Date: Wed, 16 Apr 2008 17:31:06 +0000
From: Xenophon . <xenophon66@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Silver lining, part 1

Silver Lining
by
Xenophon

Disclaimer: This story involves homosexual acts between two under-age
boys. If this offends you, or is illegal for you to view, or you are too
young to read it, leave now and do not return.

This story is entirely fictitious, and any similarity to persons living or
dead, or to actual events is entirely coincidental. So there.

If you like this story, please check out my other story "They reach the
sky" in the nifty/gay/young-friends section.


Chapter 1


"I'm a bad word, a wink, a nod, a shiver, an untold story, sex without
fury, a creeping grey memory. I am incomplete." -GG



It was New Year's Eve eve, December 30th, when they came to tell me. I was
out in the back garden, having a cheeky smoke while my parents were out. I
heard the doorbell ring, followed by a loud knock. I quickly dropped my
cigarette, treading on it and kicking it down the drain, and shoved a stick
of gum in my mouth before going to answer the door. I could see blue
flashing lights through the frosted glass windows of the front door. This
didn't look good.

It wasn't. I opened the door to find two coppers, one woman, one man. The
woman asked me my name, checking I was who they expected to find. What the
hell could I have done to warrant a visit from the fuzz? They asked if they
could come inside. I asked what it was about, saying I shouldn't let
strangers into the house, and asked for ID like I'd seen people do on
TV. They produced warrant cards, and I let them in. They sat me down in the
living room and told me their news.

Both my parents were dead. Hit head on as they drove home from shopping by
some drunk teenagers who thought they'd celebrate New Year's a day
early. Those bastards had orphaned me. I had just turned 15 years old. I
felt numb. I couldn't believe it. I have a vague memory of collapsing to
the floor in tears, and someone (I guess the WPC) putting an arm around
me. Apparently a crowd of rubbernecking neighbours had formed in the
street, and I seem to remember my next door neighbour, a kind man in his
forties, firmly telling everyone to "fuck off and mind their own business",
before coming in to see what was going on. The police explained to him what
had happened. They then asked me if I wanted to see my parents. I
apparently agreed, and my neighbour offered to come with me. I don't
remember that, but the next thing I knew I was in a mortuary looking at my
parents' bodies, bringing the whole thing crashing into the world of
reality from the nightmare I had prayed it was.

The next twenty four hours are a bit of a blur. I think I stayed at home
under the neighbour's supervision- him sleeping on the couch- before my
maternal grandparents pitched up first thing in the morning. The day was
spent in mutual grief, and discussing funerals. There was no discussion of
what would happen to me- I don't think anyone was prepared to raise it yet,
least of all me. Two days later, the joint funeral was held. I wanted to do
something at the funeral but I didn't feel up to giving a eulogy. That was
beyond me- I knew I wouldn't get through it. Both my parents were Welsh,
although we had lived in north London all my life, and I decided that I
would sing 'Hen Wlad fy Nhadau' (Land of My Fathers) to honour them. After
a eulogy I don't remember from a couple of my parents' friends and my
grandfather- we had no other living relatives, so it was them and a few of
my closest friends- I got up to sing as the curtain began to close around
their coffins for their cremation. I sang a capella- and, God alone knows
how, managed to do a fair job. I felt my voice cracking at one or two
points, as I fought back tears. My grandmother was weeping openly, my
grandfather had tears running down his face as he mouthed along to the
song. As I finished, I sat back down, and hunched over and wept softly. I
remember little else of the funeral, other than vague faces coming up to
tell me how sorry they were, and how well I sang. Yeah, because praise for
singing at your parents' funeral was great comfort. That afternoon, we had
to go to my parents' solicitor's office for the reading of their will.

In the office, other than myself, were my grandparents, the social worker
who was responsible for trying to work out what the bloody hell to do with
me, and a couple I knew were good friends with my parents. I barely knew
them, but vaguely recalled their names as John and Stephanie. They had
apparently been friends with my folks since they all came to university in
London, twenty-five years ago. John had given my father's eulogy. I assumed
that some items from my parents' estate had been left to them.

The will was read, and although I understood little of the jargon, it was
later explained to me that everything bar a couple of small sentimental
items was left to me. I was to receive a personal allowance, birthday and
Christmas money, and the rest was to be held in trust, some until I was 18,
to finance my education, and the full estate would be released to me at
21. My parents had not been rich, but the full estate was worth a few bob,
and they didn't fancy me becoming an independently wealthy teenager. A life
insurance policy would pay an allowance for my upkeep to whoever became my
guardian, with any remaining funds being released to me on my 21st
birthday.

The issue of my guardianship had been heavily in question. My grandparents
were not young, and still lived in south Wales, all of which my parents had
decided meant that, although they would still be part of my life, they
would not get the responsibility of corralling a rebellious adolescent. My
parents had formed an agreement with John and Stephanie- should anything
happen to them, they would become my guardians, and should anything have
befouled John and Stephanie, they would have taken on their kids. So I was
to be sent to live with two virtual strangers and their brood of brats. I
seemed to remember they lived somewhere outside of London, so I'd be moving
away from all my friends and my school- which I liked a great deal, as
schools went- and this was all "for the best". Best my arse.

At any rate, the social worker seemed satisfied with this arrangement to a
certain extent, but explained that she couldn't just allow me to go and
live with two non-relatives immediately- they had to do a check on them
first, to check they weren't murderers or kiddy fiddlers or the like, and
to make sure they were in a position to house me and care for me. That
would take a week or so, meaning I would miss the start of school term come
what may (not that I was really feeling up to school anyway). My
grandparents would stay at my house (mine until it was sold, as soon as I
was relocated) and look after me (poor them) until checks could be made on
my potential guardians. A trial period would follow for three months, at
the end of which they would either be made my legal guardians, or I would
go into foster care. As bad as option 1 sounded, option 2 sounded worse.

A couple of weeks later, in the freezing cold of a January Saturday, my new
parents, as I suppose they were, came to take me to my new home. I was
sorely distressed by the whole thing. I resented leaving what had been my
home for my whole life, leaving my friends and school, but mostly leaving
all the memories of my parents. My grandparents had spent a few days
helping me work out which of the house contents could be sold, which put
into storage and which would go with me to John and Stephanie's. Strangely,
I resented the two nice people who had agreed to take me into their
lives. It felt like they were trying to take my parents' place, even though
they were to be my guardians rather than adoptive parents. I said
practically nothing on the car journey to their house outside north
London. As the area became more rural, I remembered the will had implied
they had kids of their own.

"How many kids have you got?" I asked.

"I beg your pardon?" John said politely. I had barely spoken on the
hour-long drive, and now spoke very softly.

"The will said Mum and Dad would look after your kids if anything..." I
stopped, the thought of my parents' death nearly pushing me into tears of
grief again. "So you have kids. How many?"

"Well David, we have two. Anna is seven, and Ben is twelve. They're at
friends' houses until later, so you can settle in without them bothering
you, and you can meet them later. I'm afraid our house only has three
bedrooms, so you'll be sharing with Ben," said Stephanie. Oh, the joy. Not
only am I orphaned, ripped from my home, forced to live with virtual
strangers, change school, leave all my friends and live in a strange house
with two bratty kids, I had to share a room with one. They say every cloud
has a silver lining. Does it bollocks.

We pitched up at my new home. It hurt to think of it that way, but I felt
like I needed something to latch on to, something stable, and this may be
it. It seemed a nice house, comfortable and a decent size, if not large-
much like my own parents' home. I got the tour of the place- usual stuff,
kitchen, living room, a small study (off limits to their kids but I was
welcome to use it when John wasn't), garden, bathroom and finally the room
I would share with the boy three years my junior. John and Stephanie left
me to settle in, and went to cook lunch. It was, I suppose, a typical
twelve-year-old's room- somewhere between a young boy and an
adolescent. There were three posters on the wall, one of Joe Cole, the
footballer (oh God, a Chelsea fan. I had followed my Dad into a lifetime of
misery supporting Cardiff City), one of Johnny Wilkinson, the rugby player,
and one of Linkin Park. Well, at least he liked rugby- something else I had
inherited from my Dad. While I generally considered myself English and
supported England at football, cricket and any other sport you care to
name, when it came to rugby, it was Cymru am byth- Wales forever. I played
it too- I was flanker for my school side- or had been, anyway. He liked
metal music too- I hated Linkin Park, thinking them pop with the volume up,
but I hoped I could persuade him to come around to more serious
head-banging tunes. The two beds were on opposite sides of the room, one
looking well-used and unmade, with Chelsea bed linen, the other looked
shiny and new, with plain red bedclothes. There was what looked like a new
bedside cabinet, wardrobe and desk. My computer was in the car, and that
could go there. Another computer sat on a desk next to Ben's bed. So this
was home. A room which was big for one but may be cramped for two
adolescent boys, in a house in a small town outside of London. My parents
were dead, my friends left behind and I was sharing a house with two
strangers, a little girl I'd never met and a Chelsea and England rugby
supporting boy to share a room with. Life sucked. Just when you thought it
was as bad as it could get, it got worse. Never rains but it fucking pours,
eh?

I sat on my new bed, and had a little cry- I had cried little since the
funeral, and now the enormity of it all had sunk in, I felt the need to
have a good weep. I had recovered and begun to unpack the stuff I had
brought in from the car when Stephanie knocked on the door to tell me lunch
was ready. John and Stephanie talked over lunch, trying to involve me in
the conversation, but I was not feeling chatty. The radio was on- I
recognised the piece. It was Faure's Cantique de Jean Racine. Another part
of my Welsh heritage was a fine singing voice, and I had been in choirs
since I was eight, and while my teenage rebellion led me into angry punk
and metal, I still listened to classical music a fair bit. I had sung
Cantique de Jean Racine three times- once as a treble, once as an alto as
my voice began to change and again last term as a fully-fledged bass. It's
a heart-breakingly beautiful piece. I had been in tears when we sang it
last term- it was just so exquisite- and had go no end of ribbing for that
at the time. Now, with everything that had happened, it was more than I
could take to hear it again. I found myself sobbing into my chilli con
carne. Stephanie got up and came around the table, putting her arm around
me, hugging me. I leaned into her- I just wanted to be held. I wanted my
mother, but she was dead, so I had to take whatever was left. Stephanie
held my gently, rocking me gently, like you would an infant, rubbing my
back and talking softly to me.

"I know, David, I know," she said. "Let it out, I'm here, it's OK, you're
alright, sweetheart."

My crying storm lasted maybe half an hour. When I was all cried out, I sat
up, pulling away from Stephanie.

"I'm sorry," I said, suddenly embarrassed about bawling like a baby in
front of virtual strangers. I sniffed, wiped my nose and dried my eyes and
cheeks. "It's just..."

"It's OK, David, don't worry about it," said John kindly, tears standing in
his eyes. "I know it's probably the last thing you want, but if you want to
talk, we're always here. OK?"

I nodded. Stephanie had to go and pick up their rugrats, so John and I
cleared away lunch. Afterwards, he went outside for a smoke. I plucked up
my courage and followed him.

"Sorry- disgusting habit, I know," he said. I smiled, pulling a pack from
my pocket and lighting one up.

"I know," I said.

"Shit, David, for God's sake what are you doing? You're too young to
smoke!" he said.

"Oh come on, I pass for 16 easy- I could pass for 18 if I needed to, just
need to dress right. And you smoke!" I accused.

"Alright, but for crying out loud don't do it when the missus is around,
and don't tell her I let you smoke!" he said. I nodded in agreement. "One
thing, David- do you prefer David or Dave?"

"David."

"Sure. David, to be clear, we have rules in the house, most of which are
small, but the big ones are- no drugs of ANY kind, and no alcohol without
our expressed permission- is that completely clear?"

"Yes sir- I don't do any of that stuff anyway. I had stoner mates from
school, and they were morons when they used it. I tried it once and hated
it- it made me feel sick and scared. I don't get drunk either- Mum and
Dad...." I nearly started crying again. "They let me have a glass of wine
with dinner or a beer now and again, but I won't drink without your
permission- not yet, anyway, and not in the house. I promise, sir."

"Call me John, David, I'm not your teacher, for crying out loud. We hope
that you can be a part of our family- we're not replacing your folks, and
we wouldn't try and wouldn't want to- but we want you in our lives as much
as Ben and Anna. That does of course mean you have to follow the family
rules, but I'll trust you- don't let me down, David," he said seriously. I
nodded, slightly choked with his kindness, but missing my parents
again. "Oh, and absolutely no smoking in the house. Ever. If we insist on
poisoning our own lungs, there's no reason to inflict it on the others. And
put your fags where Ben won't find them- if I catch him smoking I'll tan
his arse, but I'll hold you responsible if it turns out he took them from
you. I won't tan your arse, but I won't let you smoke anymore. Clear?"

"Yes sir... John." I smiled a wan little smile at him. We finished our
cigarettes and went inside. John offered me some gum to hide the smell. So
he used that trick too, did he?

The car pulled up outside. The high pitched voice of a small child came
through the door as it opened, a little girl bounding in. She stopped dead
when she saw me, and pulled back to her mother slightly, who had come in
behind her. I suppose I cut an imposing figure for a 15 year old to a 7
year old girl. I stood 5'11'' tall and was still growing. My regular rugby
and weight training (I was dire at all other sports, so avoided them) had
me in good shape- I was broad shouldered and had some good musculature
developing. My hair was dark brown, but I kept it very short- almost
shaved. I had piercing blue eyes and girls told me I was ruggedly
handsome. I was wearing baggy jeans, skate shoes and a black Bad Religion
t-shirt. If you don't know their symbol, it's like a "No Smoking" sign,
just with the cigarette replaced by a crucifix. And yes, I did wear it as
much to shock as for the band. The little girl was quite sweet- brown hair
that flowed in curls down to her shoulders, big brown eyes that looked a
bit scared just now, and she was wearing a pink t-shirt and denim skirt. I
knelt down to avoid scaring her- if I planned to stay here (and with the
alternative being foster care, that sounded the best option) it would make
life easier if I made friends with the brats.

"You must be Anna- I'm David," I said, holding out my hand. "I won't bite-
honest. I know I might look a bit scary but I'm not, I promise. Thank you
for letting me stay in your lovely house."

The girl took my hand timidly. "Mummy said you have to stay her cos your
Mummy and Daddy died. Are you sad?"

The question shocked me, and I had to blink back tears. A large lump formed
in my throat. "Yes, sweetheart, very sad. But it might make me less sad if
we could be friends."

She looked up at Stephanie. "You're right Mummy, he is nice. He's my friend
now!" she said, and hugged me. I gave a little squeeze, fighting off
tears. Kids can be so sweet. She promptly ran off to play.

Behind Stephanie, a boy came in the door, dressed remarkably like myself-
baggy jeans, skate shoes and black Slipknot t-shirt. If Anna was sweet, he
was stunning. Glossy black hair, still in a very 'little boy' style, dark
brown eyes and clear, pale white skin. I felt my pulse quicken slightly at
his appearance. He was maybe 5'2'', and looked in good shape, like he must
play sport. He had the longest eyelashes I had ever seen on a boy.

"Ben, this is David. David, Ben," said John.

"Awright," he said nodding.

"Hi," I said. I held out my hand. He took it, shaking it awkwardly. His
hand felt soft and warm. I felt a stirring in my loins. "Nice room."

"Thanks. It's yours now too. I'm... I'm sorry about... y'know..." he
stuttered.

"Thanks," I said, not wanting to get back into that. "Why don't you show me
your stuff- I didn't want to touch it when you weren't here."

"OK, sure," he said. We went upstairs into his- should that be our?-
bedroom.

Perhaps it would be appropriate at this point to reveal my biggest
secret. When I started puberty at 11, when all my friends were starting to
notice girls and talk about tits and pussy, I had begun to think about
them- my first wanks were all thinking about my male friends, and as I grew
more, I began to realise I was probably gay. About a year ago I had finally
accepted it. I hadn't come out to anyone, not even to my parents or my
closest friends. I had experimented a little bit with a friend when I was
12 and 13- mainly just tossing each other off, but we sucked each other a
few times as well. I was more interested in that than he was. He decided he
wanted to stop doing it, that it was gay, and he was interested in
girls. Since then, it had just been me and my right hand- and the marker
pen I used to stimulate my arse. I hadn't had a boyfriend or asked anyone
out- I'd never even been kissed. I had to admit, despite being younger than
me by three years, I found Ben very attractive. This could get very
awkward. Oh well, just one more thing to make my life crap. At least
sharing a room, I might have the opportunity to see him in underwear, or
preferably less. That would have to satisfy me. I sure as hell wasn't
prepared to come out to the family that had let me into their lives only
today.

Once inside the bedroom, I felt like a bit of an intruder. A boy's room is
his castle, and he had been forced to lower his drawbridge and raise his
portcullis to a total stranger- probably permanently. I felt I needed to
ingratiate myself.

"Look, Ben," I began, "I'm sorry about this- none of this is my idea. This
is your room, so your rules. I won't touch any of your stuff, and any time
you want to kick me out, do. It's bad enough that I'm in your house and
life, but... well, you didn't ask to have to put up with me. I'm sorry."

"Hey, forget it!" he said, smiling at me, exposing perfect white
teeth. "I'm OK with this- this is your room too now. I always wanted a big
brother- all I got was an annoying little sister. You seem safe, this could
be cool. It's not like you asked for...you know, what happened. You have to
put up with losing your parents AND living with a little kid. It's me
that's sorry."

I felt tears welling up. That was probably the kindest thing anyone had
said to me- it might not sound it, but I knew what it meant, and it meant
far more than you can imagine to me.

"Thanks, Ben. I kinda wanted a little brother too. And you're not really a
little kid, either. I'll try and be a good room-mate. But it's still your
room, your rules. We'll work stuff out as we go along if we have to." I
took a deep breath, fighting back the tears. I pointed at the poster on his
wall. "So, you're a Chelsea fan are you?"

He grinned, a truly gorgeous sight. "How did you guess?" he said. I
laughed. "You?"

"Cardiff City- Mum and Dad were from Cardiff."

"Oh... they're..." he hesitated.

"I think 'bollocks' is the word you're looking for. Yeah, we're no Chelsea-
but we're still the best team in Wales, and the only team outside England
to win the FA Cup."

"Really? When was that?" he looked incredulous.

"1927." He laughed, loudly. He had a hearty laugh, but still unaffected by
adolescence, like his voice.

"Rugby fan too, I see. Bloody Wilko on the wall."

"He's a legend! How can you say that? That drop goal in the last seconds of
the World Cup final..." he said.

"Cymru am byth!" I interrupted him.

"What?"

"Wales forever- I'm English born, but Welsh bred, so I support England at
football (and Wales when not playing England), England and Wales at
cricket- the team's joint remember- and Wales at rugby."

"Oh. That's cool, I guess. I didn't know the cricket team was joint," he
said.

"Didn't you guess from 'Geraint Jones' and 'Simon Jones' being good solid
Welsh names?"

"No. Do you speak Welsh?" he asked.

"A few words. I can understand more than I can speak, and I can sing more
than I can understand. I sing, by the way. Like, choir. That probably
sounds a bit gay, but it's not, I promise."

"That's cool! I sing in the choir at school too!" he said, sounding
excited. I believed him. His voice was sweet and clear. "I'm still a
treble, but I can't wait to sing lower parts. I want to be a tenor."

"You don't get to choose, I'm afraid mate. I did, too, but my voice dropped
way down. I'm a bass."

"Cool. I suppose bass would be OK."

"I've still got some stuff to bring up from the car. Would you help me?"

"Sure," he said, and we went downstairs. With help from him and John, we
brought up the last of my stuff- my computer, my stereo, my CD collection,
my books, a couple of posters and my last suitcase of clothes.

I let him look through my CDs while I put up my posters- one of the cover
of Metallica's 'Master of Puppets' album and one of the Welsh centre Gavin
Henson. He was a good player, but I got the poster mainly because he's flat
gorgeous, even if he is going out with that tart Charlotte Church.

"Cool. I've got this one," said Ben, showing me Green Day's album 'Dookie'.

"Yeah, it's OK. I tend to listen to more hardcore and less commercial punk
now."

"I've never heard of half of these," he said, rooting through the punk
box. "Bad Religion, Sick of it All, Poison the Well- can I listen to some
of these, some time?"

"Any time, mate- I'll put them into the rack in a bit, and feel free to
borrow any of them at any time. Just put them back when you've finished." I
was slightly anal about my CDs- they had to be on the right shelves, in
alphabetical order by band, and in order of release for CDs by the same
artist. Just weird like that, I guess.

"Who are these? I've never heard of this. Who's Devorrak?" he said, trying
to decipher the strange name.

"Dvorak," I said, pronouncing it correctly. "He's a composer. I like
classical music too- blame Mum." Once again, the thought of my parents made
me sad, but I didn't well up with tears again this time, at least.

"Oh. That's cool I guess."

"Let's put some music on," I said, fixing up my stereo and putting Bad
Religion's 'All Ages' in.

"This is cool! I like it!" he said, bobbing his head, like he was
mini-head-banging. His straight black hair flapped around. He was very cute
indeed. When he frowned, trying to work out some of the lyrics, I caught a
glimpse in his face of the man he would become. He was going to be
absolutely stunning.

We spent the afternoon talking about various things- football, rugby,
music, school and the like. He had gone back to school a week ago like I
should have, and I would be enrolling in his school on Monday. He told me
about it- which teachers were nice, which were nasty, what extra-curricular
stuff there was to do. It turned out that he played rugby as well, but
wasn't very enthusiastic- football was his first love. He said year 10 boys
(my year) could choose between rugby and football, while he had to do
both. He had only been at the school since September, in his first year
after primary school. He was a serious, thoughtful boy, it seemed to me. He
would laugh at funny things, but thought before speaking, and seemed not to
try and make jokes to fill in silences in the conversation. He would just
wait until he had something to say, and listen to whatever music we had
on. We took it in turns- I said he could choose, but he insisted that, it
being my stereo, we alternate. I went easy on him- my Fear Factory and
Shadows Fall albums, much heavier stuff than he was used to, stayed in the
rack.

We all had dinner together. That felt a bit strange- some good- having
these new people who had been so nice to me- some sad- it was like dinner
with my parents, only they were gone now. After dinner, we watched TV
together, before John took Anna upstairs to get her ready for bed. She came
back down in her pyjamas to get kissed goodnight by Stephanie and Ben, and
insisted on getting one from me too. She was a sweet-hearted little girl.

Ben and I went back to our room. I noticed something on the door. A
newly-printed sign (obviously quickly word processed) had been stuck to the
door. 'David and Ben's room- Keep Out' it read.

"Like it?" Ben asked, straight faced.

"Did you do that?" I asked.

"Yeah, when I pretended to go to the loo before. I wanted to make you feel
at home. Do you like it?"

I couldn't answer him. I went inside, sat on my bed, and began to sob. Ben
came in and shut the door.

"What's up? Is it the sign? I'm sorry David, I'll take it down."

"NO!" I said. "Don't. It's great. It's just... thank you. You've all been
so kind to me. I just...it's all a bit much to take in." I began to cry
again, shaking, feeling a bit embarrassed about letting this younger kid
see me bawling.

Ben sat next to me, and put his hand on my shoulder, rubbing it slightly
awkwardly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't- it's just, I was expecting to hate it here, but you've all
been so nice to me, and..." I paused, as a sob stopped me speaking. "I... I
was expecting you and your sister to be annoying little kids. But you're
cool, you've been really nice to me, letting me share your room. I guess
I'm a bit all over the place at the moment. Thank you for trying to cheer
me up- I'm sorry to be a misery guts."

"HEY!" Ben said, hugging me properly. "You're not- if my parents had died
I'd be all over the shop. You're so strong. I think you're amazing."

I stopped crying, and looked into his dark brown eyes. "Really? You don't
think I'm a great big sissy?"

"No!" he said. "I'd be proud to have you as a big brother."

"Thanks- we're not brothers, but I'd like to be friends. Friends?"

"Friends!" he said. I hugged him back.

We listened to more music and chatted a bit. John made up an excuse to take
me outside for a discrete ciggy. We talked a bit, him checking me and Ben
were getting on OK. I assured him we were. He followed me up the stairs,
saying it was bedtime for me, and that Ben was way past his normal
bedtime. He shut the door to let us get ready for bed. I always showered
before bed- mainly because I hated to sleep sweaty, and with a practically
shaved head, going to bed with wet hair wasn't a concern. I began to
undress. I pulled a towel out of my wardrobe. Stripped down to just my
boxers, I turned to Ben. He jerked his eyes towards my face. He hadn't even
begun to get undressed. I may be wrong, but I had a feeling he may have
been checking me out. Well, I did have a good body for a boy my age. It
must be my wishful thinking.

"I'm gonna take a shower. You want to go use the bathroom first?" I
offered.

"Uh, yeah. Thanks." He went into the bathroom- his room had a small
bathroom en suite, which was only for us two. It only had a toilet, shower
and sink, but as I hated baths, that was fine by me. As I sat waiting on my
bed, I heard the tinkle of him pissing and the briefest running of water as
he washed and brushed his teeth as perfunctorily as only a 12-year-old boy
can. He came back in. "All done."

I went into the bathroom, did my teeth and stepped out of my boxers and
into the shower. Is was a proper power shower, and the hot water cascading
forcefully down my body felt great. It also gave me the opportunity to have
a quick, discrete wank. I ran through some of my usual favourite mental
images- mainly men on TV or boys in my rugby team- but found my mind
repeatedly drawn back to the thought of what Ben might look like
undressed. My six and a half inch uncut cock spasmed and spurted its cream
as I imagined peeling down his underwear. I cleaned up, got out and dried
myself. I walked back into the bedroom stark bollock naked- I was used to
being seen undressed, and had never been shy when it was just guys. The
door to the bathroom was immediately behind the bedstead of Ben's bed, so
he couldn't see me come out of the room. He was already in bed. His eyes
bulged on stalks as he caught a sight of my adult sized cock, heavy balls
and ample black bush.

"Wow! That's a big one! And you've got loads of hair!" he blurted out. The
bedroom door was locked, I had checked, and Anna's and his parents'
bedrooms were the other side of the house, so we were very unlikely to be
overheard. He seemed to realise what he'd said and blushed. "Sorry."

"No problem, Ben, I was just as curious myself a few years ago. Sorry if I
shocked you- it's just I've never been shy when it's just us guys. I'll
cover up in future, if it embarrasses you."

"NO!" he said, perhaps a bit too forcefully. Maybe he WAS checking me
out. No, that was too much to hope for. "I mean, no, it's OK. I guess I
should be less shy. We are going to be living here for a while, after all."

I smiled at him, put on a clean pair of boxers and got into bed. He turned
out the light.

"Goodnight David. Welcome to our home."

"Goodnight Ben. Thank you for having me."

I lay back and tried to sleep. I'd not slept well since it happened, but
the adolescent capacity for sleep had usually pulled me into slumber
eventually. Tonight it was different. I couldn't get out of my head how I'd
lost everything- this wasn't my home, this wasn't my room, this wasn't my
bed, that wasn't my brother over there, they weren't my parents- my parents
were dead. My parents were dead. I remembered how my mother used to sing to
me when I couldn't sleep when I was little- she would sing a folk song
called 'Ar Hyd y Nos' ('All through the night'), and I would drift away. At
this, I felt tears return to my eyes and the lump rise to my throat
again. I began weeping silently in the dark. I felt myself shake and a sob
escaped my mouth. I rolled onto my side, facing the wall, and pulled my
knees up to my chest, covering my face with my hands. I kept as quiet as I
could, not wanting to wake Ben.

Suddenly I felt someone climb in bed behind me, and arms slid around me,
hugging me and stroking me. I felt a kiss on my shoulder.

"It's OK David, you're OK." It was Ben. The little sweetheart had climbed
in with me, trying to comfort me like I was a tiny child. He soothed me,
hugging me gently. I felt the tears slacken, and the racking sobs fade to a
few sniffles. I turned to face him.

"Thank you. I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"

"No, I couldn't sleep. Do you want me to stay like this?" he asked.

"I can't ask you to do that."

"You didn't- I offered. I can't sleep knowing you're so upset. If we both
can't sleep, it's better that we can keep each other company. You're not
alone, David. As long as I can, I'll never let you be alone." He sounded so
sincere, so serious, not like a boy of twelve. He was an old soul in a
boy's body. I turned to face him.

"You're so kind, Ben, I'm sorry to keep you up. If you want to stay here,
that'd be really nice, but you don't have to."

"I want to!" he insisted. "You being upset makes me sad, so staying here
stops me being sad too."

I welled up again, he was so sweet. I hugged him to me and cried into his
shoulder some more. I began to calm down, his warmth and closeness soothing
my aching heart. Soon, I began to feel that warmth and closeness affecting
more than my heart. He was only wearing boxers, and we were skin to bare
skin across most of our front sides. I was worried he would feel me start
to get hard.

"We should sleep," I said. "Will you stay with me?" I said, a bit scared,
like a toddler in a thunderstorm. He kissed my cheek quickly.

"All night." he said. I felt him smile in the dark. I rolled onto my other
side, facing the wall again, and he hugged me close. I was truly stiff
now. I had turned just in time. I clasped his arms, not wanting him to
release me. I slowly drifted into sleep, emotionally exhausted, and
confused by this beautiful boy pressing into me.



Chapter 2

"Things not what they used to be, missing one inside of me. Deathly lost,
this can't be real- cannot stand this hell I feel"- JH



I awoke and opened my eyes. Where the hell was I? I didn't have blue
wallpaper in my room, I had white paint. And the wall should be on the
other side of the bed. Then it hit me all over again. My home wasn't my
home anymore, my parents were dead and I was in a strange house in a
strange town with strange people. I felt tears welling up, but blinked them
back. I had to start dealing with my grief, or it would consume me. I had
to adapt to my new home- and that is what this house had to become. It was
a strong sentiment, but I still felt like someone had cut out a part of me.

As sleep drifted from my mind, I became aware of two things. The first was
a very full bladder, and a morning erection keeping it in check. The second
was an arm around me, accompanied by the sound of soft breathing. The hand
on the end of the arm was small and delicate, but with long fingers. I felt
the warmth of another body behind me. I remembered Ben slipping in with me
last night, trying to soothe my distress. I owed him for that. I promised
myself to do something nice for him, to make up for the disruption I had
sowed in his life and to thank him for his selflessness. From the steady,
slow sound of his breathing, he was still fast asleep. This presented two
problems. The first was that I was, by nature, an early riser, and tended
to exercise first thing to work the sleep out of my mind, and that this
would wake him up. The second, more urgent problem was that I was bursting
for a pee, and that his arm was still around me and he lay between me and
the edge of the bed. Sod it, he'd rather I chanced waking him up than piss
on him, I suspected.

I gently raised his arm off me, and slipped out from under it, resting the
arm gently on the bed when I was free. Phase one appeared not to have
awoken him. Phase two was to be more tricky. As gently as I could, I slid
down the bed and climbed over his feet. I managed it without even brushing
him. He stirred slightly, and at first I feared I had woken him, but he
simply drew his knees up a little and settled back down. He looked so
peaceful, it would have been a travesty to wake him. I slipped into our
bathroom and, after my piss boner went down, managed to relieve
myself. Once finished peeing, I thought I could try and do some exercises
in the bathroom instead of the bedroom to avoid waking him. It was a bit
cramped, but I managed to do some sit-ups and squat thrusts. There wasn't
really room for press-ups, but I guessed I could do those later. I
contemplated doing some chin-ups on the door frame, but decided the chances
of me banging the door and waking Ben were too high. I did a few extra
sit-ups to try and make up for it. The exercise felt good- pure,
uncomplicated and with no reminders of the ills in my life. That, and the
rush I got when I finished made me feel a little better. Once I was
satisfied I was properly awake, I was glistening in a thin sheen of
sweat. I slipped back into the bedroom to grab a towel for a shower. Ben
was still fast asleep. I checked his clock- it was only just gone 8 in the
morning.

The shower pleasantly washed all traces of slumber from my mind, and
stripped the sweat from my body. I contemplated masturbating again, but
remembered I hadn't locked the door, and didn't really feel like it
anyway. I know, a 15 year old who doesn't want to jack off at any opportune
moment is a rarity, but this was out of character for me, and the emotional
wringer I had been through in the past two weeks or so had everything out
of kilter. Once washed, I slipped out of the shower and dried. I hung up my
towel in the bedroom. I pulled on some clean boxers and jeans, foregoing
t-shirt for now. Being careful not to wake Ben, I slipped out of the room
and padded softly downstairs. My bottomless appetite was calling to me,and
I planned to find some breakfast. I heard the sound of the television on
softly in the living room. It sounded like Sunday morning cartoons. I
looked in to find Anna, still in pyjamas, watching the TV.

"Morning," I said softly.

She looked up suddenly at me, looking fearful of the big boy invading her
space, but then she relaxed. "Morning," she said, turning her attention
back to the telly.

"Did you sleep well, Anna?" I asked, wanting to try and form some kind of
bond with the mite.

"Yes thank you," she said.

"Have you had breakfast yet?" I asked.

"No."

"Are you hungry?" I asked. She nodded.

"What do you like for breakfast normally?"

"I like Frosties, or Coco Pops, but Mummy only lets me have them once a
week," she said earnestly. "Normally I have Rice Krispies."

"Have you had Frosties or Coco Pops this week?" I asked. She shook her
head. "Would you like me to make some for us?" She nodded, smiling at
me. "What's the magic word?"

"Please."

"OK, you show me where they are and I'll make them for us- which do you
want, Coco Pops or Frosties?"

"Coco Pops!" she exclaimed happily, bouncing up and turning off the TV
before leading me to the kitchen. She pointed out where I could find bowls
and the prized sugary cereal. I poured her a bowl of Coco Pops, and asked
her to tell me when to stop while pouring the milk into the bowl. At first
she didn't eat.

"Something wrong?" I asked, worried I had screwed up my first attempt to be
a good member of the family.

"No- I just want to wait for the milk to go chocolatey."

I smiled. "Yeah, that's the best bit isn't it?" I helped myself to a bowl,
but lacked her patience and was suddenly ravenous, and wolfed down the
whole bowl.

"You have big muscles!" she proclaimed.

"Thank you. I need to keep fit if I want to play rugby well."

She wrinkled her nose. "Doesn't that mean getting all muddy and bruised?
And doesn't that mean your ears will go funny?"

"The mud I don't mind- it's not like I wear my best clothes, and it washes
off my skin in the shower. The bruises don't hurt much- when you're playing
you don't even feel them. And only certain players get funny ears- I don't
play in those positions." She seemed to be relaxing around me a bit. She
didn't seem scared of me anymore, which was good. I didn't mind scaring off
bullies or troublemakers, but I didn't like scaring small children. Funny
that.

I cleared up our bowls, and she went back to her cartoons. I sneaked
outside for a quick smoke before anyone woke up. I had worked out that the
door John normally stood outside was under our bathroom, so no one would
see suspicious clouds or smell the odour. Once done, I went back upstairs
to finish dressing, chewing gum. Ben was sitting on my bed as I came
in. His eyes shot up at me as I walked in.

"Where were you? You were gone when I woke up, I was worried." He looked so
serious I felt guilty. I had tried to avoid waking him only to neglect that
he might wonder what was going on if I wasn't there. I was screwing up
already. My efforts with Anna, who I had barely spoken to yesterday, had
made me let down Ben, who had shown me such kindness. I had to be more
considerate in future.

"Sorry. I woke up and had to pee. Then I was really hungry, so got some
breakfast- and some for Anna too. Then I came back up. I'm really sorry,
Ben. Why were you worried?"

"Well...you were so upset yesterday... I thought you might have run away or
something." He looked genuinely concerned, dear lad.

"Where would I go?" I said smiling. "I can't even remember the name of the
town, let alone where anything is. I wouldn't do that, anyway. I'm gonna
try and make things work here."

He smiled, looking relieved. He jumped up and hugged my waist. "Good! I
like you, you're cool."

"Thanks, mate, you're cool too."

He yawned, stretched and headed for the bathroom, grabbing his towel. I put
a CD on. I wasn't in the mood for angst, so went for some Beethoven- string
quartet no.14 in C sharp minor. The slow movement will rip your heart
out. I lay back on my bed to read- one of the 'Sharpe' novels. I heard Ben
piss, brush his teeth and shower. He came back in wrapped in a towel, still
a little damp, with his hair all over the place from trying to dry it. I
pretended to be engrossed in my book, while actually I was checking him
out. He had small brown nipples, the size of a five pence coin, on a pale
chest that was just showing the begins of muscle development. His armpits
were still hairless.  His hands and feet, while still fairly small and
boyish, were big in proportion to the rest of him. His calves were smooth
and slender. I was hoping he would drop his towel and let me see more. He
turned to face me.

"David, can I ask you something?" he said, sounding hesitant.

"Yeah sure- what's up?" I said, resting the book on my chest.

"Well, when you came out of the shower yesterday... not that I was looking
or anything...it's just... I noticed your dick looked different to mine. I
mean, I know it's bigger and hairy and all, but the end looked different to
mine. Why is that?"

I wondered what he meant. I had seen my fair share of dicks, both in school
showers and on the internet, and considered myself to be quite normal.

"How do you mean, different?"

"Well..." he paused, searching for the right words. He took a deep
breath. "I suppose I've seen you, we're both boys and we'll be sharing a
room for ages, so it's OK if you see me." He pulled his towel off, exposing
himself fully.

He was exquisite. Long, slim legs with the hint of power in his thighs, not
a tan line in sight. His abdomen was flat and looked firm, with a navel
that was neither innie nor outie really- just flat like the rest of his
stomach. His genitals were exquisite- his scrotum hung fairly loose,
obviously in the first flushes of puberty. I couldn't see any hairs. He
looked about average size for his age- maybe three inches soft. I quickly
spotted what he meant- he was circumcised.

"You mean the tip? Where I have the extra skin and you don't?" I asked. He
nodded. "Yours used to look like mine- the extra skin was probably removed
when you were a baby. Haven't you ever seen a dick with a foreskin
before.?"

"No, yours is the only penis I've ever seen, except for my friend Zach when
we were younger, and his looked like mine. I've never even seen Dad's."

"Is Zach Jewish by any chance?" I asked.

"Yeah, how did you know that?" he said, surprised.

"All Jewish boys have to have it done- it's a really important part of
their religion. You must have had sex ed classes and stuff though?" I said.

"Yeah, of course, but they never said anything about that."

I was appalled. That kind of omission could really screw a kid up- thinking
there was something wrong with his most precious organ.

"It's nothing to worry about mate- they both work the same. You might have
a different technique to me, but nothing major."

"Technique?"

"You wank, right?" I said.

"No, that's dirty, and it makes you go blind." He was blushing and
blatantly lying through his teeth. Note to self- Ben cannot lie to save his
soul, don't ever put him in a position where your arse depends on his
dishonesty, or you'll need a new one.

I laughed. "Bollocks! Who the hell told you that? All boys and most men who
aren't getting regular sex- and even many that do- wank. It's not dirty,
it's healthy, and it will never, ever make you blind. Not if you do it for
a hundred years. Are you seriously telling me you don't? I do."

He blushed again. "Really? You do it too?" he said, then blushed when he
realised he'd given me my answer.

"Relax Ben- I'm not gonna tell your parents, am I- what kind of friend
would that make me?" He seemed to accept my promise. "Listen, if you've got
questions- and I sure as hell did when I was 12, and I've still got plenty
now- don't worry about them. You can ask me anything. What you did for me
last night was really kind, and I owe you big time."

"No you don't. But thank you." He paused. "How do you do it?"

"Well, I slide the loose skin up and down over the head with my fist. How
do you do it?"

"I spit on my fingers and sort of hump my fist."

I was getting slightly horny, talking about wanking in front of a boy I
found very attractive. A boy who was still stark bollock naked and standing
less than four feet away from me. A boy I could swear was getting a semi
on. I found myself licking my lips, and quickly stopped myself.

"Did you have any other questions?" I asked, filling the awkward silence
which had cropped up. One part of my brain was screaming at me to end the
conversation or at the very least change the subject before I embarrassed
myself. Another part was telling me to keep this going, to see how long I
could keep him standing naked in front of me, or perhaps even demonstrate
his technique.

"Well... it's just... I haven't started getting hair yet. And I'm twelve. I
thought most people started growing it around that age. Do you think there
might be something wrong with me?" he said, blushing. He looked scared, and
seemed smaller somehow than he had before he said it. Like he was the
awkward child rather than the old soul he had displayed since I met him.

"I doubt it- everything works as it should, right?" I asked. He nodded. "Do
you shoot when you wank?" He blushed furiously and nodded again. He was
redder than the Wales shirt of Gavin Henson in the poster on the
wall. "Then I think you have nothing to worry about. You look normal to me-
some people start different changes at different points. I'm sure you'll
get all the right stuff in the right places soon enough."

He looked relieved. "Did you have hair at 12?" he asked.

"Yeah, but I couldn't shoot until I was 13, so you're ahead of me on that
front. Don't worry about it Ben, it looks and sounds to me like you're
absolutely and totally normal. And if anything else worries you, ask me or
your dad- don't fret it in silence, that'll only make you feel
rubbish. OK?" He nodded. He was indeed getting a semi-on, his cock pointing
much more horizontally than when he had first opened his towel. He pulled a
pair of tartan boxers out of his chest of draws and pulled them on, hiding
his wonderful package from me. Not before he had given me a perfect view of
his pale bubble butt. It was a glorious sight. I managed to yank my tongue
back into my mouth before he turned around.

"Thanks David," he said. "Now you know why I wanted a big brother. I
couldn't ask Dad something like that, I'd die of embarrassment!"

I smiled. "I know exactly what you mean! I could never ask my Dad something
like that either, not that he's not cool and everything- it's just that
he's..." My voice fell away, realising what I had just said. I had spoken
like he was still alive. I couldn't ask him anything- ever again. I found
tears forming in my eyes again. I managed to avoid a full blown weeping
attack, but the lump rose in my throat and I stared at the floor, blinking
hard.

The bed moved under me, and an arm went around my shoulder, a warm, smaller
hand slipping into mine. As much as I tried to fight it, a tear rolled down
each cheek, and a sniff escaped my nose.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," said Ben, rubbing my shoulder and
squeezing my hand.

"No," I sniffed, "it's not your fault- I've got to stop doing this. I can't
go to school tomorrow and burst into floods of tears anyone mentions
parents or asks me what mine do, or why I'm moving in January a week after
term started." I looked up, the tears fading. His presence didn't feel like
the patronising sympathy I had gotten at the funeral from virtual
strangers, more a near-empathic understanding of my need to feel like there
were still people I could be close to, since all the ones I used to be
close to were dead or miles away, and I was unlikely to see them in the
near future. I looked into his eyes and squeezed his hand gently. "I'm
sorry, this must be rotten for you. And don't say you don't mind, because
at some level you must. I'm really grateful for you being so nice to
me. Anything I can do to return the favour, ask any time- I'll feel bad
unless I do, so you'd be helping me letting me help you."

He smiled, warm and with genuine amusement. "OK, I think- that last bit
didn't actually make much sense, but if I think of anything, I'll tell
you."

Something beeped and vibrated in my pocket. I hadn't remembered turning my
mobile phone on- but then again, I didn't remember turning it off the night
before, so probably it had been on all night. I pulled it out to find I had
got a text message from one of my best friends at my old school. It read:

Mist u las week. Soz bout ur folks. U ok? Wen u startin at nu skool? Cant b
worse dan here- nu rugby coach scottish n evl. Wud b gd 2 tlk 2 u- call if
u can. Steve.

(In English- I missed you last week. I'm sorry about your parents. Are you
OK? When are you starting at your new school? It can't be worse than here-
the new rugby coach is Scottish and evil. It would be good to talk to you-
call me if you can. Steve)

I smiled. Steve was a funny character- wiry, red haired and smarter than a
Saville Row suit. He had that kind of cleverness which meant his brain was
one step behind his mind, and he tended to blurt out his thoughts in a
jumble as they struck him. That hid the fact that he was actually quite a
considerate and kind boy, as when he sometimes spoke without thinking his
words offended unintentionally. He was a genius, though- top of the year in
every subject bar French (and that was only because there was a French girl
in the year), played about four instruments to post-grade 8 standard and he
did this without being remotely conceited, geeky or pompous. He played out
on the wing for the rugby team, using his wiry frame and ample pace to run
into space and score. I liked him a great deal, although in an entirely
platonic way- I just never saw him that way. I checked him out in the
showers like I did all the others, of course, but that was just politeness
for the horny gay teen. He was the only person I had considered coming out
to seriously, until the thought of his runaway tongue silenced the idea.

"Do you mind if I call this guy back? It's just- well, I haven't seen any
of my friends since... since it happened. I don't want to lose touch," I
asked.

"Of course. I'm gonna get some breakfast," said Ben, pulling on some jeans
and an England rugby shirt. He winked at me, kissing the red rose on the
chest of the top. He walked slowly towards the door, whistling 'We are the
champions' in reference to England being world cup winners last time out. I
threw a pillow at him with practised accuracy, catching him squarely on the
arse. He jumped. "Sorry! Couldn't resist!" he said. He walked downstairs
whistling 'Swing low sweet chariot'. I guess he had earned the right to
wind me up a bit in the past day. If it got too much, I could just start
singing 'Cwm Rhondda' at him in return.

I chatted to Steve for about half an hour, taking a big chunk out of my
credit. I say chatted- he chatted, I listened, mainly. It felt good to hear
a familiar voice in the unfamiliar surroundings. Just as I was finishing
the conversation, Ben came back in, his hands behind his back, obviously
holding something he didn't want me to see.

"I've had an idea of what you can do as a favour to me."

"Name it," I said, wondering what he was hiding. He pulled his hands from
behind his back, a rugby ball clasped in them.

"Help me get better at rugby- I have to play it every week, and I hate
being totally useless.

I smiled. That was hardly a request that was a chore to carry out. We went
out into the back garden, and I helped him improve his handling skills
(which were admittedly not great) by showing him a few basic things he
could change straight away to help his catching and passing. He grasped
them quickly, and improved rapidly as he adopted the techniques I showed
him and cut his bad habits- the worst of which was not watching the ball or
where he was aiming his passes. When we first started lobbing the ball
around, he would drop most of my passes, and only about half of his came
near enough to me for to claim. By the time we finished, he wasn't dropping
more than one in twenty, and his passes were all within catching distance
of me, and were on a flatter trajectory and at a higher speed.

"Better?" I asked.

"Loads! Thanks David! That's awesome! I was actually enjoying that by the
end- normally I hate rugby all the time," he beamed at me. He threw his
arms around my neck and hugged me- not firmly, just friendly, and adopting
the traditional male posture of making it abundantly clear his crotch was
nowhere near me by sticking his arse out.

"You're welcome!" I said, glad I could make him happy, and to have some
physical contact with the gorgeous creature that didn't involve me sobbing
all over the bedsheets. "There's a fair bit more than that to the sport,
but if you've got those basics, you've got the foundations of the
game. Well done! You learnt loads quickly!"

He smiled radiantly at me, overjoyed with the praise. We had been out for a
few hours, and both of us were a bit sweaty and smelly from the exertions,
even though it was freezing cold. I probably smelt rancid to Ben, but his
scent- musky boyness with a dose of the manly fragrance that I found so
intoxicating in the school changing room- was almost perfume to my
nostrils.

John called us from the back door to tell us lunch would be ready soon, and
to come in. As we walked past, he said:

"Phew! I think a shower might be in order before going near other people
with a sense of smell, boys! The pair of you!"

When a smoker tells you you stink, you stink. We headed upstairs, laughing
at his only partly simulated disgust. As we passed the kitchen, the smell
of roasting lamb and gravy assaulted us. Ben and I looked at each other and
ran up the stairs, not wanting to be late for the food the smell
promised. We locked the door once in the bedroom, peeling off sweaty
clothes and discussing who should go first- and naturally get lunch first.

"I had breakfast first so I'm hungrier, and I smell worse than you, so
it'll take me longer to get clean, so we'll get to the table closer
together if I go first," I said, not feeling too charitable as my growling
stomach demanded satisfaction.

"Yeah, but I'll be quicker than you, so I should go first," he came back.

"Yeah, but I'm bigger than you, so I'm more likely to starve to death
first," I said. I had briefly considered threatening him, but immediately
dismissed the thought- I liked Ben too much to screw things up inside 24
hours in such a horrible way over who got lunch first.

"Look, this is silly- we've both seen each other in the buff, and the
shower's big enough for both- let's shower together," he suggested.

Now THAT was an interesting thought, and not one I'd considered even in
fantasy. One part of my mind was screaming at me that this was a terrible
plan, that all it would take would be an unwelcome stiffy and I was
outed. That part of my mind was outnumbered by the parts screaming for food
RIGHT NOW and wanting to be in a confined space with Ben's wet, soapy and
most importantly stark bollock naked body. I rapidly agreed, and dropped my
underwear and grabbed a towel, trying to think of maths lessons and German
vocab lists to avoid the erection that the mere thought of the shared
shower was inspiring. Ben dropped his boxers too, exposing his splendid
body totally to my eyes- he had a semi on again- and turned to the
bathroom, giving me a perfect view of the pale moons of his bottom. He was
a fit, lean boy, showing the signs of maturation and adult musculature
developing, but still had a round bubble butt. I longed to drop to my knees
and worship that behind, pushing the buttocks together to make one juicy,
giant peach, before diving my whole face into the crevice and licking his
crack and hole in adoration.

We slipped into the shower, a little snug but not awkwardly so. Under the
warm spray, it was nigh on impossible to avoid bumping each other. I tried
to keep my eyes and thoughts to myself, but his closeness and visual beauty
were affecting me, and the threatened erection rose despite all efforts to
the contrary, extending to its full length of six and a half inches. I
turned myself so that Ben could not see. I nearly came spontaneously when
we accidentally bumped our bottoms together as we both bent over to pick up
shower gel bottles. He giggled, and I smiled, automatically turning to
apologise before I could stop myself. I found him facing me, glistening and
equally aroused as myself. His four inch cut cock stood straight up, and as
I saw his purple head that barely flared wider than his shaft, and I had
the image of it sliding easily into my virgin arsehole. I realised I was
staring at his cock, and hadn't yet apologised, and jerked my eyes into his
face, only to find him staring at my own appendage. He looked up at me
quickly, blushing dark crimson.

"Sorry," he said, "it's just- it's HUGE! I didn't know they got that big!
Do you think mine will grow that size?"

"Probably bigger- I'm still growing, but I doubt it'll get much
bigger. You've got a good sized one for your age- probably bigger than mine
was at 12. I might be embarrassed to shower with you one day."

He laughed, blushing again. "Sorry, I don't know why I got hard- it just
seems to get that way all the time."

"Hey, no problem," I said. "I'm hard too, after all. Nothing to be
embarrassed about." A wicked thought formed in my mind. This might ruin our
blossoming friendship, forced as it might be, but the off-chance he might
go for it was too much to resist. "You wanna see how I do it? Y'know, what
we were talking about before."

"You wouldn't think that's weird?" he asked, probably worried there was
something wrong with him for wanting to see another boy jack off.

"No, course not. Do you?" He nodded, his eyes fixed on my hard prick. My
foreskin had retracted on its own till only the flared rim of the helmet
was still covered. A drop of precum formed on the tip and was quickly
washed away. The warm water hitting my dick felt amazing. "OK, but fair's
fair, right? You show me too- that way we both enjoy it. Can't let me have
all the fun and you have to look at my ugly mug having fun."

"I don't think you're ugly, I think you look really good," he blurted out,
then went from his previous blush to a fearful pallor. "I mean... I..."

I smiled reassuringly at him. "Thanks mate, you look good too. Shall we get
on with it? Before the oldies get sus."

He nodded, and dropped his right hand to his cock. He made a tube out of
his hand, and slipped his wet cock into his hand, gripping it loosely, and
beginning to move his hips back and forth, as if fucking his hand. The
sight turned me on more than I had been in two years- since the last time
my friend sucked me off. This was different though- I think I fancied Ben,
my friend had simply been a method of getting off and the first exploration
of my sexuality. I slowly began to jack myself off, grasping my foreskin
and sliding it up over the knob of my dick and all the way back down again,
exposing the whole head. With my other hand, I started fondling my
testicles and massaging my perineum, adding to the pleasure coming from my
cock. I never took my eyes from Ben's cock thrusting into his hand, and
from the corner of my eye it looked like his gaze was fixed on my own
ministrations. He began to copy what I was doing with my testicles and
perineum, and from the moan which escaped his lips and the quicker pace he
started shagging his fist at, I guess he found he liked it as much as I
did. The sound of him moaning and the sight of his pistoning hips rapidly
pushed me up to and over the edge, and before I knew what was happening, I
came powerfully, three spurts of white cream hitting his pale chest and
flat stomach. As soon as my first shot hit him, he too reached his orgasm,
standing on tiptoes and thrusting one final time hard into his hand, his
spurts watery and nearly clear, and without enough power to hit me. I had
to fight the urge to drop to my knees and catch the final jets in my
mouth. I began to come back to the real world.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to hit you like that, it took me by surprise," I
said, worried I would freak him out. His grin silenced that fear.

"Awesome! You make a lot!" he said smiling broadly. He grabbed the shower
gel and soaped himself up, washing my cream away. He seemed unusually calm
for the first time he had someone else cum over him. Maybe my gaydar was
working right- maybe he did like me. No, that was my wishful thinking,
almost for certain. I quickly finished showering, and we both got out and
dried. As we pulled on clothes, urgent to get to the food that was calling
to the bottomless pits adolescent boys call stomachs, he said:

"Thank, David- that was cool. I couldn't imagine how you could wank with
the skin getting in the way."

"Thank you for showing me too- did you enjoy it?" I asked, hoping for a
revelation I was sure wouldn't arrive.

"Yeah! It's loads better when there's two of you, isn't it? More exciting."
He blushed. "I mean..."

"I know what you mean," I said. I paused, then said, "You wanna do it
together again some time?" Oh bugger, now I've gone too far and freaked
him. He'll spot me for the raving queer I am.

"You wanna?" he said, trying to sound neutral but unable to keep the
excitement out of his voice. Maybe he was just like my friend was at his
age- exploring his newly emerged sexuality and just wanting a better way to
get off.

"Yeah, it's fun," I said, trying to sound neutral too- and failing equally.

He grinned. "Cool! Maybe later tonight?" he said, all pretence gone,
obviously eager to try out this new, fun way of wanking as soon as he
could.

"It's a date!" I said, then inwardly cursed for the way I said it. How gay
did I want to sound? He didn't seem to notice, just smiled and finished
pulling his clothes on to hide his immaculate, blossoming body from my
lustful eyes. He was wearing a Chelsea shirt with 'Zola 25' on the back- it
was an out of date one, and a bit small for him- tight and alluring to my
besotted eyes. A call from downstairs jerked us back to our ravenous
hunger, announcing the serving of Sunday lunch.

Lunch was superb- Stephanie was an excellent cook, it seemed, and the roast
lamb, roast potatoes, two veg and Yorkshire pudding all swimming in thick
gravy was manna from heaven to my practically endless appetite. Ben and I
shovelled food into our mouths, rather than eating properly. John and
Stephanie ate more slowly, while Anna played with her food as much as she
ate it.

"So, are you settling OK David? Any problems? Anything we can help you
with?" John asked slightly awkwardly. Of course there were bloody problems,
I was still something of an outsider and my parents were still dead.

"No, it's OK. Ben's been great, really making me feel welcome, and Anna's
been good as gold," I said, not wanting to sound ungrateful- largely
because I wasn't. The situation was bloody awful, but Dad had been an
eternal optimist, and always tried to teach me to make the best of a bad
deal, and the family had welcomed me as well as they could, and I felt Dad
would be more proud of me trying to follow his advice by trying to look on
the bright side- as much as I could, anyway. I noticed Ben smiling and
blushing at the praise and Anna grinning broadly at me as she chewed her
food.

"We're glad, David," said Stephanie. "This must be very hard for you, and
we know this will take a long time. But we really want you to feel at home
here, so if there's anything we can do, tell us."

"I will," I said, feeling a lump forming in my throat again. I swallowed
hard, trying to dislodge it like it was a bit of stuck spud. "I guess
school tomorrow is the big test."

"Are you sure you're ready for it?" asked Stephanie, looking concerned. "I
mean, we could probably put it off for another week, if you really need
to."

"No, thanks anyway- it won't be any easier in a week, so better to get it
over with," I said. I was absolutely dreading tomorrow. Changing schools
was hard enough under good circumstances- the fitting in with the crowd,
the catching up of work, learning how to avoid the troublemakers, making
new friends and trying to learn the ways and layout of the new school. The
added feeling of being rudely ripped from my old, good school was still
very strong and would be even more so tomorrow. That, and the questions
that would inevitably follow- why are you moving a week after the start of
spring term, why have you moved here, what do your parents do and the like,
immediately followed by the questions the answers sparked- how did they
die, are you alright, do you miss them- and the sympathy (genuine,
patronising or polite). If I got through tomorrow without having to
disappear for an embarrassing cry in the boys' toilets it would be a
special kind of miracle.

"Good attitude," said John, snapping me from my worrying. "You should be
proud of yourself, David. We've got all your uniform and sports kits sorted
out," he said, changing the subject as quickly as possible, "except
swimming trunks, but the school pools being renovated at the moment, so
that can wait for a bit. Your grandparents got your sizes out of your old
clothes, so I hope everything fits OK." I nodded, mumbling a thanks. "Good
boy, Ben, for making David feel at home. But give him some space if he
needs it, OK mate?"

"No, it's fine- we've been getting on OK, it's good to have the
company. It's me that should be giving him some space," I insisted.

"Nah, you're alright David- I like having you around. You're OK- for a
Wales fan," Ben grinned at me, his dark eyes flashing with mischief. "Mum,
the lamb's really good- where's it from?"

"New Zealand, I think- why?" Stephanie answered.

"Oh, that's OK then- just if it had been Welsh, we might be eating one of
David's relatives!" he grinned, making a reference to the common jibe
levelled at the Welsh as being sheep-shaggers.

"Ben!" Stephanie gasped.

"Watch your mouth, boy!" John barked.

"What does that mean, Mummy?" Anna asked, tugging at Stephanie's sleeve.

I laughed, used to it by now- when you've been hearing an insult as long as
you can remember, it loses its sting- particularly if it isn't true. I sang
"stick your chariot up your arse" under my breath only loud enough for Ben
and I to hear. He giggled at me.

"Sorry Mum, sorry Dad," he said.

"Apologise to David!" said John.

"Sorry David," he said to me, giving me his best shit-eating grin.

"Forget it- I earned that for getting in your way for two days," I said,
grinning at him right back.

"No, that's not true- this is your home now, and Ben shouldn't be unkind
like that," Stephanie insisted. "I hope you can forgive him."

I nodded magnanimously. I had done quite well out of that little exchange-
I sounded mature and forgiving, and had strengthened my relationship with
Ben by not taking offence at his poor attempt at humour. It was a shame he
had got in his parents' black books in the process, but that was his
fault. He'd learn how to keep his nose clean soon enough.

Dinner was concluded, and Ben was punished with doing all the washing
up. John and I went out for a discrete smoke while Stephanie helped Anna
with some reading practice. I spent the afternoon checking my new uniform
fitted- turning up for my first day looking like I dressed in the dark
would be a bad start, after all. My new rugby kit brought a smile to my
face- it was red, the colour of the Welsh kit. I read for a bit on my bed
when I was done. I went downstairs after to watch some TV with the
family. Anna was taken off to bed after a little while. Around 10, Ben and
I were sent to bed too. This was a bit early for me, but I was tired and
didn't want to disturb Ben's sleep by waking him getting myself ready for
bed later. I smiled inwardly as I followed him up the stairs, my eyes at
the level of his round buttocks. This was the perfect opportunity for
another wank together. The first time I could use the phrase 'early night'
as a euphemism.

Once we had both undressed down to boxers, brushed our teeth and washed, I
sat on my bed, the room lit only by our bedside lamps.

"You OK about what I said at lunch? I don't know why I said that- it just
kind of came out before I could stop it," said Ben.

I laughed. "Don't worry about it mate, I've had much worse, and I could
tell you were just taking the piss not being nasty. Forget it."

He smiled, looking relieved. "Thanks. Feel free to take a couple of free
shots at me."

"You're on!" My smile faded. I could feel my expanding cock pressing
against my boxers. I was slightly nervous, but wanted to jack off together
again. I plucked up my courage. "You wanna do it again? Y'know, what we did
before."

"Yeah!" he said straight away. "You don't think it's weird or anything?"

"No! It's just better than doing it on our own in the dark- we're both
blatantly gonna do it anyway, so why not together?"

That seemed to make sense to him. In unison, we both rose to our feet and
pushed our boxers down to our knees. He lay on his back on the bed, and
spat in his hand. I sat up against the wall on my bed, and stroked my
now-fully hard cock gently, spreading some precum over my head. I started
sliding my foreskin up and down my cock, pulling it up so it covered the
whole head before pulling right back to expose the whole helmet. Ben
started off by thrusting his narrow hips up and down, his penis clasped
loosely in his hand. It looked like he'd worked his technique out from sex
ed classes- simulating shagging. He changed his method, sliding his
spit-slick hand up and down his beautiful dick. He seemed to like that
better, as he could do it quicker and increase the pleasure. His eyes were
fixed on my cock as I began to press on and massage my perineum. He began
to fondle his loose scrotum, tugging and stroking it and pushing the two
grape sized balls around inside. The sight of his magnificent body
pleasuring itself only ten feet away was arousing me fiercely. I wished I
was closer, that I could take over his ministrations and that he would take
over mine. I imagined swallowing that proud erection right to the hilt,
licking at his balls and hairless pubis before rising up and swirling my
tongue around his circumcised head and tonguing his piss slit. At the
thought of him spurting his watery load in my mouth, I lost control and
came, the first shots nearly reaching to my nipples. He moaned softly and
came himself, not strongly but enough to spill a couple of small, clear
loads around his navel. We both reached for tissues to clear up.

"Thanks mate, that was fun!" I said, smiling at him.

"Yeah- let's do this often!" he grinned back.

We pulled our boxers back up. I went in the bathroom for a quick
shower. When I came back, we turned the lights off and lay down to try and
sleep. As darkness blanketed the room, I found my earlier good mood
evaporate. Once again, the thoughts of the impending horror of tomorrow
took hold. How would I cope with the questions? Would I make any friends?
How would I cope at an all-boys school? That was perhaps the most
concerning one. My last school had been co-ed, but my new establishment was
boys only. Knowing what boys can be like when it's just them- the baiting,
the snide comments, the one-upmanship and the absolute loathing of all
things gay- brought me to the edge of despair. And my parents were still
dead, and I was still in a strange house, albeit one which was more
welcoming than I had hoped for. To my shame, I felt the tears well up
again, and the lump settled firmly in my throat. No amount of swallowing or
blinking could remove them, and I began to cry- properly crying, sobbing as
quietly as I could manage into my pillow. I felt myself shaking with the
grief, as if it was still fresh and brand new. Everything looked completely
bleak in my mind. The storm of my weeping continued. I felt the bed move
slightly, and Ben slid in behind me again. I was curled up in the foetal
position. He hugged my shoulders and pulled up against me, gently stroking
my hair with one hand and whispering comforts in my ear. I hugged his arm
to me, clinging on for dear life, almost. I was still sobbing, but turned
to face him.

"Oh, Ben! I'm sorry! It's just that it hurts! It still hurts so much!" I
said, the sobs racking my body. I hugged him tight, nestling against him
like he was an adult and me the child. He held me tight, still stroking my
near-shaven hair.

"I know it, does, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," he whispered. His voice was
quavering. I pulled back and looked at him. Tears stood in his eyes, and
his bottom lip was wobbling a little.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to upset you," I said, tears still rolling down my
cheeks.

"I'm not upset, I just hate seeing you like this. I'll stay here again
tonight, I won't leave you."

I was still shaking, but the convulsing sobs had passed. His eyes looked so
big and warm in the gloom. He was so kind to me. Such a tender soul, such a
beautiful heart, such a wonderful boy. Before I could stop myself, I had
leaned forward and kissed him full on the lips. I jerked my head back,
realising what I had done.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I shouldn't...I didn't mean..." I stuttered,
horrified at my weakness- I had showed my true colours, I had kissed a boy-
a twelve year-old boy. I tried to roll away, but he pulled me back
surprisingly strongly.

"No, don't apologise. No one's ever kissed me before. Thank you." He
shocked me totally by leaning in and kissing me briefly on the lips
himself.

My crying had stopped completely now, but I was still sniffing and shaking
a little. I held him close to me, looking in his dark eyes. In the gloom
they looked pitch black. I suddenly felt absolutely exhausted.

"If you want to go back to your bed you can now," I sniffed. "I think I'm
gonna be OK for now. I'm really tired. I think I need some sleep."

"I'd rather stay," he said, sounding at insistent, then said more
hesitantly, "un-unless you want me to go..."

I smiled weakly at him. "I'd love it if you stayed. I really like you, Ben,
you make me feel better just by being near."

He smiled. "I like you too, David. I feel safe sleeping near you." He
hugged my tight one last time, before we both drifted off to sleep, our
arms still wrapped around each other.



To be continued...



David has some interesting times ahead. Part two is virtually done, and
I'll try to post it in a couple of days time. Find out how David gets on at
his new school, meet the interesting characters he finds there, what
happens between him and Ben, and the new tragedy waiting just around the
corner for him.

If you liked this story, I would like to once again nudge you in the
direction of my other story, 'They reach the sky' in the gay/young-friends
directory of nifty. It's a generally more cheerful read than this.

Feedback is welcome and appreciated. I can be emailed at

xenophon66@hotmail.co.uk

Flames cheerfully deleted.

Xenophon.