This week, on Don't Look Back, we go back a few years, as we start to delve deeper into when, how and why the relationship between Marshall and Lee became what it is today. Don't forget to visit the other Briefers, whose links follow my tale. Enjoy!
Don't Look Back #44 (9.1)
Marshall had changed during the five years he’d been kept away from Lee, both physically and emotionally. These changes had begun about the age of ten or so, and at first he didn’t know what was happening to him. He was afraid it was something he’d be punished for. It wasn’t until later he realized it had just been puberty rearing its ugly head. Not that his mother seemed to notice.
At first, he was a little scared, and more than a little confused by what was happening to him, and he had no one to talk to about his situation. He outgrew his clothes faster than before, and Rhonda would begrudgingly buy him new ones—usually from a thrift store or garage sale—and then she’d complain when he outgrew those. She grumbled about what a pain in the ass he was, as if he’d deliberately added inches to his height, and extra pounds to his body, just to annoy her.
The other changes weren’t quite as apparent, except for his voice, which he didn’t use all that much anyway. He felt different inside, and he couldn’t even begin to understand what that was all about. He often became restless, which made his continued confinements by his mother more and more unbearable. Marshall alternated between anger and sorrow, and sometimes inexplicable moments of happiness, although those were few and far between, and only when he thought about Lee.
He’d have strange dreams at night, such as he’d never had before. Sexual dreams involving himself and faceless, unknown men. And in the morning, he’d find his sheets stiff, coated with a dried substance he couldn’t account for. He never said a word to Rhonda, and since doing the laundry was one of his chores, she never noticed. By the time he was thirteen, he’d discovered the art of masturbation, and the pleasure to be had in touching himself. He also knew, thanks to the magazines his mother’s lovers sometimes left around the house, that women’s bodies did nothing for him, but men’s bodies sure as hell did.
Marshall left Lee a frightened eight-year-old boy, but he came back to him as a teenager, well on his way to becoming a man. His feelings for Lee had only grown deeper during the five long years of his absence when he never stopped dreaming of being reunited with the father he loved.
By the time Lee found and claimed him, Marshall had stopped thinking of him as father, even inside his own head—he was now just Lee to him. The man he loved more than anything.
Naturally, none of Marshall’s old clothes fit his new frame. Rather than being angry, Lee was more than happy to take Marshall out and get him a new wardrobe. They went to a huge shopping center called Mall of America, in Minnesota, and Lee bought whatever Marshall wanted, and some things he never thought to ask for. Roy stuck with them at all times. Marshall got the impression Roy was keeping an eye out for Rhonda, but she never appeared. Soon, Marshall began to grow fond of the protective private detective, although it was Lee he clung to for support.
At first, being on the run as they were, and never alone, Marshall didn’t have much opportunity to think about anything other than eluding his mother. But once they’d finally stopped running and wound up in Burnham, alone in the house Lee had bought just for them, Marshall became aware that Lee had changed as well, during his absence.
Or perhaps he’d just never noticed before how devastatingly handsome Lee was. How well-built. How strong. He was a beautiful man.
Lee had always been a disciplinarian, and that hadn’t changed. He made sure Marshall toed the line and did as he was told. His mother had done the same thing, but with Lee it was different. It was done with love, and didn’t depend on fear, but on respect.
True, sometimes Marshall mouthed off, and he always paid the price. But he quickly learned that there was a sort of pleasure to be had in his punishments, and perhaps sometimes he secretly did it just to see what Lee would do. He enjoyed the feel of Lee’s hand on his bare ass. Although he never told him that, naturally. He didn’t want Lee to think there was something wrong with him.
He liked sleeping in Lee’s bed again, felt comfortable being held by Lee every night, safe and secure from the dreams that haunted him when he was alone. But Lee’s proximity presented a problem of its own. He couldn’t very well jack off without Lee knowing about it.
Since Lee never left him alone in the house, especially right after his return, Marshall had to resort to using the bathroom in order to satisfy the needs of his horny cock. Luckily, it didn’t take long, as he didn’t have great stamina yet, and he managed to flush the evidence away, so Lee would never suspect a thing.
But his wet dreams had changed, and the once-faceless men had a face—Lee’s. Which made it even more imperative that Marshall conduct his business in private, so Lee wouldn’t discover Marshall was thinking about him when he jacked off.
Marshall couldn’t seem to help himself; he fantasized about Lee constantly. He’d seen him naked, of course, so he knew exactly what he looked like, and how he felt pressed up against him in bed, but his imagination went even further. He thought about Lee’s lips pressed against his own, Lee’s hand touching his cock, rubbing it the way he did himself, holding him and loving him, man to man. Equal to equal.
One day, he forced himself to admit the truth—he was in love with Lee.
to be continued
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