Burn You the Fuck Alive by B.R. Yeager

Author:B.R. Yeager [Yeager, B.R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Apocalypse Party
Published: 2023-04-30T04:00:00+00:00

Dennis. My uncle. A boy named Sanjay. A boy named Austin. A man named Trevor. A boy named Yuze. A boy named Omar. A man named Liam. A boy named August. A boy named Angel. A man named Sal. A boy named Benjamin. A boy named Ji-Hoon. A boy named Oliver. A boy named Terry. A boy.

I message him and ask how he’s feeling. He says he’s alright and asks when I can see him again. I tell him Wednesday.

He’s twenty minutes late. Eyes sunken. Complexion a wilted bronze. Strained inhalation, deep sighs.

I touch his elbow, guiding him inside. “How are you?”

He sucks dry mucus through his sinus. He exhales and his chest rattles wet, like God blowing on a lake. “I’m fine. I missed you.”

He leans into me and I tuck my chin around his neck. “I missed you too.” I let him kiss me and press himself into my waist. “Can I take a look at you first?”

“Okay.”

He lays down on the chaise and unbuttons his pants. I take his temperature (101 degrees), check the lymph nodes in his neck (very swollen), give him a sip of water, unzip him and pull his pants and underwear off all the way. His penis red and erect. Looking close, it’s two reds. A red like a bug bite and red like wine. Infection and dried blood.

I kiss him on the forehead. “You sure you’re alright?”

He nods, lifts his head and catches my lips in his.

Pulling away. “Why don’t I do something for you this time?” I fill a bowl with warm water and grab soap and a wash cloth from the bathroom. Alcohol swabs and antibiotic cream. Sitting beside him, I swaddle the wash cloth around his penis. Moving it gently around the flesh. He tenses and coos. Like a time when I was a child with Mama, except I’m her now, as well as myself, all at once. I dunk the cloth back in the soapy water and return it to his penis, wiping the crusts of red off the tip. Infected swelling on the glans. Wrapping it around the shaft, I give three long strokes. A snake around a branch. He gasps and grabs my arm. “I want you,” he says.

“You don’t want me to take care of you this way?” Circling the base of his glans with my thumb.

He shakes his head.

What he said when he got here.

The needle trembles.

He said he was fine.

He said he was fine.

It’ll be okay.

Shaking it away, I stretch toward him, letting him kiss me deep (a cold taste). I remove the cloth, bowing my head back to his penis, briefly slipping it between my lips. Bobbing slowly, twirling my tongue, up and down, letting its tip touch the back of my throat. He bursts in my mouth. A salty white universe. I swallow, letting it die inside me, resting my head on the chaise, next to the softening, shrinking cock. He traces my ear with his fingers, stroking my hair. “God, thanks,” he says.

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