Date: Fri, 06 Jan 2006 18:00:33 +0000
From: Matt Buck <matt_v_jellicle@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Nurse, Part 7

The Nurse, by mattbuck
Part 7

All comments are appreciated - email matt_v_jellicle@hotmail.com

Other stories I've written can be found on my website, in the fiction
section http://mattbuck.sixwinter.com


My other stories in the Nifty Boy Bands section are:

Dougie's Private Fantasy
Pattycake
And I Love Him
Changing Rooms
Dreamscape
Kind of Perfect


Usual disclaiming sort of stuff, I don't know McFly, I don't know their
sexualities, this story is not in any way based on real life events. Oh,
and it contains gay sex, so please make sure you're 18.


      Dinner felt odd. Tasted great - usual Sunday fare of roast chicken,
but...  tonight we were four. I'm an only child, I'm not really used to
having anyone my age eating with me and my parents. I've had friends over
before, but we never ate with my parents, well, Jonny did once (another
Sunday dinner actually - that felt weird too), but otherwise it was just me
and my friend eating pizza or sausages or something.  Usual kids' menu
fare. It's the way it works. Your friends visit you, they come to visit
YOU, not your parents. Any interaction with parents is usually limited to
"hi" and begging for a lift. Eating a proper, sit-down-at-the-table meal
somehow seems wrong.

      Danny still seemed to enjoy it. He was chatting away happily to my
parents about his life (quite how we'd met had ended up being one of the
first topics of conversation, much to my embarrassment as Danny told the
story). I stayed quiet for the most part, content to let him hold his
own. I was slightly amazed though - he ate more than me, in a shorter time,
yet never once did I see him talking with his mouth full. Miracle boy. We
finished the main course and went to the lounge to eat choc ices and watch
something on TV - I forget what now. It wasn't that good, but it did end up
with Danny resting his head on my chest as we sat together on the sofa. It
was oddly like the way my parents watch Midsomer Murders.

      Danny at some point got up to go to the toilet, so I took the
opportunity to get the hell off the sofa, before he decided to crush me
more. Following him to the toilet would probably be a bit creepy (though
the idea of kneeling in front of him did appeal), so I settled for having
my daily dose of cartoons on the computer.  Plus, it would probably be less
suspicious. I can't say I'm exactly comfortable with acts of affection in
front of my parents. They never gave me the birds and the bees talk, and
for that, I'm thankful. I just prefer not to talk about anything like that.
Not with them anyway. So, I laughed at Foxtrot and Garfield, wondered as to
what the point of that day's Doonesbury was, and was totally nonplussed by
Cathy. I'd delete it from my cartoons list, but since I signed up for it,
Yahoo reduced the number of cartoons you can choose, and I'm scared that if
I try and get rid of that, it'll demand I remove something I actually
like. Answer email - few replies to livejournal comments, five adverts for
Viagra, three offers of lonely housewives in Pennsylvania and a request to
join some friends reunited network from a twat I knew at school (you know
who you are - we didn't like you at school, we still don't like you. Fuck
off).  Nothing unusual.  Danny hadn't got back yet and I couldn't think of
much else to do without ending up spending the evening on IRC. I knew from
experience that Danny was capable of getting me banned from every channel
under the sun within five minutes of grabbing my keyboard... Yeah, IRC
would definitely be a bad idea. Plus, my PC's in the dining room, so it's
not exactly private.

      I got up and headed to my bedroom, and met Danny coming out of the
bathroom. Games, games... hmm... why not. Perfect Dark. Not really as good
as Goldeneye, but it had better multiplayer. Of course that meant bending
over to find the cable that came out of the back of my N64 and plugging it
into the TV - I'd had to move stuff so I could fit in the extra bed next to
mine, which ended up in half the TV wires being pulled out or tangled up
with the numerous controllers. I only have a video, digibox, N64 and
Gamecube (yeah, I like Nintendo systems. Most PS/Xbox games come out on the
PC and I never want any of them anyway. N64 has Goldeneye, Gamecube has
Super Smash Brothers Melee - it keeps me happy) connected to my TV, and the
number of wires that creates...

      And of course Danny took the opportunity of me bending over to pinch
my arse. Left cheek, right cheek, in between... Damn cheeky
popstars. Still, it surprised me and made me jerk my head up to hit the
back of the TV. I just tried to ignore it...  after all, the more quickly I
finished with the wires, the quicker I could jump onto the bed... and if I
happened to end up jumping on him... oh well, there are casualties of
war. Few more seconds of fumbling with wires that all looked exactly the
same (that is one thing I like about computers - the plugs are nicely
colour-coded) and I was done. Back out slowly (avoid hitting head again),
shut door to keep out inquisitive cats and parents, turn on N64.

      He was topless. Well, I guess I do keep my room hot (if I open the
door for extended periods, it heats up the entire house a few degrees),
but... fuck it, who cares about the reason. Topless popstar equals good,
damned be anyone who says otherwise. Jumping wouldn't do him justice. I
climbed onto the bed slowly, taking in every inch of his delicious body,
idly wondering whether he was waxed or just shaved. Or even natural. Who
cares. Gorgeous boy. I playfully kissed his belly button as he lay back
against my pillows, rubbing one hand over his jean-clad upper thigh,
trailing my tongue up his smooth chest. Not too forward I hoped. Besides,
he had yet to take his trainers off, and I still owed him a kiss to his
stubbed toe.

      "Want me to kiss your head better?" He asked, almost huskily. My
answer was little more than a whisper, but the next moment his hands were
holding gently to the sides of my head, directing my face to his chest
while soft lips danced over my hair. Apart from the slight pain at the back
of my head (amazingly actually eased by Danny's kisses, though I figure
it's some psychotherapy thing - taking my mind off it, or a placebo or
something), it was blissful. The warmth of his body against me, the gentle
rise and fall with his breathing, and the words I could just hear him
murmuring above the thrum of blood in my ears. It's the sort of thing you
dream of going to sleep with every night. That night, it would be for real.

      But not until we actually went to bed.




      It turned out Danny was a lot better at Perfect dark than I'd thought
- it was actually a pretty close game, and I ended up getting some of the
co-operative missions done with him, which is actually rather fun when you
have someone good to do it with - more of a competition. I'd only ever got
to do it with simulants before, which is just annoying because they cheat -
using cloaking devices when they shouldn't.  That and they run ahead and
end up getting killed quickly by trying to take on ten machine-gun wielding
guards with a single pistol. Throughout the games (time flew), we were
getting closer, both lying on our stomachs. After he died sometime, he
decided to climb onto my back. It's all very well having a sexy popstar as
a boyfriend, but Danny was pretty heavy, or he felt it anyway. On the other
hand, having your boyfriend lying on top of you, his lips teasing your ear
lobe, is incredibly erotic, but also very off-putting when you're trying to
kill simulants. Fuck Perfect Dark (I did actually have fantasies about the
heroine in the game, Joanna Dark, for a while, but that's beside the
point). I chucked the controller onto the bed beside me, vaguely noticing
my screen had turned to the black of death, and just relaxed onto the bed,
basking in his love, slowly overheating in the sauna-like conditions I like
to keep my room at.

      "You like this?" He asked teasingly.

      "What's not to like?"

      He slowly started grinding himself against me, up and down, his
tongue writing his name on my cheek. I craned my neck, but couldn't quite
twist around enough to kiss him. Nor could I quite get my tongue to reach
his, though I'm sure he was just toying with me.

      "I've been thinking about tomorrow. I want to take you out somewhere
- proper date. Go somewhere, have fun, find a pub, eat lots of food... What
do you think?"

      It sounded perfect. Destination... we'd have to think a bit about
that. As for the food... heck, why not. My mum used to navigate by pubs
actually, and it had been far too long since I had a really nice
steak. Still...

      "I'd love to. But on one condition."

      "What?"

      "Get off me for a minute?"

      "I thought you liked this?" Fake whiney voice, beautiful.

      "I do. You can get back on in a minute."

      He reluctantly got off me, returning to the game for a minute. I
stood up and stretched, scraping my knuckles across the artex on the
ceiling. I quietly undid the buttons on my shirt, letting it fall to the
floor. The trousers were more difficult to do silently, but I managed to
get the zip undone without him noticing, and pushed them down my legs. I
decided to forego removing my socks (I don't wear shoes inside), and lay
back down, on my back this time.

      "OK cutie, you can come back now." I said in a ridiculously sing-song
voice (I can sing Coldplay and Keane in the right key on a good day). He
paused the game and turned, grinning evilly when he saw my state of
undress.

      "Am I overdressed?"

      "You have to take off your shoes before you can get on," I replied
lightly. He made a show of being annoyed at the restriction, but frankly I
didn't want his shoes on my bed anymore than he'd done already. Besides,
when one guy has shoes on and the other doesn't, stepping on feet isn't
much fun. Still, ten seconds later he was wriggling his way up my body and
lying on me, chest to chest, and twelve seconds later his lips were pressed
against mine, his tongue running over my teeth, thumbs gently stroking the
side of my face. My hands were busy elsewhere, running down his bare back,
pushing inside his jeans (finally, a reason for them to be loose other than
giving tantalising glimpses of Tesco boxer shorts), groping his lovely
arse, making sure he put pressure on all the right places. The touch of his
bare chest to mine was almost euphoric, so hot, so right. And, of course,
the look in his eyes as we kissed - the sweetness, the caring... he was
just so sweet. Being taken out on a date by him...

      We came up for air, a single thread of saliva momentarily hanging
between us, and then falling to my chin as if in slow motion. He smiled
down at me, his mop of dark brown hair obscuring his eyes. So beautiful. I
moved my hands back up, stroking along his sides, playing with his armpit
hair a bit (hey, I think it's rather sexy, on guys anyway. Fact for the day
- a hairy armpit holds 50% more sweat than a hairless one.  Think it's
something like that anyway) before running down to his chest to rub his
nipples. I suddenly had a strange urge to lick the end of his nose, but it
passed fairly quickly.

      "So... where are you taking me on our date then?" I asked, my voice a
provocative whisper.

      "I hadn't really thought that bit out yet." I grinned at his reply.
Sort of predictable but lovable. "Can we go to the seaside or something?"

      That made me laugh. "Why do I get the feeling this is more me taking
you out than the other way round?"

      "Well, we can be taking each other out. I've got a car and money, you
know where to go. Like that cartoon."

      "You're Pinky, I'm the Brain?"

      "I'm a very sexy Pinky. And the Brain," he said, running a wet finger
down the centre of my nose, "needs his chest waxed. I'll even hold your
hand while they do it. It's not that painful. Harry said that anyway. I
don't need it." The grin threatened to split his face. I managed to stay
more sober, replying,

      "What's in it for me?"

      "I'll buy you an ice cream." Ooh, intriguing. Chest wax... for an ice
cream.  No. Not if a better deal could be had.

      "A kiss, and ice cream on a hot chocolate fudge cake." (It cannot be
beaten as a dessert - as long as the cake is nice and hot, the ice cream
makes a lovely counterpoint (ooh, poetical) to the throat-burniness of the
cake).

      "Only if I can have some too." (Can I feed it to you?)

      "Deal."

      "Good. Would you like your kiss now or later?"

      "Can't I have both?" I asked. He didn't deign to reply, just eased
himself back down onto me, his lips once again meeting mine, his crotch
grinding against me.  Lovely.



      The two of us made another fully-clothed appearance before my parents
at around ten, sat and watched a videoed (well, DVDed actually, but to my
mind anything recorded at home is videoed) episode of QI from sometime
while I was at uni. It included Stephen fry giving a one hundred point
"cuttlefish prize" for anyone who spotted the cuttlefish in the show. Of
course, Alan Davies failed to win it, achieving a new low of around minus
ninety. I always support him, partly because he's funny, partly because
he's an underdog, and partly because I liked him in Jonathan Creek. I tend
to be fairly fixed in my support - I always support Paul Merton on Have I
Got News For You (or on Just A Minute, if I ever listen to that on Radio
Four), and McLaren in F1 races.

      Come quarter to, my parents had gone to bed, I'd remembered to go to
the kitchen and rinse out my Dad's milk glass before the milk stuck to the
bottom and caused me aggravation when I had to do the washing up the next
day (why he can't rinse it himself...), Danny had got me banned from two
IRC channels (including one I own - how did he manage that?), and I'd given
the cats another snack (and subsequently tried desperately to scrub the
smell of roast tuna from my hands). Eleven o'clock bed wasn't so bad, not
when there was someone to enjoy it with in preparation for a fun day
tomorrow. One of those Tesco "bags for life" seemed to have materialised in
the bathroom, chock full of various potions, perfumes, deodorants, and
shampoos. I realised that those bottles I saw in the shower at his hotel in
Nottingham - he hadn't even unpacked. I pushed it to one side with my foot
and brushed my teeth, noting the new tube of toothpaste next to
mine. Picking up my drink (a glass of Ribena light - been my drink of
choice since I managed to kick my Sunny Delight habit), I went back to my
room, remembering to leave the door ajar so that Smudge could get out again
(he's taken to sleeping on the beanbag by my radiator - you occasionally
hear him fidget during the night). Danny was already in bed. I squeezed
round the side of the bed to put the drink on the table behind his head.
He threw something at me.

      "Boxer shorts?"

      They were warm, too. He winked at me, one finger giving a "come
hither" gesture.

      I couldn't let him have it that easy. I went back to the main part of
my room (my bed area is divided off by some wooden pillars), and bent down
to stroke Smudge, who said something along the lines of "mururrh" and then
started purring loudly, writhing and making the beanbag rustle. I slipped
off my shirt, throwing it to the floor away from the beanbag so it wouldn't
have cat fur all over the inside of it by morning. Trousers were next -
thumbs hooked into the side, pull them off with the socks. I stepped back
to the end of the bed in just my boxer shorts. His tongue traced round his
lips in anticipation. I was anticipating what might happen... the next
night.  Good things come to those who wait. Who wait naked in bed.

      "Close your eyes, babe." I said. He didn't quite do as I said, but he
did put a hand over his eyes. Oh well, who was I to deny him at least a
peek? I stripped off my boxers and stood there a second (he was bound to be
looking anyway), as if hesitant on how to proceed. As if. I crouched down,
and, lifting the end of the duvet, squirmed my way into the bed. I nuzzled
my way up his legs, between his legs...  hmm...  always figured he'd be
shaved down there. Guess not. I ran my tongue along it, delighting in the
thought of what I was doing. Dirty, perverted? Well... yes and no.  Only
one lick though, didn't want to get too far... I made my way up his stomach
and chest until my head was poking out and resting on his shoulder, ending
up with one leg draped over him, ditto one arm.

      "What, only one lick? You got me all excited."

      "I don't fuck before the first date," I said, placing a kiss on his
chest. He laughed.

      "And what about after the first date?"

      "Well," I said, one hand reaching down to stroke him, "you'll just
have to wait and see."