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It was only a graze, but Chang was a persuasive person. Yes, thought Tintin, trying to convince himself that that was reason enough. He is. I don’t just think this because I would allow myself to be persuaded. Of course. But my god, is he beautiful.

Tintin had never thought of himself as easily distracted or, god forbid, as a racial fetishist, but he had to admit to himself, at least, because he could never admit to anyone else, that he found Chang very attractive. His skin was a lovely brown, his eyes a sweet sight, his mouth a joyful curve, and the moment that Tintin had brushed back his black hair from his eyes after fishing him from the river was one of reverence. Right after he’d given him mouth to mouth, of course.

Now, Tintin, you mustn’t scold yourself over that. He was drowning. Actually, he was! There was only one way!

Maybe it was a complex. Tintin didn’t like to think so. He’d always thought he was surprisingly well adjusted, given he didn’t know anything about his parents and had few friends, but perhaps he was fooling himself into thinking like that. Maybe he was delusional after all. He was considered mentally ill in many places, though not all. Well, what madman could admit to being mad?

Tintin sometimes wondered after his first “incident” if his parents had abandoned him because they somehow… could tell that he was different. He had been different as long as he could remember, actually.

In the first year of primary school, Tintin found out his friend Peter had a crush on a girl in the class. Tintin had looked around and realized he didn’t see any good looking girls. Still it would be several years until he realized he liked boys instead. It just wasn’t talked about, and when it was, there were only hushed voices. When Tintin was in the early years of high school, he had inadvertently- no, not so much, but rather- foolishly admitted to being… fond …. of a boy, Georges, in his class. His teacher had whacked him with a ruler and then sent him to the principal. When he got there he realized immediately that he must lie. He had little other choice, because the principal had called the doctor already, and Tintin didn’t want to be sent away. He didn’t want to go there. He told the principal it had been a joke on a dare from a bully in the class. Both of them had gotten into trouble, but he had deserved it, and Tintin had not. It did make his life harder, because from then on that boy never left him alone, and he’d learned a good deal of fighting from him and his gang.

He hadn’t any girlfriends when he was young, but when asked he always said that he was too busy pursuing a career and family life simply wasn’t for him. He was always asked what kind of girl he was looking for by coworkers, mostly those who were women themselves, and replied with “Well, when it’s the time for that, I’ll know.” Another reporter that had been interviewing him had asked him what his opinion was on the matter of mental illnesses of the sort. He had wiggled out of answering by simply saying he wasn’t much inclined to politics- he just did the reports on such matters, and he preferred to write about adventures, actually.

All of this had gone around in Tintin’s mind for so long, with not a soul other than Snowy knowing his true self, that Tintin really did think by now it must of caused some damage. Surely. He wasn’t sure it was a complex, exactly, for his psychology was rusty, but he knew that he often double checked with himself if he felt that he was overstepping bounds. Sometimes he thought it wasn’t quite fair to normal people- as if he was doing something underhanded with them. So he found himself double-checking now that it had been necessary to breathe air into Chang. Surely he didn’t simply want to touch his lips. Going over the evidence in his head, Tintin knew he had been right. Besides, Chang wasn’t even really his… type. Not really. And even if he could tell Chang something like that, he was positive that he’d rather live than die just because Tintin… because Tintin…

Well, he liked men. That’s all there was to it.

Not in the way men usually liked each other. Tintin loved the way men looked, the way they acted, carried themselves, sounded. Nothing like a deep voice, a beard and a good deal of muscle to get him going. When he touched himself, that was what he thought of, and when he climaxed, it was a man’s name on his lips every time. Once he’d gotten worked up on purpose, just to see, then thought of a woman’s body. He’d fallen flat in less than two minutes, and then he knew for sure it would never work for him the way it did for others.

He’d examined this as well. He used to think it wasn’t quite fair that men didn’t know he was touching himself when he thought of them. It wasn’t fair to normal people. So once, at that kind of party, he’d joined a conversation about sex between a lot of beautiful men and listened in to the things that they did. Well, Tintin reasoned, it wasn’t exactly fair to the lady either, right? Some of them would much rather not be the object of desire, and Tintin found an enormous difference in at least one way. In their fantasies, all that seemed to mater was the girl was beautiful. Her smarts, her intimacy, and her know-how didn’t seem to be taken into account at all. When he fantasised, everything was included.

He imagined a classmate, a coworker, or an acquaintance that he liked. Not just the look, but his brains, and his emotional connection, or lack thereof, and his inclination to adventure and excitement. He had to have something in common with Tintin. Not just anyone would do.

Maybe because of the initial excitement of saving him from the river, Tintin had bonded strongly with Chang over the last few weeks, and that made his attraction that much more.

Chang had put him in bed for two days after the graze. Tintin had fought him on it, but half-heartedly. It was day three that Tintin woke up, feeling the sheets moving. Chang had slid in next to him, and was now warming nicely just near Tintin’s body. Oh! How sweet he was… Tintin was growing hard. He readjusted, trying to hide himself- not touch Chang-

“Did I wake you?” Chang whispered, so low that Tintin almost missed it.

“It’s alright.” Tintin said, by way of an answer.

“Oh! I’m so sorry.”

“Really, it’s fine. I’ve slept all day.”

“You’re wounded.” Chang said, “Your body is healing itself.”

“Yes…” Tintin agreed, not wanting to rehash the fight from before about how much rest he would need. But maybe he had better. A good argument would get his mind off of Chang.

“It’s so cool tonight.” Chang said, suddenly snuggling up next to Tintin, and Tintin felt the roots of his already orange hair catch fire beneath his blush.

“Yes, it is.” He agreed again.

“You seem tense, Tintin. Am I disturbing you?”

His English really was good. Tintin had to admit his was too, but it was different. Chang had no real reason to know a word like ‘disturbing,’ but Tintin had met many Englishmen in his life, and needed the knowledge of English nearly every day just to communicate on his many adventures. This was part of his attraction to Chang: his intellect, and generally down to Earth behaviour.

“No…” Tintin said, then, more strongly, “No. You’re right. I’m still healing. Just tired.” He felt a little bad lying.

“May I ask you a question?”

“Yes of course.”

“I have wondered for a few days… I am not trying to judge or to be rude, so please do not panic.”

Oh, that wasn’t a good start.

“Do you… like men?”

He knew? But how? Was Tintin so obvious? “Why I… I…. yes.” He blushed again.

“Ah. I thought so. I’m very good at guessing such things. I wondered if… you would do something for me…”

“Anything.” Tintin said, sincerely.

“Perhaps don’t make such promises so lightly.” Chang said, then laughed a little. It was awkward, embarrassed. “I don’t know how you feel for me, but it has been a long time since I was held. I wish you would… kiss me?”

There was silence for a second, then Tintin burst into silent laughter, and had to wipe tears from his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… Oh, Chang… how can you be so knowing and yet so blind all at once? You can see clearly that I am gay, but you don’t know how willingly I would fulfil this request?”

Chang also started to laugh, as soon as Tintin got his sentence out. “I see. I thought for sure you would say no, when you laughed…”

“No, no… not at all…” Tintin said, gasping for breath, “I feel nothing but respect and lust for you… I had grown so ashamed…”

“Oh, Tintin!” Chang said, leaning his body up so he was over him. He kissed Tintin and Tintin kissed back, surprised by the unexpected contact, but satisfied all the same. Then he settled next to him again, both of the pleased, and they dozed off together.

Tintin woke the next morning to the pain of his arm bandages being changed. “Does it hurt?” Chang asked as Tintin’s eyes fluttered open.

“A tad.”

“Sorry. I need to do this.”

“I appreciate it, actually. Oh, good morning Snowy.” Snowy had leapt up and carefully trod on Tintin to give him a good morning kiss.

Chang finished with the alcohol and began to wrap his arm. “I am so happy.”

“What for?”

“Last night.” Chang said. Tintin blushed.

“I am too, Chang.” He said quietly.

“You do not need to feel any shameful feelings.”

“I know, my friend.” Tintin said. “Not anymore.”

Chang gave him one of his beautiful smiles and Tintin smiled back. He winced as Chang secured his bandage. Snowy leapt down and curled up on the rug. “I’ve fed him.”

“Thank you.” Tintin sighed.

“Do you want something to eat?”

“I… I’m not hungry yet. Chang?”

“Yes?”

They both turned red as they looked at each other, and Tintin found he couldn’t ask in the frank and honest way that Chang had. Something stopped him. He sat up instead, and, resting on his other arm, kissed Chang again.

When he broke off, Chang kissed him. It went on from there, kisses initiated, kisses closed by one or the other, on both sides. Deep kisses, soft kisses, short kisses, passionate kisses, and growing more passionate still. Tintin slipped his tongue between them and Chang took it well, sucking on it and then letting it pass in to dominate his own when their lips met. He let Tintin lead the kiss, which just wasn’t fair, because Tintin felt no confidence in this as he did in his other abilities.

A few minutes passed, Tintin growing harder and harder, and then he felt Chang’s hand lightly touching the bulge under the sheets and his underwear. Red hot, he pulled away from the kiss. “I’ve never been with anyone.” He admitted.

“I’ve only kissed.” Chang whispered.

This made Tintin feel better- more confident. “I wouldn’t mind…” He said quickly.

“Wait for me.” Chang stood up abruptly and went out of the room on tip-toe, making no sound at all. He returned with a bottle and shut the curtain. “We should be quiet… I have oil here.”

“Oil? What for?”

“Have you never tried to put anything inside?”

Tintin blushed yet again. “No more than a finger.”

“This will make it smoother… if you want. One of my friends at school told me.”

“Ohhhhhhh.” Tintin said. He nodded. “That makes sense. I’m a bit nervous.”

“Me too.” Chang said with a laugh.

He kissed Tintin again, feeling the hard-on. Tintin gasped at the touch. Then Chang moved his hand under the blanket and squeezed him properly. Tintin moaned, and Chang let out a tiny “Shhhhh…”

“Sorry… it feels good.”

“Better than your own hand?” Chang teased, flushed.

“I have to admit… yes.” Tintin said, then giggled. Chang giggled too.

Tintin reached over, hand shaking, to take hold of Chang. His hand snaked down Chang’s pants and he took his rather large cock in hand. It was only when he touched there that he realized Chang wasn’t wearing underwear- was that common here? He didn’t really know and didn’t have the guts to ask. He shivered with pleasure. Something about holding a cock was… was… so satisfying.

“Oh, Tintin…” Chang said under his breath.

Blushing again, Tintin began to pull Chang. Chang let his pants down and Tintin could see. He felt his bulge grow plenty before Chang moved and pulled the sheet off of Tintin. He grabbed Tintin’s underwear and got it off of him, all the way past his toes. Then he got on top of Tintin, so their hardened members were touching. Chang took the jar and poured some over them, then began rubbing it in. It was the most delicious feeling Tintin had ever had and he relaxed into the sheets of the bed, his eyes closing.

After a while he felt the pressure lesson, then Chang move his legs so that Tintin’s were spread on top and Chang was supporting them. He let go, but Tintin didn’t open his eyes until he felt something wet at his entrance. He looked up, slowly, and whispered, “Are you going to…?”

Chang nodded and pushed a finger into Tintin. It felt alien, but fine. “I want to put it in my mouth now, Tintin.”

So frank!

Tintin nodded back at him. Chang settled between his legs and took as much as he could into his mouth. Tintin gasped loudly and Chang came off to warn him of silence again. Before he could, Tintin said “I know, I know… I’m sorry… it was so suddenly wonderful…”

Chang gave him a secret smile, then got back to sucking. Tintin clasped his hand over his mouth. Chang was sucking so hard and it was unbelievable. Tintin had never felt anything like this before. Chang entered another finger that Tintin didn’t even notice. He noticed the third a few minutes later, but it didn’t really hurt so much as feel strange. Tintin wasn’t counting, but it was nearly an hour before Chang had four in, and he didn’t really need them all. HIs fingers weren’t so small and his cock was longer than it was thick.

Chang finally moved them out and stopped sucking. Tintin was in a haze of pleasure which didn’t cease when the pressure was removed. He didn’t notice very much that Chang was pushing in until he got deeper than his fingers had been. “Does it hurt?”

“A little, but it’s not too bad.”

“I’ll be careful. Your arm isn’t well.”

“Right.”

Chang began to move in and out cautiously. It was very clear to Tintin that he was at least feeling good. Tintin cradled his arm but didn’t move otherwise. It was slightly painful in his ass and he didn’t want to make it worse. He found that relaxing made it much better and after a few minutes he cried out suddenly when Chang readjusted.

“Ahh!”

“Shhhh, shhhhh, Tintin… did I hurt you?”

“On the contrary.” Tintin whispered. “It felt very good just there.”

“Hmmmm…” Chang readjusted continually, trying to find what had made Tintin cry out, but without much luck. Tintin was just giving up when he felt it again.

“Uhh! There!” He said, quieter this time.

“Here?”

“Ahhh…. ahhhhhhh…. ah….Chang….” Tintin threw his head back. If the pleasure had been haze-inducing earlier, it was sharp and wonderful now. He tried not to squirm too much. Tintin’s body seized and he came, shaking with overwhelming pleasure as Chang drove his cock in and out. Chang wasn’t far behind. Realising he was going to shoot his load, he pulled out of Tintin and used his hand to finish up. He sat back, relief on his face, and enjoyed the pleasure just as Tintin was below him. After a few minutes he laid down next to Tintin and Tintin kissed him.

They fell into making out again, slow and sensual and languid. After ten minutes or so Chang laid down properly and sighed. “That was the most wonderful thing I’ve ever done. My friend said it felt good to have one inside, but I didn’t believe him until I saw you call out.”

“It was the most amazing-! I’ve research to do, Chang. I want to know what caused that magnificent sensation.”

“I don’t know the English word for it….”

“Even if I heard it, I don’t think I’d know it either.” Tintin admitted. Slowly, they dozed off to sleep.

 

Dear Chang,

I was glad to get your letter. I am doing very well, thanks for asking, and so is Snowy. I will be coming back to China on the 24th of October and hope that you will be able to see me at the airport in Beijing. If it is too far to travel, worry not. I will come to see you straight away.
We had curiosity of an English word last time I saw you. I wanted you to know that the word was “prostrate.” I was most surprised about it. I look forward to exploring this further with you in the future. After I return from China this time, I am thinking of going to visiting the Congo again, if I’m not busy somewhere else in the world with a story. I have much to tell you about my last few adventures, and about a new friend that I’ve met. I hope he will come with me, but he does hate to fly!
Well, I would write more, but I’m so close to seeing you now and I can hardly wait. I hope this telegram reaches you before I do.

Yours,
Tintin