Status: Book 0: Prologue
Keante's Heart
Prologue (page 4)
Of course, a lot of niggas Keante knew was slim. But this boy, he was slim; as in, fine, sexy slim. But let’s not exaggerate to the extremes.
He was thin of face and body, but was perfectly healthy. Keante was speechless, this nigga gotta be a size 1 or 2, he thought; a body that was slender and sexy in all the right places. Practically a size 1 in girl’s clothing—well, if you paid attention to that kind of stuff.
Closer.
Keante was already on the beach, heading towards him. It was hard for Keante to get a good look at him; even, though he could the person, the boy’s features were still blotched out. But that was what made it all the more fun to find out who he was.
Keante leaned closer over the edge of the railing, straining to get a good look.
He was young; not as young as Keante, possibly 13 or 14 at the least. He was tall, but it was hard to tell from the distance. The boy seemed oblivious to Keante, his eyes on the sea. A small sailboat plowed the waters miles away, its white sails pushed by the soft but steady motion of the wind.
Closer.
The figure was completely visible now. Keante could see him clearly. And what Keante saw, made his eyes drool and his tongue dry. He felt himself growing stiff. His cock was a quarter hard and getting solid.
His body was visible and made Keante sweat…
If there was one word that could describe this boy, Keante’s mind could only fathom one that fit him perfectly: Beautiful.
Of course, he was slim. If he wanted to, he could pass of as a girl. And if he was a girl, the other boys at Keante’s school would things like, “that bitch got ass”, or “damn she fine”, or “look at sexy slim over there”, because that’s how beautiful he was. He was thin, but not like normal boy slim; he was more like Beyoncé, Rihanna, and Jessica Alba type slim! More like the type of slim models crave for when they work to get thin. His skin was like caramel, or maybe it was copper, or bronze. Did it matter? Nigga’s body glows like honey, Keante thought to himself, only, it seems more… natural.
Like all he did was use a drop of oil, and let his skin do the rest.
Keante couldn’t wrap his head around this boy; he just couldn’t. It seemed almost inconceivable. This boy was a size 1, but was buff like he was on steroids. It was almost like he was an avatar, like those animated people of IMVU, or like that Eddy Gordo dude from the video game Tekken, but he was real... and he was beautiful...
And his skin? Keante’s hand grew sweaty as he looked at his skin. There were no bruises, bumps, etc. Nope. None. Nada. His skin was like a precious metal, freshly wrought from the forge. But even then, something about this boy unsettled Keante, like there was something about him that made Keante felt angry. The answer was there in his face: there were scars along the boy’s arms, torso, and legs. Although they seemed deep, as Keante examined, he realized they were old, and mostly faded away. But even then, that indicated only one thing: this boy was abused and hurt in the past.
Seeing these scars awoke something deep within Keante. As he saw them, he felt angry and furious. Who the fuck would do such a thing? he wondered. if I ever find out who did that to him, I’ll kill that nigga.
Closer.
Keante was already at the water when the figure full body was visible to him. Still brooding over who abused him, Keante decided to focus on something else, and once again found himself overcome by the boy’s beauty. Then, just as Keante was about to call to him, the boy turned his gaze from the sea and looked directly at Keante. Their eyes met in an instant. Keante’s dick twitched in his slacks. His breathing reduced to a low rasp. His lips were parted and his breath was hot. His eyes couldn’t shake this boy.
“No way”, he said in a low moan, “he’s so damn beautiful.”
He stared at his face.
Closer.
Looking at him, Keante’s mind couldn’t process the magnitude of how beautiful this boy was. He had an angled face, almost a teardrop shape, with small, full lips medium high cheekbones, a small, thin, classic nose, eyes slanted like a girl’s, and slightly pointed ears with small lobes that were partially flat against the head; all of these features, giving an elf-human hybrid like appearance. Like that elf, Legolas from Lord of the Rings. His face looked like Wesley Johnson and Beyoncé had had a child with Nick Cannon and Halle Berry. He did not have facial hair, no moustache, no chin hair, nor a slight beard growing in Keante, nothing but pointed, fin-shaped sideburns that faded into his cheeks. He was female in appearance, but unmistakably male in the structure of his bones. But what stood the most was the color of his hair and eyes.
For the most part, it was blue. Of course, Keante was used to seeing people with outrageous colors; a lot of them went to his school. They’d come into school with their hair, eyes, skin, etc., in range of colors, from the normal blonde and brown and raspberry, to colors like dusky orange and adobe gold, from sky blue to grass green, from neon red to hot pink, and others besides. He’d even seen colors like silver and violet, and purple and white; these colors were usually worn as extensions, highlights, streaks, and other hairstyles. But not this. This boy’s hair was blue, as in real blue, as in he was born with blue hair! It wasn’t like the blues Keante had grown up with or were used to. This blue was glossy, possibly from the oil the boy was wearing, and it was… natural. No dying, no highlighting, no gauging, no nothing. Just natural. It shimmered like the ocean beside them. Keante looked closer. His blue was covered with hundreds of pencil thin braids, and his hair flowed all the way to his thighs; the rest partially covered his face like thin braided bangs.
Next came the most delicate part of his body: his eyes.
Keante’s hazel eyes were dumbstruck. This nigga’s eyes are glowing like jewels, his mind said. And his mind was right. The boy’s blues sparkled and shined like a blue jewel, like-like sapphires, Keante realized. Yeah, he though, likes sapphires. That’s how much they glowed, like raw sapphires, and they bored into Keante; as if into his very soul. His eyes were like the depths of the ocean, ominous, inescapable, and filled with hidden wonder. And yet… they also hid a dark shadow that brought back Keante’s outrage. These hidden shadows were filled with misery, and suffering, love and happiness, hurt and abuse. Looking at him was like looking at an abused animal that still had life in to love. These were the eyes of one who’s felt pain, and has dealt with suffering, but still managed to live with it, even it almost killed them.
Looking into his eyes, Keante felt a twinge of deep love and respect for this boy. He felt like this boy had seen and felt too much pain, and that he could be the one free him of his suffering. He felt like, like he loved this boy, because he was strong and yet gentle and caring despite the way he was treated. In his eyes, Keante found his true love.
(End of Page 4)
He was thin of face and body, but was perfectly healthy. Keante was speechless, this nigga gotta be a size 1 or 2, he thought; a body that was slender and sexy in all the right places. Practically a size 1 in girl’s clothing—well, if you paid attention to that kind of stuff.
Closer.
Keante was already on the beach, heading towards him. It was hard for Keante to get a good look at him; even, though he could the person, the boy’s features were still blotched out. But that was what made it all the more fun to find out who he was.
Keante leaned closer over the edge of the railing, straining to get a good look.
He was young; not as young as Keante, possibly 13 or 14 at the least. He was tall, but it was hard to tell from the distance. The boy seemed oblivious to Keante, his eyes on the sea. A small sailboat plowed the waters miles away, its white sails pushed by the soft but steady motion of the wind.
Closer.
The figure was completely visible now. Keante could see him clearly. And what Keante saw, made his eyes drool and his tongue dry. He felt himself growing stiff. His cock was a quarter hard and getting solid.
His body was visible and made Keante sweat…
If there was one word that could describe this boy, Keante’s mind could only fathom one that fit him perfectly: Beautiful.
Of course, he was slim. If he wanted to, he could pass of as a girl. And if he was a girl, the other boys at Keante’s school would things like, “that bitch got ass”, or “damn she fine”, or “look at sexy slim over there”, because that’s how beautiful he was. He was thin, but not like normal boy slim; he was more like Beyoncé, Rihanna, and Jessica Alba type slim! More like the type of slim models crave for when they work to get thin. His skin was like caramel, or maybe it was copper, or bronze. Did it matter? Nigga’s body glows like honey, Keante thought to himself, only, it seems more… natural.
Like all he did was use a drop of oil, and let his skin do the rest.
Keante couldn’t wrap his head around this boy; he just couldn’t. It seemed almost inconceivable. This boy was a size 1, but was buff like he was on steroids. It was almost like he was an avatar, like those animated people of IMVU, or like that Eddy Gordo dude from the video game Tekken, but he was real... and he was beautiful...
And his skin? Keante’s hand grew sweaty as he looked at his skin. There were no bruises, bumps, etc. Nope. None. Nada. His skin was like a precious metal, freshly wrought from the forge. But even then, something about this boy unsettled Keante, like there was something about him that made Keante felt angry. The answer was there in his face: there were scars along the boy’s arms, torso, and legs. Although they seemed deep, as Keante examined, he realized they were old, and mostly faded away. But even then, that indicated only one thing: this boy was abused and hurt in the past.
Seeing these scars awoke something deep within Keante. As he saw them, he felt angry and furious. Who the fuck would do such a thing? he wondered. if I ever find out who did that to him, I’ll kill that nigga.
Closer.
Keante was already at the water when the figure full body was visible to him. Still brooding over who abused him, Keante decided to focus on something else, and once again found himself overcome by the boy’s beauty. Then, just as Keante was about to call to him, the boy turned his gaze from the sea and looked directly at Keante. Their eyes met in an instant. Keante’s dick twitched in his slacks. His breathing reduced to a low rasp. His lips were parted and his breath was hot. His eyes couldn’t shake this boy.
“No way”, he said in a low moan, “he’s so damn beautiful.”
He stared at his face.
Closer.
Looking at him, Keante’s mind couldn’t process the magnitude of how beautiful this boy was. He had an angled face, almost a teardrop shape, with small, full lips medium high cheekbones, a small, thin, classic nose, eyes slanted like a girl’s, and slightly pointed ears with small lobes that were partially flat against the head; all of these features, giving an elf-human hybrid like appearance. Like that elf, Legolas from Lord of the Rings. His face looked like Wesley Johnson and Beyoncé had had a child with Nick Cannon and Halle Berry. He did not have facial hair, no moustache, no chin hair, nor a slight beard growing in Keante, nothing but pointed, fin-shaped sideburns that faded into his cheeks. He was female in appearance, but unmistakably male in the structure of his bones. But what stood the most was the color of his hair and eyes.
For the most part, it was blue. Of course, Keante was used to seeing people with outrageous colors; a lot of them went to his school. They’d come into school with their hair, eyes, skin, etc., in range of colors, from the normal blonde and brown and raspberry, to colors like dusky orange and adobe gold, from sky blue to grass green, from neon red to hot pink, and others besides. He’d even seen colors like silver and violet, and purple and white; these colors were usually worn as extensions, highlights, streaks, and other hairstyles. But not this. This boy’s hair was blue, as in real blue, as in he was born with blue hair! It wasn’t like the blues Keante had grown up with or were used to. This blue was glossy, possibly from the oil the boy was wearing, and it was… natural. No dying, no highlighting, no gauging, no nothing. Just natural. It shimmered like the ocean beside them. Keante looked closer. His blue was covered with hundreds of pencil thin braids, and his hair flowed all the way to his thighs; the rest partially covered his face like thin braided bangs.
Next came the most delicate part of his body: his eyes.
Keante’s hazel eyes were dumbstruck. This nigga’s eyes are glowing like jewels, his mind said. And his mind was right. The boy’s blues sparkled and shined like a blue jewel, like-like sapphires, Keante realized. Yeah, he though, likes sapphires. That’s how much they glowed, like raw sapphires, and they bored into Keante; as if into his very soul. His eyes were like the depths of the ocean, ominous, inescapable, and filled with hidden wonder. And yet… they also hid a dark shadow that brought back Keante’s outrage. These hidden shadows were filled with misery, and suffering, love and happiness, hurt and abuse. Looking at him was like looking at an abused animal that still had life in to love. These were the eyes of one who’s felt pain, and has dealt with suffering, but still managed to live with it, even it almost killed them.
Looking into his eyes, Keante felt a twinge of deep love and respect for this boy. He felt like this boy had seen and felt too much pain, and that he could be the one free him of his suffering. He felt like, like he loved this boy, because he was strong and yet gentle and caring despite the way he was treated. In his eyes, Keante found his true love.
(End of Page 4)