Canadian Nights: The Story of Scott and the Fair Boy Scout Chapter 2 by Mo
Disclaimer: The X-Men and Alpha Flight belong to Marvel. The movie belongs to Fox. I do feel like Scott and Logan are a little bit mine since I've been borrowing them for so long.
From: scott@mutant.org
To: clawguy@hotmail.com
Subject: A Story and Some Other stuff
Yes, Sire. Your wish is my command. Okay, this one happens to be a true story. If you find, Great Sultan, that you wish to have more stories from your Humble Servant, some of the others might just be fairy tales. No puns, please.
Once in the far off land of Indiana lived a boy named Scott, who loved being a Boy Scout. Loved the uniform, the Scout Oath, the handbook. The camping trips, the camaraderie. But mostly I loved Jack.
He was two years older than me and just about everything I wanted to be: smart, athletic, funny, popular. And beautiful, in a blond and outdoorsy sort of way. I think my tastes have matured since then, but my standard of beauty at the time was the kind of guy who could have graced a Hitler Youth recruitment poster.
He never noticed me, although I followed him around like one of Lorenz's goslings. Watched everything he did, hung on his every word. He spent his time with the older boys. There was a group of four of them in our troop and they used to go off together sometimes for a while during camping trips. They'd come back smelling of peppermint candies. Us younger boys were divided into those who knew the older kids were off drinking beer and those who were sure they were out in the woods smoking pot. The scoutmaster seemed not to notice or care about their absences.
Then there was this one camping trip and none of Jack's friends were there. Bill had dropped Scouts altogether - decided it wasn't cool any more. Steve was sick and Dave had some sort of family event that weekend and couldn't come. So, it wasn't that Jack was suddenly recognizing my great assets as a friend or anything, but he didn't want to hang out entirely by himself and there I was. He suggested we share a tent. I couldn't believe my luck, had visions of going for walks with Jack, talking late into the night with Jack. My buddy Jack.
And he took me off with him just as if I were one of his crowd. It was beer, as it turned out. I didn't like the taste of it but didn't want to admit it. We got a little silly drinking our beers, telling dumb jokes and laughing so hard. Jack was laughing and laughing at something I had said and just about doubled over, putting his hand on my leg, telling me what a good line it had been. And he stopped laughing and just kept his hand there and it felt like I thought lightning would feel if it warmed you while it shocked you.
We came back smelling of peppermint and I basked in the envious stares of the other boys. That night Jack and I did indeed talk late into the night. Well, mostly he talked and I listened. Mostly he talked about his girlfriend - about how beautiful she was, about how much he wanted her, about how he had tried just about everything to get into her pants but she wouldn't let him fuck her. Hindsight is always clear, but at the time I had no idea why it upset me to hear that. Well, I said sympathetic things at appropriate intervals, just to make sure he knew I was listening. And, even if I didn't like his choice of topics, it was just glorious to be so close to him, whispering together in the night. We fell asleep right next to each other, close enough that I could reach out and touch him.
When I woke in the night, though, it was the other way around: he was touching me. I was sleeping on my side and he was behind me, pressed hard against me. Hard indeed. And whispering in my ear. "You'll let me, won't you, Scott? You wouldn't say 'no'? You know I need it, don't you?" You know, Logan, maybe it was because I was still half asleep, or maybe because I was incredibly naive, but I didn't even know what he was asking me. I just knew that he wanted me to say "yes". So, I did.
It hurt. He had to know more about this than I did, but maybe not that much. I guess he didn't know how to get into me without hurting me. Anyway, it wasn't just pain. It felt good, too, sort of all around and under the hurting. Filled up by him, his hot breath on the back of my neck. Holding me tight, his arms round me as he moved in and out. I took his hand and put it on my cock. He took it eagerly, holding and stroking with his hand on me. Pumping me with his fist while he pumped into me. Talked to me the whole time, too, telling me how good it felt to fuck me. Made me come with his hand on me, then he came deep in my ass. When he pulled out I turned around and tried to kiss him, but he turned away. Said he didn't kiss boys. Strange the rules people set for themselves, no? Well, I do love kissing, but it was good in its own way, even without that.
So, in case you've been wondering, that's the story of the first time for this Boy Scout. And Jack? Well, he didn't pay much attention to me after that. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Part of me was disappointed - I really wanted to do it again. I really wanted him. But I was conflicted, too. The idea of sex with another boy was way scary - maybe not doing that and not spending time with him I wouldn't have to think about it. I didn't want to think about what it meant - what it meant about me, about who and what I was. Funny, I didn't think it meant anything about Jack, just me. I'd see him with his girlfriend - at school or around town - and he still seemed the model of Healthy American Manhood. Not somebody who liked to fuck Boy Scouts. I guess if I had thought about it, I'd figure he just used me as a substitute since she wouldn't let him. After all, he didn't even kiss boys.
But mostly I didn't think about it. It was kind of a conundrum, confusing and disturbing and scary. I dealt with the confusion by not dealing with it, by not thinking about Jack or about sex. So, I went no more a roving. I concentrated on school, worked my ass off, got all A's that semester. And then I came into my powers and my life turned upside down. I didn't have the time or energy to pine after Jack. And pretty soon I was in a whole other world where sex had a very different function in my new life.
Okay, so was that at least a little diverting for a wakeful midnight Sultan? What is it that's waking you in the night, Logan? Write back and tell me about it. I wish I were with you, instead of just writing to you. I'd keep you occupied when you woke.
I'm glad you're finding the assignment worthwhile, glad you and 'Ro have a couple of possible locations in mind. Sorry about the over-reaching in referring to you as part of the team. And, no, I'm not going to give you the name of the studio apartment guy. You know, Logan, in principle I agree with you - adults shouldn't be having sex with teenage kids. I see red (well, even more than usual) when we get students here who have been used that way. OTOH, I don't think I would have survived if not for men who wanted a fifteen-year-old boy, who wanted sex with me enough to pay for it. And that guy in particular was good to me: kind and thoughtful and caring. A sweet and gentle lover and a good teacher. I wish it had lasted longer but I'm grateful to him for those 37 nights. If, by some strange twist of fate, our paths crossed again, I'd thank him. And then tell him to get out of town before you come back.
Oh, and Logan, I do trust you to keep my secrets. I'm sorry if it sounded like I didn't. I haven't worried about that for a long time. Early on I was scared that you'd tell Jean about you and me, long before I was ready to tell her myself. But mostly I worried because you wouldn't promise me not to. I've learned since to judge you less by what you say (or don't) and more by what you do. It wasn't worry that you'd tell anybody about my past that was causing the misgivings. More like worry that it would change how you felt about me, that you'd think less of me for it.
Scott
P. S. So, which do you think that the powers-that-be in the Boy Scouts would be more upset about? The homosex, or the fact that they were harboring a mutant in their midst?
From: clawguy@hotmail.com
To: scott@mutant.org
Subject: Reply to: A Story and Some Other stuff
It was a fine story, Scheherazade. And I'm glad Jack was another scout and not the scoutmaster. Now I don't have to kill him. I imagine there are a few Jacks in Indiana and it might take a while to do all of them. And right now I just can't spare the time. I've got this assignment I'm working on.
What wakes me in the night? Nightmares, mostly. What was that line you taught me? "I am worn out with dreams." That's me. It's getting worse, I think.
Sometimes it's just memories and regrets. Thinking about what I might have been, who I could have been if things had been different. Sometimes faces of people long dead. Sometimes memories from the Dark Days.
It's nice to have something else to think about. I like thinking about you in the night, Scott. I'd like it better if I could be touching and not just thinking. Well, maybe I'll call again sometime. Would you talk to me if I called you in the night? Would you tell me stories that chase the demons away? Would you tell them real enough that it would almost be like being with you?
The Professor wants us to meet with reps from some group called Alpha Flight - sounds like a Canadian version of the X-Men. He thought they might have some input on which is better of our two locations. I think he's also hoping that some of them will join in on the development of the new center. Anyway, we have an appointment to see a guy known as Northstar tomorrow to talk to him about the whole project and show him the sites. If he's interested we'll set something up for later on, including other members of his group. 'Ro called him in Quebec today. I was surprised he was planning on getting here so quickly, but she says he tends to go places pretty fast.
I don't think less of you for knowing what happened to you as a kid, Scott. I'll say something back to you that you said to me once: you can tell me anything and I will try to understand and I will always want to be your friend. I'd still like to kill that guy, though. Sure you don't want to tell me his name?
Logan
P.S. Fuck the powers-that-be in the Boy Scouts. They should have been grateful to have you. I know I am.
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