Truth/Beauty

Mark laid the stack of well-thumbed papers on his desk behind him, on top of The Day Doesn't Care, the latest book of poetry by his favorite poet, then turned to Danny, who sat opposite him on the bed. "I like your stories. I did notice that there're a couple different themes that seem to run through them-"

Danny sat up, pushing his face within inches of Mark's, his green eyes widening under his charcoal-black bangs.

"In all of your stories, you're the main character, and they all involve you saving the world while at the same time being on the run from somebody who wants your ass-"

Danny nodded, giggling, a hint of white teeth showing through his parting lips.

Mark laughed. "I mean, even in BE A MAN, BE A MONK!-"

Danny's nodding head increased its velocity.

"And you love alliteration-"

Danny's head steadied itself. "Well, you know, that represents the alliterativeness of the world. It mirrors Life's endless repetitiveness. If you notice, I really only use it-"

"In the parts where somebody's about to get your ass. Because everybody wants your ass, right?"

Danny smiled and stuck out his tongue.

Mark analyzed his mucous membranes for an unconscious second and realized they contained too much snot. So he sucked a handful down the back of his throat-

"Hold it!"

So Mark held it, resting the viscous, spinning mass on the back of his tongue. Until Danny's hand curved around the back of his neck, molded their lips together, and vacuumed it into his mouth. Danny leaned his head back and Mark watched Danny's Adam's apple undulate as he swallowed the biggest snotball Mark had mustered in months.

"It's almost as sweet as your cum-"

"Really?"

"Yeah, like the blood of Christ-"

"I'll give you the blood of Christ-"

Mark reached behind him without taking his eyes off Danny's, his little hard-on scratching his underwear, and reached into the top drawer of his desk. In one motion, he slithered off his T-shirt with his left hand as he clicked his straight razor open with his right. The blade slid mercilessly across his chest with a flick of his wrist, and he grabbed Danny's blackened hair in a fist, guiding the boy's quivering lips to his sliced nipple, where they slurped furiously. As the short, deep scar began to coagulate, he drew Danny's head back and tasted his own blood in his boyfriend's mouth.

"I want to taste all of you," gasped Danny.

"Well, you're not tasting my shit-"

"No, not that, that's not you, that's what you don't want as a part of you-"

Mark peeled Danny's shirt, pants, and underwear from his body and gulped his dick into his throat, the pre-ejaculate a welcome sting to his esophagus. A few minutes and Danny's hips began to jerk and he slinked up Danny's veiny body, smearing it with the remnants of his razor work, as Danny slid in the opposite direction, taking Mark's baggy jeans with him and grabbing his dick around its base.

"You're the only one who's never made fun of my dick-"

"Why would I?"

"Because it's so small-"

"But I love you and it's a part of you and if you really love somebody then you love every part of him-"

And Danny took Mark's cock and balls into his mouth in one swallow, as Mark's eyes welled for the first time in years.