Brand New Man
by Cray-Z
No one remembered how the fight started—only that it ended with blood on the pavement and silence in the air.
Elias had always drawn attention. Not just for his looks—though the sharp cheekbones and storm-gray eyes didn’t hurt—but for the way he moved through the world: unguarded, kind, and maddeningly unaware of the envy he stirred.
Jace, the long-legged carpenter who struck him down, had spent years watching Elias from the edges. Watching people gravitate toward him. Watching him laugh like he’d never been hurt. Watching him win without trying.
So when Elias confronted Jace one night—called him out for the rumors, the sabotage, the quiet cruelty—Jace snapped.
The brawl was ugly. Personal. Elias didn’t fight back much. He didn’t expect betrayal to come with fists.
When it was over, Elias lay crumpled beneath the flickering streetlight, his memory shattered like glass.
Jace didn’t run.
He sat beside Elias in the ER, hands trembling, guilt gnawing through him like rust. When the doctors said Elias had retrograde amnesia, Jace didn’t speak. He just nodded, then asked what Elias would need.
Weeks passed. Elias moved into a small apartment—his own, technically, though he didn’t remember it. Jace became his shadow. Grocery runs. Medication schedules. Gentle reminders.
Elias didn’t know who Jace was. Just that he was kind. That he made tea the way Elias liked it. That he never flinched when Elias asked the same question twice.
Jace never told him the truth. Not yet.
No one seemed to mention the fact that, during Elias’ recuperation period, Jace had crept into his bedroom in the wee hours of the morning and placed his hand down the sleeping Elias’ underwear. He didn't mention how Elias awoke as Jace was feeling around his cock and soft pubic hair.
He didn't mention how Elias continued to pretend to be asleep as the long-legged carpenter slowly pulled his sweats and underwear to his ankles and slipped them over his feet. Instead of protesting Elias feigned sleep and even squirmed a bit to make it easier for Jace to remove his clothing. He kept faking sleep even when the tall youth took his soft cock in his mouth and sucked on it until the shaft grew thick fast.
No, Elias didn't even pretend to awaken when Jace Gottis went down and sucked his balls.
Elias Brewster let out a small moan and opened his legs a little when this happened ... and that SHOULD have tipped Jace off that he was awake. But if the carpenter youth was aware that his enemy was conscious, he didn't let on. He simply licked his balls and continued licking down each leg and to his former enemy's great feet—sucked his toes and licked all around the tops of his feet. Jace hungrily licked between Elias’ toes. He moved from toe to toe, sucking each in turn until Elias Brewster's toes were wet with his saliva. And when he had finished with one foot, he lifted the other one.
The feeling of having his feet licked and sucked was beyond anything Elias had ever experienced before. He submitted to being tended to without resignation--he simply lay there and faked unconsciousness while his former enemy had his way with his feet. Jace began licking the sides of his feet. He licked Elias Brewster's soles and his heels and didn't stop until he himself groaned and shot torrents of jizz in his pants.
But when secretive sexual acts weren’t the order of the day, Jace was all but a dutiful servant. He had to bel because Elias Brewster was really struggling to get through his new life as a person he didn’t even know. It truly wore on him at disparate times. The way he hummed when he cooked. The way he stared at his reflection like it was someone else’s face. The way he cried once, quietly, when a stranger called him by name.
One night, Elias found a box in the closet. Photos. Letters. A journal.
He brought it to Jace. “Is this me?”
Jace nodded. “It was.”
Elias studied the pictures. “You’re in a lot of these.”
“I was around,” Jace said.
Elias looked at him. “Were we friends?”
Jace hesitated. “Not really. But I wanted to be.”
Elias smiled, soft and sad. “I think we are now.”
The truth came out months later. Elias remembered flashes—pain, betrayal, rage.
He didn’t speak to Jace for days.
Then, one morning, he showed up at Jace’s door. Barefoot. Eyes clear.
“I remember enough,” he said. “And I know you didn’t have to stay.”
Jace looked down. “I wanted to make it right.”
Elias stepped closer. “You did. But I’m not the same. And maybe that’s okay.”
They stood there, two men reshaped by violence and guilt, by care and silence.
And in the quiet between them, something new began.
To be continued