Date: Sat, 12 Nov 2005 00:36:31 +0000 (GMT)
From: Mike Arram <mikearram@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Chav Prince 19

This is my fourth attempt at gay erotic fiction.  The earlier ones are 'The
Decent Inn' and 'Terry and the Peachers' which can be found in the Nifty
archive under the College section, and 'The Heart of Oskar Prinz' in
Beginnings.  The earlier ones provide the texture and back story to this
one, but it stands on its own.
  The story contains graphic depictions of sex between young males.  If the
reading or possessing of such material as this is illegal in your place of
residence please leave this site immediately and do not proceed further.
If you are under the legal age to read this, please do not do so.


XIX


  'How do I look,' asked Justin.
  'You just love dressing up, you vain babe you,' smiled Nathan.
  'Come on ... how does it look?'
  'Brilliant as usual, but not as brilliant as when you've got nothing on.'
  Justin laughed and fixed the flower in Nathan's buttonhole.  They were in
full morning dress.  They kissed.  It was a glorious late autumn morning,
the sun was shining and they were very much in love.
  Hand in hand, they left their room and went to find Matt or Andy.  It was
the day the older couple was to celebrate their civil partnership.  'Now
we've got a kid, Andy,' Matt had said, 'I've got to make an honest man of
you.'  Andy was at the bottom of the stair, fretting.
  'Morning dad,' grinned Justin.  'When's the car coming?'
  'It's already here.  You'd better go.  You're supposed to be there early
to hand out programmes and stuff.'
  'Sure dad,' and Justin, followed by Nathan, kissed and hugged Andy, and
ran off laughing down the steps and into a limousine, that whisked them to
a big and plush country hotel in High Barnet, which Matt had taken over for
the weekend.  It was licensed for the celebration of partnerships, and Matt
had expanded its capacity by erecting a small town of marquees around it.
  Dave Evans had masterminded the whole thing, and he was in organisational
heaven and a morning suit, pacing the grounds and haranguing the caterers.
A small orchestra was tuning up in the function room, and the other ushers
were congregating round the doors.
  'Morning Your Serene Highness.  Morning Ed.'
  Ed Peacher and Fritz were chattering away as only young teen boys can.
It had been instant friendship since they had met on the yacht at Nice.
'Ya see, Justy,' Ed had said the previous night, 'we're two heterosexual
kids in families full of queers, so we gotta be friends ... but just
friends, OK?'
  'Yes, Justy, it can put a lot of pressure on you, having gay brothers,'
Fritz confirmed.
  'Tell me about it,' said Carl White sitting close by, and a little drunk,
'I had to shag every available girl in Northampton to establish my straight
credentials when I was seventeen.  It put me off my training.  You gay guys
just don't realise what you put us through.'
  'My nose bleeds for you all,' smiled Justin, and blew them a very gay
kiss.
  Ed and Fritz had the programmes sorted and were awaiting the first
guests.  It was the most high profile celebration to date of a gay
partnership in Britain, and it was to be a major occasion.  Cabinet
ministers, actors and producers were to be there in numbers, as well as
friends and family.
  The registrar arrived, and she had got into the swing of things by
adopting an academic gown and wearing a hood.  Nathan checked over the desk
down the front with her, to make sure all was in order.  The supporters
came in soon after: Carl White and Terry for Matt, and for Andy there was
Peter Peacher and a new guy that Justin did not know but had heard a lot
about, an old friend of Andy's called Paul Oscott, a tall and gangling
bespectacled man, looking a bit harrassed.
  Paul had stopped off at the back to talk with Dave Evans, 'So you're a
father now Paulie, Andy was saying?'
  'Yup.  Haven't slept for two months ... look at the bags under my eyes.
It's been so bad that jet lag means nothing to me nowadays, it's my normal
state.'
  'What did you call him?'
  'Can't you guess?  Matthew Andrew Oscott, of course.  He's beautiful,
takes after his mum of course.'
  'Couldn't Rachel come?'
  'She's back in work, her mum's staying with us in Washington to babysit
little Mattie.  You've got to come to the baptism, it's in the new year.'
  Justin leafed through the programme as he was waiting for the first
guests: there he was listed: 'Ushers: HSH the Prince of Tarlenheim; Mr
Edward Peacher; Mr Justin Peacher-White; Mr Nathan Underwood.'  Justin was
getting used to his new name, and quite liked it.  He looked at the front
cover and smiled: 'A Celebration of the Civil Partnership between Sir
Andrew William Peacher KBE and Dr Matthew Anthony White CBE'.  The honours
had come unexpectedly in the aftermath of the kidnap, Andy for services to
young people and the disadvantaged, Matt for services to the media.  There
had been a reception for Andy at 10 Downing Street and then the trip to the
palace.  The PM had let it out that there had been a lot of pressure from
the Home Secretary, who had come out himself a decade before, to honour
high profile gays in public service properly.  The Home Secretary was to be
there today, and was getting quite chummy with Andy.
  'Hey, Gramps!' Justin said, as Tony White, Matt's father, wandered in.
  'Hullo, yer scamp!' he smiled, happy to have taken on the role of
unofficial grandparent to Justin.  Justin was the sort of lad that he could
understand, unlike Matt, as he freely admitted to Justin.  'Always reading,
that lad, so very clever.  Made you nervous about talking to him, sweet
though he always was.'  Justin had enjoyed a happy weekend with Matt's mum
and dad in Northampton after the formal adoption, being spoiled rotten by
the woman he was happy to call 'Grandma White.'  They had sent him a
birthday card and present on his seventeenth.
  'Have yer seen Dick Peacher?'
  'Not yet, Gramps.'  Tony White and Richard Peacher had a strangely warm
relationship for two such wildly different men, brought together by the
homosexual liaison of their sons.
  'I'll go and see if I can find him outside, then.'
  Justin suddenly noticed that arrivals were beginning and called the team
to order.  Soon they were busy handing out programmes and directing the
uncertain.  Finally everyone was settled and they awaited the arrival of
Matt and Andy, the orchestra was playing away at light classics, and almost
against his will Justin found himself humming along with the tunes.
  Matt and Andy did not want to do the wedding thing, and march up the
aisle.  Andy said he refused as the passive partner to carry a bouquet, as
being silly.  The point about gay relationships, as far as he was
concerned, he said, was that they weren't weddings, they were something
different.  So he didn't want to imitate the straights, he wanted new
traditions to fit new circumstances.  So they decided to come in from the
side and take up positions in front of their supporters and make their
promises and sign the legal documents.
  So they appeared and entered to great applause from the witnesses.  Andy
had decided on wearing his order with rose pink sash, star and badge, and
so Matt wore the red sash and star of his Rothenian order as well as the
badge of his CBE.  They looked very distinguished, although, as usual,
ill-matched in height.
  The orchestra played subdued mood music as they made their promises,
holding hands and kissing at the end, to great applause.  Then there were
hugs with the supporters behind them and kisses with the families.  The
orchestra struck up a march -- not Mendelssohn -- and they went out slowly,
shaking hands with the guests, and hugging and kissing the boys keeping the
door.  'Love you, dads!' Justin said to both of them with tears in his
eyes.  'Love you too, son, and so very proud of you!' was the emotional
reply as they embraced and kissed him.

Justin finally got Terry to himself late that night in the corner of a
lamplit marquee.  Ramon was off dancing with Andy somewhere.  He had seen
Terry a few times, but never to talk to on his own.  He looked well, at
least.
  'How you doin' Uncle Terry?  No really.'
  Terry gave a quirky smile at him, 'OK.  And that's all I can say, sweet
babe.  I had to take a year out from my course at JAC.  Thass not too bad,
as I was year ahead of Ramon anyway, so we'll both be juniors next year.
But it'll be a year before I'm fit for dancing again, and that's a real
pain.  I'll always be a bit nervous of the splits too.'
  'Does it ... y'know, slow you down in bed?'
  'Losing one of me balls?  No, actually it doesn't. They put a prosthetic
in, so I'm still well-balanced in the scrotum department.  I can still get
it up and squirt to order.  But I've lost me confidence in other ways.  I
resigned from Peacher Corp Security, although Richard Peacher's made me a
director and given me a pay off that means I'll never need to work again.
But I just seem to want to stay at home and read, or go out and jog, or,
best of all, lie in bed late with me Ramon.  It'll take time, I suppose.
But what about you, me favourite teen babe?'
  'I'm OK.  I doan like thinking about that time in the cellar, but I doan
have nightmares about it.  You can't miss a dad you never had, and he was a
shite sort of bloke in any case.  World's better off without him.'
  'You seem very settled with your Nathan.'
  'Ee's a good bloke, and we're getting very mature now I'm seventeen and
he's eighteen.  We just sort of snuggle together, and we laugh and have
fun.  We doan have sex three times a night like we did.  Only twice a night
now, so I s'pose we're getting' old.  But he's such a safe guy, and I've
stopped needing to shove him about.  He shoves back if I do anyway.  The
college is hard goin' but I'm better behaved than some of the others on me
course.  And whoever thought they'd hear me say that?
  Then there's Matt and Andy.  They're so ... dad-like, is that a word?
Sort of concerned and funny and generous, just like you want dads to be.
They've changed me, made me feel wanted and happy.'
  'They did the same for Paulie ... you met him?'
  'Yeah ... he's a bit of an egghead isnee?'
  'Oh yeah, although so's Matt.'
  'But when you look like Matt, you doan think of 'im as a clever bloke,
just as an amazing face ... and the rest.  I saw him nude the other
day. Couldn't take me eyes off him.'
  'Careful Justy, it'll be incest next if you're not careful.'
  Justin actually blushed, 'Nah ... he's not like that, me neether.  He's
too, sorta in the moment and controlled, know what I mean?'
  'You still working for that nice Mr Anderson?'
  'Oh yeah, we're still a team, Nate and Mate.  I gotta raise last week.
We're goin on holiday over Christmas to Rothenia, payin' for our own
tickets an' all.  Oskar, Will and Fritzy're takin' us skiing in the
Rothenian alps.  I never went skiing before.  Nate's takin' me to the
practice slope in Hendon.  He's learnin' to drive.  His dad's buying him a
car when he passes, and then I'll be learning too.'
  'So are we happy now?'
  'Blissful, Uncle Terry.  Can we come and stay wiv you in America next
year some time?  Andy's gonna give us a lift in his jet.'
  'Yeah, it'd be great.'
  'And can we do sex in a foursome?'  Justin grinned lasciviously.
  'Wha ...!  Who told you?'
  'Pete let it out.  He said Tim and Ramon had a thing and wanted to do
something about it and you and Pete went along with it.  Sounds wicked, I'd
love to give it a try.  I'd really like your ...'
  'No.  Forget it.  Absolutely not.  Totally no way.  You're a very naughty
boy, you know that?'
  'Yeah.  So they say.  But not as naughty as you, from what Pete said
... nine inches, wow.  I'd love to see that.  I'd love even more to feel it
inside me.'
  'Calm down, tyke.  Remember what happened with Pete and Tim.  I'm pretty
sure that the group sex didn't help them in the end.  If I'd been thinking
with something other than me dick last year, I'd have realised it said
something about Tim that he initiated it.'
  'Yeah, but I'm not Tim, I doan wanna be laid by half the western world.'
  'You might mention it to Nathan then.'
  'Er ... perhaps not.'
  'Just trying it on, like I thought.'
  Justin sat quiet for a moment, and, Terry thought, began looking
unusually thoughtful for him.  'Uncle Terry?'
  'Yes me babe?'
  'How long do you think me and Nate'll last?'
  'What's worrying you, little one?'
  'Gays doan have a good track record in relationships do they.'
  Terry smiled gently, 'Depends on the gays but, no, we don't.'
  'Then how much time have me and me Nate got?'
  'It depends.  Me and Ramon have been going for three years, and we don't
get less in love as years go by, and Matt and Andy have been together now
for seven.  They ain't ever going to split up.  But Pete and Tim, they were
fragile.  I didn't see it coming any more than they did.  The point is,
little babe, that it'll last as long as you both want it to, and are
willing to work at it.  Tim lost it, you may not.  And I say you, not
Nathan.  He's the rock, you have to decide whether you want to stay
anchored to him.  So think twice about foursomes, babe.  My ... that was
almost wise wasn't it?  Don't think Matt could have done better.  A brush
with death doesn't half give you perspective.'
  Justin kissed Terry, and wandered off across the floor, between the
dancing couples.  He smiled to see Nathan and Ramon together.  He wandered
out of the marquee into the evening, and the music got fainter.  Muffled
laughter drew his attention to two dark figures close together between two
clipped bushes, both tall, with the light shining off their blond heads.
Oskar and Pete, and they were kissing.  So a new boat was being pushed out
on to the ocean of relationships and into the tides of chance.  Still, at
least Oskar would have an advantage over the rest of us, Justin thought.
If Pete took one step out of line, a grey spectre would certainly be there
to tell on him.
  Justin walked back into the marquee, laughing gently to himself, and
Nathan met him at the entrance, his eyes shining.  They kissed.

THE END


This concludes (I think) the chronicles of Andrew Peacher and Matthew
White.  It seems all very right and proper that their love story should end
in a twenty-first century version of the Victorian novel's frequent ending,
a solemn union of two souls.  I hope you've enjoyed the series, if indeed
you have been following it.  Certainly I've enjoyed writing them, and
perhaps the author sometimes gets more out of these exercises than the
reader; I have learned a lot about myself while writing them.  To those who
wrote expressing their enjoyment of these electronic novellas, a sincere
thank you.  You much enhanced my zest in writing them.

There is a new and very different story now mostly written: 'Henry in the
Outfield' which will probably turn up on Nifty in a month or so.