Copyright © 2014-2018 DouglasDD. All Rights Reserved.
Welcome back to visit with the Posse. We have seen how Patrick chose his Posse animal name. In this chapter, Neville and Misha come up with their Posse names.
SLY AND FIERCE
Neville couldn’t believe he’d let Misha talk him into agreeing to go to a lunch meeting with the rest of the Posse team. He was already tired of the whole Posse business, and it wasn’t even October yet. He wished he was back at Mann School. At least he had a friend like Justin with whom he’d had overnights and who seemed to like him. On top of everything, Justin had a sister who was hot. To Neville, hot meant she was a girl he wanted to be naked with. Now that he was ten, he was even more ready to be naked with a teen girl who he was sure would think him very grown up.
He had agreed to the lunch meeting on Tuesday, and it was now Tuesday, which meant he would have to eat with the rest of the Posse instead of with his new friends, like Will and Lucas. If there could only be a way to make a trade, with Ellis going to the Posse and him going to the Fantastic Five, his life would be perfect.
Neville was the only Posse member who didn’t turn out for the Pelican soccer team. He did not enjoy soccer much. Dylan had introduced him to lacrosse and encouraged him to turn out for a team in August. Neville found himself liking that sport much more than he had ever liked soccer.
He was afraid his father would be unhappy because he wasn’t playing soccer. While Reginald was a bit disappointed, he also knew that the reason was a reasonable one; his son had become infatuated with lacrosse. Reginald found the sport to be fast, difficult, and somewhat rough-and-tumble, as was soccer. It may be a North American sport, but he felt it was worth his son’s time and effort. He could also tell that Neville was having much more fun than he’d had playing soccer.
At the Tuesday lunch meeting, Patrick brought up the subject of taking on their own secret Posse names. Neville thought the idea was a stupid one, and not just because it came from Patrick. Even if he wasn’t planning to leave the Posse for another team come the holiday break, he still wouldn’t have wanted an animal name. But, he decided to go along with it because, as Misha had said, much of his grade on the social studies project depended on his working with the team.
At dinner a couple of nights later, Neville groused about the whole animal name idea. “It is really stupid. Why should I have to be an animal, especially since those two twin things are already wild animals.”
“I think it sounds like a cute idea,” Shelly said. “Did the twins come up with the idea?”
“No, it was Irish’s idea.”
“I wonder what kind of animals live in Ireland?” Dylan asked.
“Well, you can apparently rest assured there are no snakes,” Reginald said. “I just have to wonder about this Posse of yours. You have two twin brothers who apparently have little self-discipline. One cannot help but speculate as to why they are in the same classroom, let alone the same team. Then you have a boy who claims Irish blood, and you have a Russian orphan who seems unwilling to talk.” Neville didn’t say that it was the Russian orphan who had talked him into going along with the idea of a Posse lunch meeting.
“Reggie, we need to be more supportive of Neville’s endeavors and of his friends,” Shelley, his step-mom said.
Reginald ignored her and continues his tirade. “I imagine all of them are scholarship boys. I doubt that any of their parents pays a dime toward their tuition. I send my boy to a private school in order for him to mingle with the offspring of high class families, not with the hoi polloi.”
Shelly said nothing, but her glare across the table communicated more than any words could have. Reginald prudently ended his rant.
“You say you will need an animal name by Monday?” Shelly asked.
“Then start researching animals of England as see what you find that suits you.”
“He will not be a rabbit,” Reginald said, trying unsuccessfully to invoke some humor into the conversation.
“You could make him into rabbit stew,” Dylan said with a giggle. Neville glared at his step-brother, bringing any merriment to a halt.
When Sunday dinner came around, Neville announced that he had picked his animal. He started out by making sure everybody understood he was not going to be Rabbit, which brought some smiles. He had made it apparent that he was in a bit of a lighter mood than he had been a few days ago.
“What did you choose, sweetie?” Shelly asked. It had taken some time, but Shelly could now get away with calling Neville “sweetie”, at least in the privacy of their home.
“I am going to be Fox,” he said.
“A very good choice,” Reginald told him. “The fox is sly and cunning, a very intelligent animal. I am sure it will be much better than the bears and lions your peers will choose. I dread to think what the Irish boy will come up with.”
“Reggie!” Shelly admonished.
“It is just that there is not much to choose from in Ireland. A rather barren country when it comes to fauna, I believe.” Reggie paused for a moment and said, “I shouldn’t say that. I really like Ireland; the only bad part is it’s full of Irishmen.
“REGGIE, you stop that!”
“I’m sorry, love, I was only joking…well, mostly.”
That night, Dylan came to Neville’s bedroom for the first time in a few days. He went under the covers with his younger step-brother. Both boys were naked and snuggled close together, enjoying the feel of each other’s bare skin.
“You haven’t come to my room for awhile,” Neville said.
“So, you noticed. Besides, you know where my bedroom is.”
“It is difficult not to.”
“Well, you know where I was the last two nights.”
“How were things at Cody’s house?” Neville asked.
“Pretty fun. Cody and I think he might have made a little bit of cum.”
“You couldn’t tell?”
“I could, kind of. I mean, he came in my mouth so I didn’t see anything.”
“You are nasty.”
“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, bro. Max tells me he would love to suck your cock.”
“Max is a pervert. What about you? Do you want to suck it?”
“What do you think?”
Neville placed his thumb and index finger on Dylan’s quivering boy tool. “This is all I will do. Otherwise, I would be a cock jockey.”
“Cock jockey?” Dylan asked. “What is that?”
“So you think I’m gay?”
“You act it, sucking on Cody’s willie all of the time.”
Dylan had a feeling he was gay, but he wasn’t ready to admit it to anybody, especially his prudish little brother. “I finally got it so you and I jerk each other off. You said you would never do that.”
“I think we should do it and not talk about it.”
Nothing more was said as the eleven-year-old and ten-year-old quietly worked on each other’s cocks. Dylan had learned how to deal with Neville’s uncut cock to heighten his pleasure and Neville had learned the art of spitting on his hand to slicken up Dylan’s boy tool to make it better for him.
“You know,” Dylan said as Neville wiped his saliva around his brother’s almost four-inch prepubescent erection, “if you just put it in your mouth real quick it would be less messy.”
“Shut-up,” Neville said without malice.
The only noises heard after that was the sound of boyish grunts and groans along with two hands moving along the shafts of the small but sensitive boners of their brother. They had moved the covers back long ago to free themselves.
Dylan peeped, squawked, let out a long, “Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit,” and shook with a dry orgasm. As soon as he finished, he went back to work on Neville, bringing him off a few minutes later. Neville’s orgasm wasn’t as intense, in part because he was not yet flooded by the hormones that were beginning to take over Dylan.
When they finished, Dylan pulled the covers over them. The step-brothers had gotten into the habit of having a little bit of pillow talk after they came down from their orgasms. Neville enjoyed this almost as much as the sex. His resentments against Dylan had long since faded to almost nothing.
“Why does dad hate the Irish so much?” Dylan asked.
“I don’t know. I think it is because he is English and they are Irish and they’re supposed to hate each other.”
“I guess there must be some bad history between the two.”
“That is what father told me.”
“I need to do some research. I’ve seen Patrick and the twins at school and they seem pretty nice. Misha rides our bus, and I can tell you like him as a friend. Dad needs to quit being prejudiced.”
Neville was trying hard not to get mad. He knew Dylan meant well, but he did not harbor criticism of his father unless he was the one doing the criticizing.
“My fifth grade team was really good last year,” Dylan said. “We had fun together and got good grades.”
“Did you do sex things together?”
“Just me and a kid named Ryan. He’s in Mr. McNair’s core class this year.” Dylan was in Mrs. Kern’s class.
“Ryan sounds like he is Irish.”
“You can be totally weird sometimes, you know that?” Dylan said.
“Well, he does.”
“You can try to change teams if you want, I suppose. But whatever you do, I like you being Fox. It was a good pick.” Dylan pulled back his side of the covers and rose from the bed. “I want to sleep with you some night. Sleeping with somebody in bed is really cool.”
Neville thought about his night with Kathy and smiled in the dark. “Good night, Dylan.”
“Night.” He didn’t think he needed to mention to Neville that he knew Dylan was a popular Irish name—at least not yet.
At the lunch meeting the next day, Neville found himself impressed with the names that were chosen. He had expected each twin to pick a large, powerful animal name. He had not expected them to pick the same name. He was wrong on both counts as they picked the bobcat, a small wildcat, and insisted on being Bobcat #1 and Bobcat #2. Since he usually couldn’t tell one twin for the other, it made no difference to him which was which.
Misha surprised him, too. He knew the bear was the symbol of Russia, and was not expecting the Wolverine. But after listening to Misha and reading about the fierce little animal, he ended up liking the choice.
Patrick’s Wombat was another surprise. The wombat was from Australia, a long way from Ireland. What impressed him, however, was the beautiful notebook on wombats that Patrick had been working on since he was a pre-school boy. Neville decided that even though he couldn’t put together something as detailed as Patrick had, he would make a small notebook of the fox. Who knows, he thought, it might come in handy after I leave the Posse for a new team.
Misha lay in bed thinking. He liked the Puget Posse. Unlike the other four boys, he could see the potential it had. He planned to talk to Neville on the bus tomorrow about a lunch meeting for the Posse. He wished Neville was more willing to work with the team instead of trying to figure out how to leave it. At the orphanage, learning to work with other boys was part of how he survived. It was easier to stand up to boys like Kirill when they knew you weren’t alone. Misha understood how hanging together worked.
In his mind, the Posse was infinitely superior to the loose groups at the orphanage. The boys were smarter and more personable. The twins, for all of their bluster, were willing to bury their egos to help others. Giving their support to his name for the team was one example. Giving themselves up to help the poorer players on the school soccer team, was another.
He also saw examples of how the twins stood up to any kind of bullying of the boys they liked. In that way they reminded him of Josef and Vasia, and especially Nikki. The thought of Nikki hit him with a moment of sadness. He’d been in America for almost two years and had yet to find a friend like those three or like Dmitry and Stepan.
The team had all worked together the first day of orientation when they barely knew each other. Misha knew they could work together again. Patrick was so sweet and wonderful. The twins understood about being a team. He could tell Neville wasn’t the grumbler he wanted everyone to think he was. Misha wanted them all to be his team and, more importantly, to be his friends—maybe even friends like he’d known at the orphanage. He especially wanted Patrick to be his friend. He wondered if Patrick could be like Nikki.
Misha liked Ben and enjoyed what they had done together. But Ben wasn’t really into what Misha wanted to do in bed. Ben was older and had his own friends. The boys on his soccer team were good teammates, but none of them was really a friend. The friends he wanted were on the Puget Posse. He wanted them all to be his best friends.
He wondered—no, he didn’t wonder anything. A pang of loneliness hit him. His empty bed seemed even emptier than usual. The friends he loved were gone. His parents were down the hall in their own bedroom and he needed to feel their love. Tears started flowing. He felt so alone. He grabbed Nikki, his big teddy bear, and hugged it. While he always kept Nikki on his bed, he didn’t always acknowledge or hug it. But, there were times he needed it and was happy the bear was there.
Often Nikki was enough to make him feel better. This was not one of those times. The loneliness hit his gut like a hot poker.
He left his bed, not even bothering to cover his naked body. He carried the bear with him, just like he had when he first came to America. His bare feet sank into the thick hall carpet as he walked to his parents’ bedroom. He opened the door and looked at their bed, searching for an opening. He saw one next to his father, set the bear down on the end of the bed, and crawled under the covers and into the bed. He turned his back to his father, but soaked up his warmth as he scooted his rear against the pajama clad body. Misha moistened the sheet with more tears, but the feeling of being lost left him, pushed out by his parents’ love. They hadn’t left him; they were still here for him. He fell into a warm, calming sleep.
When Misha’s father awoke he wasn’t surprised to find his young son in his bed. It had been a few days since his last visit, but the counselor kept telling him that Misha’s attachment issues would last for a long time, probably for years. While the visits would taper off, they probably wouldn’t end until his mid-teens, if then.
His hand felt Misha’s bare ass. He used it to give Misha a push and a shake, waking the ten-year-old up. “Rise and shine, Misha.”
“Morning, father,” the boy mumbled.
“Come on, up and at ‘em. Time waits for no one.”
“I’ll get up soon.”
“You must have not slept well last night.”
“Not until I came here.”
“Is there anything you want to talk about?”
“Not this time.”
Ryan slapped his son’s ass, eliciting a high-pitched yelp that woke up his wife, Lois. “Try to remember to wear something the next time you come to sleep with us,” Ryan whispered into his son’s ear.
“Yes, father, I’ll try.” Misha left the bed and headed for his own bedroom and bathroom.
Ryan and Lois didn’t want to discourage Misha coming to their bed in any way, but they felt his wearing at least his underpants was the appropriate thing for him to do. While they weren’t going to force the issue, they agreed to remind him to wear something whenever he came to their bed naked, and to praise him when he wore something. It worked most of the time. They had the theory that the nights when Misha failed to wear any clothing to their room were the nights he felt the most abandoned and lonely. For the most part, that was the truth of the matter. The ideal solution would be for them to convince Misha to not sleep in the nude at all, but that looked like a lost cause.
Misha had his talk with Neville on the way to school. He thought it went well and felt confident that with a bit more prodding Neville would be willing to meet with the Posse.
After getting off of the bus, he headed for the school store. He hadn’t spent any of his credits and wanted to see what he could purchase for himself. Like all of the fifth graders, he’d received a complimentary hoodie, but he wanted more Puget Academy paraphernalia. He was already feeling at home in his first school.
Before he could get to the store, however, he was accosted by Jeremiah and Tony. “Hey, it’s the Russian kid.” Jeremiah said. “I’m Jeremiah and this is Tony.”
“I know who you are.” Misha knew nothing about Tony, but he hadn’t cared for Jeremiah since he met him on the first day of orientation. Jeremiah had tried to cheat and he had no use for cheaters or any kind of dishonesty.
“Aren’t you buddies with the Kirkwoods?” Jeremiah said, referring to the twins.
“We are on the same team,” Misha said noncommittally. He wasn’t yet sure if they were his friends or not.
“The Posse gang,” Jeremiah said.
“We are the Puget Posse.”
“You guys cheated to win the scavenger hunt.”
Misha had already had enough of Jeremiah’s nonsense. “I wish to go to the store before the bell,” he said as he turned his back to the two boys and started down the hall.
Jeremiah followed him and grabbed him by the shoulder, attempting to turn him around. He was surprised when the smaller boy didn’t budge. Misha was much stronger than he expected.
“I suggest you let me go,” Misha said.
“I can beat you up any time I want to,” Jeremiah told him.
Misha knocked Jeremiah’s hand off of his shoulder with a hard whack. “If you grab me again, I shall flatten you,” he told Jeremiah, calmly.
“You and whose army?”
Misha turned around and somehow appeared bigger than he actually was. He gave Jeremiah an icy stare. His voice remained calm, but there was steel to it. “Just me; that is all I need.”
He turned back around and headed to the store, leaving Jeremiah and Tony to stare at his rear. Misha had met a lot of Jeremiahs at the orphanage. Compared to Kirill, he thought, Jeremiah was what the Americans called a wienie. Misha knew he might not be as big as most boys, but he was strong and could be mean if somebody tried to push him around. He was just like the Russian wolverine, his favorite animal. Nobody messed with a wolverine.
“I hate that Posse,” Jeremiah told Tony. “I hate that Russian kid, I hate Patrick, and I really hate those twins, even if I did get them kicked off the baseball team.”
“Do you hate the English kid, too?” Tony asked.
“Not yet, but I bet I will. I’m going to bring them all down.”
After the Posse finally had their lunch meeting and Patrick had presented his idea for them to have animal names, Misha knew exactly what he wanted to be. He wanted to be Wolverine—small and tough. What he didn’t know was that he would eventually pick up another name as well.
When the second meeting came around, Misha was excited to find out what animals his teammates would pick. When the twins both picked the same name he was surprised and disappointed. But, after he started thinking about it, he realized the twins often seemed like one person, so maybe having the same name was fitting. Picking Bobcat was certainly fitting, especially after they explained S to the fourth. Misha liked the math angle.
Helping the players on the school soccer team was something Misha was really enjoying. He had helped a lot of the younger and older kids at the orphanage with their chess games. He received special pleasure from teaching his peers. He also received good feelings from being around Mark, Matthew, and Patrick. He took pride in the fact that four of the main helpers were members of the Posse, along with Will, one of the Posse’s best friends.
The back-and-forth banter between Patrick and the twins about their soccer game gave him an idea. His game was at ten in the morning on Saturday, while they played at noon. He didn’t know what the distance was between the fields they would be playing on, but he hoped it was close enough that he could watch their game. He wanted to watch some skilled soccer. The level at which he was playing bored him. He’d been told that he would be recommended for a select team when next fall came around, but that was a long way off.
At dinner on the Wednesday before the game, he broached the topic with his parents.
“It is only about twenty minutes between the fields,” Ryan said after Misha said he wanted to watch his friends’ soccer game. “I don’t see a problem.”
“Make sure you take your jacket and sweats,” Lois said.
“Mother, I never forget those things because you never let me forget,” Misha said. While he liked having the attention of a mother in his life, he also wished she would treat him as a responsible boy and not hover over him quite as much.
“Sorry, sweetie. I’m still trying to get used to this mothering business.”
“I’m teaching you how,” Misha said with a sly grin.
“Yes, you are. You’re teaching both your father and me about being good parents.”
Misha’s team won its Saturday morning game 5-1 with Misha scoring four goals. His mother drove home after the game, but his father took him to watch Patrick and the twins play.
Misha liked what he saw. The overall skill level on both teams was better than what was on his team. The game had Misha wishing even harder that he would be able to play for a select team next fall. His eyes were on Patrick more than anybody else. His fellow Posse member was an adept keeper. He was able to show off his skills more against the higher level of competition than what he saw in the school games.
When Mark scored just before the half to tie the score, Misha was not surprised. The twins were excellent ballplayers. The feed from Matthew to Mark was a wonderful piece of precision passing. Matthew seemed to instinctively know where Mark was going to run, and Misha knew that part of being a good player meant that sometimes you pass the ball to where your teammate will be and not to where he is. He wondered if the Twins used some kind of ESP when playing. Misha was certain the twins would hold their own playing on a team in Russia, as would Patrick. Once again, he badly wanted to play against competition as good as his friends’.
After the 2-2 game ended, Misha came up to Patrick, who gave him his trademark smile and thanked him for coming to watch. Misha almost melted when Patrick flashed his smile. He needed to find a way to become better friends with his Posse teammate.
Mark and Matthew came up to him and traded fist bumps, a custom Misha had learned quickly. “I was trying to find you,” Misha said.
“Nerf nuts had a bladder emergency,” Mark said, pointing to his brother. “I wanted to make sure he could find the bathroom.”
“Like you didn’t pee, too,” Matthew said.
“I thought that long as I was there I might as well pee. No use wasting my time.”
“Do you ever do anything by yourselves?” Misha asked. He was amazed that the two of them apparently even had to take a piss together.
“Not if we can help it,” Matthew said.
“Yeah, but only because he needs my help for everything,” Mark said. “That’s because I’m the oldest.”
“I won’t need help kicking your ass if you don’t shut-up,” Matthew shot back.
“Wait until we get home and see how you deal with a fat lip.”
“You two played a very good game,” Misha said, trying to defuse the argument. Diplomacy was one of the skills Misha picked up at the orphanage. While he could hold his own in a fracas, he rarely had to because he learned how to shift things away from fighting. He spoke softly, but everyone knew he would fight if necessary.
Ironically, he was involved in only one serious fight at the orphanage, and it was with Kirill. He had pummeled the older boy unmercifully. Word got around quickly, and that one fight was all he needed for Misha, the Wolverine, to establish his bona fides.
Matthew jumped right into Misha’s change of topic. “Mark was awesome scoring off Patrick on my pass.”
“It was a perfect pass,” Mark said. “Which is good, because Patrick is a really good goal keeper.”
Misha was amazed at how quickly Mark and Matthew buried their animosity. He’d seen it happen before, but it never failed to astound him.
“I wish you could come to our house and play some games,” Mark told Misha.
“Yeah, we need to get the Posse together at people’s houses,” Matthew said. “That would make us better friends. But we all have to go to some music thing of our sisters.” Michelle and Megan still attended North Lake Day School.
“Maybe we will need to all go to each other’s house to finish our project,” Misha said. He couldn’t help but have a warm feeling wash over him when Mark all but gave him an invitation to visit. “We will have to work extra time to make it the best in the class.”
“Now you’re talking, Wolverine,” Mark said, making Misha glow even more. “You come up with the best ideas.”
“Boys, we have to get going,” the twins’ mother yelled.
“Sorry, we gotta jet,” Mark said.
“See ya in school, Monday,” Matthew said. “Stay cool, Misha.”
The twins hustled off to join their parents and Misha walked to the parking lot where his father was sitting in his SUV.
“That was a great soccer game,” Ryan said.
“Yes, it was very good. I liked watching my friends play. They are very good players,” Misha said. “I wish I could play with them.”
“Next year, son. It shouldn’t be a problem. We simply didn’t know how good you were. But, once we made a commitment we…”
“You kept it because it was the right thing to do,” Misha interrupted with a grin.
“Very good. Nice to know you have a feel for ethics.”
“The moral way to do things.”
“You and mother have been teaching ethics to me.”
Ryan smiled and tousled his son’s short hair. “And you have been a good student.”
That night, Misha didn’t feel the need to go to his parent’s bed. He’d had a very good day. Patrick had smiled at him and the twins had said they wanted him to come to their house. He felt so good he masturbated to a satisfying dry orgasm, imagining himself naked with Patrick and the twins in his bedroom. On this night, life felt very good to the young boy.
Next: The Things