye-Yeah,” he stuttered while walking backward out of the yard.

“Okay, alright, um good night? Wait, I never really got your name.” Fawkes looked up to meet a locked gate and empty yard.

He furrowed his eyebrows, and then he returned to the window leading to his room and jumped inside.