AN ANGEL ONLY FOR KYLESuddenly, Kyle got on all fours over his small friend as the piles of wheat shifted and crunched under his weight. His massive torso loomed over Jeremy, filling his entire view while Kyle turned his back to the ceiling. Kyle, with a sensual, wild gaze in his electric-blue eyes, pinned Jeremy against the grain blocks. Jeremy´s heart beat frenetically inside his small chest—as if it wanted to leap out when he shrank under Kyle's imposing bulk— overwhelmed by an exciting feeling of helplessness. Kyle slowly bent his elbows, lowering his wide mouth toward Jeremy’s face. Then he whispered in his ear, “Now these 300 pounds of muscle and belly are gonna take you to heaven”, so close that Jeremy could feel the warmth of his breath wafting on his face.
Kyle's sensual, wild expression suddenly shifted into a crazy one. "They’re gonna take you to heaven when they squash you to death!" he shouted, before letting himself fall on Jeremy, smashing him into the cereal
The enchantment of those early moments got broken, and all that erotic nearness just now vanished like smoke, to turn up the lead-up of a joke, whose outcome Kyle celebrated with noisy laughter while Jeremy begged to be free.
When he released his grip, they both sat on the piles of wheat. Kyle couldn´t stop laughing as he tried to catch Jeremy´s eyes, who just looked down, shrugging with a lip-smile, resigned to his friend´s unpredictable wild madness.
Kyle gave Jeremy a friendly slap on the shoulder. “What´s the matter, man? Are you annoyed … or maybe disappointed? Haha”
Before Jeremy could react, Kyle just leaned back on the cereal and added, “I´m gonna chill for a bit more before Mark gets back from his jog, dude.” he flexed his arms behind his head, closed his eyes, and kept quiet as if nothing had happened.
Jeremy lay on his side shortly after. He kept motionless. After a while, he still had his sight lost on the bright specks of dust that fluttered in the beam lights that hovered over their heads. Behind his apparent calm, Jeremy questioned the credibility of his senses as he twirled his locks of hair around his finger. He asked himself with uneasiness if Kyle´s lover's gaze—which he found so real and that had raced his heart so much—was just an illusion of his own imagination, misled by his friend´s playful, sweet talk.
***
A few days later, the boys were on their way to have a drink and play some billiards at The Corral Road Bar before having dinner at the Garrisons’. Mark, at the wheel of his sports car, chuckled and said, “I still can’t believe my ‘bougie’ bro didn’t dress up again to go out!” Electronic music was thumping softly through the car speakers.
“We’re in the country, man,” Kyle answered nonchalantly. “And I’ve outgrown my last going-out clothes. Besides, these unbuckled overalls are the most comfortable thing to wear.” He said, patting his belly under his white ribbed tank top.
“Yeah, but,” Mark insisted, “all this time on the farm, you didn’t even dress up when going out with a girl? You used to, back in Detroit.”
Kyle shrugged. “Not really. Especially now that I’m all buff and beefy.” He chuckled, flexing one of his huge guns, “I get even more chicks than before.”
“Your way,” Mark said, “but it all counts. I’ve got muscles too, and I still dress up; you know: an elegant fitted shirt, a cool haircut, a nice chain … like now—that impresses girls even more!”
Kyle answered, “Oh, but I still get to hook up with more chicks than you, dude. You know, that's because it’s like when eating beef.”
Mark slightly furrowed his eyebrows without looking away from the road, “Eating beef, what do you mean?”
Kyle gave Jeremy, who was sitting in the back, a sneaky, playful squeeze on the knee, and explained his point to Mark, “Dude, it’s like beef, okay? You gotta dress a cheap-ass burger with tons of sauces just to make it taste like something. But a juicy premium ribeye? You don’t dress it—you serve it as is. Perfect on its own. That’s me: the huge ribeye from a five-star fancy steakhouse. And you? You’re the sad little McDonald’s burger, that´s why you need to get dressed up. I´m the better option. Hahaha.”
“Fuck you, Kyle!” Mark shouted, hitting the wheel as Kyle and Jeremy’s guffaws echoed through the car. “You never miss a chance to piss off, you asshole, do you? And what the hell are you laughing at, Jam? If a muscle guy like me is a McDonald’s burger, then what’s a skinny guy like you?—besides being Kyle’s minion, always stuck to his side.”
Jeremy answered with a funny tone of puzzlement, “Fuck, Mark… isn’t being the side dish of the premium ribeye good enough for you? Sounds pretty damn great to me!”
Mark shook his head in disbelief as a new, louder wave of guffaws from his friends filled the car in unison, making Kyle even kick his legs from laughing.
Kyle turned back and raised his hand, “Gimme five, you beast!”
Kyle, still shaking hands with Jeremy, nudged Mark, “And you, hothead! Just laugh, you´re wishing you were!!” His tone playful and teasing, “Jam´s line just killed it!”
Mark shook his head again, but this time, chuckling with amusement, “Guys, you´re just two hopeless clowns, haha.”
More jokes flew as the boys killed time on the rest of the road. When they finally pulled into The Corral’s gravel yard and walked inside, Mick greeted them from a group of tables pushed together for him and his gang.
“Hey, guys. Kyle, my man!” Mick called out, waving his arm to invite them over.
Kyle walked ahead of his group a few steps toward the bikers. Only Mick matched Kyle's build. The rest, although bigger than average, faded into the background—just noise made of laughter, loud chatter, and the clink of beer mugs.
Mick slapped Kyle friendly on the arm, “Wanna join the big boys' table?”
Kyle answered, “I’m hitting the pool table with my pals,” pointing at it with his thumb.
When Kyle’s buffering answer gave shy Jeremy some relief from facing a crowd of strangers, Mick rested his eyes on him and said, “Hey, Jem, don’t be afraid of them.” He gently patted Jeremy’s side. “No one’s gonna eat you; we had a late lunch, so don’t worry, buddy, hehe.”
As soon as a small smile appeared on Jeremy’s lips, Mick stood up, pushed together another table next to his and Hank, and nodded for Kyle and his crew to grab some chairs.
Mick and Hank drifted away from the bikers' conversation to turn their focus to Kyle and his crew. Mick had ordered a round of drinks for everyone. While sipping them, they all had a casual chat about their backgrounds and the experiences they shared within their own groups, alongside the main table’s chatter, sometimes just lively, sometimes more rowdy.
When they hit Kyle's transformation from a twink to a big muscle man, together with his several feats—like wrestling down a rampaging bull with his bare hands—Mick said, “Well, dude, how about some arm wrestling to show us that he-man strength?”
“Arm wrestling, huh? I’m in!” Kyle answered without thinking twice. He downed the rest of his beer with a couple of loud gulps, then slammed the mug down on the table and growled, “So, where do we start?” eager to get going.
Mick put his hand on Kyle’s shoulder. “Mind giving this grandpa a shot?” he said, nodding toward Hank. “He’s won several arm wrestling competitions, though.”
Kyle glanced at Hank, who already had a smirk on his face. Kyle said, “Alright, bring it on, grandpa! Let’s see if the legends are true.” Then he reached out for a handshake.
Hank clasped Kyle’s hand firmly, “Time to show what you’re made of, city boy!”
Mick chuckled, "Hank, you might have to make way for the new generation today ...", he said while they were still shaking hands in a hard grip. The biker stood up and called out to the rest of the group, "Alright, everyone, get ready; the arm wrestling match is about to begin!"
Chairs scraped back, and boots thudded on the wooden floor as the crowd of bikers eagerly murmured and dragged tables away from the center of the bar to leave just one for the contest. In the middle of that buzz of anticipation, Mark slapped Kyle on the back and pumped his fist, “C’mon, beast, crush him! You’ve got this! Tear that table apart!”
Kyle rolled his shoulders and flexed his fingers, “I´m gonna retire him from the arm wrestling world, bro. You´ll see!”
Then, Kyle felt little fingers softly resting on his thick forearm. He looked down, met Jeremy’s smile, and read on his lips through the tumult around, “You’re the world’s strongest man, Kyle.”
Kyle took a deep, swelling breath as he smiled at Jeremy, like his friend´s encouragement filled his chest with determination and energy, and then breathed out with satisfaction.
Once the table was ready, in the middle of a circle of bikers—and even many of the regulars—Kyle sat down as Hank took off his army jacket, locking eyes with him, watching for any reaction to his now-exposed corded biceps, thicker than any other part of his muscular frame, clearly visible beneath his black tank top. Kyle’s face didn’t change; he just planted his elbow on the table and said, “I’m ready!”
Hank pulled out his chair and sat down opposite Kyle. They firmly gripped their hands as their forearms tensed, locked in place without breaking eye contact. Just then, Mick stepped forward, raising his voice to cut through the uproar of the crowd.
“Alright, fellas, clean match—elbows on the table, hands locked, no lifting from the seat. First to pin the other’s hand wins. I’ll count you in.” Mick briefly placed his hand over theirs to steady the grip, then pulled back, “Three… two… one… go!”
Kyle slammed to the side with a confident burst of strength. Hank´s arm didn´t budge an inch. Kyle compressed his lips to hide his surprise, but Mick’s chuckles grated around, aware of his disquiet. Kyle quickly shifted, preparing for a harder charge. Hank´s arm quivered, countering the second try, but he didn´t back down. Kyle started guessing that his rival wasn’t giving his full strength, like a cat toying with its prey, letting it have a little advantage for fun.
As Kyle’s and Hank’s forearms shook, each pushing against the other to bend his opponent, the crowd roared, their cheers blending into a deafening chorus of encouragement. Kyle hardly frowned, refusing to relent in his push.
Kyle, feeling his strength near its limit, let his gaze flick around, as if searching for something without knowing what. Among the blur of shouting voices, behind the wall formed by Mark, the bikers, and the regulars, Kyle caught sight of Jeremy, standing on a chair, higher than anyone else, looking at him like an angel floating above, visible only to him.
‘You’re the world’s strongest man.’ Jeremy´s words echoed in Kyle´s head. Then, Hank’s confident expression vanished, a new wave of louder yells rose in the air, and Kyle’s blue eyes flashed like bolts at Hank’s contorted face, as his fist, slow but steady, drew closer and closer to the table, until, with a final roar and a forceful push, Kyle slammed Hank’s hand against the wood.
Applause, whistles, and laughter filled the bar as Kyle’s name echoed enthusiastically among the mix of bursting cheers.
"That’s it, bro!" Mark shouted.
Kyle stood up and raised his arm to show off his bicep for all to see, making it bulge round, huge, and massive with a fierce roar of victory. He alternated nodding at it and at the crowd, proudly bobbing his arm up and down to emphasize its beefy thickness and strength.
When the riot died down to alternating murmurs, Hank and Mick reached out to shake hands with Kyle in congratulations. Then the gutted biker said, “Up for an eating contest next Sunday at lunchtime?”
Kyle answered immediately, “I’m in!
After a few casual comments about the recent arm wrestling, Kyle and his crew left to head home, and Mick walked with them to the bar’s yard. Just as the boys were about to get into Mark’s car, Mick placed a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder and said, “You’re kind of shy, Jam, but after hanging out with you, I can tell you’re a cool guy. Once you get a little older, you’re gonna make tons of good friends on your own”. Then, Mick’s hand slid from Jeremy’s shoulder to his cheek, giving him a few gentle, affectionate pats, which prompted Jeremy’s quiet, small smile.
Kyle wrapped Jeremy´s shoulders up with his arm to pull him into his side, and stepped forward as he said to the biker, “Oh, don´t worry … Jam isn’t really shy; he’s just very selective—and he already has some great friends. He doesn’t need many, just the right ones”. His tone, joyful and nonchalant, contrasted with the defiant smirk on his face and the steady gaze he fixed on Mick.
The biker just kept a half-smile as he tilted his head and raised his palms in a conciliatory manner, though his eyes widened slightly in surprise. Then, he turned to join his gang inside the bar after saying bye.
Mark reacted with an expression of fun and curiosity, “Damn, bro, snippy much! What the hell’s gotten into you?”
Kyle turned to him and said with an ironic tone. “Oh, c’mon, hothead. We gotta put up with your outbursts, and now you’re gonna freak out just ‘cause I’m giving my opinion??” Kyle shook his head with a smirk, as if dismissing Mark’s reaction as exaggerated, then concluded, “Let’s roll.”
Once in the car, Mark pulled out while insisting, “Dude, I’m sure you almost shit your pants when you realized that grandpa wasn’t such an easy rival. You’re still tense about it! That guy’s probably on some kind of strength program or whatever. And Mick? You’re gonna wipe the floor with him in that eating contest, no doubt.”
Kyle answered, “I told you already, I don’t like that guy. There’s something off about him—he acts all friendly, but I can tell he’s hiding something. Didn’t you hear the way he talked down to you, Jem?—patting your cheek, acting like he had you all figured out in five minutes, like you were some little kid. That kind of fake nice? I don’t buy it.
Then Kyle turned to Mark and kept on, "That’s why I said we were gonna hit the pool table when he invited us to join, but the absent-minded Jem didn’t realize.”
Jeremy, sensing Kyle’s annoyed tone, replied with an uncomfortable, growing feeling of guilt, “What do you mean, Kyle?"
"You smiled at him like a fool when he joked that no one’s gonna eat you, so of course he felt entitled to make us sit."
“But … I just, I-”
Kyle turned to Jeremy in the backseat, “Besides, I did it for you, cause I know you feel uncomfortable around so many new people at one time … But I gotta say, you didn’t seem all that shy with Mick and that old dude.” Kyle added such a tilt of his head as he said those last words that made his sarcasm sting even more.
Jeremy’s voice got even lower, almost a whisper, like he was afraid to contradict Kyle, “I thought you’d be glad for me.”
“How the hell am I gonna be glad when I told you from day one that asshole was messing with you?!” Kyle looked back at the road and let out a loud sigh of exasperation. “You’ll never smarten up, man!”
Mark frowned and cut in, “Hey, stop talking to Jam like that! Everything´s fine, we had a good time!”
Kyle insisted, “Mark, I just care for him, he knows!” Then he turned again to Jeremy, “Jam, you know my read on people is never wrong. Like when I told you Andy was just hanging around so he could drag you into that ping-pong tournament—because you’re damn good at doubles—and the moment you two won, that dude ditched you like trash. I told you from day one he wasn´t really your friend, but you didn´t listen to me; he was just using you. Was I wrong?”
Jeremy just looked at the car window. Then Mark said, “Yeah, I remember that, Kyle. But back then, you told me it was fine—that it was good for Jam to learn from his own mistakes. Stop the drama, going all dad-mode on him now about Mick!”
Kyle huffed, throwing himself back into the seat, “Yeah, well... maybe I don’t want him getting hurt again, alright?” he snapped, then added quickly, more under his breath, “Much less by someone like that guy Mick.”
***
That night, when everyone was already asleep, Kyle lay on his bed, his eyes lost on the ceiling with a vague feeling of uneasiness creeping over him. “Maybe I was kind of a jerk to Jam,” he thought. Then his hand slid up to his chest, as if missing something there. But suddenly, he scrubbed that hand through his bangs, “It’s about time he learns anyway!”
So, some time went by in the darkness of his room, still awake despite his double gym session. After a few minutes, Kyle finally got up and stepped out into the hallway. As he made his way down the stairs, he noticed the faint glow coming from the living room—soft, flickering light from the TV casting long, shifting shadows across the floor and the walls. The house was silent, except for the slow, steady ticking of the wall clock over the quiet dialogue from the movie on the screen. When Kyle reached the bottom step and looked in, he saw Jeremy’s silhouette sitting on the couch. His eyes were fixed on the TV, completely still.
“Hey, Jam. What´s up?”
Jeremy looked at Kyle in his plaid pajama pants and a long-sleeve raglan T-shirt, “Just here, watching TV.”
Kyle walked over and dropped onto the other part of the couch. “Couldn´t sleep either, huh?”
Jeremy shrugged softly, his gaze back on the screen, “Not really.”
Kyle did the same, grinning, “Just some random channel that only shows ancient-ass movies or whatever. Hehe”
Jeremy whispered, “Kind of,” as he gave a faint smile to Kyle and turned to look at the TV.
To Kyle, still feeling remorseful, Jeremy’s smile was like a sunray breaking through the clouds on a gloomy day.
They kept watching the screen. The Omen was playing at the moment the nanny stood on the edge of the rooftop, shouting, “Damian, look at me! I love you, Damian! It’s all for you!” before jumping off to hang herself, crashing through a window below, and making the birthday kids shriek in horror.
At the following muted shots of the terrified children's faces, Kyle and Jeremy started chuckling. Then Kyle glanced at Jeremy and said, “That was really nice of her, right, Jam?”
Jeremy turned to him, a smile starting to show on his face, already expecting one of Kyle’s cheeky jokes, “What do you mean?”
"Well," Kyle answered, "there was a clown, a bouncy castle, even a carousel. Awesome birthday party! … but poor Damian’s parents forgot to hang a piñata for him, so she hanged herself to make up for it. Really thoughtful!"
Both friends burst out laughing. Still with their last chuckles fading, Kyle bent over to reach the remote on the table and zapped the TV. The screen switched now to the old movie Excalibur, right at that weird scene where King Uther, magically disguised by Merlin as Duke Gorlois, fucks Igraine, wearing his full armor.
Kyle looked at Jeremy with a playful expression, like saying, ‘Your turn to drop something silly.’
Jeremy made a mock-serious face and answered, “Nothing awkward here. You gotta use protection when having sex—so what could be better than armor? Full coverage!”
Again, a new wave of laughter. They spent the next while flipping through channels, cracking jokes about whatever popped up on the screen. From time to time, among their laughter, their eyes met with a shared joy—not just from the jokes themselves (some witty, others only making sense to the two of them), but from the ease and rightness they felt between them again. By the time they had watched several random scenes, Kyle and Jeremy were sitting close, with Jeremy’s head resting snugly on Kyle’s chest, half-hidden and tucked into the warm space between Kyle's side and arm.
Jeremy, looking at the TV but without really paying attention to the screen, said, “I’ve missed so much just laughing at dumb stuff with you, ever since you’ve been at the farm, Kyle.”
Kyle answered, looking at the screen too, “Oh, so you’re only saying that ’cause I haven’t pulled any pranks on you today.”
Jeremy chuckled, “It´s okay”, he said, “I know your pranks come with the whole package. Let me enjoy the break anyway, hehe.”
Kyle chuckled back and whispered, “Don´t get used to it.”
"I wouldn’t want you any other way, pranks and all," Jeremy said gently. "If you ever stopped being such a pain … I’d know something awful must’ve happened to you."
Kyle just turned to Jeremy and wrapped him up against his torso, locking his arms around him in such a tight hold that it felt like he was trying to squeeze every last bit of air out from between them. He nuzzled into Jeremy’s head against his chest, letting out a string of low groans—some soft, almost content, others goofy and unrestrained, as if drunk on Jeremy´s sweet understanding, and the quiet care behind it.
Kyle’s hold softened, but the hug stayed. Silent and close, their dark silhouettes seemed to melt into one in the dim, shifting light of the screen, the murmurs in the background, and the slow ticking of the wall clock. Then Jeremy heard Kyle whisper, cheek still resting against his head, “Are you okay, Jam?” Out of nowhere, as if born from some deep, unconscious impulse.
Kyle heard Jeremy whisper back, “Yeah.” He paused for a moment. Then added, “I couldn’t feel any other way when you hold me like this.”
Kyle tightened his hug around Jeremy and whispered with an affectionate, playful tone, “Then I won’t let go of you until the end of the world, Jam!”
An intimate silence settled back between them—until Kyle’s hungry stomach let out a couple of long, noisy growls.
Kyle snorted as he loosened his arms and said with a tone of mock-disappointment, “Awwww … Those were the trumpets of the apocalypse!” Then Kyle concluded with mischievous enthusiasm, “Now you can get up and bring me something to eat!”
Jeremy burst into laughter, letting himself fall sideways against the backrest of the sofa with joyful abandon, both at Kyle’s joke and at his cartoonishly eager face for food. Kyle reached out and gave Jeremy a playful pinch on the neck, letting out an exaggerated, affectionate, “Aaaaiiii! Gotcha giggling! Haha, look at you laughing at your hungry buddy, huh?”
Jeremy, still resting his head on the backrest, said, “Haha. How about I grab you some muffins?”
Kyle winked at him with a grin. “Damn, you know me so well, Jam!” Jeremy just smiled back before standing and heading to the kitchen. When he returned with a big box full of muffins and sat on the couch, Kyle flopped down, resting his head on his friend’s lap like a pillow and said, “You know what, Jam? I’m kind of tired… how about you feed me the muffins? Gotta take good care of your big buddy if you want me winning more contests. Hehe,” his hand brushing his belly, eager to be hand-fed as Jeremy´s heart raced.
To be continued