BAZEL GROANEDloudly as their gazes met and Atlas slowly entered him, filling and joining them together. Bazel loved this part and held his breath as sensation washed over him in giant waves. They had been making love for hours. It was late at night, and the two of them had rested before Bazel rolled over and pressed to Atlas. They hadn’t said anything in a while, the room so full of the sounds of their lovemaking that there was no room for words.
Atlas began to move, and Bazel whimpered at the loss of his fullness, only to have it return with a wave of intensity that took his breath away. He was so strong, and Bazel loved it when Atlas used that strength and stamina when they were alone. Atlas used to ask if it was too much, but it never was. Bazel wanted his strength; it gave Bazel the ability not to be afraid all the time. And he loved the way Atlas made him feel, like he could do anything.
“Poodles,” Bazel groaned as Atlas pressed deeper, hitting that special spot and making his head spin. He held still, holding Bazel tightly.
“Huh…?” Atlas whispered.
“What. Don’t stop,” Bazel snapped, and pressed back to take Atlas deeper and hold him right where he wanted him.
“Pushy, huh, babe,” Atlas whimpered.
“Yes. I pushy, Poodles,” he said, slipping away and then slamming back. Atlas groaned loudly, and he did it again, takingcontrol of their lovemaking. He really liked that he could make Atlas forget everything, and he loved it when Atlas did that to him. It was as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.
“What is Poodles?” Atlas asked.
“Nickname. I like it. Now let’s go, Poodles.” He kept moving, knowing he was driving Atlas crazy. His breathing was ragged and so were his movements, which meant Atlas was getting close to the edge. Bazel leaned forward, kissing Atlas hard, their gazes locking so he could watch as Atlas heaved a deep breath and stilled, his eyes goggling as he throbbed deep inside Bazel, sending him over the edge of the abyss of pleasure.
Atlas heaved under him, and Bazel rolled onto his side, closing his eyes. He tried not to let the old voices intrude on his happiness, the ones he had heard all his life, and especially the ones that yelled at him when he slept. They were always there, and he knew that Atlas told him they were wrong, but it was hard to make them go away completely. Still, he ran his hand over Atlas’s chest, tweaking a nipple and getting a rumble out of the big man.
“What is this Poodles?” Atlas asked. “That is not my nickname.”
“It is now. You kind and strong and pretty, like poodle I see downtown. So you Poodles now.” He lay down and closed his eyes. “If I babe, you Poodles.”
Atlas groaned. “Wait until the guys at work hear about this.”
“No,” Bazel said firmly. “This is us names, not world names.” He rolled his eyes and lightly smacked Atlas’s shoulder. “You not tell anyone but me. These are for me and you… not them. Okay?”
Atlas smiled. “Okay.”
“Good. Now you get cloth so we clean up and then go sleep. You have to work tomorrow.” He stretched out on the bed as Atlas got up and used a bathroom cloth to wipe them up. Afterthat, they both climbed into bed, and it was only a matter of minutes before Bazel was asleep… without nightmares.
BAZEL LOCKEDthe house and tucked the book under his arm the following afternoon. It was cloudy, but no rain yet, and he’d just read the last word and wanted more. He strode to the corner and crossed the street, watching around him out of habit. As he reached the library downtown it began to rain, and he hurried inside and up to the desk. “I finish it,” he told the lady who had helped him the other day. “It very good, but some words were strange. Atlas help explain what I don’t know.”
“Do you want some more?” She led him out into the rows and rows of books. “There are lots of books for you to choose. But I need to know, how… complicated do you want the story?” Bazel had no idea what she was asking him. “Maybe I should ask, how good do you think your English is?”
“Oh. I read pretty good, but it takes time.”
“That helps.” She pulled out a couple of books. “These are a lot of fun. It’s about a boy who finds out that he is the son of Poseidon, the Greek god of the sea. They have some action and fun. Do you want to give that a try? You could read theLord of the Rings, but those books are more complex than the one you already read.” She pulled a few others from the shelf.
“Can I take more than one?” Bazel asked.
She smiled. “Honey, you can take all the books you want. But you have to bring them back when you’re done reading them. That’s all.”
“Then I take these.” He held two of the god books. “Maybe I save the Ring book until I read better.” He went to the counter and checked out the books before looking out at the sheets of rain. “Can I sit and read?”
“Of course. Just take one of the chairs near the windows, get comfortable, and read as long as you want.”
“Thank you,” Bazel said and settled in one of the comfortable chairs and began reading about someone called Percy Jackson. It took some effort for him to start to understand the story, but after a while, the library and the rain disappeared and he was at the camp with the other god children. For a second, he wondered what his mother and father would think of him reading these books, but then he scoffed. They pushed him away. Why should he worry what they would have thought? Besides, it was just a story, and he liked stories. So he read on, sitting on the edge of his seat at the action parts.
“Are you enjoying the story?” the lady from earlier asked him.
He nodded. “Do I have to go? Did I stay too long?”
“No, honey. I just wanted to make sure you had everything you needed.” She left him alone, and he checked outside. It had stopped raining, so he left the library and walked home.
Footsteps sounded behind him, and when he stopped at the corner, so did they. Bazel turned and walked faster toward Atlas’s house. He glanced back again, seeing a man who walked a way behind him, going faster when Bazel did. He had noticed him in the library, sitting in one of the chairs partway across the room. The man had had a book, but he held it on his lap. Bazel should have been paying more attention, but he had been caught up in his story. He didn’t know if this was someone who was after him, and he didn’t want to find out. All he wanted was to get back to the house. The hair on the back of his neck stood up like it did when he was lost, and Bazel hurried faster. All he knew was that he needed to get away.
Bazel reached into his pocket for his phone and groaned because he had left it on the kitchen table. He had been in such a hurry to get to the library while it wasn’t raining that he hadforgotten it. Getting home was even more urgent, but what did he do if the man found him there? So instead of turning right at the corner to go to the house, he hugged his books to his chest like they were going to save him and turned left. As soon as the man was out of sight, he raced down the street and turned into a parking lot filled with cars. Then he crouched down and waited, hoping that no one approached.
