by Deirdre

©May 2005

He finds Kevin easily enough; he follows the low thread of song, clear even over the twitter of birds and the rustling toss of leaves in the wind. Kevin’s voice is deep and smooth as a river-tumbled stone, soft and lazy from the heat of the day, and Nick shivers a little as it slides over his skin and curls into his ears. He and Brian sing all the time together, their voices rising like birds winging from the grass into the blue sky, but Kevin’s deep voice makes him think of the dark richness of new-ploughed black earth, something solid and real.

Nick pauses in the place where the brambles open into a clearing by the side of a stream. Kevin lies sprawled in the cool shade, his berry baskets heaped full to almost overflowing with fat, juicy, shining black berries. Like all the rest of them, in deference to the heat, he’s rolled up his loose breeches, leaving his long legs bare from the knee down; his old sandals sit next to the berry baskets, neatly aligned, dusty and splattered with purplish berry juice. No one ever wears nice clothes for berrying, but Kevin’s worn pale homespun shirt and brown breeches somehow manage to look neat and elegant even torn by brambles and stained with juice. Nick tugs at his own ripped and dirty clothes, suddenly self-conscious.

Nick’s eyes are drawn to the smooth tanned skin revealed by the deep vee of Kevin’s loose shirt, to the slice of lean brown belly revealed as Kevin slips his hand beneath his shirt and scratches idly. He can see a trail of black hair beginning beneath Kevin’s navel, disappearing behind the drawstring of his breeches, and suddenly, oddly, his mouth feels hot and dry in spite of all the berries he’s had.

“Hey, Nick.” Nick blinks; he’s been so absorbed in looking that he’d not even realized that Kevin has stopped singing. He feels heat crawl up his throat and bloom into his cheeks. Before this summer, he’s never had much to do with Kevin; he’s always been the quiet, serious man seen during the festivals at equinoxes and harvest fairs, someone he always skittered away from as quickly as possible, preferring to drag away Brian for fun instead. Although he’s usually been kind and polite and considerate whenever they speak, Kevin sometimes makes him feel even younger than his years, and Nick’s had enough of that.

“Um. Hey,” he replies at last.

“You lost?” Kevin tips his head back to look at Nick. His long hair has come loose from its customary tail at the nape of his neck, and it lays in a dark swirl around his head, startling blue-black against the tender green of the grass. It isn’t like Howie’s hair, all wild curls he tries desperately to tame, but smooth and straight as a ribbon, and Nick has the odd desire to touch it and see if it is as soft as the silk ties his little sisters like to use in their own blonde hair. Nick knots his hand into a fist and tucks it behind his back to keep from reaching out to see for himself, because he’s fairly certain he shouldn’t do that.

“No.” Nick shifts from one bare foot to the other, his own sandals dangling from his other hand. The grass is cool and welcoming beneath his dusty feet. He wants to dip his feet in the gently-burbling stream that cuts through the clearing, but doesn’t move. “Brian sent me off to find you. Said you might need some help.”

Kevin snorts, and relaxes back into the grass. “As if I’d get lost, on my own lands. Let me guess. He was berrying with one of the girls, right?”

Nick unclenches his fist and scratches the back of his neck, the skin hot and tight, burned from the sun. “Yeah. Leighanne. The one with the huge, um.” Nick stutters to a stop. Talking to Brian, he’d just say “tits,” but with Kevin, it doesn’t seem right, somehow. And his mother had warned him—repeatedly—that if he went this summer with Brian to stay with his cousin, he’d have to be on his best behavior, because Kevin is wealthy and powerful, someone to respect.

Kevin’s chuckle rolls through the shady clearing, and Nick feels heat gather low in his belly. “With the huge...tracts of land,” Kevin says, and his dark green eyes sparkle.

“Well,” Nick says honestly, “I was going to say huge bosoms. I don’t know about any tracts of land.”

The chuckle becomes a laugh as Kevin rolls from his back to his side, propping his cheek on one hand. Long, long legs, slim waist, broad chest, and Nick can see more tanned skin as his shirt gaps open.

“You’re a treasure, Nick,” Kevin says, and his mouth curves. “No wonder Brian loves you so.” He pats the grass beside him. “Come sit with me.”

Before Nick can say anything about maybe leaving and returning to the main house, or going to find the others, his feet carry him right into the shade without even consulting his mind. Since he’s there, and it would be rude to just leave, he folds to the grass, setting his sandals down beside him.

“Maybe he loves me,” Nick says, “but he went off with Leighanne.” He tries to keep the petulance out of his voice, but isn’t sure he succeeds, because it still hurts, just a little, to be sent away like a little boy when he’s not, anymore. It stings to know that Brian will be kissing her pretty pink mouth, will be touching her beneath her clothing, because Nick thinks that if Brian kisses anyone, touches anyone, it should be him. He’s thought about that a lot, lately.

“He’s of an age now where his thoughts turn to pretty girls, and their many sweet charms,” Kevin says easily. He reaches out and plucks a bit of thorny bramble from Nick’s loose shirt tail and tosses it aside. “It’s normal to try all the pleasures life offers, and girls are one of those joys.”

“That’s what Howie says,” Nick replies, and draws his legs to his chest, looping his arms around his shins, resting his chin on his knees. “We still have fun together, but not as much as we did.”

“Friendships don’t always remain the same,” Kevin says gently. “People change, grow. Change is the way of the world. It doesn’t mean he loves you less.” Kevin rolls to his back again, and the breeze plucks at his loose shirt, fingers through his long hair, tugging it over his face. He raises a hand and lazily tucks some of it behind his ear. His profile is as sharp as his voice is soft, and something about the slice of cheekbones, the sharp cut of jawline contrasted with the long dark lashes, the warm green eyes, makes prickly heat twist in Nick’s belly.

“Maybe not,” Nick says, and his voice rises unsteadily, cracking as it hasn’t since last year. Embarrassment burns along his skin, and he clears his throat. He flinches, waiting for Kevin to tease him about the break of his voice, because he always has, but mercifully Kevin doesn’t this time, and after a handful of heartbeats, Nick relaxes. “But I still miss him.”

“Of course you do,” Kevin says, and reaches out to curl one long-fingered hand around Nick’s dusty ankle, squeezing gently, thumb rubbing along the knob of anklebone. It’s an oddly intimate touch from someone who’s never really touched him before except in greeting, and it makes Nick’s heart trip, makes his breath catch in his chest. A part of him wants to pull away, but the greater part of him, curious, doesn’t. “You played as boys together forever. But you’ll be just as close, as men.”

“I hope so,” Nick says. His fingers pleat the loose cloth covering his thighs; he wants to reach down, to touch Kevin’s wrist, to feel the pulse thudding strongly there beneath the thin skin, but he doesn’t quite dare.

“I know so,” Kevin replies with the ease of his greater years. “Your time with pretty girls and boys will come soon enough, and then you’ll understand that particular pleasure.”

Overhead, a squirrel and a bluejay chatter angrily, squabbling in the branches above them, and a couple of leaves float down. One lands on Kevin’s sinewy forearm exposed by his rolled-up sleeve. Kevin’s arms are as scratched as his own—no one goes berrying and comes away unmarked—dull red scratches contrasting with the bright green of leaf. Somehow, it makes Nick restless, looking at the corded strength of that arm, and he glances away, quickly.

“Yesterday, I kissed a girl behind the potting shed in the garden,” Nick says in a quick rush, staring at his dusty toes, not daring to look at Kevin.

“Did you now? I’m not surprised.” Kevin’s voice is as warm as the sun, a slow, liquid, lazy drawl. “How did you like it?”

Nick fingers his lower lip as he thinks. “It was wet,” he says finally. Mandy’s mouth had been as red and sweet and juicy as a plum, and she hadn’t laughed at his fumbling first kiss, though his whole body had shook with a mixture of longing and terror. She had smiled and put his hands on her, and his body had sprung to aching heat. Beneath her bodice, her small breasts had been as round and firm as apples, and he could span her waist with his hands. The swell of her hips had intrigued him, and under her long, gauzy summer skirt, she’d been slick and wet beneath his curious fingers, all intriguing folds and hollows, unlike his own hard, straight-forward flesh.

She’d made the most delicious sounds, and he’d rucked her skirts up around her waist, fingers following the directions of her sighs, when they’d heard her mother calling for her. Mandy had pushed him away—Nick hadn’t wanted to let her go—had straightened her clothing, pressed a kiss to his cheek and run away, her honey-colored hair trailing behind her like a holiday pennant.

He’d licked his wet fingers, and the taste, musky and faintly salty, had tingled on his tongue, different than the times he’d tasted his own juices. The very memory of her scent, her taste, has the power to make Nick grow hard beneath his breeches, and he shifts a little, uncomfortable. “She was wet—everywhere.”

“Girls are like that,” Kevin says. “Sweet and wet. We’re so much stronger than they are, so you have to be gentler, more considerate with them. It’s always their choice to lie with us—a real man knows this, and never uses force.”

“I wouldn’t!” It’s hard, sometimes, remembering just how strong he’s grown, how big, how he has to be mindful of his strength now when the summer before, he’d been just a boy, small and scrawny. But he’d never hurt anyone deliberately.

“I know,” Kevin says. His fingers uncurl from around Nick’s ankle, and oddly, Nick misses the warmth. “I’m just saying to you what my own father said to me, when I was your age.”

Nick watches the sparkle of sun on water, listens to the burr of cicadas beginning their evening song, though the sun still rides high over the treetops. The smell of the water and the sharpness of crushed grass blades is strong in his nose.

“I have sixteen summers, now,” Nick says, though he’s not certain why he offers this information to Kevin, who undoubtedly knows it.

“Yes, you do. Old enough to experiment, to play. Enjoy this time—everything’s uncommonly sweet, at your age.”

Brian had said that as well, had told him that he’d be curious one day, would want to play, and that it was fine, was expected, even, for a young man to experiment, to find out what pleased him, and what didn’t. He’d said that someday he might want to lie with a girl, might want to dally with a boy, and that no harm came from sharing pleasure.

At first, Nick had laughed away the words. But he’s grown this season, shooting up like a weed, as Brian had teased, and he’s noticed that others look at him differently now than in summers past. But he’s been too skittish, afraid to approach anyone, feeling gangly and awkward and skinny, until Mandy had smiled up at him, sweet as honey, and tugged him behind the shelter of the potting shed. Until she’d touched his strong arms and long thighs, until her small hands had slid between his legs, had cupped him, had made him feel adult and wanted.

This summer, he’d realized that he wanted Brian to look at him in that new way, to see he’d grown and changed and was well on the road to his manhood. Even though Nick now towers over him, Brian sees only the boy he’s always known, the playmate of his childhood.

Nick treasures that part, the years of his life he’s spent with Brian, tagging after him, being with him as often as he could escape his mother, the two of them always in trouble of some sort. But now when he looks at Brian, as they work in the fields together or with Kevin’s herds of horses and cattle, and the sun shines in the sweat on Brian’s muscular shoulders, in his curly light-washed hair, it isn’t pranks or games or jokes he thinks of. Two days ago, he’d managed to get Brian in a headlock—no easy feat, considering Brian’s as strong as a bull in spite of his small size—and had been scrubbing his knuckles across his head, when Brian’s wriggling and squirming against him had made him as hard as wood.

It hasn’t been the first time this summer that it has happened, and Nick knows it certainly won’t be the last. Touching Brian now always leaves him restless and yearning for more, but he’s not really sure how to go about getting what he wants, because if Brian laughs at him, rejects his desire for more, he knows it will hurt, and badly.

Nick pauses, thinking. Here, in this shaded place away from the others, Kevin seems less the successful landowner and more like a real person, someone Nick can talk with and get his questions answered. And if Kevin doesn’t want to answer, he’ll certainly tell Nick; he’s always been a blunt man, often to the point of rudeness. Nick draws a deep breath, and plunges into it. “I’ve kissed a girl. But not a boy. What’s it like? Kissing boys, I mean?” Those are the words that come from his mouth, but in his head, they are, What would it be like to kiss Brian?

Nick’s gaze slews to Kevin. His eyes are closed, and a smile curves the corners of his lips. He’d always thought Kevin, with his heavy black brows, looked so serious, but now his expression softens, as if he remembers something pleasurable.

“Wet,” he says, and his grin broadens, showing the flash of straight white teeth. He opens his eyes, and they’re warm, amused. “But not all over, like girls.”

“No,” Nick says faintly. Kevin’s gaze catches his, and Nick can’t look away, suddenly dizzy and half-queasy. His skin feels itchy, as if a legion of ants crawl over it, as if it’s a size too small for him, and his heart pounds heavily in his chest, echoed in the hardness of his cock. “You’ve. You’ve kissed boys.”

“Oh yes. Many,” Kevin answers, and his voice drops lower, deeper, touches something within Nick that makes him want to wriggle in a mix of pleasure and discomfort. “We all have our time of play. I’m no different.”

And even as his feet carried him here without his consent, his mouth opens and before his mind can stop his willful tongue, he asks, “Would you kiss me?”

Kevin shifts, one arm curving over his head, that hand curled in relaxation, the other on his belly, exposed by the hitch of his shirt, forefinger tapping just above the little dip of his navel. Nick finds his attention drawn there, and wonders if the skin is as soft as it looks. His lips feel suddenly hot at the thought of kissing that brown skin, of dipping his tongue in the shallow well of navel.

“Wouldn’t you rather kiss AJ or Lance? They’re your agemates, far more than I am.” Nick jerks his attention back up to Kevin’s face, and feels himself flush again at the knowing green gaze.

But it isn’t a direct no, so Nick soldiers on, determined. “They’re not here. Besides, I’d rather kiss you.”

“I’m older than you. It’s different, when you’re not agemates.” Kevin smiles, but it isn’t teasing or mocking, just a simple declaration of truth. “I’m not a boy anymore, Nick.”

And the gods above know that’s the truth, Nick thinks. Kevin is definitely a man fully grown, tall and lean and muscled, oddly beautiful, desired by many. “No, you’re not,” Nick says. “You can kiss anyone you like.”

“True enough,” Kevin replies, and his smile grows. “And I do. Frequently.”

“Would you like to kiss me?” Nick catches his fingers tangling in the hem of his shirt, twisting as he’d often done when younger and nervous, and makes himself release the material, smoothing it over his thighs, covering his hardness in its loose folds.

“Yes,” Kevin says simply, and Nick feels his own mouth curl into a smile.

When Kevin makes no move to rise from the grass, to come to him and offer his mouth for a kiss, Nick realizes that it’s up to him to begin. Heat flushes through his chest and coils low in his belly and he worries whether his inexperience will make Kevin laugh when he kisses him.

“Nick,” Kevin says, his voice soft and low, “it’s just a kiss. There’s no right or wrong, just pleasure, and fun.”

He’s never been a coward, and he wants this, so Nick scoots forward over the grass, just close enough that he can lean over Kevin, who watches him calmly, eyes warm and approving, his mouth curved. Nick leans in, tilting his head just enough to avoid the blade of Kevin’s nose, and presses his mouth to Kevin’s berry-red one.

Kevin’s lips aren’t full and plump like Mandy’s, but they’re soft, and warm. The prickle of close-trimmed goatee is surprising, scraping sharply against his own beardless face, but he thinks he might like it. Brian has a scratchy-looking little scruff on and beneath his chin, and Nick’s often tugged playfully at it; maybe this is what it would feel like against his face. He wonders if Brian’s mouth would be as soft as Kevin’s. Nick pulls back a little and licks his lips; he can taste the sweetness of berries from Kevin’s mouth.

“See?” Kevin’s breath is warm against his mouth. “It’s easy, so easy.”

Nick opens his eyes, and Kevin’s are open, sparkling dark green, and Nick finds himself smiling back.

“Yeah,” he says softly, and watches as Kevin’s mouth smiles as warmly as his eyes. “Can I do it again?”

“It’s a good day for kissing,” Kevin replies. “I wouldn’t mind.”

It’s awkward for Nick to bend over at the waist and kiss Kevin, so he unfolds and stretches out on the soft cool grass beside him. He’s grown so much this summer, his joints achy with the speed of his added inches, that his body is stretched and angular and strange to him. But he’s nearly of a height with Kevin now, and he likes that, proof that he’s almost a man.

He certainly feels like a man, his blood rushing hotly through his body, humming in his head, his cock heavy and demanding behind his breeches. He wants, wants, and he can’t help the tremor that sweeps over him, through him. Leaning in again, he presses his mouth against Kevin’s, slightly parted this time. Kevin licks across his lower lip, seeking entrance, and Nick opens for him eagerly. The kiss is soft and wet and warm, and Kevin tastes even more strongly of sweet ripe berries, and beneath that, something that Nick can only name as man.

Nick wants to press himself closer, to feel Kevin’s chest against his own, to tangle his legs with Kevin’s, to—oh, Blessed Mother—to press his cock against Kevin’s, because it had felt very good to rub against Mandy’s softness. He thinks it would feel so much better, against Kevin’s hard body.

Kevin deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue over and around Nick’s at first languidly, then with more intent, slipping over every surface he can reach, stroking, tasting, sampling, and Nick thinks, yes, oh yes.

He doesn’t want to stop kissing, not even when his chest grows heavy and his head spins with the lack of enough air. But Kevin brings up a hand and pushes him back, and Nick gasps for breath even as his fingers tangle in Kevin’s sleeves to pull him closer again. His mouth tingles hotly, his lips feel swollen, and he wants to kiss Kevin more, because this is good, so much better than when he kissed Mandy. Kevin kisses with assurance, with skill, and Nick wants to experience everything that Kevin will show him.

“Please,” he says on a gasp, his voice high and breathy. “Don’t stop.”

Kevin makes a soft crooning sound, like he’d make to calm a nervous colt. His big hand spreads on Nick’s chest, warm and strong, some fingers slipping inside his shirt to touch bare skin, and Nick wants more of that. He presses himself closer, but Kevin’s stronger than he is, and holds him off easily.

“Nick,” he says, and Nick likes the way Kevin says his name, deep and slow. He tears his gaze from Kevin’s mouth, looks up into his eyes. Heat, and desire, and oh yes, Kevin looks at him in the new way, and he likes it. “What do you want?”

“Everything.” The word tumbles from his lips, and he’d be embarrassed at the way his voice trembles, the way his body quivers, but he can’t think beyond the clamor of his body, the tumultuous rush of blood, the way his hips want to move. “Show me everything.”

Kevin smiles. “Everything is a very big request,” he says. His forefinger smooths along the notch between his collarbones, and even that small caress makes Nick yearn for more. “I won’t give you everything, but I’ll give you something to remember.”

And then Kevin’s hand fists in Nick’s shirt and pulls him down, mouth parting for a kiss that makes all the others seem sweet and childish. It’s bold and aggressive, it’s like a storm, wild and fierce and hard, almost punishing in its intensity, and it says, mine.

Nick couldn’t agree more as he slides down onto Kevin’s lean, hard body, one hand on the ground bracing himself, the other going into his long hair. It’s silky-slippery, sliding coolly through his fingers, like trying to hold on to water, and soft, just like he’d thought it would be.

One of Kevin’s hands goes to his waist, gliding up beneath his shirt, running over his flank, fingers tracing along the valley of his spine. It’s a gentle touch, and Nick can feel the calluses from years of hard work scrape over his skin; it makes him shiver. Kevin’s other hand goes to the back of his head, fingers knotting in the wild thickness of his hair, holding him in place, though Nick doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

His body moves helplessly against Kevin’s, pushing his hard cock into the groove of his hip, and yes, it’s the best thing he’s ever felt, the very best. It’s like shooting stars and crackling bonfires roaring up within him, and Nick has to break away from Kevin’s mouth to breathe, dragging in huge gasping gulps of air, and his heart beats so quickly he swears it will fly right out of his chest, like a bird. Beneath him, Kevin is just as hard; he can feel it against his belly, a thick, hot ridge of flesh pushing up against him. Vaguely, he’s aware of a keening sound of need, and realizes that it comes from his own throat.

With a grunt, Kevin pushes him off and rolls with him, hand cradling his head. Kevin’s weight settles on him, heavy and substantial, one long thigh between his, and it’s perfect, just perfect to thrust upward against. Nick’s head spins, and he can’t settle on any one sensation when they all clamor for his attention: Kevin’s mouth, hot and wet and wicked, the sharp tug of teeth biting into his lower lip, the crisp scrape of close-trimmed beard, the heat of Kevin’s breath on his cheek, in his ear, the wet drag of his tongue on Nick’s neck, the nip of his teeth, the way Kevin’s hand slides from waist to chest beneath his shirt, fingers splayed, thumb playing over his nipple, making sharp, sweet sensation zing down his body and make his cock ache with the heated fullness of want, with the desperate need to come.

He’s so close, and he wants, he needs, he will come, when he feels Kevin pulling away, slowly but surely. Nick flails in a panic, and catches hold of Kevin’s loose shirt, trying to hold him there just one more moment, but with a duck of his head and a lithe wriggle, Kevin slips out of his shirt like a rabbit out of a trap. Nick hears his own voice, high and thready, “No, no, no, please, please....”

Kevin kneels up between Nick’s wide-spread thighs, and the begging dies on Nick’s lips, because, oh. Kevin’s the most beautiful thing Nick’s ever seen, half-naked, tanned skin flushed and shining with sweat, dark green eyes gleaming hotly, brightly, beneath the tousle of long black hair, mouth red and swollen. Mandy and her sweet little curves can’t compare to Kevin’s lean, angular lines, to the swell of muscle at chest and arms and shoulders, to the strong bow of his ribs and the slimness of his waist, and can’t ever compare to the ridge of cock that thrusts aggressively against Kevin’s breeches. He’s never wanted anything so much, ever.

Kevin leans forward, and puts his hand on Nick’s belly, dark against his paler skin. “Breathe, Nick,” he says.

Nick draws in a long shuddering breath—when had he stopped?—and abruptly, his body arches and he comes, just from the brush of Kevin’s hand, the softness of his voice. It swells over him, takes him and shakes him in its teeth, and then lets him go, leaving him sprawled boneless on the grass, gasping, the trees and sky swirling madly above him. His blood thrums through his body, pulses in his belly, and he feels hot and sticky and pulled like taffy. It’s the best and the worst he’s ever felt in his life.

“Beautiful,” Kevin murmurs. “Beautiful Nick.” He tugs at his shirt, balled up in Nick’s hands, and Nick can’t hold on to it, can’t do anything but lie there and try to catch up to the wild rush of his body.

“But I didn’t...you didn’t...you didn’t even touch me,” Nick says, panting to catch his breath, and watches as Kevin gives the shirt a toss to the side.

“I’m flattered,” Kevin says, and he sounds sincere. “It’s a compliment.” Kevin runs one hand up Nick’s thigh, and the other curls around his bare calf, squeezing gently. His hands are so warm. Nick can smell himself, smell sweat and musk, and shifts a little, because beneath his breeches, his come has started to grow cold and clammy and uncomfortable. He looks down his body, and the front of his pants are dark and stained; there’s no doubt of what’s happened.

“Oh,” Nick says, and looks back up into Kevin’s face.

“Don’t worry,” Kevin says. One corner of his mouth quirks upward. “It’s happened to us all.” His hand on Nick’s thigh squeezes gently, and Nick shivers. “Would you let me touch you? I won’t, unless you want it.”

“Yes,” Nick says, and even though he’s just come, his spent cock twitches. Nick clears his throat and says louder, “I want that.”

“Good.” Both Kevin’s hands slide upward, and his fingers pluck at the knotted drawstring of Nick’s breeches until he has it undone. “Lift up,” he says, and when Nick does, Kevin strips the breeches from him, and wipes at the mess on his belly before tossing them aside.

Nick’s not comfortable yet with his longer, lankier body; his bones stick out at wrists and elbows and hips, his ribs are prominent, like ladder rungs. His belly is a deep valley. He’s not sleek and muscular like Kevin, and he feels uncomfortable at Kevin’s scrutiny, his hands moving to cover himself.

Kevin makes that soft crooning sound again, takes one of Nick’s hands, and pulls him to an upright position. “Don’t hide. I like to look at you.”

The shirt gets tangled in his hands and elbows and on his chin and ears, but together, they work it off, and it goes sailing over Kevin’s shoulder to join the soiled breeches. Nick looks up at Kevin through wild strands of his blond hair, and the look he sees on Kevin’s face, in his dark eyes, is approval, pleasure, and want. It’s that new look, and it makes Nick a little braver.

Nick reaches out and runs his hands up the swell of Kevin’s biceps, over his shoulders, and locks his arms around Kevin’s neck. He has a moment to see Kevin’s smile before he leans in and closes his eyes and licks into Kevin’s mouth. It’s so good; the kiss starts out gentle, but it doesn’t take long before Nick’s pressing up against Kevin, as close as he can, tongue curling around Kevin’s, hungry, so hungry, for something he’s not really sure about.

As good as it was to kiss Kevin before, naked, it’s better. Kevin’s skin is hot and slick with sweat, so smooth against his own. He can feel the beat of Kevin’s heart, can smell him, sweat and musk and man, can hear the low sound that comes from deep within his chest as Kevin’s long arms slide around him.

He lets Kevin bear him back to the cool grass, lets Kevin settle on top of him. He’s heavy, but Nick likes it, and twines one leg around him to hold him there; the other curls up along his side, knee up along his ribs, and that’s so good, and gets only better when Kevin’s hips rock against him, slowly at first, then with deliberation. Somehow Kevin’s worked down his breeches to mid-thigh, and it’s skin to skin, belly to belly, cock to cock, hot and slick, and Nick’s hard again, and his hips roll and thrust against Kevin’s body.

Kevin licks across his upper teeth, then bites his lower lip, hard enough to make Nick break their kiss with a sharp gasp. His long hair slides across Nick’s cheek, his lips, tangles in his eyelashes, curls in the hollow of his throat as Kevin licks and bites over his jaw. Nick’s body aches, and he feels almost fevered, he wants so much. He can hear Kevin panting as loudly as himself as their bodies strain against one another. He shakes Kevin’s hair from his face, though it clings from the sweat, and his hands grip him tightly, fingers digging into skin and muscle. He wraps his legs around Kevin’s waist, and oh, that makes it so much better.

Yes, yes, yes, Nick thinks; it’s all he can think, higher thought shuttled away as the demands of his body surge forward and take him over. He pushes up, meeting each of Kevin’s thrusts, reveling in the sweaty, sticky tangle of arms and legs and bodies and cocks that they’ve become. Kevin bites the top of his shoulder, and Nick grunts, one hand tangling in his hair and pulling, hard. He catches a glimpse of Kevin’s face, fierce with passion, all because of him, and it’s like something within Nick catches on fire. He can’t hold back, doesn’t want to hold back, and his coming roars through him, sweeping away everything in a blinding rush of pleasure.

It spills over him, and Nick feels both heavy, like he’s going to sink into the earth, and light, as if he could float away if Kevin’s body didn’t pin him in place. With a long, low moan, Kevin presses down hard with a grind of powerful hips, and more hot sticky heat spreads between them. Nick opens his eyes for a moment, and he wonders if he looked like that when he came, a mix of pleasure and pain, before Kevin folds down onto him, tucking his face into Nick’s neck.

His heart thunders within the cage of his ribs, and he can’t seem to catch a deep breath. It feels as if his blood tears crazily through his body, and this is so much better than the touch of his own hand, so much better than touching Mandy. If this is the time to discover what he likes, as Kevin had said, then Nick thinks he’s found it. The only way it could be better would be if the body he’s wrapped around was smaller, if the soft hair he presses his face into was short and gold-brown and curly, instead of long and black and straight, if the eyes he’d looked into were bright blue, instead of dark green. If Kevin were Brian, then it would be just perfect.

But it feels ungrateful for Nick to wish away Kevin, when it’s Kevin who’s given him such a gift, and so Nick tucks away that wish in the back of his mind. He’ll take it out later, and think about it, and decide what to do. But for now, he doesn’t want to think. He wants to remember this, how good Kevin made him feel, and how much he wants to do it again, and soon.

Kevin’s weight presses him down, and Nick wriggles a little, shifting to hold him more comfortably. He’s heavy, but Nick’s strong, now. Nick lets his legs slide down from around Kevin’s waist, lets his body relax, as it wants. He can feel the stickiness between them, the slip of Kevin’s softening cock against his belly, can feel Kevin’s heart beating against his chest in a slowing rhythm that matches his own. Kevin’s breath is hot and wet against the side of his neck.

With a little grunt, Kevin shifts, and raises himself up onto one elbow over Nick. His long hair slides forward, enclosing them in a dark curtain. His eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles. “Not everything,” Kevin says, his voice deep and husky, “but a bit more than the kiss you asked for.”

“I like it,” Nick says immediately. “I want to do it more.” Raising a hand, he tucks thick, heavy locks of hair behind Kevin’s ear. He runs his thumb over the sharp slant of Kevin’s cheekbone, traces the curve of his lips, red and swollen from kisses. He feels his own mouth, and it’s hot and tingling to touch.

“It’s one of the sweetest things in the world,” Kevin says. “But I think you really want someone else to teach you more.”

Nick opens his mouth to say something, but Kevin leans in and brushes a kiss over his lips. Nick breathes in his breath, and Kevin nibbles at his lower lip, sucks lightly on his tongue, until Nick’s dizzy and unable to remember what he had been trying to say. He slides his hands up Kevin’s back, stroking him, touching him, hands spread to feel as much of his lean, muscular back as he can, stroking in time to their tongues playing together.

He can hear the whirl of the wind in the trees, the song of birds, the babble of the stream, the heavy sound of their breathing, the wet sound of mouth moving against mouth. Soft, contented sounds rumble from deep within Kevin’s chest, matching the ones Nick hears himself making. Kevin pulls back finally to breathe, and Nick tucks his forehead in against his throat, inhaling the heady scents of their bodies: sweat, musk, come, hot skin. Nick smiles against Kevin’s damp skin, tired and exhilarated in equal measures. His hands stroke gently along ribs and flanks, moving slowly downward, hesitating before spreading his hands over the smooth rise of muscular ass. Kevin doesn’t seem to mind, so Nick’s fingers curl around him, touching and kneading, learning the shape of him. He can feel Kevin’s thumb rubbing over the sharp blade of his hipbone.

In spite of himself, he feels his muscles grow warm and loose, his eyes grow heavy, and Nick lets himself relax back onto the grass. He feels Kevin press a kiss to his sweaty forehead, and slits his eyes open when Kevin pushes up off him. Their bodies part with a sticky, wet sound, and Nick’s eyes flutter open at both the sound and the sensation.

“We should probably get back,” Kevin says softly. “It’s getting late.” He rolls to his feet in an easy, graceful movement, and his loose breeches slide down his thighs to puddle at his feet. Totally unselfconscious of his nakedness, he steps out of them, stretches, and then turns and ambles to the stream while Nick watches, avidly, no longer sleepy. The roll and flex of muscles sliding beneath smooth tanned skin mesmerizes him, and Nick hopes some day to be so self-assured and comfortable with himself.

The stream is not much wider than Kevin is tall, and just barely reaches his knees at the deepest part. Nick watches as Kevin crouches in the water, as he scoops water over his shoulders, scrubs his belly, and finally, as he ducks his head. He tosses back his head, and his soaked hair slaps heavily against his shoulders; he slicks it from his face with both hands.

Nick sits up and gets his feet under him, wobbling a little as he stands. His knees seem a little springy, not inclined to support him, but then Nick straightens, determinedly walks to the stream, and wades in. It’s cold enough against his overheated skin to make his teeth chatter, but feels so good as he crouches and splashes water over himself. His balls want to crawl up into his belly to escape the chill, but he stays in and scrubs off the sweat and come, and washes his hair.

When he dashes the water from his eyes, he sees Kevin kneeling at the stream’s edge, washing out all their clothing. Kevin grins at him, and tosses the wet things to him as Nick steps out, shivering a little in the breeze, gooseflesh prickling all over his body. Nick wrings out his clothes and wrestles himself into them, no easy task as they cling clammily to him, resisting his attempts to put them on. But finally he wins the battle. Wet, they’ll keep him cool against the late summer heat, but he doesn’t like the way they mold to him; he plucks them away from his skin until he realizes it’s a pointless battle, and stops.

Kevin already has his clothes and sandals on—Nick bets his clothes didn’t dare give him any trouble—and stands beside the berry baskets, finger-combing his hair. His green eyes slide over the breadth of Nick’s shoulders, over his chest and belly, lingering between his legs before continuing down his long thighs, and Nick shivers; it’s an approving look, an appreciative look, and it makes Nick stand just a little straighter.

Kevin’s smile spreads slowly over his face, and reassured, Nick feels his own smile flash sunnily. He crooks a finger, beckoning to Nick, who goes to him willingly, hoping for yet another one of those hot, bone-melting kisses he does so well. But it’s not that. Kevin’s long fingers slip under Nick’s chin, turning his face first one way and then another, studying him, and curious, Nick lets him look.

“Well,” he says finally, “I’d say that no one will wonder what you did this afternoon.” There’s no regret in his tone, and more than a little amusement in his eyes.

Nick touches his face; it’s tender, raw, almost, in places around his mouth, his chin, his cheek, and down further, on his neck. All the places where Kevin had kissed and licked and sucked as they’d rocked together on the grass. He looks up at Kevin, at the short goatee, and suddenly realizes it’s the scratchy, bristly beard that has scraped his own smooth face. A girl might be upset at beard burn marring her face, but Nick likes it. It’s a badge of honor of sorts, visible proof he’s no longer a boy to be shuttled aside when it comes time for dalliance, but a young man, ready to enter his years of play and experimentation. He grins, happy.

“Hmm,” Kevin hums thoughtfully, a low note that resonates someplace deep within Nick’s chest. “I think even Brian will notice that,” he says gently, curling his hand, warm and strong, around the back of Nick’s neck.

Nick blinks, surprised. He’s never said anything to anyone about the feelings he has for Brian; they’re something he’s kept private, locked away in his heart, brought out only late at night, alone in his cot. “But I never said....”

“You didn’t really have to say anything. Don’t forget that of the two of us, I’m the observant cousin,” Kevin says, his tone amused. “I see how you look at him, how you watch him, how your eyes soften. How you’re ready for him.”

Kevin’s thumb rubs lightly over the skin just beneath Nick’s ear, and Nick shivers. It feels hot and bruised there, and heat curls in his belly as he remembers the sharpness of Kevin’s teeth, the way his mouth had suckled there; it had made him gasp and moan and buck helplessly beneath Kevin, and even now, he has to bite back a soft little sound of pleasure at the strength of the memory.

“I also see how he looks at you, as the friend of his childhood, the little boy who always tagged after him, who pulled outrageous pranks with him. Maybe this will show him you’re willing to be more than that, now.”

Kevin leans in and brushes a kiss across Nick’s mouth, his throat. He starts to pull away, but Nick gives in to impulse and wraps his arms around Kevin and hugs him tightly. Kevin feels so hard, so strong against him, and Nick likes it, more than he’d liked Mandy’s softness, though that has its own sweet appeal. “Thank you,” he says against his cool wet hair. “Thank you for not looking at me as if I were a child.”

Warm laughter curls around him, and Kevin pats his back before untangling himself from Nick and stepping back. He brushes the hair from Nick’s eyes, his touch gentle. “Oh, believe me, Nick, I don’t think of you as a child. From the moment you rode in beside Brian at the beginning of the summer season, I wanted you.”

That Kevin—who could have anyone he wants—would want him is something that has never occurred to him. Nick’s mouth falls open in surprise, and then he thinks he must look stupid like that, so he shuts it with an audible snap. He tries to remember if Kevin has ever said or done anything that indicates more than the distant friendliness he has for any of Brian’s friends, but can’t remember anything.

But then Kevin’s not as open, not as cheerfully vocal and demonstrative as Brian; he’s quiet, like a slow-running river. His thoughts, his feelings, he keeps to himself, and shows only what he wants others to see; Nick’s often wondered how Kevin and Brian could be so different and still share blood.

“But you never said anything about it. I didn’t know.” He feels vaguely foolish at not seeing something so important, but consoles himself with the fact that probably no one else would’ve known, either.

“It’s not my place, but yours, to determine when you’re ready for more adult play.” Kevin’s eyes are warm. “And I’d say you decided that. You’re a beautiful young man, Nick. Anyone would be honored to share pleasure with you.”

“Anyone?” Although Kevin’s hand on his shoulder is friendly, Nick still feels a distance growing between them. He remembers Kevin’s words from earlier, about agemates, and appropriateness. “Anyone, but not you?”

“I’m not the one you really want, am I?” Kevin answers his question with another, and his fingers dip below the wet shirt; they’re warm against Nick’s cool skin. Nick looks up at him thoughtfully, and although Kevin’s beautiful, and his body is tall and strong and graceful, he’s not really the one Nick yearns for, and so he shakes his head, just a little. He’s always been honest with important things, and he thinks Kevin would see through it if he didn’t tell the truth, anyway.

“I didn’t think so.” Kevin traces up the side of his neck, and Nick shivers. “I didn’t intend to mark you, but maybe it’s for the best.” He looks up from Nick’s throat, and his mouth crooks upward. “Maybe it will help Brian look at you in a new light, eh?”

Kevin’s hand falls away from him. Nick reaches up and fingers the bruise on his neck, the patches of beard burn. It will be more than obvious who’s left it there; though AJ’s trying for a goatee like Kevin’s, it’s still patchy, and Lance is like him, still beardless. Kevin is the only one of their group besides Brian who has a beard. Although Kevin says he didn’t do it deliberately, it’s left a defining mark on Nick, one that hopefully will make Brian think, reconsider his role in Nick’s life.

Nick grins in return, because as easy-going, as cheerful as Brian is, he’s also fiercely competitive; he’s never held back, never let anything stop him from going after what he wanted. And if Nick can show him that he’s what Brian wants, and that someone else might be interested, then Nick thinks that maybe he can turn that quality to his advantage.

He knows that Brian loves him; that’s never been in doubt. But Nick wants something deeper, richer, more. He thinks of kissing Brian’s smiling mouth, thinks of touching his slim, muscular body, thinks of lying next to him, beneath him, skin to skin, and though he’s imagined it all summer, now he knows just how wonderful that feels. A shiver works over him, settles into a sweet, heavy glow low in his belly.

He knows what he wants, and like Brian, hasn’t let much of anything stop him, either.

Kevin smiles at him, picks up the baskets of berries, and hands one to Nick. Slinging a companionable arm around Nick’s shoulder, he gives a friendly squeeze, and they turn their steps toward the main house where the cooks will be glad to see the fruits they’ve gathered.

Nick thinks that maybe, the next time they go berrying, Brian won’t ruffle his hair and send him away. That maybe, he’ll be the one kissing and touching him in the cool shade beneath the spreading trees, not Leighanne or Lance, or any of the others Brian’s played with through the course of the summer. The thought is a little sunburst of warmth in his chest, and he laughs before launching into a bright merry song.