Pretend You're Someone Else (Chap.13)1/2

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ID: 1727540   (Rated: 18+) Pretend You're Someone Else  A man hides a secret from his family and has no clue that his son has the same secret. by KAT26/Adrian--Published!

The chapter you're about to read mentions physical abuse. If this bothers you, please don't read.

Chapter Thirteen is divided into two parts. This is part one. If you don't read the two parts together, then YOU WILL NOT UNDERSTAND THE CHAPTER!!!

Part Two

Chapter Thirteen

August-1972

Avoy, Georgia

Part 1/2

         For Peter Anderson the summer of '72 couldn't go by fast enough. His boyfriend--yes boyfriend was far away in Italy. Peter's own workaholic father placed real-estate over everything else so their family didn't do much during the months of June or July. Up until last year he wouldn't have minded spending yet another summer alone, but now that Robert had arrived the days and weeks were literally torture. Did time stop? Peter felt like it had. It seemed to him that the universe knew he was in love and decided to play a cruel joke.

         Every minute that slowly passed in a turtle-like state, Peter spent it thinking of Robert, relieving their two hour make-out session. Robert tasted like coffee, so Peter became a drinker of the strong liquid, replaying the sugary sweet flavor of his boyfriend's tongue slipping in and out of his mouth. Heaven! Pure heaven!

         Just when he thought he couldn't make it pass another day, the long weeks of anguish suddenly came to an abrupt end; Robert finally made it home! Peter received the call around four-thirty.

         "My parents are asleep. I left a spare key in the bird house. Let yourself in, I'll let the maids know."

         The message short and to the point, then the soft click of the receiver as Robert hung-up the phone. Whatever happened to, "I love you! I miss you!" He imagined their first conversation in almost two months to be more...friendly.

         Chalking it up to the fact that both of the boys were about to lose their virginity Peter shrugged off the conversation, nervously took a shower, then slipped into a pair of plaid pants, followed by a matching green shirt.

         The very day I return we will have sex.

         Those words shook him to the core when Robert whispered them during their last hour together before leaving for Italy.

         Prepare yourself.

         Shutting the door softly behind him, so as not to awaken his mother, Peter quickly ran down the brick pathway, unlocked the front gates, then bounded up the grassy hill to Robert's house.

         The hot, Georgia sun beat down on Avoy in full force. Peter felt like he had entered a brick oven. Beads of sweat glistened on his temple and slowly melted down his face, disappearing under his shirt. It wasn't the weather the happened to be causing the perspiration, but the idea of sex. Not once in his entire life did Peter ever believe his first time would be with another boy, yet deep down in the caverns of his brain he had always known. In his fifteen-years he never felt a sexual attraction to girls. Their air headed gossip and petty jealousy annoyed him. The crazy thing? Girls seemed to think that the boys in school were attracted to this! Remarkable!

         As the Sella's mansion came into view, Peter quickened his pace. The sound of his tennis shoes slapping on the concrete pavement grew louder. He knew that he was going to be in charge and this delighted him immensely.

         Robert's hair felt like silk, his skin smelled like lemons, his mouth tasted like coffee and pure sugar. Peter would rather wrap his arms around Robert's body than any other girl in school.

         Letting himself in through the familiar iron gates, Peter spotted the antique birdcage and headed towards it, when a sudden thought hit him: Why did he need a key? Why didn't Robert just meet him at his house?

         It suddenly dawned on him that their entire phone conversation was rather odd. Robert's voice sounded scratchy, like he had been suffering a head cold.

         I left the spare key in the birdhouse. Let yourself in.

         Reaching the wicker birdhouse Peter opened the little weather proof door and found the key taped to the bottom. It had been pushed through a loose piece of wicker, the scotch tape attached over it. Strange, even for Robert.

         Peter nervously pulled the tape off and crumbled it into a ball using his thumb and index fingers. Yanking the key loose, he walked up the enormous brick steps leading to the porch. Passing by an outside ashtray he flicked the wadded-up trash in it. Reaching the door, he inserted the key, turned it and twisted the knob, letting himself in. Once the door was securely locked behind him, he started making his way upstairs.

         Where are Robert's parents?

         But most confusing of all, why did he have to let himself in when the maid could have easily done it? Something didn't feel right.

         Every step he took felt heavy, his palms grew damp with sweat. Once he reached the second floor, he stopped to wipe them on the sides of his pants. Robert's parents lived on the east side of the house, his friend lived on the west side. Turning in that direction, Peter walked up to the sitting room door and found it slightly open; the faint sounds of piano music drifted outwards. Crossing the threshold, Peter shut the door behind him, then followed the music into Robert's bedroom, where he found him fast asleep.

         The silk sheets and linen blankets were pulled up to his chin, only his face and hair were visible. He looked...older.

         Deciding to wake him as if he were Sleeping Beauty, Peter reached down, kissed him on the mouth and whispered his name. It took awhile before his boyfriend's gorgeous black eyelashes fluttered open.

         "Hey," he yawned, stretched, then gestured towards the record player. "Can you please turn that off? I'm much too tired to get out of bed. When your done come lay down with me."

         "Do you want me to turn the light on as well?" Peter asked as he closed the lid to the turntable. "It's much too dark in here with only the one lamp."

         Robert sat up in a flash. For some odd reason he had on heavy cashmere pajamas in the middle of August. "No," he screamed more in a frightened manner, then in a commanding tone.

         His boyfriend must have noticed the surprised look on his face. Lowering himself back onto the mountain of pillows, he whispered, "Sorry dear. I'm a little tired is all. Jet-lagged. Whatever." Patting the space next to him, he continued, "Come here. I missed you terribly."

         With a sigh of relief, Peter stepped out of his shoes and walked towards the bed.

         "Take off your pants, you'll be more comfortable without them."

         Peter smiled, unsnapped the button, pushed them down and kicked the flannel aside.

         "Much better." Robert pulled back the blankets.

         Peter crawled over the mattress in nothing but his shorts, shirt and socks; noticing that his boyfriend still kept the blanket securely by his chest. His arms were hidden underneath, like he was hiding something.

         "Are you feeling alright?" Peter asked, lying his head on the pillow beside Robert. He noticed how his boyfriend seemed to inch backwards a little. Was he going too fast?

         "I'm a little sick from the plane, no big deal."

         Peter watched Robert give a half-smile, then reached out to him. "May I?"

         Closing his eyes, Peter allowed his boyfriend to play with his hair. Moments later he felt Robert's lips on top of his head, then nose. They met together in a kiss. As Peter slipped his tongue in his boyfriend's mouth he could taste the all familiar coffee and pure sugar. Was Robert born like this? Tasting this sweet?

         Peter was in Heaven. Everything he learned from the movies and television were magically playing out in his mind. Fireworks? Yeap, they were there! The tingling sensation? It moved through his body like waves on the beach. The deeper they got, the hotter it became.

         Peter stopped to pull of his shirt, tossing it towards the foot of the bed. Robert must be dying in the heavy angora.

         "Let me," he whispered, placing his hand on the sleeve of Robert's pajama top. "It's so hot in here."

         "I'm fine."

         Peter could sense a tinge of nervousness in Robert's voice. Looking closer he could see a faint pinkish tint on his forehead and nose. With a laugh, Peter grabbed a hold of the pajamas and tugged, "No, you're not."

         "Peter don't," Robert screamed while trying to crawl backwards in a desperate attempt to cover his stomach, but it was too late, Peter caught a glimpse of the bruises.

         Blinking hard in disbelief, he only managed to squeak-out his boyfriend's name.

         "I'm sorry."

         Robert turned to climb out of the bed, but Peter reached over to stop him, wrapping his arm around his waist.

         "What happened? Tell me please!"

         Robert bit his bottom lip. Tears were cascading down his face.

         "I-I," he stammered.

         Peter draped his arms around his boyfriend, lowering him to the mattress. Pulling the silk sheets over them, he twisted backwards so Robert could rest his head on his chest.

         For the longest time they lay together. Occasionally Peter would run his fingers through Robert's long, black hair. A million questions ran through his mind. What caused this?

         After what seemed an eternity the muffled sounds of Robert's crying faded away. Peter could feel damp spots on his chest when his boyfriend pulled away.

         "What's wrong?"

         Peter lowered his head to study Robert.

         Biting his lip, his boyfriend reached up to twirl his hair. Fingers grasped the unwashed strands and began tugging.

         "When we arrived in Rome," he whispered snuggling into Peter. His eyes large with fear. Peter wanted to hurt someone and he didn't even know who.

         "The first day we were there my parents sat me down in our suite. They rambled on that they expected me to put aside my attraction to other men once we moved to Avoy, but they noticed how close I had become to you."

         Robert paused to yank out a few damaged strands of hair that he had twirled into knots.

         Peter's mouth opened in shock. His beautiful boyfriend had mindlessly ripped out his hair! In the past year that he had know Robert he knew his boyfriend to be obsessive about his hair. Always cussing at the wind if a single strand blew out of place.

         Peter carefully reached out as not to startle Robert and clasped his hand into his. Pressing his lips to his boyfriend's fingers he whispered, "Tell me the real reason why your parents moved to Avoy?"

         Robert gave a small shiver, so Peter pulled him closer.

         "Well," he began. "I told my parents that I felt an attraction to boys at the end of seventh grade. Like most Catholics they freaked-out. A week later my father approached me and said point blank that I was spending way too much time with the wrong crowd in Atlanta. He went on to say that after much 'soul-searching' he decided to move us up to the mountains. Dad honestly believed being around 'old-fashioned' people would cast the demons of homosexuality from within me."

         Robert shrugged his shoulders. "On the first day I saw you in that leopard-print tunic I knew. Peter, I just knew. I wanted you. Sorry, that I seduced you."

         Peter burst out laughing. After a minute his boyfriend cracked a smile. Composing himself, he reached over to kiss him.

         "Dear, I'm extremely glad to have been seduced by you."

         Peter emphasized the word, 'seduced' telling Robert how absurd it sounded.

         "Fine," his boyfriend giggled, laying his head back down on Peter's shoulder.

         "Tell me more, I need to know."

         Peter curled his fingers through his boyfriend's silky hair, praying he wouldn't tear anymore of it out.

         Robert heaved a deep sigh and continued:

         "After my parents confronted me about my sexuality, I confirmed it by admitting to it. They then left the suite, locking me inside. About thirty-minutes later my mother returned. A party raged down in the ballroom and she wanted to introduce me to a friend of our Roman cousins. I asked her why. She rolled her eyes and quite rudely retorted that he was an eighteen-year-old whom she had chatted with down in the ballroom.

         My mother had the nerve to tell this complete stranger that I couldn't attend the party because of my punishment. When he asked why, she told him that I had 'unnatural feelings' towards the same sex."

         Robert trailed off with a shake of his head. "She had no right to tell him personal things about me. I mean, do straight people introduce themselves by saying, 'Hi, my name is Annabelle Sella and my only son Robert considers himself to be straight.' " No, they don't. My mother told this boy that I was gay. She actually said, "Hello, my name is Annabelle Sella and my only son Robert cannot attend the party because of his punishment. He's being punished because he has an 'unnatural' attraction to boys."

         By now Robert had started to sob. Rivers of hot tears coursed down his face. Gathering his boyfriend into his arms, Peter sunk back on the pillows, trying desperately to comfort him.

         "It's alright," he whispered in his ear. "Tell me when you're good and ready."

         Peter slipped his hand under the backside of Robert's pajama top, skipping his fingers up his spine. Underneath he felt his friend shaking uncontrollably.

         "Hetiedmeup!"

         "It took Peter a full two-minutes to figure out the cryptic message.

         "Who tied you up?"

         In between gasps of air Robert spat out, "Paul."

         Peter lay in confusion for a bit wishing his boyfriend would try to calm down.

         "My mother told me that Paul wanted to see me. He told her he wished to talk to me."

         Robert turned to wrap his arms around Peter. A feeling of pure pleasure shot through his body when his boyfriend started brushing his thumb over his nipple.

         "I love you dear."

         Robert curled into him. "I'll tell you now."

         "Alright."

         Grasping the woolen blanket, Robert dabbed his eyes and continued.

         "Well, after mother left the room I reluctantly changed clothes and stalked down to Paul's penthouse. He answered the door holding a cup of coffee. I walked in and plopped down on the couch. Paul locked the door behind him.

         I crossed my arms over my chest and kicked off my shoes, glaring at him the whole time. This man had no right to intrude into my privacy.

         A few minutes later he handed me my coffee. I continued to give him the evil eye as I drowned it. I saw him cross his legs and give a small chuckle.

         The room quickly swirled and I knew Paul had put something in my drink. I tried to move, but my body felt like concrete. I remember pitching forward and landing on my knees.

         'Silly boy,' I heard him whisper in a sinister tone.

         I told him I wanted to leave---he just laughed.

         'Get up, boy,' he hissed, kicking me! Peter, he actually kicked me!"

         Peter looked down at Robert, his eyes filling with tears. He knew what was about to happen. Raveling his fingers through his boyfriend's hair, Peter patiently waited.

         "He grabbed my arm and dragged me into the bedroom. I-I know he hit me a few times.

         I felt myself being thrown onto the bed. He pulled my hands over my head and tied me to the headboard. I remember kicking my legs, but he slapped me several times until I felt blood on my mouth.

         The next thing I knew he had my clothes off. Paul spat off a warning about screaming and he would kill me.

         The following hour passed in a blur. Between the crying, the extreme pain as he raped me and him hitting me over, and over again.

         When he finished, I opened my eyes to see him laughing. With a smirk he told me that my parents wanted him to 'cure' me. They never expected this, did they?

         After untying me, Paul said to put on my clothes. I had one minute to get dressed, or he would rape me again.

         Somehow I pulled my clothes on. I raced out of his suite holding my shoes. Thankfully, there was no one in the hallway, or the elevator.

         When I returned to my hotel room, I immediately fell in the shower trying desperately to scrub off the blood and semen.

         After two hours in the shower, I jumped in bed and slept nonstop for the next twelve hours. My parents must have known what happened for they hardly spoke to me for the rest of the trip.

         When we left Italy and the plane landed in Atlanta, I turned to them and said, 'This doesn't change anything.' They didn't reply. We arrived home and after I called you, one of the butlers came up to my room to inform me that my parents would be leaving on vacation in the morning and he would take care of me until they returned."

         With that said, Robert heaved a great sob and buried his face in Peter's shoulders.

         Tipping his head backwards, Peter fought back tears of his own. Raveling his fingers through his boyfriend's luxurious soft locks, he frowned upon discovering the snarls from the mini-breakdown. Remembering the obsessive way Robert twirled his hair into knots sent a shiver down his spine.

         Peter softly kissed Robert's forehead.

         "Love you so much."

         Robert raised his gaze to meet Peter's.

         "I'm sorry."

         "What on earth are you apologizing for?" He whispered in disbelief.

         Wiping a tear away with two of his fingers, Robert replied in a shaky voice:

         "I wanted you to be my first. I'm sorry, so sorry..."

         By now Robert was hysterical. Peter wanted to track Paul down and bash him over the head. Tie him up, pour gasoline over him and light a match.

         "Robert listen to me," Peter commanded in a calm, clear voice. "There is a difference between 'forced intercourse' and true love. Therefore, you're my first because you love me."

         Robert smiled and reached up to brush his bangs off his forehead.

         After planting a kiss on his boyfriend's nose, Peter continued:

         "When you're feeling better the two of us will have sex and in my opinion you're still a virgin. Forget your parents, obviously they're cowards if they left you this way. I love you and I will never leave you! Nothing will ever take me away from you."

         Peter watched his boyfriend bite his lower lip.

         "Promise?" The words squeaked out in the softest of whispers.

         Gazing into his red-rimed eyes, Peter felt a lump in his throat. "Never leave you."

*Next Segment*

ID: 1752967   (Rated: 18+) Pretend You're Someone Else (Chap.13)2/2  (This chapter is divided into 2 segments.) Peter and Robert have sex for the first time. by KAT26/Adrian--Published!