T5A

by AB

Chapter 1

This story is 100% fictional.

This story will feature sexual scenes between minors of various ages so if it is something you don't like/agree with or it is not legal in your area/country or are not yet of legal age to be reading this sort of stuff then don't read any further.

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Send your feedback emails to: ckskb1@yahoo.com .

Chance Encounter

The Tram left the stop. He walked in wearing a grey hooded top with lose blue jeans and a peculiar messenger's bag. It caught Triton's attention, boy and bag alike.

There was a mysteriousness about the unknown boy Triton found most intriguing. Come to think of it the hoody was not your average hoody either for it was longer than most. It was not longer like it was too large for his height, it was longer like it was made to be longer. The hood almost covered his face and the bottom was also longer reaching well beneath his crotch. The fabric looked peculiar as well. It looked cotton and yet it did not. As Triton moved his head slightly to the left and right it would reflect the tiniest amounts of light like an incandescent metal and yet it would also be as mate as cotton.

The boy sat down diagonally opposite of him staring at the void in the floor making it almost impossible for Triton to see his face, or anything more than his chin and lower lips.

Triton turned his head to the sound of his friends' voices calling him to rejoin the conversation he had left when the hood-wearing boy had entered the Tram. He replied to his friends with shorter phrases and half a heart. The corner of his eyes always on the mysterious boy's figure.

Triton noticed him having placed a messenger's bag on top of his legs. His back was straight with his hands on the bag, not as usual with children and teens loosening up on the seats, horizontal to the floor. He looked calm and relaxed yet alert to his surroundings.

Triton thought he'd be blind to his sides because of the hood over his head and most of his face but when, in a next stop, a woman boarded the train and made to sit to his left his reaction was as surprising as it was swift, closing his legs closer to make room for her to sit next to him.

Triton's attention moved to the bag under the boy's hands. It also was common-looking and yet he could tell it was not your average messenger's bag. Two large looking hilt-like handles extruded out of the bag's canvas with the height of it looking larger than average. The handles had a smooth greenish-bronze metallic texture with red and cyan hues. A bullhead adorned the center of the cover flap.

Movement caught Triton's attention, a hand landing on his shoulder.

"Earth to Triton! Doofus can you hear me?" Triton snapped his head away from boy's bag.

"Whaaa?" Triton protested, his attention shifted to his friends once again, the conversation changing topics from sports and football to girls, sportswear, and video games.

Two stops later the boy caught Triton's attention again. In a unified movement his hands, both of them, gripped the two handles on the bag, tight. Tight enough for his fingers to go white and his head shot up from staring at the floor.

His face, under the hood, looked to be of a boy nearing or just having entered puberty, yet his body under all the clothing betrayed a more muscular late teen.

Triton saw his eyes darting left and right in an almost manic state of alert.

His dark sea blue eyes fixed on something and with an apparent cat-like lithe he jumped up to his feet, stepped over the out stretched legs of the other sitting passengers between him and the train doors and pressed the button for the train to make a stop at the next station rapidly a few times.

Triton could not help but care for the boy. Why was he so worried all of a sudden?

"But is it so sudden? He has been looking at the floor ever since he sat down, hooded up trying to look as if he wasn't there." A man walked over his feet pushing them aside roughly.

Triton was about to protest when he saw the boy's hands go for the handles as the tram stopped moving. The teen boy darted out of the sliding doors before they were fully open. The man tried to squeeze through but the slow opening doors prevented his heavier, larger build from passing. He pushed at them, trying to make them open faster.

The doors opened, the man exited. A few seconds the bell indicating the doors will close rung, a few short bursts before a long one.

Triton groaned inward. He turned to his friends. "I need…forgot to grab something from home, I'll catch up." He said and jumped up in a hurry exiting the tram as the doors closed behind him. Adjusting his eyes to the contrast between the night's darkness and the street and station lights he looked around catching sight of his fleeting form.

He started walking, fast. He kept trying to catch up to the boy, he looked left and right for the man but he was nowhere to be found. He gazed to his fore realising the boy had vanished. His heart racing, he turned on a corner in the fence leading to the seaside park, the air full of sea and salt assaulting his nostrils combined with the aromas of the park's trees and plants.

He looked to the right, his head ready to turn left when he felt something shove against the back of his knee, someone grabbing him from his neck.

"Shouldn't I feel the ground under my feet?" A fleeting thought a moment before he impacted the pavement, head to heel. The air gashing out of his lungs he felt his hands pinned behind his head, and a knee against the center of his rib cage, a hand on his neck.

"Who are you? Why are you following me?" A voice, young and vigorous and yet tired, a chronic thing, Triton thought.

Triton groaned. "You intrigued me, so I followed you." He could see the surprise in the boy's underlit face, feeling the grip on his neck and hands lighten.

"Can I get up now, or are you going to hurt me some more?" Triton made eye contact, his voice resigned.

After a moment's hesitation, he felt the grip around his neck tighten.

"Why are you following me? Tell me the truth!" His voice pained coming out with the strain of the world on him.

Triton sighed. "I am telling you the truth. I saw you in the tram and thought you were…interesting, all clad in your weird large hood and with that peculiar-looking messenger's bag."

"Who sent you?" The boy insisted, sounding less sure of Triton's duplicity than before.

"What? No one. Look I'm getting tired of this, either let me go or get this over with." Triton replied never breaking eye contact until he saw the boy's head tilt up in a swift motion looking once left and right. He let go of him, lifting his knee from his chest.

Triton saw him offer his hand to help him stand up.

Now on his feet, Triton offered his hand, fist closed meant for a knuckles bump. There was such a sadness in the boy's ageless eyes. He could tell the teen was trying his best to contain his feelings but Triton could read the two dark blue orbs, under the dim street light's glow.

"Triton." He smiled his hand stretched out.

"Cool." The boy adjusted his hood over his head and turned to leave.

"At least tell me your name!" Triton asked the departing boy.

"If we ever meet again." There came the boy's reply.

"At least he paused." Triton thought as he dusted his clothes and made to leave.

Twenty minutes later he was closing his home's door behind him.

"Hi, sweetheart. You're home early." His mother stated, surprised to see him back so early on a Friday night.

"Hi, mum. Something came up." His reply short. He walked to his room, closed, and locked the door behind him. A new privilege after his fourteenth birthday last year.

There was time to kill, so he played some online video games and chatted online with some of his friends, none of them really close ones. Taking his night shower, he proceeded to take care of his urging needs like all boys his age. His mind raced through various jerk off subjects before landing on the boy from earlier. The thought of somehow feeling the ruby red lips he had seen under the hood on his teen cock brought him over the edge.


He paused outside the flat's door looking at it, his hands in his pockets. The sensation hit him just as the smell assaulted his nostrils.

He closed the door behind him, his hands on his bag. "George? What's for dinner?"

A moment's silence, agonizing silence. "Andreas? In here, in the kitchen." The man's voice echoed across the hall.

"Hey…" Andreas replied apprehensively. "This smells nice."

George, tall with black hair and a dark white complexion, amber eyes and a strong figure turned to see him. A smile on his face, mittens on his hands.

""Beef from the east." Pick a chair and sit, it'll be ready in a few."

Andreas couldn't help but smile as he pulled a chair back and slumped on it. "Everything is "from the east" with you."

"Well you know me…how was your day?"

"Eventful, like every past day or night the last few months. It's like it happens every day anymore." He paused retrieving the plate and utensils George gave him. "It is getting closer, isn't it? Fights every day?"

"You had another fight? Why did not you try to avoid it?" George looked concerned.

"I am a child of P…" Andreas' expression one of stubborn sudden anger.

"Yes, I know. Until someone makes you regret it, eventually someone is going to be better than you and you may not survive it."

"I do not surrender, I do not retreat."

"How you have reached the age you have is a wonder to me." George chuckled.

Andreas mimicked mystery and ignorance. "What are you talking about? I am fifteen."

George chuckled. "Sure, and I'm forty. Remind me, please. How old are you?"

Andreas' smile vanished. "I have told you."

"You have told me an age, I doubt it's the real one, but it's okay, I don't mind. I was thinking you should start school."

"I can handle myself and no. It's coming closer, isn't it? The fights are increasing?" Andreas pushed on.

George sighed. "Yes, fights are becoming more often, but "it" hasn't happened for at least ten thousand years, to my knowledge, why would it now?"

"That's…not entirely true."

George frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I'm going to go wash my hands, it smells nice." Andreas avoided the question.

When Andreas came back food was served and steaming. "Where's Maria and the kids?" He asked.

"Basils had a friend's party to go to, Gabriel should be in swimming practice. We're eating alone and come Monday I want you to start going to school, it'll do you good I believe, some contact with people…your age." George replied calm but assertive.

"I haven't been my age for a while now. I think I may need to leave, go out on my own again, wouldn't be the first time I've survived on my own." Andreas sat on a chair and started toying with his fork and the food on the plate before him.

George let out a breath, taking a bite out of the beef stew. "You have survived, but have you lived?

"Oh, what's the difference? I have lived this long." Andreas exasperated taking another bite.

"There is a significant difference. Tell me why do you think there's good and evil in our kind?"

"Humans? Who the fuck knows?"

"No, not that general, in us. Why do you think?"

"I don't know, some are born evil?" Andreas shrugged his shoulders.

"Some are born different yes, but some end up as so because they do not live their lives, if you go on surviving without people to love and care for centuries you start losing your humanity, your emotions, those things that make you human. You need people in your life, you need life and pain and everything, otherwise…what's the point? An endless gathering of knowledge? Whatever for if you have no one to share it with?"

Andreas grumbled. "I suppose, but it just hurts so much…you lose them over and over, again and again, wouldn't such constant loss also turn you bad?"

"It does make life difficult, indeed, but is it not worth it to have people to care for you? To share it with?"

"Ugh…fine I'll stay…for now, but honestly, school? Why?" Andreas conceded making George chuckle.

"As I said, it'll do you good to be amongst…your peers." George replied making Andreas moan further.

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