Ai no Kusabi 1. Deviant and Mink

**THE DEVIANT AND THE MINK**

Raoul Am, sixteen and a know it all. Well, not really, but rather a survivor in an uncomfortable world. He is a Blondie, just like the rest of the students at the Academy; a flaxen youngling in the shape of a god emerging from his maturing body. Perfectly almond-shaped eyes, a straight aristocratic nose and a set of appealing lips that very seldom laughed or turned into even the faintest smile. His long hair was arranged in a chaotic mane on his head, partly shading his face and making him hide those beautiful emeralds that had lost their shine a while back…or perhaps he never had it? Raoul was a true beauty, and in addition, truly alone. Ever since his creation, he has been alone. Even if Raoul had shared his seeding chamber with hundreds of others, he remained convinced that he didn't belong in the same category as the rest of the top layer of society. He shared their superiority in both physique and mind, but he felt abandoned. Something had gone wrong at his creation. He was sure of it. He always found pleasure in what most others declined, came up with silly ideas looked down upon by his peers, and he was always making a mess: earning him the reputation and Pet-name the "Deviant". They spoke the same language but still they seemed alien to him.

He had been transferred to this new Academy only a few weeks ago, and this was already his third time in the principle's office. He had been transferred from the northern Campus to the Eastern, due to his excellent skills in biochemistry and physics, but the young lad had found it just as impossible to fit in among these flaxen as it had been in the past school. This time, however, the headmaster was not particularly understanding to the devastating prank the young Blondie had just pulled. Indeed, a whole class was colored green through a protein-based pigment that young Raoul had isolated from a plant during biochemistry class. Of course, he had noticed how well the pigment stuck to the hair on his arms and the surface of the skin and thus, he was incredibly tempted to test it on the entire class of unsuspecting flaxen. They were all dressed in white, melting into the sterile environment as if color was an alien concept to most of them, and Raoul wanted to add a little zest to the dull everyday life.

"What if one would put this into the sprinkler and set it off?"

That was the last thought that washed over him before he set off the sprinkler system. They all turned green, including Raoul, but they also turned incredibly furious. Not to mention the teacher; Ezkiel Siin. He was a harsh, but a just teacher. However, not even if he had tried his best to be forgiving and understanding, could he have found an excuse to be more considerate of Raoul's feelings. The teacher knew very well that the youngling was a rouge amongst his own and had suffered troubled times ever since his arrival, but this was unforgivable. And the headmaster had agreed. Not only was Raoul to clean up the mess as a common servant – on his hands and knees on the floor – but he needed correction!

Raoul had been released from the headmaster's chamber after hours of reprimanding, and the superiors had agreed upon that young Raoul Am needed the influence of someone more disciplined – a model student.

"Hi."

Raoul watched the shadow of a person appearing at his feet and after a few hesitating seconds, the outcast lifted his head to greet the stranger. The sun shone right into Raoul's eyes and he wasn't able to discern anything other then a silhouette. The person towering above, sat down and Raoul greeted him instinctively with a serious expression; hostile and not at all willing to communicate. Instead, he focused on his stained and ruined cardigan – it was old and worn. The lovely flaxen at his side began to speak again.

"I'm Iason Mink," he began softly with a disarming smile and offered his right hand in a sincere gesture. The response was ever so cool and distancing. The gentle flaxen retracted his hand and watched the bitter youngster mumbling some words towards his own chest. He was dressed in odd clothing of the kind of quality that not even a Pet would want to be caught dead in.

"Who cares," Raoul snorted and kept on staring at his own cardigan. His clothes were ruined and he kept on playing with the discolored buttons – ripping them from the fabric.

"Alright," the stranger continued a little withdrawn, but not defeated. "What's your name?"

"Who cares," came in repeated obstinacy.

"I do," the proud flaxen added steadily. "For I am about to share my dorm with you, and I am not so sure it will be a winning concept to keep referring to you as the 'Deviant' each time I call for your attention. Or is that what you want?"

Raoul shrugged; "I don't care. Call me whatever you want…I aint gonna stay with you."

"I am not going to stay with you," the Blondie corrected Raoul, but it was not at all appreciated no matter how sweet the smile radiating from the stranger. Raoul was not the one to be fooled. He could recognize a patronizing essence in well masked benevolence, and thus Raoul cursed at the intruding presence.

"What the hell do you want, Mink-boy?"

The young Iason Mink frowned at the crudeness of the words flowing from his soon to be roommate. "How in Jupiter's name will he be able to share a room with this imbecile?" How unfortunate for Iason to have been chosen by the headmaster to set this renegade onto a proper track again. Why him? Why did Iason have to be severely punished so as to spend time with this animal?

"Well," Iason started slowly in full control, but intentionally revealing his annoyance over the unpleasantness of the first impression. "Here is a key-card and the code is five-four-zero-twenty-seven. I will be studying this evening for a test tomorrow, so please…do stay out late."

The haughtiness was unmistakable and Raoul reacted immediately; the Blondie didn't even have a chance to leave his seat under the grand oak-tree.

"I'll be in the room after class. I'm sure you'd like to get to know me better and hear all about my former Academy," Raoul added with a theatrical countenance, laced with mockery and added in a belittling manner; "your Highness."

Iason Mink's gaze burned with anger as he left the stranger. "Why was he chosen to look after this unworthy creature…this mistake of a Blondie and a sorry excuse to a human being?"

Raoul was left sitting under the oak-tree, which was situated at the grand entrance of the Academy. It was the 'Devinat's' refuge. Everyone knew that if the Deviant was nowhere causing upheaval in class, then he was most likely licking his wounds under the tree like some animal. Raoul Am; odd, strange and completely impossible to communicate with. Impossible to talk to, impossible to like and impossible to love. Ha!

Love was out of the question! On the other hand, through years of closing the body and shielding the soul, Raoul had almost managed to convince himself he needed no affections. He was free from those flaws of the decadent Blondies. No, he managed well on his own.

Raoul had finished washing up the classroom. In some strange way, he did find certain satisfaction in hard labor. It was soothing for the mind as well as for the body. It made him more at ease and relaxed and, of course, the joy to see the classroom in bright white was rather appealing. Espeially when knowing it had been transformed into its former shine by his own hands.

He cast a look at the projected clock on the wall. It was rather late, but most likely not late enough for this Mink-boy to have finished his work. Raoul didn't know why he cared really. The Mink-boy was an overconfident, toffee-nosed little brat who was every teacher's golden Pet. Raoul sighed. Well, who cares what the Mink-boy was. According to rumors and the score boards, Iason Mink was a disciplined student and his success demanded nothing but the utmost sincere acknowledgement of his prowess; despite that fact that he was a snob to his fingertips. Apart from that, the young deviant really needed a place to stay and thus decided it was best to stay away, just as the Mink had requested, in order to at least please his new roommate this first day of their encounter.

Raoul finished his chores and sat down under the oak-tree waiting for a few more hours to pass. The twin moons were already smiling down on him and the evening breeze was brushing against his face, carrying the scent of the Moonflower. Perhaps he should take a stroll to the library and do as the others – study and make something out of himself.


	2. Voyeuristic Predator

**VOYEURISTIC PREDATOR**

Iason brushed his long hair aside. He had prepared for bed; taken a shower, brushed his teeth, and plaited his hair in order to protect it during the night. He applied a lotion onto his marble skin and a whole body mirror caught his reflection as he was about to exit the bathroom. Iason stared at his own body; the lean muscles were developing into masculine shapes, bulging under the fair, silky skin. The broad shoulders and back were merging with the slim waist and narrow hips in complete harmony, and slightly widening again at the powerful thighs. Indeed, Iason was a team favorite when it came to short distance running. He was among the fastest and a joy to watch on the track. He simply floated above ground when he reached top speed.

His treacherous limpid sapphires scrutinized the lean statue and caught sight of the flaccid member between the creamy thighs; giving birth to fantasies to touch and tease, progressively awakening desire in the young body – a further step to adulthood.

"Fantasies," Iason snorted. It was an annoyance in his life; forcing him to dream daring dreams during the night, only to awaken with frustration. He mostly took out his frustration on the track, or during his studies, but it wasn't always enough. The body recovered from the exhaustive physical training, and the mind sharpened quickly after a completely emptying study period. Both body and mind possessed too much potential and regained agility anew, spurring suppressed, forbidden thoughts to emerge when he least wanted it. Like now, for instance. The longer he watched the body trapped behind the mirror, the more obnoxious the erection between his legs.

"No way," he sighed. "Test tomorrow."

Apart from the test, that unamiable brat was soon coming back to the dorm. Luckily, the impudent lowlife had kept himself away for the entire day and most of the evening. Indeed, the time was almost midnight and there was no trace of Raoul as yet. Iason found himself getting unnerved at the mere thought of the other one, but forced himself to abolish those thoughts. This 'Deviant' was not worth his time, or to be wasting emotions on.

Iason slid under the cover, switched off the lights and took a deep breath going over the plausible questions and answers to the upcoming test. He hadn't been able to fall into deep sleep, when the tiny click form the door allowed the unwanted roommate access to the room.

"Curse that imbecile," Iason muttered internally and slightly opened his eyes to see what Raoul was up to. The youngling carefully walked up to his own bed across from Iason's, but kept the room dark not to awaken the sleeping flaxen. Motions were subtle and soft – soundless like that of a cat.

"At least he is considerate," Iason continued as he watched the impudent renegade from the dark.

Only the faint light from the twin moons was piercing through the room. Raoul walked into the bathroom and Iason could hear the water running, the brushing of teeth and the rattling of the buckle from the belt as it landed on the tiled floor. Raoul was getting undressed and Iason was once again getting rather hot under the collar; this time, by the notion of a presence and the sounds of someone moving about in the room.

"Can't he hurry up? I am trying to get some sleep here."

Within a short while, Iason found himself making up plans for getting the disrespectful flaxen out of his way by tomorrow afternoon. He knew exactly what he would tell the headmaster. He would march in there and tell him that he, as a respected student, was in need of someone who could talk like a normal person, act respectfully, be on time and…

Raoul stepped out of the bathroom and walked slowly towards his bed, still fiddling with his hair and tying it into a ponytail. He exposed his body to the slight caress of the moonlight and stood in the shower of sliver rays almost as if he could sense that delicate touch of light. He began humming softly, rocking his body to a rhythm unknown to anyone other then his soul. His juvenile statue swayed like grass in the wind as the marble skin moved like silk canvas over the lean muscles.

Suddenly, Iason's malicious thoughts gave chase to the serenity that filled his body watching the Deviant bathe in the moonlight – so much alike a young god who had just come to the notion of his existence in a mortal world. Iason remained frozen and complete stillness took him over – his mind silenced.

The disciplined flaxen felt his heart racing - betraying his fortress of solid granite around his spirit. No, it couldn't be - his fortress was impossible to breach. But the foolish heart was pounding like the hooves of a thousand horses, making it difficult to breathe or to think even. He clenched his teeth, and fisted the blanket as if he was ready to tare it apart. His body and mind reacted beyond his control – and for the first time, Iason Mink understood that he was about to get a taste of, or suffer through, that tormenting desire he had only read about in silly romantic novels. The engine of his lust fed on the ethereal impression displayed in a sensual dance before him, and awakened a powerful desire that left Iason gasping for air. He tried to suppress his galloping emotions as well as he could, whilst his betraying eyes licked the unaware flaxen from top to bottom. It made Iason feel almost dirty – watching someone with such emotional turmoil and not revealing it – he was but a voyeuristic predator.

Raoul was so different from those others. He was so mature for his age. His muscles were more defined, with less body fat and finely developed although it still bore traces of youthfulness.

In the obscurity of the moonlight, Iason caught attention of such tentative details as those tiny nipples on the curve of the chest and the silky string of hair under the navel. The disciplined flaxen was surprised to see that Raoul had kept that smooth, almost white, pubic hair, which most others had permanently removed as soon as the teenage years set in. It was thoroughly groomed and looked very soft; crowning that appealing member, which was so beautiful in its relaxed state as it hung retracted into its shelter of skin. It trembled a little as Raoul moved about and quite soon, the hypnotic dance forced all Iason's antagonistic thoughts to take chase. What was happening to him?

The young man across the room was a piece of art by Jupiter's hands, and though he was just another flaxen among many, it was difficult to reduce him to an object in the way Iason did with attractive others. Iason turned away, sighing deeply. What an utter surprise and agonizing frustration, to realize that the Deviant flaxen was an appealing thing of beauty. Who knew that under that disarranged clothing, those hideous leather accessories, that impertinent growling, and that crude surface, there was an uncut diamond that spoke so vividly to Iason's instincts?

Raoul had a face, he had a voice – he was slowly taking form a person. He was wild and crude in every aspect. The bushy mane, the body hair and the skinny statue – it all spoke of an uncivilized mongrel, yet this was a Blondie. His somewhat thin body, enveloped in that yellowish skin, told the tale of someone repeatedly sacrificing a good night sleep to late night activities of some sort, and perhaps drinking. No matter the reason to those negligible flaws, Raoul was ever so attractive.

Suppressing the images of the silvery statue of a semi-god perfection, Iason stared towards the wall and tried to fall asleep – wasted efforts. Suddenly, he felt a presence near his back and a gentle whisper followed the intruding aura.

"Good night…and thanks for having me."

Words of pride and tenacity crowded up in Iason's throat, but not even a mere whimper managed to escape him when a soft touch traveled across his temple. It was tingling and a completely new, intoxicating sensation that shot through him. Iason hardly dared to breathe not to scare off the curious fingers attending his sideburn. "Please, don't stop," echoed inside his head. "Please…don't stop…don't…stop."

Raoul had though Iason to be asleep and made very little noise not to awaken the cocky flaxen. He knew the senior Blondie was ahead of a gruesome test, and needed to catch a good night sleep. Raoul had spent the entire night at the library; abandoning his original plan to study, he kept listening to music and surfing on the Academy intranet to chat to people. He was hoping that Iason would have had enough time to finish his studies by midnight – and right he was.

Although he never revealed it officially, Raoul felt deep respect for those who fought for something, which was difficult to reach. This was the case with the Mink-boy. He knew who Iason was; in fact, he had noticed the flaxen a while back on the running track. He had been quite impressed seeing the Blondie compete. He was fast and determined to reach the finishing line before anyone else. Sometimes he managed and sometimes he didn't, but that determination was complete and present at all time.

Of course, all that admiration came to a sudden end when the Mink-boy pushed himself past the newcomer in the most brutal way, shoving Raoul against he wall and not even turning his head to apologize as he went about his own business. From that moment on, no matter how good the reputation circling Iason Mink, he remained a disrespectful, egotistical bastard in Raoul's opinion.

But as always, Raoul's ocean-deep heart was moved by currents that brought about sensations from a dark abyss, which blessed him with a tender touch completely devoid of resentment. An indirect way for the body to desperately announce the wonderful soul trapped inside; a soul lacking a voice, but visible through warm contact.

Raoul removed a stubborn string of hair from Iason's face. The senior Blondie smelled good; he must have showered just recently. His skin was fresh and his hair carried a delicate fragrance. Well, if Raoul was allowed to stay, perhaps they would get to know each other. Raoul allowed himself to communicate sensibly for the first time in months and whispered gingerly form the darkness.

"I…I hope you had time to finish your studies."

Iason felt delightful warmth spread through his body as he listened to the soft whisper. He fought himself with all his might not to turn around – it was better to pretend sleeping.

"In any case," Raoul continued. "I know you'll do fine. You're not like me."

Something inside Iason broke in two. It was painful and made him choke on his own heartbeat that pounded in the throat, but pride fettered him and thus, he remained motionless.


	3. Silent Protest

**SILENT PROTEST**

Raoul Am and Iason Mink. An odd couple – roommates. A bet has been going down for weeks, suggesting that the two would not survive a whole month together. Especially, since they were so different. Raoul had gone to such lengths in his obstinacy as to cut his hair. His fringe was long, reaching to his chin and covering most of his face, but the back of his neck was bare. The golden locks had been left on the floor in the headmaster's chamber in a wordless protest against the invisible gag that was forced upon the young boy – not allowing for a genuine expression of opinion. The deed was shocking, and though nearly two weeks have passed since Raoul's outrageous behavior, everyone still whispered and discussed the event behind his back whenever he passed by. Whispered was, of course, a matter of definition, for the unkind surrounding spoke clearly enough for Raoul to be able to understand that the conversation was about him only. They never allowed for him to forget. Not even Iason was forgiving. It was far too erratic to be accepted. The event had taken place during social sciences class. It was one of the very few lecture the two roommates shared and it was also during this session that Raoul Am announced his famous words of wisdom; "The body language is the only true universal language, and sex is the currency accepted by most."

Iason found those words despicable and a heated argument on ethics and politics had burst into bloom. Raoul had nestled into ethical issues and drew his conclusions from there, whereas the rest of the class found politics in its purest form – completely free from empathy – be the best option for proper social control. The deviant claimed firmly that many decisions regarding the everyday life of people, were made between the sheets when emotions were flowing. Raoul even possessed the indecency to allege that some great leaders were influenced by their spark of affection towards such insignificant creatures as the mongrels. That was the true face of politics and the way things worked among the highly ranked. Everyone knew that Raoul had a point, but the Deviant was readily and aggressively contradicted just for the simple fact of being the most ostracized student in the Academy.

That was the way things worked in a group of social beings – it was the law of Nature. However, the arguments against his ideas and thoughts were getting far too personal, which eventually resulted in physical encounters and blood. At first, Raoul had the upper hand, but he had no allies. He was held down by some classmates, which opened the opportunity for the primary opponent to direct a few precise strikes against Raoul's face. His vision blurred and starts were flashing before his eyes. He could see the blood from his own mouth spray over his shoulder as his head flung to the side. When he opened his eyes, he was on the floor. Strong hands were pressing him towards the plastic floor, which smelled of wax and disinfectants – sterile, like the world of the Blondies. No wonder that the flaxen were seeking their refuge in the arms of those who added varieties of shades into depraved lives; the colorful Pets. Those with hair color other then blond, skin other then fair, and words other then noble. It was true – but it was taboo. No one was to think it and no one was to speak it. Unfortunately, Raoul had broken that unwritten code of confidence and spoken the forbidden words into the face of the Elite.

Iason watched as Raoul was pushed down, and dragged to the headmaster's office. He refused to intervene. Raoul was not to speak those things. A true and pure Blondie was not ruined by perverted desires for the weak. Why would Raoul say such a thing? He spat on his roommate internally, but somewhere in the bottom of his consciousness he sensed that Raoul had touched upon an uncomfortable truth. If only that imbecile knew how to shut his mouth.

Later that day, Raoul returned to the room with bruised lips, cheeks wet and marked with the tiny rivers of tears he had cried. He must have done so for hours. His eyes were red and his appearance unworthy a Blondie. That as such was no news to anyone, but he had always taken pride in that golden, wavy hair that rested on his shoulders like a mantle. He was pleased with his lovely hair, which added a soft aura to his ridged charisma, but now there was nothing to quench his rogue appearance.

Iason was lost for words. He was seated at his desk reading, when the unruly flaxen entered the room. He had expected Raoul to barge in with fury burning through his eyes, screaming, threatening and rumbling about his rights to express himself in any way he wants. But no such behavior was displayed.

Raoul moved in slow motion. He closed the front door with a soft click, wordlessly walked into the bathroom and remained there for a long time. Iason was so dumbfounded by Raoul's altered, dramatic appearance that he couldn't move from his seat. The book exposed its valuable contents of tiny black letters on white sheets, but Iason could not see the lines screaming for his attention. He stared at the bathroom door.

The shower had been running for what seemed eternity; giving off a monotone patting against the floor. Nothing else could be discerned beyond the familiar sounds of water hitting against stone. The Blondie was getting worried. Raoul deserved a lot of correcting, but not…no, not that. Frightening images of blood swirling down the drain were tainting the peace out of him. His hands started trembling, body numb with cold as if it had been submerged in ice.

"Raoul," Iason whispered at first, then with a summoned intensity he called out again. "Raoul?"

No answers came from the bathroom.

Iason walked slowly towards the ajar door; his heart pounding in his throat. His chest was heaving with those shallow breaths that were pressed out of his body cavity with force. It was strenuous to move, but he had to continue towards the mysterious door. It was almost as if he had been lost in strange world and this door would promise a portal to another dimension. Iason was worried that the dimension he was about to explore was a gruesome one. He held his breath as he walked inside with tentative efforts. The preponderating steam inside was casting an impenetrable veil before his eyes. He advanced through the mist, walking towards the silhouette on the floor behind the shower cabin.

"Raoul," Iason called out with a meek voice – he was beside himself with worry. His trembling fingers anchored into the cabin door and with a sudden jerk, he opened it. Raoul remained huddled up on the floor. Clothes completely soaked and body completely unresponsive as Iason shook his shoulders.

"Raoul, please answer me!"

Finally, a slight evidence of life was revealed through muttered words.

"Leave me alone, Iason."

"What have you done?" Iason asked in disbelief as he moved his hands to the back of Raoul's neck. Exploring the short and unevenly cut hair, his fingers traveled gingerly along the length of the neck and to his surprise, Raoul made no attempts to escape the fumbling fingers. The juvenile head hung deeply between the shoulders, chin almost touching the chest, as if the weight of the world had been forced upon the tired body. The heaviest load, on the other hand, was Raoul's own spirit and it sent an arrow of remorse through Iason. Perhaps he shouldn't have abandoned the Deviant, shouldn't have left him alone. But there was no way now to have the situation undone, only to perhaps correct, or at least ease the tension. For the first time, Iason found himself questioning the degree of suffering and the weight of the punishment, against the upsetting crime. Did Raoul's words justify his current state? The thoughts were unfamiliar and disturbing to even take into consideration, and thus Iason chose to push them aside.

"C'mon, Raoul," Iason sighed. "You can't sit here all day…c'mon."

He tried to pull Raoul to his feet, but the rogue was too heavy as he made no attempt to aid Iason in his efforts. The flaxen outside the confined universe dissolved in water continued with his endeavors, but to no avail. Finally, Iason expressed his lack of patients, by responding slightly exasperated while backing away.

"Raoul, get a grip on yourself and get off the floor."

Iason turned the shower off and frowned at his wet clothes. He despised this kind of drama and Raoul was a master when it came to theatrical outbursts.

"Stop sulking and make an effort to collect your thoughts," he continued lecturing. "If you hadn't been stupid enough to say all those things, this wouldn't have happened. You have yourself to blame, Raoul. Now get off the floor and stop feeling sorry for yourself."

The Deviant watched the last bits of his strength disappear down the drain with the water. He had no will to oppose or to cause another argument and thus, he obeyed like a programmed robot and left the bathroom on harsh command. He had nothing else to do really. The situation was bad and no one could or would ease his pain. This was something only time could heal.

Raoul sat down on the bed not caring the slightest about the sheets, but Iason intervened. He could have refrained from interfering with Raoul's little whims, but the truth was a seed of guilt had rooted within, forcing Iason into any kind of action that eased the pain – his own. He caught Raoul before the juvenile deviant lay on the bed stating;

"You'll ruin the sheets if you lay about as wet as you are. C'mon Raoul, don't be such a…," the flaxen suddenly halted and swallowed his insults. He stood motionless above the silent one; observing and contemplating on his next move. Raoul was staring hypnotically through the window with face devoid of any expression, and thus Iason made a decision. Slowly he bent over the deviant and placed his hands on the waist of his mate while looking questioningly at the boy. Were his actions accepted or was he considered too blunt? Since the deviant made no apparent moves, Iason removed the wet shirt after which Raoul assumed his previous position; arms resting lifelessly in his lap, eyes wandering beyond the mortal world somewhere outside the window. Iason felt rather awkward in this situation – caring, for Raoul of all people. He was hoping no one would see him like this – ever actually. Wordlessly, he continued undressing the wet boy before him.

Apathy ruled inside every part of Raoul's body as he lay on the bed. His entire universe was rocking and moving to the tugging of his clothing, and it had almost become a soothing, familiar state of existence when it suddenly halted.

Iason froze. He wanted, but couldn't move. No, it wasn't true. He didn't want to move; he wanted to stay like this for long time. He allowed himself to be mesmerized by the image before him. He recalled his actions from only a few seconds in the past, but it already seemed ages ago. He remembered he had eased the trousers around Raoul's waist, taken a firm hold and pulled them to the middle of the thighs. Raoul bucked his hips to aid Iason, arching his back to the point where skin almost grazed skin. The world suddenly stopped spinning.

The saturated scent of something familiar, yet completely unexplored, hit against Iason's face, then swiftly disappeared again as the hips distanced and rested heavily against the bed. Iason's heart awakened a wild ceremony in his body, and his eyes focused on a shiny mesh of flaxen, curly hair that produced a soft bed for the resting member. A tormenting rush of heat spread through the young body – burning and consuming his spirit. He wanted to touch it so badly; to feel it against his palms. Would it be as soft as it looked or little more coarse like the fur on an animal?

"Your cheeks are blushing," came as a disturbance of silence.

Iason lifted his head and met the gaze of Raoul. The corners of his mouth twisted into a little smile, but that was all he allowed himself to do. After all, he mustn't forget what Raoul was – a deviant. He gathered his strength and regained his composure as he spoke;

"So you are awake after all. Good. Take off the rest of your wet clothes and get some rest and…"

"Iason," a deep voice called out. "Have you ever seen anyone naked before?"

The question was insulting and Iason grunted on a mere reflex.

"Of course, what do you think?"

"Do you like what you see?"

The question was so imposing that it could be considered vulgar, yet Iason had no will to fight it. He wanted to give a clear answer of confirmation, but he played evasive.

"It looks like anyone else's."

The moments between words were thick with silence and anticipation. Iason was waiting for Raoul's next move and though he could have expected anything blunt and brutal from the rogue flaxen, the words spoken made him lose his breath in a treacherous moan that revealed his innocent yearning.

Raoul, however, was ever so cold as he asked; "Do you want to kiss me there?"

Iason gasped, clutching the fabric in his hands, trying to collect his thoughts.

"Do you want to kiss me there?" Raoul repeated, tensing his abdomen and thereby making the beautiful organ assert a discrete sign of alertness with a little twitch. Performing a tiny swagger to invite its chosen partner to an intimate dance.

"By Gods, yes," rumbled inside Iason's head. Alluring images of his lips exploring something so forbidden and precious was making his spirit stir within - blooming with sexual arousal. Curiosity was taking him over and just as he was about to mouth a wordless approval to this daring question, he shook his head denying his desire – betraying himself. Raoul nodded, but by no means was he burdened by shame over his crude approach.

"In that case," Raoul snorted slightly irritated. "Stop staring at me."

The comment ignited an overwhelming anger within the faltering Blondie; making him back away and reassuming his proud stance. Raoul swiftly discarded the last bits of his clothing, wrapped the blanket around himself and turned his back against Iason. Within a few minutes he was asleep.

"You know Raoul, you are a real jerk," Iason added and returned to reading his book.


	4. Caught in a Moment

**CAUGHT IN A MOMENT**

"C'mon, Raoul," Iason sighed. "You can't sit here all day…c'mon."

He tried to pull Raoul to his feet, but the rogue was too heavy as he made no attempt to aid Iason in his efforts. The flaxen outside the confined universe dissolved in water continued with his endeavors, but to no avail. Finally, Iason expressed his lack of patients, by responding slightly exasperated while backing away.

"Raoul, get a grip on yourself and get off the floor."

Iason turned the shower off and frowned at his wet clothes. He despised this kind of drama and Raoul was a master when it came to theatrical outbursts.

"Stop sulking and make an effort to collect your thoughts," he continued lecturing. "If you hadn't been stupid enough to say all those things, this wouldn't have happened. You have yourself to blame, Raoul. Now get off the floor and stop feeling sorry for yourself."

The Deviant watched the last bits of his strength disappear down the drain with the water. He had no will to oppose or to cause another argument and thus, he obeyed like a programmed robot and left the bathroom on harsh command. He had nothing else to do really. The situation was bad and no one could or would ease his pain. This was something only time could heal.

Raoul sat down on the bed not caring the slightest about the sheets, but Iason intervened. He could have refrained from interfering with Raoul's little whims, but the truth was a seed of guilt had rooted within, forcing Iason into any kind of action that eased the pain – his own. He caught Raoul before the juvenile deviant lay on the bed stating;

"You'll ruin the sheets if you lay about as wet as you are. C'mon Raoul, don't be such a…," the flaxen suddenly halted and swallowed his insults. He stood motionless above the silent one; observing and contemplating on his next move. Raoul was staring hypnotically through the window with face devoid of any expression, and thus Iason made a decision. Slowly he bent over the deviant and placed his hands on the waist of his mate while looking questioningly at the boy. Were his actions accepted or was he considered too blunt? Since the deviant made no apparent moves, Iason removed the wet shirt after which Raoul assumed his previous position; arms resting lifelessly in his lap, eyes wandering beyond the mortal world somewhere outside the window. Iason felt rather awkward in this situation – caring, for Raoul of all people. He was hoping no one would see him like this – ever actually. Wordlessly, he continued undressing the wet boy before him.

Apathy ruled inside every part of Raoul's body as he lay on the bed. His entire universe was rocking and moving to the tugging of his clothing, and it had almost become a soothing, familiar state of existence when it suddenly halted.

Iason froze. He wanted, but couldn't move. No, it wasn't true. He didn't want to move; he wanted to stay like this for long time. He allowed himself to be mesmerized by the image before him. He recalled his actions from only a few seconds in the past, but it already seemed ages ago. He remembered he had eased the trousers around Raoul's waist, taken a firm hold and pulled them to the middle of the thighs. Raoul bucked his hips to aid Iason, arching his back to the point where skin almost grazed skin. The world suddenly stopped spinning.

The saturated scent of something familiar, yet completely unexplored, hit against Iason's face, then swiftly disappeared again as the hips distanced and rested heavily against the bed. Iason's heart awakened a wild ceremony in his body, and his eyes focused on a shiny mesh of flaxen, curly hair that produced a soft bed for the resting member. A tormenting rush of heat spread through the young body – burning and consuming his spirit. He wanted to touch it so badly; to feel it against his palms. Would it be as soft as it looked or little more coarse like the fur on an animal?

"Your cheeks are blushing," came as a disturbance of silence.

Iason lifted his head and met the gaze of Raoul. The corners of his mouth twisted into a little smile, but that was all he allowed himself to do. After all, he mustn't forget what Raoul was – a deviant. He gathered his strength and regained his composure as he spoke;

"So you are awake after all. Good. Take off the rest of your wet clothes and get some rest and…"

"Iason," a deep voice called out. "Have you ever seen anyone naked before?"

The question was insulting and Iason grunted on a mere reflex.

"Of course, what do you think?"

"Do you like what you see?"

The question was so imposing that it could be considered vulgar, yet Iason had no will to fight it. He wanted to give a clear answer of confirmation, but he played evasive.

"It looks like anyone else's."

The moments between words were thick with silence and anticipation. Iason was waiting for Raoul's next move and though he could have expected anything blunt and brutal from the rogue flaxen, the words spoken made him lose his breath in a treacherous moan that revealed his innocent yearning.

Raoul, however, was ever so cold as he asked; "Do you want to kiss me there?"

Iason gasped, clutching the fabric in his hands, trying to collect his thoughts.

"Do you want to kiss me there?" Raoul repeated, tensing his abdomen and thereby making the beautiful organ assert a discrete sign of alertness with a little twitch. Performing a tiny swagger to invite its chosen partner to an intimate dance.

"By Gods, yes," rumbled inside Iason's head. Alluring images of his lips exploring something so forbidden and precious was making his spirit stir within - blooming with sexual arousal. Curiosity was taking him over and just as he was about to mouth a wordless approval to this daring question, he shook his head denying his desire – betraying himself. Raoul nodded, but by no means was he burdened by shame over his crude approach.

"In that case," Raoul snorted slightly irritated. "Stop staring at me."

The comment ignited an overwhelming anger within the faltering Blondie; making him back away and reassuming his proud stance. Raoul swiftly discarded the last bits of his clothing, wrapped the blanket around himself and turned his back against Iason. Within a few minutes he was asleep.

"You know Raoul, you are a real jerk," Iason added and returned to reading his book.


	5. Conflict

**CONFLICTS…**

The canteen was packed with perfects creatures of Jupiter's genius. It was exactly noon and lunchtime for all junior classes, which in this case included Raoul the Deviant and Iason Mink, or Goodie-two-shoes according to the former. The insults were bouncing between the two students and although Iason tried to avoid name-calling for the simple purpose of not lowering himself to a common level, he did find some satisfaction in exposing his opinion about his roommate.

"He is absolutely appalling," Iason snorted between bites and washed down his anger with a glass of water. The salad was crispy and fresh as usual and the veal perfectly prepared, yet it all tasted as if it had already been chewed on and spit out. Proper scrutiny of Iason's soul would have revealed that this was not entirely true, but since his time with Raoul, the young Blondie had learned how to overly dramatize his expressions. It worked, for the company of five surrounding him was greatly shocked about the behavior of this deviant student from the Northern Campus. The Blondie across Iason leaned over the table, anxious to hear more of this unruly youngster.

"You know, I heard he is getting some extra 'assistance' to pass his courses…"

Iason lifted an eyebrow and tilted his head a little. He had heard those rumors before, but they were of a far too personal character and thus Iason was unsure how to circumvent the situation. He was more then happy to join in on the discussions concerning Raoul, but when it came to such private details, he was a firm believer in that certain boundaries were not to be broken.

"Um…what do you mean exactly?"

The other one smiled and continued with eyes glowing with anticipation.

"I heard that he is…" the boy halted and bit his lower lip as he tried to trap the giggle from escaping him. However, his strength was not enough to withhold the amusement pressing from within. "I heard that he is sleeping with his teachers to get his grades straight. Well, it is rather strange. I mean, he was nowhere in the beginning of this term and now he is apparently a top student and not too far behind you actually," he nodded towards Iason. "The only thing he keeps having trouble with is politics since that despicable display a while back. Everything else he has passed with honors."

"Where did you hear this?" Iason asked suspiciously.

"Well, don't you find it a bit odd that he keeps on getting dragged into the headmaster's chamber all the time? Really now, many have been to that office but only this Raoul Am individual has spent hours at a time there. How likely is that? I bet the headmaster is pretty much sucked dry by now."

All around the table burst into laughter, including Iason. Swept away by the moment, no one noticed the presence appearing behind them. Suddenly, the laughter died and Iason met the burning gaze of Raoul as he turned around. However, Raoul's stare seemed to pass the proper Blondie and it was apparent that his anger was not directed solely at Iason. Still, guilt flared inside the correct Blondie and without a second thought he flew up form the chair assuming a defensive position.

"Raoul...listen, it was just…"

"Forget it, Iason."

The Deviant was all but tolerant to listen to reason and stumbled out of the canteen followed by the worried holler of Iason.

"Oh, what are you worried about?" one of the Blondies around the table voiced coldly. "He will go to that tree of his, sulk on for hours, skip class, then go to the headmaster to pull him out of the mess he is in. Personally, I can't understand how you can spend even a single day with that unpolished ape."

Through crude and persistent persuasion, as befitted the Blondie Elite, Iason allowed himself to be held back by his peers. After all, their conclusions on Raoul seemed to be rather probable. Raoul was very often with the principal. What was he doing there? Later that evening, Iason felt compelled to confront Raoul on the matter.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

The Deviant was buried in his latest report and had no will to communicate with Iason when the Blondie finally came back to the dorm. It was unusual for Iason to stay out this late, but there was a valid reason to his worry. He feared Raoul would get furious and start a scene – but Iason still needed to know the truth. The young Blondie carefully sat down on the edge of his bed across Raoul. He took off his outer garment and remained quiet for a little while, until a soft voice invited him to the discussion he wished to have.

"So do you think so too?"

Iason took Raoul into focus. The hair was still short in the back. Raoul had wanted it to remain so, especially since it upset a lot of his peers that he could have such a relaxed attitude about his deviance. Nonetheless, he was truly attractive.

"I don't know, Raoul," Iason sighed. "Is it true?"

"It's incredible, Iason," Raoul snorted as he kept on typing with impressive speed.

"What is?"

"I agree that you might think I have no class, no visions, no discipline, no beauty and no future…but to hear you say I have no spine…that's incredible."

Iason flew up form his seat opposing to the accusation.

"I never said that. I was just…"

"Just what?" Raoul looked up and stopped typing. "Asking me if I screw the headmaster to get my grades up?" After a short while of silence, the deviant resumed working as he continued. "How can you even think such a thing? I lack a lot of things, but not spine, my friend."

Iason watched as the light from the screen illuminated the sad features of the young boy stubbornly working on his assay. He walked up to Raoul and sat down next to him, placing a hand on the busy fingers; making the young deviant to stop in his efforts.

"No, you are right," Iason began. "You don't lack spine. I am sorry for doubting you. I think you have discipline, or you wouldn't be working right now when everyone else is sleeping, and that will give you visions and a future. I also think you have great class. Granted, unusual for a Blondie, but still it's your class. And when it comes to your beauty," fingertips gingerly intertwining, "I'd like to see more of it..."

Iason suddenly bit his sentence in half, realizing what he as about to say; most importantly that he was about to reveal his own weakness. By the time Raoul's mind fitted the missing pieces into a comprehensible structure of words, it was already too late. Iason had left the seat next to him and disappeared into the bathroom. Raoul's juvenile heart was wildly pounding in his chest, but he chose to suppress the emotions awakening and continued with his assay. This time with a little smile.


	6. Can a Blondie be loved?

**CAN A BLONDIE BE LOVED**

Iason had slowly gotten used to Raoul's odd behavior and the provocative words that floated from his lips. It often brought trouble upon his head, for if it wasn't something Raoul blurted out when most inappropriate, then his fists were all too eager to clarify his point. That latter brought him along the familiar path to the headmaster's chamber quite frequently. Raoul was immature and rude, but nonetheless a Siren's call to several Blondies – including Iason Mink.

The haughty attitude made them want to chase the prey and subdue him, his disarranged clothing was appealing in a strange kind of way and his slender body invited for curious looks and vivid fantasies of a sexual object.

Of course, all those charmed by the rude newcomer, tried to deny their fascination as well as they could, but as the subject "Raoul" appeared on anyone's lips, the young deviant was gladly discussed with a tinge of pleasure. Little did Iason know, however, that the feelings were mutual.

Raoul had studied hard for over a week to pass this mid term exam in patient psychology for medical personnel. If he would be able to finish with the assay a little quicker, he would have enough time to see Iason competing. It was the annual Championships where the most talented of the six Campuses would have a chance to prove their superiority. The Championships lasted an entire week and included all disciplines, ranging from science and techniques to art and sports. Iason was to run his short distance and he was standing in the middle of the track, flanked by four runners on each side. Raoul had never been interested in sports and definitely not short-distance, but today he had a good reason to hurry to the track. He handed in his paper, rushed to the arena and elbowed himself through the heavy crowd until he reached front row.

Iason was already set for his run. Raoul could see that his roommate was edgy by the way Iason rocked his body back and forth. It was impossible to stay still for all the tension and it was during those few seconds that Raoul gained a completely different view of the beautiful Blondie. He watched with awe that athletic shape of the young body, each curve enhanced in that black runners outfit that merely provided a second skin on the fair statue. Raoul found himself indulging in the pleasure he obtained from viewing the strong calves, the powerful thighs, the muscular buttocks and the perfectly chiseled torso.

"Well, well, well," Raoul mumbled to himself. "He really is a looker in that outfit. Too bad he never wears it at home."

At the announcement of Iason's name Raoul cheerfully whistled in a way that called upon the attention of his immediate presence. The displeased frown on people's faces meant nothing to Raoul as he continued with his whistling. Iason was too focused to notice his devoted fan. All he could perceive was the heartbeat, the lining, the preparation, and the signal – then adrenaline washed over every fiber in his body and carried him over he finish line. Once his body plunged across the laser ribbon measuring his time, Iason turned towards the crowd and welcomed their cheerful appreciation and acknowledgement of his prowess. And the one most eagerly expressing his happiness was that short-haired, crazy Blondie standing in the way of others and waving with his arms. Acting instinctively, Iason responded to Raoul's childish behavior with an encouraging smile and a nod to confirm his joint feelings. Soon thereafter they both regained composure and Raoul disappeared from the arena.

Iason tasted the sweetness of victory in a way he had never perceived before. It was so much more intoxicating knowing that among the crowd of thousands, there was one single person directing his fullest attention just towards Iason. His very own fan. The one who from that day one, made every competition more enjoyable. Indeed, before each starting signal flashed, Iason would search for the presence of Raoul among the spectators and as a loyal companion, Raoul was there with his unruly behavior. Not missing a single event in which Iason was to partake.

* * *

Raoul was washing his hands and looked into the mirror. With his damp fingers he arranged the fringe and traced the curve of his eyebrows. As he was about to leave the washroom he noticed he had forgotten his bag in the stall. He returned, opened the door and bent down to reach for his rugsack when a group of loud Blondies entered. Immediately Raoul could hear that the topic discussed was concerning him. At first he thought it would be best to reveal his presence, but as the voice of Iason pierced through the hum of the group, the young deviant halted and carefully locked door – listening in on the conversation.

"Have you heard that he once again scored over ninety five percent on the latest test?"

The question had been asked by Iason; Raoul could hear it clearly although it was slightly muffled by the sound of water running. However, Raoul had come to recognize the tenderness of that voice and was able to discern it among thousands if necessary.

"Indeed," someone answered. "The headmaster's groin has worked overtime, no doubt."

All Blondies started to laugh and Raoul felt the anger bloom within. He was about to burst out of the room, when a sharp voice interfered claiming his innocence. It made him halt and he kept on listening from his hiding place.

"Raoul has nothing to do with the headmaster on such a personal level," Iason rumbled and the washroom went completely silent. "He needed someone to talk to and to clear his mind, and he found that in the headmaster. After all, the tutors are to help out through personal guidance if that is what is required to get a student on the right track. I guess the headmaster is no exception to that rule. Give the guy a break and stop talking like that."

"And just how do you know for certain?"

"Because I asked him and he told me," Iason argued.

"Do you believe him?"

"Without a doubt," Iason added without hesitation. The answer was so sincere that it brought Raoul to tears. He cupped his hands over his face to rub some focus into his being, and to prevent the joy from gaining control over his body. This was not the time or the place to lose poise.

The group of popular Blondies was still questioning this sudden change within Iason, but he remained firm.

"Iason, how can you be so gullible? Truly someone like Raoul has very refined abilities to lie and to…"

"You just shut your mouth!" Iason growled as he slammed his fist against the sink. "You guys don't know anything about him and though he may seem erratic in his ways, I can assure you he has wonderful qualities."

"Such as?" Someone threw in challengingly.

Raoul listened with suspense as he noticed that Iason's voice turned softer as he spoke.

"Well, Raoul is very pedantic. He is considerate when I have lots to study and he comes to watch me compete all the time. He has never missed out on any occasion."

Iason was surprised to find himself being able to find so many appealing qualities within his roommate. He smiled and couldn't help to extend his portrait of Raoul. With theatrical amusement he kept on painting an intriguing image of Raoul with the aim to seed a thorn of jealousy within his peers.

"Apart from that, you guys should see his body. Ahh…"

Iason leaned against the wall, closing his eyes as his tongue slid across his lips. A deep sigh escaped his mouth as he opened up to speak.

"He looks like a God. Broad shoulder, strong arms…slim waist. He has such a nice behind…Oh, by Jupiter, I would really like to grind my hips against that."

Raoul cocked his head with surprise, eyes wide and flickering. Did he really hear correct? His chest was heaving and his breath turning hot. Iason continued to the pleasure of the others; all wedged together by the explicit details given. Temperature was rising as the level of intimacy grew to an almost uncomfortable intensity.

"And you guys know what? I watched him eat a caramel lollipop the other day and I tell you…that busy tongue can work its way over my lollipop at anytime."

"By Jupiter's grace!" one of the Blondies gasped. "Iason, just listen to yourself. This sounds so unlike you."

"I know," Iason laughed. "But you should have seen it. The way he sucked on it, those full lips enclosing the candy, the way he took it deep into his mouth…ohh…I'd better not think of it."

They all giggled childishly, including Raoul behind his hands.

"I really had problems concentrating on my homework when I saw and heard what he was doing to that lollipop. I so wished him to do it to me. Darn lucky lollipop."

The room was filled with genuine laughter and shortly thereafter someone announced it was already time for the next session. Raoul was left alone in the company of his wild heart – love seeping through every pore of his body. By the time he managed to stagger out of the bathroom the corridor had become completely emptied of activity. High on elation and overwhelmed with bliss, he started running through the vast connective halls. He cast a quick glance on the digitally projected schedule and searched for the next session Iason was to attend. There, Social science in the main auditorium. Raoul hurried towards lecture hall; he could hardly breathe for all the tension that squeezed the breath out of him.

Raoul stumbled into the lecture hall, interrupting an ongoing class. The great complex was filled with close to two hundred students, but he didn't care. Raoul ran to the presenter stage and from there he scanned the area looking for Iason. The teacher was hardly amused, but had a good sense of humor, which he used to inquire the business of the young student who impertinently interrupted class.

"I'm looking for Iason Mink," Raoul panted and kept on searching for the lovely flaxen in the crowd.

"Couldn't it have waited until after class,?" the teacher growled with hands on his hips.

"No! I have something important to tell him."

"I see," the tutor grunted through his headset. The conversation was heard all over the auditorium. "Could Iason Mink please stand up?"

A young student in the middle of the grand complex slowly left his seat and walked to the aisle closest to his row.

"Iason!" Raoul shouted into the headset he received from the tutor. "I just want to tell you that…um…

Raoul's mind was in conflict. Should he divulge his feelings for Iason? But then the Blondie would know that Raoul has been ears dropping back at the men's room and perhaps get mad. No! Raul was not to destroy that endearing moment.

"Could you please hurry up?" the teacher mumbled with a stiff expression. Raoul, however, didn't take any notice.

"I just want to say that I…that…I don't know how to put it, but…"

Iason felt the sting of hundreds of eyes, anxiously waiting for the point to this unusual display. He was the center of attention and it made him feel rather uncomfortable.

"All right, young sir Am," the teacher intervened and reached for the headset in Raoul's hands.

"No, wait," Raoul raised his voice and gulped as he took courage. "I just want to say that you really are…a great runner."

Raoul could hardly breathe, but he knew the he wasn't the only one feeling awkward.

"Is that all, sir Am?" the tutor sighed with annoyance and pursed his lips.

Raoul shook his head at which the adult urged him to get the words off his chest, for the class was being greatly delayed. The young deviant looked straight up at his desired object standing alone in the aisle, whilst Iason was patiently waiting for Raoul to finish what he had come to say.

"I also want to say that…," Raoul smiled and released the final sentence on the wings of a kiss he blew towards Iason. "You really have a nice ass."

The entire auditorium began laughing and though the teacher tried his best to remain in control, he couldn't defeat the concurrent giggle pressing from within. He was, on the other hand, far more tactful then the rest of the hall and quickly gathered his thoughts.

"I am glad you are willing to share your opinion on young sir Mink's physical appeal with the rest of us, but that has very little to do with politics. Do you mind if we get back to class?"

Raoul remained smiling towards Iason. The Blondie in the aisle was numb with the pleasant warmth that surrounded his body and felt genuinely happy although the situation was discomfited. The headset was once again in the hands of the teacher and Raoul was asked to leave the auditorium. At the door the young deviant turned and ran across the grand complex followed by the eyes of the flaxen sea surrounding him. Iason watched with joyfulness as Raoul made his way up the countless stairs in the aisle and threw himself in the aching arms of the lovely Blondie. The presence of Raoul hit against Iason like a delicate breeze and he welcomed it like a source of pleasure to his soul. They were both in the center of everyone's attention, but neither of them minded. Raoul embraced Iason and parted with a slight kiss on his cheeks. With a content, silly smile he finally left the lecture hall whistling. Iason followed him with a new sensation. He was all warm and calm inside. That kiss was so swift and innocent, yet he perceived it as strongly erotic as his skin kept on itching from the kiss long after Raoul left the auditorium. Could a Blondie really be touched by love?


	7. Making it real

**MAKING IT REAL…**

Raoul was sitting in his bed drawing when Iason stumbled in with a great beam, announcing loudly that he had made plans for them both for the evening. They were off the coming three days and thus could allow for a more relaxed evening with catered food and entertainment.

"Look at this," the Blondie presented the merchandise in his bag. "We have pasta, pastries, a movie...and on top of it all…wine…"

"Wine?!"

"Shh," Iason hushed Raoul with a mischievous frown. "Yeah, I got it from the seniors, but keep it down, we don't want the entire dorm to know or we'll be thrown out."

"My goodness, Iason," Raoul laughed as he closed the sketchpad and placed under the bed as he always did. "What else do you have there?"

"I have this movie we could watch," Iason threw the laser disc in the hands of Raoul.

"Ah, a thriller. It will be perfect."

Raoul stood up and walked over to Iason following the delightful aroma of the food; whilst he corked up the wine, he answered inquiries regarding his whereabouts this afternoon.

"Oh, after I made a fool of myself in your class, I came back here and just kept on drawing. I have this assignment to hand in next week. I have to make some developed croqui sketches."

"What's croqui?" Iason asked over his shoulders, almost cutting Raoul off.

"Croqui, you now," Raoul mumbled. "Human bodies…models."

Iason's eyes flickered around as his thoughts bubbled up with intensity. After a short moment, he turned his head to face Raoul, but the deviant was buried in the bottle of red wine, trying to figure out if it was full bodied or not.

"So do you have it?" Iason questioned carefully with a dampened voice, almost as if he tried to keep his own words shielded from himself.

"Have what?" Raoul asked without lifting his nose form the bottle.

"A model."

Raoul shook his head. "No, but I will look for one tomorrow though," the deviant explained. "With this weekend off, I should be able to get in contact with some people from art class who are also in need of someone to draw, and so we might be able to trade favors."

"I could do it," Iason threw in spontaneously and gasped at his own frankness.

Raoul let go of the bottle and the two youngsters exchanged looks without words - observing, measuring and trying to interpret every little movement in the other part. Through a slight nod with his head, Raoul imparted his answer.

Iason, however, remained motionless before Raoul, radiating sincere shyness, which was defeated by the flash of lust that sprung from a blunt explanation that placed the disciplined beauty in any position requested by the artist.

"It has to be nude, Iason."

Iason removed his eyes from Raoul, focusing on unpacking his groceries as insecurity was beginning to take hold of him. Was this really a good idea? No, he wasn't to give into his fear. He had never done anything like this before and he was feeling desperate to give chase to the general perception of him being a rigid and disciplined puppet to his teachers.

"Look, we can finish the dinner before it gets cold, and perhaps afterwards you can use me," Iason explained, but immediately corrected himself as he became aware of this little slip of words. "Use me as a model I mean...if you want to that is."

Still no answers and thus the abashed young Blondie tried to assume a defensive position to adjust his candor.

"Maybe you need someone more experienced, I don't know anything about modeling anyway, I was just think if you needed some help…"

"Yeah, that would be perfect, Iason," Raoul cut in the last minute. "I'd like that…I'd really like that."

"Really?" Iason's face lit up with enthusiasm.

"Yeah, really," Raoul smiled back, but consequently assumed a more serious complexion as befitted a Blondie. Childish outbursts of joy were something for the lower cast. The headmaster had made it quite clear for Raoul, that when the career was getting on track again, it was time to start working on the appearance and behavior. Now and then, the young deviant was able to clean up his act and make an effort. He was just hoping that he would be able to keep his emotions under control during the remainder of the evening, for the mere thought of having that beautiful room-mate posing for a drawing was exceptionally delightful to the mind.

The dinner was delicious and Raoul was very impressed with the terrific taste of such a simple dish as that Iason had ordered. Personally, Raoul would have never gone into a fancy restaurant and actually ask for a doggy bag. Raoul smiled at the thought; the staff must have dropped their jaws at the young Blondie's request.

Every other bite was washed down with the delightfully fruity wine and when finished eating, the two boys indulged in the remaining glasses of the red liquid. They sat in Iason's bed, comfortably leaning back on the pillow, talking about their week and plans for the days off. Finally, the discussions had reached a completed circle and a pressing silence descended upon the young men.

The suggestion previously posed by Iason was coming back with full force within Raoul, whilst Iason felt the tantalizing anticipation of what was to follow now that Raoul had approved to that daring suggestion. The question was, who would take the first step? Whoever was the first person to speak, was also the one to be blamed if the feelings galloped over the fields of their desires. The deviant broke the silence first.

"You want me to…," Raoul paused as he took the final sip out of his glass; tipping the glass back and forth as he spoke. "…to draw you?"

"Naked?"

The question just slipped from the reserved Blondie and Raoul nodded in response, lowering his eyes and blushing at the thought. Iason kept his pretty sapphires on his flat mate and swallowed the sip of wine in his mouth with a loud guttural sound.

"All right," he said, trembling slightly as he got out of bed. Iason placed the empty glass on the study desk and slowly turned around to face Raoul. "How do you want me posing?"

Raoul released a tiny smile as he walked over to his bed, from under which he took out a sketchpad and some pencils. He lifted his gaze that captured the silhouette of the young Blondie undoing his well-combed ponytail.

"Just lie down on the bed."


	8. The Most Perfect One

**THE MOST PERFECT ONE**

The insecure model slowly eased the belt around his slim waist.

The young artist sharpened a pencil and blew at the tip to discard the flakes of charcoal.

The white shirt gathered next to the trousers and underwear around the feet of the model. His long hair was brushed backwards as requested by the artist, to expose the face to proper scrutiny.

The young artist lifted his gaze and took the perfectly sculpted body of a young virgin into view. The white statue before him lay down on the bed...

The winds silenced outside the dorm and the universe turned into a sea of emotions. Unknown forces were guiding Raoul's hands over the white sheet; the pencil was performing a sensual dance and gave life to a marvelous young man reaching through the surface of the paper.

Raoul focused his lovely emeralds upon the body before him – objectifying, studying and interpreting the lines, curves, muscles and tone. His juvenile fortress of flesh and blood was stirring within and the heat forced little drops of sweat to the surface of his forehead. His eyes abandoned the body and viewed the god-like twin of Iason in black and white, resting in his lap. Without noticing, the tip of his pink, smooth tongue slid over the lips.

"Now it is you who is blushing," Iason's soft voice hovered through the room with the delicate vibration of a crystal glass.

The artist halted a swift second and then lowered his gaze again, allowing for the images to absorb his mind.

Iason lay relaxed on the cold sheets. At first, it had been uncomfortable, but now he welcomed it for his body was burning and his breath was hot with desire. Each stroke of the pencil felt like a ginger caress from Raoul's delicate fingers and his skin contracted with little goose bumps at the mere sound of the soft scratches against paper. It all felt so real. He had no strength to fight the state he was caught in. Everything about Raoul was so seductive and deep. Iason watched the young artist across the room and all space between them disappeared. There was nothing but the sensuality that linked them together.

The young model blessed his artist with a careful smile – a subtle invitation closer, but the soul was separated from the body, which became frustratingly evident as they remained on the opposite sides of the room. Yearning, but to no avail.

Raoul shifted his lovely gaze between the two bodies in his power; a fictional one in his hands, the other serving his eyes with delicious images to fulfill his fantasies. The orange glow from the bedside lamp was shimmering off Iason's body like an angelic halo, completing his flawless visage. In an unexpected moment, as Raoul looked up to catch the delicate lines of the beautiful boy, their eyes met and effortlessly merged – none of them could move.

Iason lost himself in those almond shaped emeralds.

Raoul relished the enchanting spark in the ocean deep sapphires.

Falling…

The walls were closing in and the space between the young bodies slowly diminished. Invisible bonds of elation carried Raoul across the room. It had all happened without his active partaking. His body just floated over to Iason as he found himself kneeling beside the bed and leaning over the wanting Blondie. Raoul could feel the heat exuding from Iason's body, the moist breath and the scrutinizing gaze that slithered over and under the skin. Tension built up to an agonizing condition where both parts needed just a single, innocent encouragement of a look or even a lustful sigh to justify their love.

Falling…

The deviant lifted a hand and positioned it over Iason's face, preparing for a touch – but it never came. He couldn't bring himself to rest his fingertips on the beautiful face. Instead, his palm soaked up the aura of his friend, only inches from the surface of the aching skin, and suddenly halted by a tender voice that brushed against his hand.

"Are you pleased with it?"

Raoul retracted his hand and remained on his knees next to the bed asking almost dreamingly; "With what?"

"With the drawing," Iason emphasized with his last bit of gathered strength.

The young deviant nodded in return and with a final effort, he betrayed his dreams and turned his back on them as he stood up and walked over to his side of the room.

"Yeah," he smiled and signed the drawing. "It's the most perfect piece I've ever made."


	9. Everything

**EVERYTHING**

The term passed quickly and a new season had arrived. The leaves on the Acacia trees were yellow and the tiny white flowers decorating the branches were hovering through the air like flakes of snow. They carried the scent of the Acacia tree, and filled the air with a scene from a fairytale. The tiny petals gathered around Raoul's feet as well as in his hair, emphasizing the essence of the innocence he harbored inside.

Iason took the last few steps on the ramp and turned before it closed. He remained frozen whilst watching Raoul standing on the platform with the white flowers surrounding him. He looked so abandoned and lonely, but with an encouraging smile the Deviant persuaded Iason to go to the convention. It was mid term semester and a few weeks off for the junior classes. Iason was rewarded with a scholarship to partake on a convention for elite politicians and have the opportunity to learn from the most outstanding of leaders. It was the opportunity of a lifetime and a great benefit if one was to even have the slightest chance of becoming the leader of Amoi some day. It was a dream come true for many, but the young Blondie felt reluctant to leave. Iason stared at Raoul as he relished at the delicate radiance of his deviant friend. Just as his body was ready to take that fateful leap as a consequence of a lustful impulse to be in the arms of Raoul, the headmaster called for Iason's attention and the magic was lost.

"Iason," the elder man voiced firmly. "Will you join the rest of us?"

"Of course, sir" the young one sighed and regained composure quickly not to reveal his emotional state.

The ramp closed ever so slowly and the last image etching into Iason's head was that of a lonely boy waving at him; sending him off to this great adventure.

Raoul watched the craft take off and remained on the platform until he could no longer discern it in the morning sky. The temperature outside had dropped and it was no longer mid-autumn. There were only three seasons on Amoi, and this was the most damp period before the cold. He felt the cool, wet air creep under his clothes and it made him dither – it was time to go home.

Raoul took swift steps towards the Academy. The streets were silent and the golden rays of the sun were casting only faint remnants of heat on his face. It was early morning and Tanagura was still asleep, and soon so would even Raoul be. He was already longing for the softness of the pillow and the calm of his room.

The young Blondie pulled the cardigan tighter, wrapping his arms around the frozen, slim body, while making his way ungainly through the empty street. Although the promenade from the local landing field led straight to the Academy and only an additional ten-minute walk to the dorm, the road seemed endless and arduous. Raoul was still very sleepy and could hardly wait to slip under the covers. He had never been a big fan of early mornings and especially not when he had the opportunity to sleep late. However, this was young master Goodie-two-shoes' big day, and Raoul wouldn't have missed it for the world. In fact, he as the one cheering the loudest when Iason was announced as the winner of the scholarship. Iason deserved it. Although young master Goodie-two-shoes was a snob to the tip of his fingers, he was nonetheless Raoul's only friend. Yes, Iason was a snob and even a pain when he set off with his preaching about morals and ethics, but he was also gorgeous, attractive, helpful and the only person to speak kindly about Raoul in public.

Thoughts replacing one another in a chaotic whirl carried Raoul home and he was grateful for this company of mental gibberish that distracted him from the long walk. Raoul returned to his dorm – to solitude, silence and darkness. Most students have left the Academy for this week, but he neither had friends nor acquaintances to visit and hence he stayed behind. Besides, it was quiet and he would have enough time on his hands to finish his tasks for art class and math. Raoul closed the door and kicked off his shoes. Without even undressing properly he jumped into bed, wrapping the cover around himself like a snail retracting inside the safety of its shell. Within minutes he was asleep.

Iason was sitting in the marvelous auditorium. It was the largest one on Amoi and in the centre of Tanagura. The edifice was shaped like a grand dome, and the walls were shimmering with white marble and silver-tanned glass. The interior was like a historical monument that cherished the past of the planet for generations to come. Many prominent leaders have stood at the podium and given speech that had shaped the future of Tanagura to what it was today. The countless seats clad in Bordeaux velvet, were lined in hundreds of rows facing the magnificent stage of oak and decorative streaks of rosewood. The heavy chandeliers were dispersing light with thousands of small crystals pearling on golden strings that held them in specific patterns. It was all so grand beyond words, but Iason's mind was somewhere else. He was thinking about Raoul; that lonely boy in that dark flat at an abandoned school dormitory.

"So, you can't stop thinking about him, can you?"

Iason jolted as the words hit against his shell of flesh, but was not too late honoring the headmaster with a humble nod as the elder man took a seat next to the young Blondie. The elder man continued without awaiting any answers to his previous question.

"So many conflicts even amongst our own. The burdens will be heavy on the one who is to take over the next generation and rule over Tanagura."

Iason listened without commenting and thus the subject of politics was abandoned. Although impressive ideas had been presented and absorbing debates floated over the days, Iason had problems in partaking with a genuinely active interest. The headmaster had noticed this lack of focus.

"He came as a renegade and not very liked…he still isn't, is he?"

Suddenly, a more interesting subject emerged and the flickering gaze of the young Blondie had settled into a steady stream of consciousness, ready to shield that special place where his heart was dwelling. But the old man was understanding and made no effort to force blood out of stone.

"Tell me, young master Mink, what makes Raoul so special that he tainted the peace out of your mind?"

Iason remained silent for a long time, but the elder man waited patiently without repeating his question. In one word, the young Blondie exhaled the very concept of what Raoul meant to him and summarized his emotions with a sincere "Everything".


	10. Innocent contact

**INNOCENT CONTACT**

The sun rose and set effortlessly, but the unwieldy days passed by quite awkwardly. Boxes of take away food were scattered over sink in the kitchenette, but the pedantic young man had focused on mathematics all weekend and was defeated by great aversion towards cleaning when his mind had worked overtime for hours on. Raoul sighed as he felt the intensive stare of the empty paper boxes on which he had drawn caricature faces presenting different moods. The faces were blaming him for the mess in the apartment, until their unrelenting intent look forced the Blondie into action. Usually there were servant and Furnitures attending their every need, for after all they were all Blondies, but through his punishments Raoul had come to appreciate an occasional physical exertion.

"All right, enough already," Raoul muttered and got up from his unmade bed that smelled of dirty sheets. He should have changed it days ago, but he had been too lazy.

Wearing nothing but undergarment, Raoul decided he should be so effective as to clean the flat before he started feeling cold. Hence, he worked efficiently, methodologically and within an hour, the tiny flat was sparkling and the ingrained smell of laziness was gone. The windows were opened and cleaned, the bathroom tiles were de-limed as well as the shower cabin, the floor was vacuumed and the mess in the kitchenette was tidied up. By the time Raoul's skin had become cold and uneven with Goosebumps, the flat was clean and the night had once again settled.

The hot water brought life into his frozen body and Raoul sank down on the floor. It was heaven to relax in the shower after a day of hard work. As the limbs and joints revitalized preceding the cold, Raoul washed the filth off his skin and properly groomed every sacred place on his body.

Steam filled the ether surrounding him, and thus even when the water stopped pelting against the floor, tiny droplets kept on pearling down his pale skin. Raoul dried his bushy bob and brushed his teeth, preparing for bed. It was way past midnight when he finally slipped between the cool sheets and allowed for the soothing depth of the dream world to shake him into its embrace. Time passed by unnoticed.

Raoul didn't know how long he had been sleeping, or what it was that ripped him into alertness, but in the shadowlands of his subconsciousness the young flaxen registered some faint vibrations through the air that called for his attention. Perhaps a sixth sense? He wasn't sure but as he opened his eyes, a ghostly silhouette hovered across the room, approaching him with determined yet silent steps. Raoul jumped up, sweat instantly pouring out of every pore of his skin as his heart froze and fear got him in a chokehold.

"Who are you?" Raoul shouted with fear and pressed his back against the wall. At that instant, the silent ghost stopped and began to softly hush the young boy.

"Shh, it's only me, Raoul."

The voice was impossible to mistaken for anything other then that of Iason's.

"Iason?"

"Yes, it's me," the young flaxen whispered in return from the darkness.

Although logic harbored inside Raoul head, he felt compelled to turn on the lights to assure himself of the fact that he was talking to an actual person and not to a desired fruit of his imagination. As the small bedside lamp illuminated the shared bedroom, Iason's wet complexion fell into focus as Raoul asked;

"What happened to you? You are all wet and you look just so…terrible."

Iason burst into a nervous laughter removing his soaked jacket.

"I know. I left the conference, I couldn't stand it," he defended himself. "I wanted to come home. I wanted to be here…with you."

Raoul was completely dumbfounded, not knowing what to respond to such sincere devotion. Well, his answers were not required, for Iason quickly removed his clothes and with a trembling body slipped under the cover next to the deviant juvenile. Before Raoul had the chance to oppose, Iason defended his action saying; "Only for a short moment…please…I am so cold."

"I bet," Raoul responded, "It's raining cats and dogs, and you walked all the way from the platform?"

"Yeah, I was being a nuisance ever since I decided I wanted to come back," Iason stuttered with his teeth cluttering as his body shivered from the cold. He wrapped the blanket around his statue, but it would take some time for him to relax with warmth. Raoul watched the young flaxen next to him. He wanted to embrace Iason, at least to keep him warm, but that was impossible considering their nakedness and the intimacy brought about. What if something would happen? Something embarrassing? How would he talk his way out of that? Once again, Iason came to his rescue with a proposal that shattered Raoul's defenses.

"Can you come a bit closer?" Iason shivered. "I am really freezing."

Well, he asked for it, Raoul thought and made an effort to gather his strength just so that he wouldn't make a fool of himself. With tentative efforts, he snuck up to Iason, embracing him at first with the cover neatly tucked between them like a wall; but as his senses drowned in the lovely scent of the young flaxen, Raoul allowed for his knees to embed in the hollow of Iason's knees; feeling the smooth naked skin again his own. Iason's legs were cold as they adapted to the curve of Raoul's thighs, and a wanting sigh escaped the otherwise disciplined juvenile as he asked for Raoul to offer more warmth to a frozen body. Raoul obeyed although his emotions were in conflict with his logic. He inhaled the scent of Iason's wet hair and the fresh aroma of his skin as it carried a touch of late autumn air. Raoul's arms slowly coiled around Iason's waist and his chest was heaving against a perfectly shaped back. The young deviant distanced his hips; trying not to step over any boundaries to audacity. The nervousness had chased all the inertia out of his body, which was now high and in the grip of adrenaline.

Iason could feel the heat generated from the lovely flaxen behind his back. The whole situation was daunting, but at the same time extremely captivating. Although he felt abashed and his heart was beating unreasonably fast, almost to the point where it was choking him, Iason could not think of being at a better place than this. Indeed, being in the arms of Raoul was haeven and he felt this was a place where he could relax – it felt like home. Iason allowed his body to submerge in the pleasantness of the illicit thoughts that whirled up inside as he felt the warm thighs of the deviant line along his own, arms steadily wrapped around his waist, and a heaving chest resting against his scapula. He could feel the heavy beats of Raoul's heart and came to the notion that the deviant was just as nervous if not more, as Iason himself. He smiled as he snuggled closer, protruding his behind, knowing very well the turmoil he was creating and the dangers associated with such an approach. His bottom brushed against something warm and Iason closed his eyes as he picture the flesh of his behind resting against the curly bed of hair tickling his skin, the flaccid member finding a little refuge in the crevice between the thighs where it made an innocent contact with the tender groin.

Raoul held his breath as he tried to control his feelings, but to no avail. The tired member grew increasingly strong and alert under Iason's subtle movements, until it assumed a proud stance, resting along the belly of the deviant.

"I'm sorry," Raoul whispered at the nape of Iason's neck, his breath brushing against the pale skin. "It'll go away soon."

"Raoul," Iason turned around, facing Raoul so close they were drinking each other's heat. "I don't want it to go away."


	11. Stairway to adulthood

_Hello all. Thanks for reading the story. This is the final chapter on this short-story and I do hope you enjoyed it. I tried to catch the curiosity of the first time and the surprises of unexpected events that we with time take for granted. If you have some time to spare at the end, do drop me a comment or so and tell me what you think. Thanks in advance._

* * *

**STAIRWAY TO ADULTHOOD**

Iason's face was only a flight of a breath away from a lovely complexion mirroring all that wanting they have both tried to deny and control. Raoul placed a hand on the Blondie's forehead, gently caressing it free from the unruly, white hair. The moment was getting tense and the atmosphere surrounding them thickened. The deviant leaned close to Iason until lips brushed. It was tingling the surface of the skin and prepared the body for the big step into maturity, but the techniques were incomplete. An innocent, dry kiss left a lingering sensation on Iason's lips as his mouth was carving for more.

Two young virgins were insecurely exploring the intimate pleasures of adulthood. Repeated mouth-to-mouth caresses were luring lips to part and invite for a deeper journey into intricate games. Raoul jolted a little as he felt the tip of Iason's wet tongue slip into his own mouth. It was an unusual and foreign sensation, yet soft and alluring. The taste was so different; slightly metallic but pleasant, which pushed him to hunger for more as fumbling tongues merged behind the shelter of sealed lips.

Iason's heart was beating wildly, making him dizzy whilst lustful moans of excitement were pressing against his stubbornly muted vocal cord. Finally, his lust escaped. He bit the first moan in half; abashed over such an obvious illumination of his physical state. However, after a few unexpected and accidental sighs of excitement, the young teenager realized the pleasantness of audible confirmations of arousal. His body began speaking its own language as he placed a hand on Raoul's waist, tracing the length of his fine curves towards the firm hips.

Raoul relished the faint fragrance of Iason's skin as he nuzzled the smooth curves of the juvenile neck towards the collarbones and the heaving chest. He took the rosy nipples into view. Little, hard pearls pointing towards his hungry mouth, welcoming that playful nibbling and a soft tongue exploring the uneven surface that reacted to each wet caress. Iason arched his back as the sensation pierced him and concentrated as a well of heat that generated from his belly and burned in his groin. His legs that had been tightly clutched together up until now, had inadvertently eased a little and allowed for Raoul's body to rest against an eager member.

The deviant could feel the hard penis pressing against his stomach and smiled as his confidence in his own actions grew. He must be doing something right if Iason was gaining so much pleasure out of his touches. However, someone else's body was still an uncharted territory for the juvenile deviant and as the trail of kisses was closing in on the sacred source of pleasure, he halted with nervousness. A wave of diffidence was threatening to gain control and thoughts of insufficiency were tainting his mind.

What was he supposed to do now? He had heard about it, and read about it in erotic novels, and even dreamt about doing it so many times, but now that he was to face a real situation, it was daunting. What if Iason wouldn't be pleased? What if Raoul would hurt him with the teeth?

Through his wavy fringe, Raoul lifted his insecure gaze and met the beautiful sapphires looking back at him with the same insecurity radiating from behind a curtain of lust. Those seconds of hesitation seemed like an eternity. Raoul could feel his hands growing cold and was almost about to loose his self-reliance when a swift memory from the past bloomed inside his head. Within a flicker of a second he was thrown back into the arms of a serene moment following a brutal punishment, when he lay of the bed in his wet clothes and Iason undressed him. It had been the first time he exposed his body like that to anyone and ever since then, he had been wondering what it would have been like if Iason had agreed to kiss him. Thoughts were crowding in his head and the sweetness of a caramel candy filled his senses – lured into the present through forbidden curiosity. He remember Iason's innocent, yet dirty little desire; "I so wished he had done it to me…"

Now, Raoul had the chance to observe the outcome of these fantasies on Iason. To torture him a little with playful teasing using hands and mouth. Raoul removed his gaze from Iason and focused on the throbbing member beneath his face. He deeply inhaled the masculine scent, fueling his desire as his own arousal reached new levels. Raoul pressed his hips against the mattress to quench the powerful burst of elation that resulted from his overloaded senses and opened his mouth.

It was almost as time stood still. Iason watched with anticipation as the shapely fingers of the deviant enclosed around a pulsating shaft. It was like an out of body experience; almost as if it wasn't even his body being satisfied; as if he was detached form what he saw but felt every delicious emotion that sprung from the actions of Raoul. The fingers were slightly cool, but exceptionally pleasant as they moved along the length of the shaft.

"How do you like to do it?" came as a whisper of seduction from Raoul. "Show me."

Iason took the challenge with the timidity of an innocent child. Slowly, he placed on hand on that of Raoul's and demonstrated the rhythm that gave him the most pleasure. His cheeks were blushing like the morning sky and for a swift moment he was glad that the room was fairly dark, for in the protective embrace of darkness, he allowed himself to indulge in the sensation more vividly.

"I love to hear you moan," Raoul whispered as a final warning before his wet lips enclosed around the swollen head of Iason's sensitive member.

The disciplined flaxen pressed his entire body tightly against the bed as his lungs were filled with that extensive inhale of euphoria, which was released on the wings of a few dizzy words; "Oh God, Raoul…"

The world started spinning and nothing else existed except for the emotions that rocked his body towards a desired release.

The encouragements were coming in short gasps and uncontrolled rocking of the hips. Iason fisted the blanked beneath his body, hoping to be able to withhold his galloping arousal. Fantasies of private emotions were filling the flaxen and he was suddenly swept away by an insatiable hunger to fulfill every illicit thought. Iason cupped his hands around Raoul's face, making him halt. He pulled the young lover up over his body and kissed him deeply, wanting to feel and taste his own scent in Raoul's exquisite mouth. He had to do something – anything – to make Raoul stop before his body reached the point of no return. Although a virgin, Iason instinctively felt he had to restrain himself to reach even higher. His hands dug into Raoul's short hair, felt the curve of the back of the neck, the slide down the velvet back to the dunes of the buttocks where he found the warm and inviting cleavage between the cheeks and thighs.

Penises fencing like proud warriors, hips grinding and bodies swaying to the rhythm of pleasure. Iason pushed Raoul on the back and embarked on a journey unknown to him; the young body of another person and the delight of exploring every exquisite detail. Iason was in particular fascinated by the crown of silky hair that decorated the pulsating member. It was so unusual and so strange, but with overwhelming curiosity he dug hos nose deep into the bed of hair and nuzzled around the base, indulging in new sensation that filled all his senses. He absolutely loved its softness and the sensations against his cheeks as he brushed his face against the swollen crotch. He kissed the testicles and nibbled gently on the contracting pouch of skin. Raoul giggled with amusement bit his lips as he moved his head a little to catch a glimpse of Iason's action revealed by the pale moonlight raining through the window.

Raoul's fingertips added an additional flavor to his experience as they danced over his own chest and stomach. His emotions grew stronger and although very monotone and inexperienced, the motions from Iason's mouth was pushing him closer to something he knew he longed for. Gasps were getting more frequent and the blanket beneath him was wrinkled and torn. He was trying to withhold, but the approaching orgasm was boiling inside him like lava, building the tension that filled his body to the verge of eruption. Iason was catering to his every wish released through a gasp or a moan; "Harder, faster...more, more..."

Iason's mouth was hungry, as was his body, and Raoul's first ejaculation flooded his mouth with hot, creamy waves. It was unexpected and very sudden as the white fluid burst out the juvenile deviant. Not knowing what to expect, the taste was most foreign and so strange that Iason backed away with surprise. He looked around in the darkness and noticed his almost fluorescently white shirt in a heap on the floor near the bed. He picked it up and wiped his mouth, discretely discarding the pungent contents. The young flaxen found it very surprising that the taste of essence was so much different from what he had heard and expected. It was both salty and bitter at the same time and somehow chokingly organic – evidently a part of a body being released.

Raoul was still gathering strength, his body still in spasm, and lungs screaming for the air that was violently squeezed out of his chest. His body was robbed of might, which was instead replaced by a paralyzing fatigue that left him apathic to Iason's will. His body was positioned stomach down and bottom pulled upwards. Iason's hips were moving closer, penis forcefully searching that trembling virgin portal. He was eager to push inside and explore all he had dreamt of. But, it was barrier that could not be breached. Raoul cried out with pain, as Iason bit down hard experiencing the pain of skin stretched to its limits. He had hardly managed to penetrate with the glans, still he had to pull out. Raoul was moaning with an intoxicated mix of pain and pleasure, but evidently relieved once the pain stopped.

No, they were not ready for this. Not yet. It had to be taken step by step. They had been too much in a hurry. Raoul turned around and watched Iason from his position beneath the pale body. Iason returned a compassionate look, apologizing humbly for eagerness that caused his best friend unwelcome and unexpected amount of pain. Raoul turned on the bedside light and the warm orange glow illuminated the room. In the rays of the soft light, Iason noticed the blood on his penis and sighed dejectedly, feeling guilty and ashamed. He had a whole body in front of him, yet he had concentrated so strongly on just one thing. Luckily, Raoul was not easily intimidated. Pain had been a part of his life, the difference was, this had been of a more forgivable character. He reached for a small tube inside his drawer and asked for Iason to come closer. Iason obeyed almost as if he had been hypnotized.

A flaccid member was revived through the gentle massage of lubricated palms and heat was emptied into a cooled soul through fervent kisses. Iason was in a seductive trance as his body acted upon every command from Raoul. The young deviant turned around, casting a glance over his shoulder whilst licking his lips as if he hungered for a big portion of the delicious Blondie behind his bottom.

"Are you sure about this?" Iason asked with an insecure smile.

"Yeah…can't be worse then the first time I used my toy."

"Your toy?!" Iason huffed with utter surprise. "What…when? I never noticed that…"

Raoul's pretty emeralds blinked mischievously back at him as his eyebrows moved up and down a few times, engaging Iason in a childish giggle. It was a bit embarrassing for both youngsters, but they understood that with time this inhibiting emotions would have to cease. After all, sex was a part of life and toy were only a way to spice it up. They had read about it and heard about it, but some got to try it sooner than others.

"Hey, you never asked. Besides, now we can try the real thing..."

With that last statement, the early morning dissolved into a a world rocking to the cadence of Iason's hips. He carefully inched himself inside the tight portal, gently beginning to move once Raoul relaxed a little around him. Every inch of Iason's member was stimulated through a tireless cave that kneaded and squeezed the pleasure out of him. Feelings whirled in a consuming maelstrom. Raoul screwed his eyes shut, focusing on the short bursts of delight as Iason accidentally brushed against the swollen prostate.

Iason caressed the velvet back in front of him, kissed the smooth sides and rubbed the hips with fumbling hands, but he missed something. This way of taking Raoul was so distancing. He wanted more, he wanted contact, and thus with a blurry mumble he asked for his lover to turn around.

Iason watched the beautiful youth assume a new position and invite him inside a wanting body as the legs opened up to a wet entrance. Iason's body plunged into Raoul, lips merging and arms tightly wrapped around. Although young and still inexperienced, Iason knew this would be one of his most favorite positions if he was ever to experience this again. To see the lovely face beneath him, the peering eyes, the glistening lips swollen with kisses, and the oily breath releasing those enchanting moans that told of the impending rupture.

A few times, Raoul hissed with a sharp intake of breath and returned a feverish look to encourage Iason.

"What?" Iason asked exhausted, sweat pearling down his forhead.

"I don't know," Raoul panted. "It feels good when you move more to the left."

"Like this?" Iason asked and circled his probing penis inside the tense body underneath. After a few more attempts Raoul pressed his head deep into the pillow, chest heaving.

"Aah! Yes!"

He lifted his head, frowning with a desperate expression and panting for more as his body began contracting to the continuous stimulations. Incentives were washing over Iason both verbally and physically and though he longed to be the perfect lover he had so often read about, the one that can hold back his feeling until the gratification of the partner, his body was far too eager to reach his own fulfillment.

"Raoul," Iason hissed through clenched teeth. "I can't hold back…Raoul…Ra…aahhh…"

Iason hips were moving automatically faster and faster like that of a programmed robot, galloping emotions impossible to control. For a swift moment, time stopped and motions froze. Breaking the stillness of the morning was the long, white hair painting a glowing, transient halo arching over their bodies as the flaxen young man emptied his innocence in a series of bursts into the darkness inside his soul mate. His voice was stolen by the intensity of the bliss that for ever closed the door to his youthful past as his fulfillment unfolded.

* * *

**EPILOGUE **

By the time the Sun rose above the horizon, two young lovers greeted the morning in a cocoon of comforting embraces. Adulthood was dawning upon them and there was no turning back. Time was relentlessly pushing forward driven by the entropy of life. Seasons passed by, juniors became seniors and finally graduates. School bells rang out and the seriousness of life rang in. Politics and science, hand in hand and mastered, climbing higher in social ladder and reaching the top of society. The color of success was gold and two names would always shine brighter than the others.

Ten years had passed by since their friendship bonded them. Their path was always illuminated with the brightest of success, and always where they were flanked with alabaster stone and marble, from their residence to their marvelous headquarters. They lived way above the darkness of Ceres where a dark haired child, with eyes like black pearls, gazed upon the glowing city of Tanagura that stood out against the velvet night like a celestial kingdom, and vowed to once and for all escape the darkness that held him captive in an impossible world.


End file.
