Chalk Butterfly: Part One (First Time Erotic Romance)

Chalk Butterfly: First Time
Erotic Romance

by Audra Red

Published by Audra Red at
Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Audra Red

This ebook is licensed for your personal
enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to
other people. If you would like to share this book with another
person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If
you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not
purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com
and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work
of this author.

***

This is a work of fiction. Names, places,
businesses, characters, and incidents are either the product of the
author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any
resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actions, events or
locales is purely coincidental.

Excerpts from Chalk Butterfly: Part One

“
You can talk to me, right? I want that.
I want anything, no matter how small.”

Alexander turned, tears in his eyes again.
“Why?”

“
Because on the subway you were the only
one wearing red,” Daniel said simply. Alexander’s eyebrow quirked
up. “And because you hid your friends in the bathroom, and your cat
hates me, and because, because I bet you’re the worst public
speaker in the history of public speaking.”

“
I’m a story teller,” Alexander said
quietly.

“
A what?”

“
I work at a library. I read stories to
the children.”

Daniel took a few moments to digest the
information and then said, “Because you’re the worst public speaker
in the history of public speaking, yet by occupation that is what
you do. That makes your brave.”

“
No,” Alexander said softly. “I’m not
brave.”

“
I’ve known you for a grand total of
three days and I can see that you are,” Daniel replied. “You’re
here and you’re telling me all of this, and it seems difficult for
you, but you’re still telling me. Are you in pain? I think you are,
and you’re apologizing to me. Alexander.”

“
You don’t understand,” Alexander replied
slowly. “This is my life, this grief.” Immense sadness filled
Alexander’s eyes and he held up his bandaged hands once again. “My
skin is as delicate as butterfly wings. They call us butterfly
children, how easily we are rendered flightless.”

***

Daniel couldn't help but slide a hand down
his muscled stomach, hands toying closer and closer to the growing
erection in his boxers. He wanted to feel ashamed for thinking of
Alexander in this way, but it was impossible. The young man might
have exuded innocence, but he also gave off intensely sensual
vibes.

He pretended Alexander was as innocent as he
appeared. This only made him harder and he had to release his cock
from the confines of his boxers. He moaned as his cock was set
free, and immediately began to stroke himself from his thick base
to sensitive, wet tip.

He yearned for the young man, squeezing his
cock hard as he imagined the young man writhing beneath him,
neither of them touching. They would be so close, but without an
inch of skin meeting. He stroked himself faster and faster to the
thought of Alexander moaning at he gentle caress of Daniel's breath
on his throat.

“
Oh god,” he moaned, hips
arching.

He'd breathe hotly on Alexander's throat.
He'd lower his mouth and let his lips brush the petal soft
skin.

And then he'd open his mouth and devour
Alexander.

***

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Prologue

back to top

It was to be an unusual day.

Alexander sat quickly, the mattress dipping
under his weight, a strip of Vaseline gauze hanging precariously
between trembling lips, the frayed end wrapped tightly around his
right wrist. His left hand was already bandaged and was mostly
useless as he tried to wrap his other hand in the medicated
gauze.

His brows furrowed and he breathed raggedly
through his nose as he twisted his hand, winding the gauze around
and around. The bland taste of the Vaseline lingered on his
lips.

Between each finger he wound the lubricated
gauze, white and sterile, coldly slick and a bit rough. When he was
through, he gingerly lifted a roll of dry gauze and began the
process all over again. His hands felt numb now, making his fingers
clumsy and his concentration wavered. The strip fell from his
hands, hanging from his arm to settle in the crook of his
elbow.

'Not too far,' he thought. He moved his arm
up, frowning hard as the bottom portion of the gauze hung just out
of reach. Shaking his head, he bent his neck, catching part of the
gauze in his teeth only to lose it a moment later as it fluttered
down his arm once more.

His teeth ground together and a flush of
anxiety washed through him, tears prickling at his eyes. This was
the struggle he went through every morning. Not to wrap his hands,
but to halt the tide of emotions swelling below his delicate skin.
The wrapping was a less frequent event than the frustration.

He stared down at the gauze. He’d been very
rough on his hands and feet in the past months and hadn't been very
careful managing the resulting blisters. An infection in his right
hand had made things more difficult and now he wrapped everyday,
something he hadn’t done for years.

Thirteen years of this disease and he still
fought the surging helplessness that plagued him. The disease
encompassed nearly every aspect of his life. He didn’t have time
for tears today, though. He looked at his left hand, and
grimaced.

A small drop of perspiration rolled down his
forehead, and he lifted his left hand, similarly wrapped, raising
the gauze from his arm and wincing.

“Shit,” he swore, biting his lip and
wrapping his right hand as quickly as he could.

He always felt a little sore after wrapping.
It would take an hour or so before the gauze softened, becoming a
sort of second skin.

Finally, tucking the tip of the gauze
between his thumb and forefinger with tense fingers, his hand was
completely wrapped.

He smiled, attempting to calm his heavy
breathing-- the shakes all up his thighs. The numbness gave way to
pain and it was enough to make him dizzy, to form stinging tears in
the corner of his eyes.

“Not bad,” he said.

He stood weakly and caught a glance of
himself in the mirror before exiting the bedroom. His hair was
plastered to his forehead, face shockingly pale. His feet stopped
in their tracks, and he leaned towards the mirror, lips down turned
slightly.

“Okay, breathe,” he told himself. He watched
his lips part on a pained breath and a single tear rolled down his
cheek. The drop of saline slipped across his lips and into his
mouth, and he swallowed it forlornly. It was only one tear, but it
pulled at something inside his gut, and the breath felt knocked out
of him.

Looking in the mirror then (messy flyaway
curls, dark wet eyes, pale flesh) he knew why he lived alone, why
no one would try to take his unholdable, useless hand in their own.
He squeezed his fingers together, pain racing through him.

But the pain lessened, becoming a dull
throb.

He couldn’t think of his nights alone,
battling with his mirror. He couldn’t see what the mirror actually
reflected-- soft, warm, brave beauty, and the sweet, vulnerable
willingness to be loved. The mirror reflected thick mahogany curls,
spilling down a long, graceful neck and skin smooth and pale as
alabaster. Wide, innocent brown eyes, small flecks of yellow
warming the dark irises, looked up from under long lashes, closing
against threatening tears. Alexander's body was built lean and
tall, with high cheekbones, and soft frowning lips.

He saw none of this as he stood before his
mirror. He only saw the slight bend of his nose, the dark circles
under his eyes. Painstakingly brushing the sweat damp hair from his
forehead, he turned from the mirror.

He’d seen enough for now.

Pulling on his jacket, carefully adjusting
his small black bag on his shoulder, he padded through the living
room of his small apartment, eyes on the door.

“You’re needed. Don’t worry about pain, it’s
temporary,” he said aloud, steeling himself for the day ahead. He
passed his fat tabby cat on the way out, and patted the dozing
beast on the head. “You be good, Cat,” he said. He turned the door
knob as delicately as he could. It stung a bit, but it was pain he
could manage. The door opened and he stepped out into the hallway,
readying himself for the strenuous task of locking the deadbolt
shut.

None of this was unusual. These were
familiar things, things he’d lived with since before he could
remember. Pain was normal, stress even more so.

No, what was unusual wasn’t about the pain,
but about the day.

Wednesday.

Pressing the key into the lock, he sighed in
relief-- it would be an easy task today. But then his cellphone
rang from behind the closed door. He'd forgotten it again. He
scowled, unlocking the door and stepping inside to find his
phone.

“Yeah?” he said weakly into the phone. His
own voice betrayed his strength and his hand shook. Just the mere
movement of squeezing the phone sent pain all up and down his arms.
His entire body seemed rather sensitive after wrapping.

“Alex, you sound awful! You’re not coming in
today,” his friend and coworker, Elijah, scolded over the line. “We
don’t need you that badly. Go lay down, you British bastard.”

Alexander smiled despite the discomfort.
“Hey now, you bloody wank, no need for name calling. And don’t even
start. You’re short David, and Elizabeth is shit with the kids. And
you’ve got that entire new cataloging system to work through. I’m
coming in, and that’s that.”

“Alex…”

“Listen, I am already half out the door, no
sense in staying in now,” Alexander said. His voice was near
pleading and Elijah sighed over the line. Elijah knew, of course,
about Alexander’s mornings.

“You can’t help with the catalog yet, you
know that, Alex,” Elijah said, affection easing its way into his
voice.

“Yeah, but I’m brilliant with the
kids, and you’ll have a large group today. I’ll read them
Peter Rabbit
and be done with it.
I’ll be out of your hair before you even know it,” Alexander said.
He shifted the phone to his other hand, wincing, and Elijah again
sighed heavily across the line.

“You know I didn’t mean it that way, Alex.
Come on, I love having you here, but it’s your day off, and you
need it.”

“No, you need me. And you need me now. I’m
gonna be late for the subway, and won’t that be perfect? See you in
thirty, Eli.”

“Fine, you stubborn little f…” Elijah’s
voice stuttered. “Fish.”

“Kids?” Alexander asked, hearing tiny
giggles over the phone. He could hear Elijah muffling the receiver
with his hand and talking very gently to what Alexander knew would
be the eight o’clock group.

“You guessed it,” Elijah said a few moments
later, voice again clear. “I suppose I’ll see you soon. Be
careful.”

“You too, and watch your mouth, Eli.”

“Ha.”

“Bye.”

Alexander left his apartment in Greenwich
Village at half past eight and headed to the nearby subway, walking
briskly, but carefully down Bank Street, slipping large black
mittens over his bandaged hands before he entered the station. It
never did him any good to provoke stares, or worse yet, pity. His
feet ached from the somewhat fast pace, but he wouldn’t be late and
he knew the bandages would hold.