Date: Fri, 21 Apr 2006 15:00:40 +0100 (BST)
From: Mike Arram <mikearram@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Henry in Finkle Road - 6

  All the Michael Arram stories are gathered together now on
www.iomfats.org, if you would like to investigate further the characters
featured here.
  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.


VI

Henry's awakening mind registered an immediate difference that Sunday
morning, and told him it approved.  Warm velvety skin was pressing into his
abdomen, and someone was breathing lightly next to him.  Someone else's
dark hair was in his face.  He kissed it and Gavin stirred, sighed and
turned to smile at his lover.  They kissed and their morning erections
rubbed together.  Gavin broke off, said, `Can I?' and when Henry smiled
back, disappeared below the duvet.  Henry felt his cock engulfed in a
hungry mouth that licked and suckled him for what seemed like half an hour.
  It was only when he reached down, grabbed a handful of hair and pulled
that Gavin emerged, blinking and laughing.  Henry writhed on top of him,
kissed again and began exploring under Gavin's smooth, shaved balls.  He
licked his fingers and found they penetrated easily.  He reached for a
condom and some jelly, threw off the duvet and took the boy gloriously on
his back, enjoying every expression that flitted across the blissful face
below him as he pumped the willing anus.  This was something else he had
forgotten, the joy of sheathing himself in a warm and responsive body.
  They hugged in the mutual contentment of post-coital euphoria.  Henry
looked in the boy's face.  He thought, what have I done?  Then he looked in
Gavin's smiling eyes and decided they were at least compatible lovers.
  Gavin brought something out of Henry, that was for sure.  Of course,
whatever it was, Henry thought he knew it was not love.  Love he had felt
before, and this was not what he'd had with Edward Cornish, a glorious
self-giving that had joined their souls together.  He was fond of Gavin,
very fond of him, but he felt a distance between them.  Probably -- no,
certainly -- Gavin did not feel what he felt, and sooner rather than later
Gavin would realise it.  Then the unhappiness would begin.  But for now, at
least, the loneliness was gone for both of them.
  They coupled three times more before they finally lurched out of bed and
into the shower at one-thirty.  They gave each other a sensuous wash and
went back to bed again, just to hug and enjoy their mutual warmth.  The
house was quiet and Henry was content.  He had no real idea where this new
affair was going, and did not at that moment greatly care.
  `So, Gavin baby, want to run off after Wayne now?'
  Gavin stared at him. `After sex like that?  The guy's a selfish prick and
useless in bed.  He just shags; he doesn't make love the way you do, Henry.
Do I have to leave this bed ever again?'
  `Yeah.  Sorry, Gavin.'
  `Then I'll get us a drink.  Coffee?'
  Gavin found his glasses and a pair of Henry's boxers, giggled as he put
them on, and trotted off He returned with drinks and some toast fifteen
minutes later.  `Eddie's up, with some pretty girl.  Louise, her name is, I
think.'
  `Not Katrina?'
  `No, it was definitely Louise.'
  `So it begins.  At this rate he'll have slept with half the
female-student population by the end of the year.  And at least one of them
will eventually sell her story to the press.'
  As they sat up together with their late breakfast, Gavin asked, `What are
the Peachers like, Henry?'
  `You really want to know?'
  `The personal insights denied to the media and the general public, yes
please.'
  `Umm.  In order, Richard Peacher is scary and super-intelligent and
probably the richest man in the world.  There's not much more to say other
than the fact that he is devoted to his kids and his third marriage to
Sylvia is holding very firm.  There are three boys and two girls.
  `Andy -- Sir Andrew -- is a kind and funny man who spends most of his
time working on schemes to help disadvantaged kids; he lives with Matt
White.  Peter is very different, most like his dad in intellect and
abilities, but a total hunk in body.  He heads up European operations from
offices in Strelzen.  He's gay too.  He lives with Oskar, who's a Rothenian
aristocrat and chief-of-staff to King Rudolf.  And if Pete is a hunk,
Oskar's the hunk of all hunks: tall, blond and utterly magnificent.  Oops,
got another hard on.  Sorry, but I fantasise about them doing it together.
  `Eddie?  Him you know.  I'm still trying to work him out.  Sometimes he
betrays signs of the intelligence of Pete and the niceness of Andy.  Other
times he's a total shit.  His twin sister Harriet is in college in the
States.  I've not met her, but I know Eddie misses her desperately, though
he doesn't say.  Like many twins, they were inseparable for most of their
childhood, and I guess they find it hard to be apart.  I get the impression
that he protected her, but that she provided the moral leadership he's
missing now.
  `Elaine is only five, and she's got a reputation for being her father's
favourite.  Totally cute.'
  `They all seem nice.'
  `They are nice, every one of them.  Pete is scary in a way.  He's always
totally concentrated on what he's doing; he's got a brilliant memory and
grasp of finance.  He's his father's anointed successor.  But he's devoted
to Andy and Oskar of course, and they bring out his soft and kind side.'
  `How did you get involved with them?'
  `Through my former boyfriend, Edward Cornish.  He was fostered by Matt
and Andy, who're continuing to pay for his education in university.  They
really are very kind.'
  Gavin looked a bit troubled.  `Do you mind telling me about Ed Cornish?'
  Henry put his arm round Gavin's waist and kissed his cheek.  `Not much to
say, babe.  We fell in love at sixteen.  He grew up, and I didn't.  He had
his star to follow to Cambridge, and I came here.  It couldn't go on, so I
made the first big decision of my life, and ended our affair while I still
had the strength and self-respect to do it.'
  `But now you've grown up, Henry.'
  `Do you think?'
  `You're so confident and self-possessed.  I envy you.  Nothing seems to
bother you.'
  `A lot bothers me, Gavin.  Don't idolise me.  I'm not what you think I
am.'  Henry winced at the developing hero-worship in his lover.  It wasn't
right.  He knew about his own weaknesses.  Ed had been confident and
strong, and had definitely been the dominant partner in their relationship.
Henry had been happy to follow Ed.  With Gavin, however, Henry was in the
leading role, and it did not come naturally to him.

Henry needed to find David, whom he hadn't seen in over a week.  He told
Gavin to go pack the stuff he needed from hall, and bring it down to Finkle
Road.  Because they were an item now, Henry couldn't bear the thought of
their not sleeping together.  Gavin left the house with a huge grin on his
face, clasping a door key to No. 25.  He positively skipped off towards
Northside.
  When Henry got to the Brewery, it was Terry who answered the door phone.
  `Henry!  Come up!' he shouted.  He was waiting at the lift to pick Henry
up in a huge hug.  Henry kissed him back, catching the usual whiff of
tobacco smoke.  He adored Terry.
  `How are you, Uncle Terry?'
  `You calling me that too?  Just like Petey, Nate and Justy.'
  `It seems right somehow.  You've got great avuncular qualifications:
you're generous, kind, interesting and frankly dangerous to know.  The
model uncle in fact.  You don't mind, do you?'
  `Mind?  No, I love it, little Henry babe.  And I like that piercing too.'
Terry beamed at him.
  `Where's Davey?'
  `Just popped out to Tescos.  We had no milk when we got back.'
  `Where were you this weekend?'
  `He came up to London, and we started his driving lessons.  I've bought
him a Mini Cooper.'
  Jesus wept, thought Henry.  I could do with a boyfriend like that.  The
most I'm likely to get out of Gavin is a bag of chips.
  He rallied.  `It was nice to have Justin with us, Terry.  Did he tell you
about the party?'
  Terry laughed so hard he ended up with a coughing fit.  `He's a proper
lad.  He handled it well.  That Eddie's going to be real trouble.  How are
you getting on with him?'
  `On one level, no problem.  He's full of good nature, as long as you
don't ask him to do anything around the house.  But now there's this thing
with the women.'
  `He's beginning to work his way through the female sex, I take it.'
  `That's two in just a fortnight.  It can only get worse.'
  `There's nothing we can do about it, Henry.  He's an adult ...
theoretically.  We'll just have to wait till burnt fingers teach him some
caution.'
  `How long are you staying down, Terry?'
  `Just overnight really, so I can have dinner wiv Paulie and Rachel.  I
gotta be in Berlin Wednesday.'
  `Business is good, then?'
  `We're getting to corner the market, little student babe, though the US
operation is a bit of a drain -- insurance against litigation is
phenomenal.  I'm thinking of scaling back to just taking on visiting celebs
in the States, rather than domestic contracts.  Britain's a gold mine,
though.  I'm promoting Justy to team leader, now he's nearly twenty, wiv
special responsibility for media contracts.  I'm putting him wiv two others
of me younger guys as a special team for boy bands and such like.  I'm
working on a title for him.  Any ideas?'
  `I'll think about it.'
  `He's a great worker.  Well ... you've seen him at it.  Him and Nathan are
happy too.  Nathan's his rock.  However life bobs him about, his anchor
brings him safely back to Suffolk.  But he has enough excitement when he's
working for me that he's not getting bored with the cottage at Haddesley
Hall.
  `By the way, will you be coming to the New-Year House Party?  It's down
in Andy's place this year.'  Matt and Andy had an annual three-day party
over New Year which had come to be a bit of a tribal gathering for the
Peacher set.  Henry had been invited for the past two years, but he doubted
he would be this year, now he and Ed Cornish were past history.
  Henry made a non-committal grunt, but Terry knew what it signified.  He
pulled Henry towards him, and Henry snuggled.  He kissed Henry's hair and
said, `It won't be the same if you're not there, little one.  Don't think
that your friends have forgotten you.  We haven't.'
  David returned at this point and hurled himself at Henry.  After
disentangling himself, he grinned and asked Henry how he was doing.  Then
he looked closely, pulling the tee- shirt collar away from Henry's skin.
`Something's happened, babe.  There's a love bite on your collarbone.  OK.
Who is it?  Not Frank, I hope?'
  Henry counterfeited vomiting.  `I resigned from the King's Cross on
Saturday.  Frank and I had an irresolvable difference of opinion.  And I
picked up a new guy on the way home.'
  `Fast work, Henry.  That's bouncing back.  Anyone I know?'
  `Gavin Price.'
  David gave a disbelieving stare.  `Gavin!  I thought he was tied up with
that sickening Wayne.  You seduced him, did you?'
  `More like found him in the gutter covered with slime.  But he's
polishing up nicely.  I think it'll be alright.'
  David kissed him.  `Then go for it, Henry.  He'll be a devoted little
puppy.'
  Terry looked intrigued.  `Moved on at last, Henry?  That's good.  Will I
approve of the new boy?'
  David laughed.  `Slim, boyish and dark, yeah, you'll like him, lover.'

Henry got back to Finkle Road to find Gavin unpacking in what had now
become their bedroom.  He dropped a pile of his socks and sought Henry's
arms.  He was blissfully happy, and Henry could only be happy in response.
He took Gavin by the hand and knocked on Eddie's bedroom door.
  `Yeah?'
  `Remember Gavin?'  Eddie nodded.  `He's just moved in to my room.'
  `Welcome to No 25, Gavin.  Dumped the fuckweasel?'
  Gavin blushed.  `How come everybody but me could see he was a shit?'
  Eddie adopted a serious look.  `Now Gavin, I expect you to help keep this
place tidy.  It's hard enough for me with two of us ... but now there are
three, you'll have to pull your weight, dude.'
  Gavin stared at him, unwilling to contradict a boy billionaire.  Henry
nudged him.
  `Er ...' Gavin finally stammered, `what sort of fantasy world do you live
in, Eddie?'
  Henry and Eddie both laughed.  `You're coming on Gavin, baby,' Henry
said.  `Keep it up.  You'll be impervious to shits like Wayne soon.'
  Henry and Gavin retired to the back bedroom.  Henry put some music on,
and sat in his chair, his bare feet on the bed. He opened the Bannow book,
squirming with contentment when Gavin took up his feet unasked.  Gavin put
them in his lap and began gently massaging and kissing them, but not so
much as to be distracting.  Henry smiled happily at him and made a kiss,
and Gavin looked as though he were in heaven.
  Chapter 3 of the Bannow book took Henry somewhat aback by abruptly
changing the subject.  Bannow was now on about the idea of a `holy dynasty'
in European thinking.  It was very widespread.  Royal dynasties, especially
those with pagan roots, had a sacred dimension.  Anglo-Saxon and Frankish
kings had gods like Woden, Seaxnot or Meroveus in their ancestry.  Celtic
kings were often priests too, presiding over the rituals of their people.
Conversion to Christianity did not change things that much, although kings
had to find other ways of justifying their special status.  Christians knew
they were all descended from Adam and Eve, of course, so how was one man
better than another?
  The Burgundian poet who composed the Prose Lancelot in the thirteenth
century found an inspired solution to that conundrum in the mystical
qualities of ancestors.  Having forebears who were saints, heroes, noble
kings or noble queens elevated particular families above the herd.  It gave
them transparent nobility, and sometimes more, a special relationship with
the divine.
  Then there were dynasties with more questionable -- but still magically
potent -- ancestors.  The wicked fairy Melisent endowed her descendants,
the counts of Anjou, with a homicidal temper.  An aerial spirit who slept
with the ancestress of the ducal Elphbergs gave them their red hair and
proverbial luck, and so on.
  Always in European mythology was a persistent idea of one family which
preserved potent secrets and deep knowledge denied to lesser men.  There
was a belief that the Holy Family, the family of Mary and Joseph, lived on
still in the world.  Certainly Jesus' family maintained rule over the
church of Jerusalem till the days of the Emperor Hadrian.  And although
there was an attempt to exterminate them in Galilee under Diocletian, the
bloodline of Mary and Joseph was believed to have persisted in several
families well into the time of the Arab expansion.
  This was especially true of one particular Ephesian senatorial dynasty
that gave rise to a number of the great Byzantine emperors.  Ephesus was
the place which became one of the early great centres of Christianity.
Paul preached there, but the true glory of its church was that St John the
Evangelist settled in the city with Mary the mother of Christ.  He became
its bishop and wrote his gospel and letters, while she presided over the
community, supposedly doing many miracles.  She died there, and her tomb
became one of the great shrines of Christendom.  It was said in later days
that John had married a sister of Christ and their descendants produced
Ephesian bishops, senators and magistrates.  The great emperor and
law-giver Justinian, who re-established imperial control of the
Mediterranean, was one of this family.  The bloodline continually threw up
men and women of unusual talents and abilities, a sacred imperial line
which originated in the womb that once sheltered the Lord.
  Henry put the book down and grinned.  He hadn't known that story about
the Elphbergs and their red hair.  It was particularly amusing to him
because he knew one very lucky, red-headed Elphberg, no less than King
Rudolf VI of Rothenia himself.
  Gavin smiled back across at him; he was still stroking Henry's right
foot.  `How far have you got with it, Henry?'
  `The chapter on the sacred line.'
  `That's neat.  I don't believe all that religious crap, but you have to
admit there's something behind his idea of magic and power passing down
through families.'
  All that religious crap ... Henry looked astonished at Gavin.  It appeared
the boy did possess some strong views after all.  A bit of a pity they were
anti-religious, as Henry was a confirmed Christian.  Had he mentioned to
Gavin that his dad was a vicar?  Now he thought of it, he couldn't remember
that he had.  Somehow, he needed to introduce the idea into Gavin's head
that he was a boy with beliefs, but not in such a way that Gavin would
think Henry was upset with him.
  It was time for Henry to make his weekly call to his mum.  He kissed
Gavin and went downstairs.  He used the house's landline; it was being paid
for by the EP Trust, Eddie's trust fund, so it cost Henry nothing and was
one of the perks of his job.
  `Hi Mum!'
  `Henry darling.  Oh, it's lovely to hear from you.  How's the pub job
going?'
  `I quit yesterday.'
  `Oh!  Oh?'
  `I had a falling out with the boss over the tips.  But it's OK, my
financial standing has been transformed ...' He told his mother the mixed
news about becoming a poster boy.
  She was delighted.  `I wonder if you can get a copy in the Athena shop in
Shrewsbury.  It'll look nice framed in the hall.  It'll make Ricky sick
too.  He always thought he was the pretty one of the two of you.  But now
Henry and Ed are plastered across student bedrooms the length of Europe.'
  `Only gay student bedrooms, but they're contributing to my education,
that's for sure.'
  `This does make a lot of difference, Henry.  I'm so pleased.'
  `And I've got a new boyfriend.'
  `What?'
  Henry explained Gavin's appearance in his life, omitting the incident of
the torn rectum.  Mrs Atwood was not immediately enthusiastic, but Henry
reflected that she must still be cherishing hopes he would get back
together with Ed Cornish, whom she loved almost as much as her own boys.
It had been quite a blow for her when they had broken up.
  She ended by asking the inevitable question: `Did you go to church
today?'
  `Er, no Mum.  Still finding my feet here in Cranwell.  I'll get round to
it, honest.'
  `Alright Henry.  I'm not nagging, you know that.'
  Hmph, said a rebellious part of Henry's brain, sounds like it to me.