Date: Sun, 20 Apr 2008 11:29:25 +0000
From: Xenophon . <xenophon66@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Silver Lining, part 2

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 gay/young-friends section.

Apologies that this took slightly longer to fine-tune and submit than I'd
hoped- I was less happy with a few bits than I wanted to be, and had to
rewrite them.

Thank you to all those who have sent their comments, feedback and
encouragement on part 1. They mean a great deal, and I really appreciate
them. To the reader who emailed me about his own writing efforts, I would
like to say this- persevere. If it's worth writing, it's worth writing
well, and practice improves us all (God knows, I need the practice!).


Chapter 3

"As I'm made to smile, these lifeless days have left me with an empty
heart. Another wounded memory dies. I could never swallow your false ideals
of a lifeless happy ending." - JM


When I awoke, the first thing I saw was the sleep-tousled black hair right
in front of my face. It was still dark outside. The initial confusion of
'where the hell am I' passed quicker than yesterday, but was still ended
with the thought of my parents' deaths and my forced relocation. That
thought didn't produce the weeping storm of last night, but it pulled me
down into a dark pit of unhappiness. The thoughts that followed lodged me
there firmly- today I would start at the new school, and I had kissed
Ben. Oh God, what the hell had I done? I had probably confused the hell out
of this probably straight boy. He said he had never been kissed- he was an
innocent, and I had intruded on that innocence. As I looked at his
beautiful face, serene in slumber, I was almost overcome with guilt. Our
arms were still around each other, but this was surely a merely brotherly
embrace in his eyes- not the far less platonic one I found myself
wanting. I began to feel tears well up in my eyes again, and felt the
racking sobs threatening. Not again! Not now! Don't make me wake him! The
thought of disturbing him was too much, and the dam burst. I began to sob
silently, shaking and weeping. I tried to gently extricate myself from his
arms, hoping to avoid waking him, but that only seemed to disturb him
more. I saw his eyes flutter and his limbs stir. He woke up, and looked
straight into my eyes. I looked away, ashamed. He saw me crying and hugged
me tighter. This made me feel worse, not better, my guilt stronger than my
grief for once, and I cried harder. I tried to pull away, but he wouldn't
have it, forcing himself against me.

"Don't!" I snapped at him between sobs. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake
you. I'll move, you go back to sleep."

"NO!" he said. "I can't sleep seeing you like this. It's OK- you've had
horrid things happen to you. I'd cry too."

"It's not that," I sobbed. "Well, not all of it."

"What is it then?" he asked, confused.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have kissed you before. I shouldn't have kept you
awake. I shouldn't even be here! It's bad enough that my life's been messed
up, but I'm messing your life up too!" I said, sobbing harder still.

"You're not messing my life up! I like having you here! I like you!" he
insisted. He put one hand to my cheek, and lightly kissed my other
cheek. "I liked it when you kissed me."

I jerked to face him. "Ben, you don't understand..."

"What?"

"I...there's... there's something else you don't know about me..." I said,
not wanting to ruin things for good.

"What? David, what is it? Tell me."

"I... I like boys," I whispered, afraid of my own voice. "I'm gay."

"And you like me?" he whispered. He'd seen right through me. "I like you
too. I don't know if I'm gay or anything, but I know I've never thought
about girls like that, and I always think about boys when I wank, and being
close to you makes me hard. And I got this really warm, tickly feeling when
you kissed me." He kissed me on the lips, lingering for a few seconds
before pulling back. I knew exactly what he had meant, feeling exactly the
same. "I got it again just then."

I looked him in the eyes, and stroked his cheek. Could it be true? Could he
feel for me what I felt for him? I thought back over our time together. How
I thought he had been checking out my body when I first stripped for a
shower, how he could never seem to keep his eyes of my crotch when I was
naked, how he had been so keen to be close to me and how he had so
enthusiastically joined in our mutual masturbation. And how he had kissed
me back. I had dismissed all those things as my wishful thinking, but could
I have been right all along?

"I'm so much older than you though, it's wrong!" I said, my guilt speaking
louder than ever.

"So? I like how you're so big and strong and grown up. I like your muscles
and your hairy body."

"But boys my age aren't supposed to like boys your age- no matter how
beautiful they are." There it was, it had slipped out- I thought he was
beautiful. He blushed gently.

"You...you think I'm beautiful?" he said coquettishly.

"I think you're the most beautiful boy I've ever seen."

He smiled, pulling me tighter. "I think you're really handsome." He stroked
my chest, running his fingers through the sparse hair which was growing
there. "So big and strong," he repeated. "I don't know if I'm gay, but I
know I want to be near you, to touch you and kiss you."

My feelings of guilt were waning fast. He may be younger than me, but he
was so grown up in so many ways- could he be old enough to make this choice
for himself? Was he old enough to know what all this meant? I thought back
to the first time I had fancied a boy. The memory came flooding back- how I
had got a giddy feeling every time he smiled at me, how I kept getting
erections I didn't understand around him, how I simply wanted to be around
him all the time, and how I wished I could be close to his body. I was
eleven at the time- I had been at secondary school for just a few
months. He was a year older than me, having been held back a year in
primary school, and was the captain of the year 7 cricket team, and a
friend- and absolutely gorgeous. I never did anything about it, and he left
at the end of that academic year, and I never saw him again. I had moped
around for months. If I had had the opportunity to be with him- as Ben had
with me now- would I have welcomed it? I realised the answer was a firm
yes. And Ben was a year older than I had been, and far more mature mentally
than I had been even at twelve. As long as Ben made the decisions for
himself, who was I to deny him the choice? My resistance crumbled- I felt
so strongly for him, and he seemed to reciprocate everything I had
expressed so far. If he ever told me "No!" I would stop everything at
once. Until he did, I would allow my feelings- and his- to be expressed. My
mind returned to the room, and my desire to be with him took control.

I leaned into him again, and kissed him gently on the lips. He closed his
eyes, and almost melted in my arms. The room was still dark and totally
silent, but to me it felt like fireworks were going off all around us, and
the climax of the 1812 Overture was playing, complete with cannon, just for
us. It was a simple kiss- just his lips pressed to mine- but to me it was
the most spectacular moment of my life. The world seemed to drift away, and
all that was left was me and Ben, locked in an embrace, our two faces
seeming to meld together. The kiss probably lasted no longer than five
seconds, but while it lasted, time seemed to stand still.

"Wow!" said Ben. "I never knew kissing could feel like that!"

"Was it OK?" I said. "I... I've never kissed anyone before."

"Really?"

"Never. I've never even told anyone I'm gay before. You're the first." I
smiled. "It's funny- we've only known each other for two days, but I trust
you more than anyone I've ever known. I didn't even tell my parents
this... I wonder what they'd say, if they knew."

"They'd say the loved you and wanted you to be happy."

How was it that Ben always seemed to know exactly what to say to me to make
me feel better while setting off my tears again? They came once again. My
emotions were so strung out all over the place that it didn't take much,
but this time they were tears of happiness, not of grief- I had found
someone who accepted me, knowing my biggest secret. And he wanted to kiss
me back. Seeing my tears, he leaned in to kiss me again. As our lips met,
the tears stopped almost instantly, and the Tchaikovsky began playing
again, still with cannon accompaniment and fireworks lighting the sky. I
couldn't help myself, and parted my lips slightly to slip my tongue through
and began to gently flick the tip against his lips. They parted, and my
probing tongue flicked inside, gently licking his teeth, until I found the
tip of his tongue. We were both inexperienced and clumsy, and our tongues
were fumbling, but the taste of his mouth and the warmth and softness of
his tongue against mine drove me to even higher plains of bliss. I suddenly
realised he was hard as a nail, and I felt his magnificent erection
pressing insistently against my belly through the thin cotton of his
boxers. I found that I was stiff as a post as well, and began to press my
own tumescence against his smooth thigh. I kept my left arm wrapped around
him, pulling us tight together, but moved my right hand around to his
front. I began stroking down his chest, gently fondling his little brown
nipples, making them erect, before stroking down to his boxers. His skin
was so warm, firm and smooth, like velvet stretched taut over a radiator. I
found the button at the top of his boxers, and unsnapped it. I felt one of
his hands stroke down my back and around my hip. I shivered at his touch,
his soft caress feeling like nothing I had ever imagined. He opened my
boxers. As I clasped his hot, pulsing prick, he clasped mine in his
smaller, soft hand. We both moaned almost at the same time into each
others' mouths. No one had touched my cock for two years, and I had
forgotten how good it felt. In fact, this time it felt better- there was
something deeper here than just a quick wank to get each other off. We felt
something for each other- something I don't think either of us understood,
but something more than mere lust.

I began to stroke up and down with my finger tips, feeling around his
circumcised head. I ran my fingers over his circumcision scar, which made
him stiffen and moan in my arms. I got some of my own precum on my hand,
and began stroking him up and down with two fingers and a thumb, gently
stroking his scrotum with my little finger as I went up and down. He felt
around my foreskin, exploring one for the first time. He ran his fingertip
around underneath, making me arch my back and press my groin harder into
him. He grasped my shaft in his whole, hot hand, and began stroking up and
down. We were both a little clumsy, unfamiliar working with each other's
differences, but my GOD it felt good! I rapidly felt my orgasm rising, and
tried to stave it off as much as I could, but at that moment Ben moaned in
my mouth and I felt his cock pulse in my hand, spurting his timid load onto
my belly. The feeling of his hot cum hitting my belly was too much, and my
much larger ejaculation sprayed powerfully onto his groin, coating his
scrotum and most of his cock. We hadn't broken the kiss the whole time. We
both stayed locked together as we released each others' now over-sensitive
pricks. I pulled him tight with both arms, and rolled onto my back, pulling
him on top of each me, our cum locking us further together in a sticky
mess. I caressed up and down his back, before stroking his bottom with one
hand. He ran one hand over my shorn hair and the other reached under me to
fondle my own muscular buttocks. We finally broke the kiss.

"That was awesome!" said Ben.

"Yeah, I've never felt so good," I said, and meant it. "I really like you
Ben. I've never felt like this about anyone before. You...you're really
special to me."

"I really like you too," said Ben. "I'm really glad you live in my room
now- we can be together all the time."

I smiled, a touch of sadness re-emerging at his words. "I wish the reasons
were different, but if...if it had to happen, then I'm glad I came here
afterwards- and I'm glad we can be together every day and night too." I
glanced over his shoulder at his digital alarm clock. "Shit! What time do
we need to leave?"

"Mum said you have to be in half an hour early to meet teachers and stuff,
so seven to be on the safe side. Why? What time is it?"

"Six."

"Bugger!" he said. "We'd better get up." He kissed me quickly on the
lips. "We don't have time for separate showers, so we'd probably be better
off showering together." He was sinful!

"Sounds good to me- go brush your teeth and stuff, I'll just do a few quick
press-ups. Don't want my chest getting flabby seeing as you like it so
much," I grinned at him. He kissed my chest. I quivered in appreciation.

"We can't have that!" he said. "Be quick, though, or we won't have time to
eat and get ready. You've got rugby this afternoon, Mum said, so make sure
you pack all your stuff." He jumped up, nearly tripping over before he
realised his boxers were around his knees. He kicked them off and walked to
the bathroom. I swung my legs out of bed and watched his perfect buttocks
as they disappeared into our bathroom. I quickly did some push-ups then
went into the bathroom as I heard water begin to run. The shower was quick
and largely uneventful, but there was a little caressing and the occasional
kiss under the flow. When we were done, I did my teeth and reached for my
shaving stuff. I only had to shave once every couple of days at this age,
but I had noticed enough fuzz on my cheeks and top lip to warrant the
hassle this morning. Ben was dressed in his school shirt and trousers by
this time, and watched me shave. I guessed he'd never shaved- his cheeks
were still smooth and he had only the faintest blonde shadow on his top
lip- and was curious about the process. I was still quite poor at using a
razor, but managed to make a fair job of it without cutting myself.

I dressed as Ben watched, his eyes lingering over every last bit of bare
flesh. As I packed for school, he finished his own attire, putting on his
red tie and pulling a black v-neck jumper on over the top. My own tie was
grey with red horizontal stripes- apparently his was a lower school tie,
mine a middle school one. That, at least, tallied with my old school- one
less thing to get used to, I supposed. Before we went downstairs, we stood
in front of each other, looking each other up and down. He looked
strikingly handsome in his school uniform, smart and a perfect little
gentleman, his shoes buffed, his hair neat and his tie perfectly
straight. I imagined I looked a little more rebellious- my tie was
deliberately loose, my shoes were older and more scuffed and my
nearly-shaven hair made me look more of a ruffian. His uniform suited him
oddly- his white shirt, black trousers and pullover complimenting perfectly
his pale skin and dark hair and eyes. I kissed him quickly, before heading
downstairs. He had a grin on his face that gave him a radiant glow, but
lent a slightly addled look to his normally intelligent face. I hope his
parents didn't see it, otherwise questions neither of us would want to
answer may follow. Thankfully, he'd adopted his usual thoughtful expression
by the time we sat down to a Weetabix breakfast.

John and Stephanie were dressed for work, Anna was wearing civvies for her
school day. My guardians had to be at work early (John was some kind of
office manager in the town, Stephanie a nurse at the nearest hospital half
an hour's drive away, so he was in a suit, her in a dark blue nurses
uniform) so I was to report to some office in the school on my own and John
would meet with me and my teachers at the end of the day to work out any
issues. The school had apparently been fully informed of my situation, and
had arrangements to help me 'settle in' and provision for any
'difficulties' I might have 'settling into my new circumstances' (i.e.- "if
the kid falls apart because he's just been doubly bereaved and had his life
ripped apart, we'll do our best"). Ben would show me where to go and
introduce me to the people responsible for me before going to his own
classroom. When we had eaten, Ben and I put on our school blazers, grabbed
our stuff and headed off to school. On the fifteen minute or so walk, I
pumped Ben for information that might help me avoid getting myself into
unnecessary grief. I was nervous as hell- bordering on panic, almost. I
found myself shaking slightly. It may have been from the cold, crisp air of
the winter morning, but I doubt it.

"So, who I am I meeting first, again?" I asked at one point.

"The headteacher Mr Hughes, the head of the middle school Miss East, the
head of year 10 Mr Singh and your form tutor Mr Andrews. Mr Hughes I've
never met, Miss East teaches me French- she's nice, but doesn't let you
take liberties- Mr Singh teaches biology and I've never had him, and Mr
Andrews teaches music- he runs the choir, he's nice but a
bit... well... bonkers. You'll like him though."

"What do people do for lunch?" I asked next.

"Well, some people have lunch in the school cafeteria- have you got money?"
I nodded. I had enough to get by but not enough that I'd miss it if it got
nicked. "Some take packed lunch, and some of the older boys go out to the
local shops and cafes- greasy spoons, not Starbucks, I'm afraid. You'll be
allowed, but I'm not- year 9 and below aren't allowed off site during
school hours."

"I'll bring you back a Twix if I go out." I said.

"Thanks!"

And before I knew it, we were there. My old school had been a thoroughly
modern, well-designed building. My new school had probably said the same
thing when it was built- sadly, that was roughly the same time the Beatles
were top of the charts and JFK was President of the United States. Now, it
was an ugly, squat, concrete and glass monstrosity in the most horrific
vomit green paint you can possibly imagine. My heart sank. Ben led me
through the gates. The playground was still largely deserted, we were so
early, but a few boys were kicking a football around. One or two stared at
us as we passed. I gave those few my best "fuck off" stare right back, and
they looked away hurriedly. My piercing blue eyes, strong build and shaven
head could be intimidating when I chose to use them right. The door to the
school was guarded by a young teacher who was rubbing his hands together
against the cold of the British winter. Ben quickly pulled a letter out of
his pocket to explain why we should be allowed in early, and we were
ushered inside. He led me down the corridors to a door marked "Middle
School Office" and knocked. A booming "COME IN!" sounded, and he timidly
pushed the door open, and we went inside.

There were three men, a woman and another boy inside. The man nearest me
was fat and blonde, and about forty. The second was obviously of Indian
decent and about the same age but in much better shape- he looked like he
could open the bowling for Middlesex, his shoulders were so powerful. The
woman was plump, greying and about fifty. The last man was sixty if he was
a day, and had the kind of body that implied he had once been powerful- a
natural second row build- but had long since lost the battle with a
paunch. He was bald as an egg and had small gold-rimmed spectacles. The boy
looked to be about Ben's age, albeit an inch or two taller. He was rake
thin, had mousy hair cut in a pudding basin fashion and freckles, only
partially concealed by the ugly NHS glasses he wore. I think I was looking
at a kid that got straight 'A's every term and a beating every lunch
break. What was he doing here? He was surely too young to be in the middle
school.

"Miss East? I was told to bring David Jones to see you?" said Ben
nervously, not liking being scrutinised by three of the most senior
teachers in school.

"Thank you, Ben. You can go now- don't worry about going back outside, I
know it's cold. Just wait quietly in your classroom," said the lady- Miss
East, I presumed. "David Jones?" she asked after Ben had gone. The room
seemed darker without him, somehow. I nodded to the question. "I'm Miss
East, head of the middle school. This is Mr Singh, head of your year-" she
indicated the Asian man "- Mr Andrews, your form tutor-" she indicated the
fat blonde man, who smiled slightly and inclined his head "- and Mr Hughes,
the headteacher," she finished, indicating the oldest man. I noticed she
spoke with a slight Geordie accent.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, young man," said Mr Hughes in a deep,
sonorous voice. It had been he that had boomed "come in" before, I could
tell. "I'm so terribly sorry to hear about your family tragedy. We will do
everything we can to help you settle in at this difficult time. Please do
not hesitate to come and see myself or any of my colleagues if you are
having any trouble of any kind. I wish I could stay and get better
acquainted, but I have business to attend to, so I shall leave you in their
capable hands." He shook my hand and left. He spoke with a phenomenally
plummy, Oxford educated accent. The effect was kind of like mixing Henry
Blofeld's accent with the pitch and tone of Ian McKellen. He appeared more
of a politician than a teacher, it seemed to me.

When he was gone, a certain tension seemed to lift from the room. Mr Singh
spoke next, his accent decidedly that of a Londoner.

"We had a very nice letter from your old school. They said much nicer
things about you than our last transfer- hard worker, no trouble, good
rugby player, good singer- one incident of smoking behind the gym your only
blemish. Still smoke?"

"No sir," I lied.

"Good. It'll kill you and ruin your voice before it does." Mr Andrews spoke
for the first time. He was generically middle-class home counties
accented. "What part do you sing?"

"Bass."

"Read music? Sight-sing?" I nodded. "Been singing in choirs long?"

"Since I was eight," I said.

"Perfect pitch?" he asked.

I held out one hand, rocking it back and forth. "I can't sing every note
cold, but I don't sing out of tune and I can find most of them without
hearing them first. I get a bit funny over G sharp and E flat for some
reason, but the rest are there."

"Capital! Oh, we're going to get along very well, Mr Jones! Very well
indeed! I'm the choirmaster as well as your form teacher. Will you be
joining us?" I nodded. "We'll have to audition you, of course, but assuming
there's no surprises I'd be delighted to have you! Rehearsals are Thursdays
after school for the whole choir and tenors and basses sectional on
Wednesday lunchtimes." I saw what Ben meant- he was very overenthusiastic
and slightly odd, but in a nice way. I did like him.

"Thank you, Mr Andrews," said Miss East, cutting him off. She then talked
me through my timetable, explaining that I could transfer into the same
subjects I had been taking at my old school, and that I would probably find
I was ahead in some things and behind in others, but that there was plenty
of time for me to catch up and all my teachers were prepared to help me do
so. "This is Alex," she said, introducing the geeky boy for the first
time. "He's in your class." Eh? He looked not a day over twelve, how could
he be in my class? He must just be REALLY small for his age. "He takes the
same subjects as you, so you'll be together for all your classes, so he'll
help you out for the first few days or as long as you need him. He's one of
our top students, and can probably help you out with any catching up." That
I believed. "He volunteered for this, so take advantage of his generosity
by all means."

"Hi," said Alex, offering his hand. His voice didn't fit his body- it was
broken, and he looked barely adolescent. It was quite high and fine, but
definitely broken. His hand was small as I shook it. "Want a quick tour
before the bell goes?" he asked. "If you're done, of course, Miss East." he
added hurriedly.

"Yes, Alex," she said. "I'll see you at the end of school with Mr Singh, Mr
Andrews and your guardian to check how the day went. Any problems, come see
me. Thanks, boys, you can go."

"I've got to pop to my office, but I'll see you when the bell goes," Mr
Andrews said as we left.

Alex took me on a quick tour of the important locations- cafeteria, boys
toilets, assembly hall and the like- exchanging basic information as we
went- age (he was 14, which surprised me a lot), where I lived before, bits
about the school he thought I might find interesting (I didn't) and so
on. He seemed nice enough, I suppose, but he did kind of strike me as the
sort of boy who might as well have had 'VICTIM' tattooed on his
forehead. We arrived in our form room, where my locker was. I dug the key
Miss East had given me out of my pocket and dumped the bag with my rugby
kit in inside.

"So, how come you're moving schools now?" Alex asked. We were alone in the
room, the bell not due for ten minutes or so. I blinked, surprised. I would
have thought they'd told him. I plucked up my courage and tried to make
myself as numb as possible.

"My parents died. Car crash. My guardians live here, so I go to school here
now." I found if I said it quickly and tried not to think about it, it hurt
less. Or so I told myself, anyway. At least I didn't break into floods of
tears. A look of profound sympathy passed across Alex's face.

"Oh, Dave, I'm so sorry! That's awful! Are you OK?"

"It's David, not Dave," I said, "and no, of course I'm not fucking OK."

"Fuck me, I suppose you wouldn't be!" he said. His curse surprised me- he
seemed such a nerd it seemed strange to hear him swear. "Sorry, that was a
stupid thing to say. I wasn't OK when my parents died, I know that."

What? "You're an orphan too?"

He nodded. "I live with my aunt and my cousin who's 17 and a total slut,
and we hate each other. My aunt's OK though. Yeah, they died when I was
six- I barely remember them now. It's no big deal."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have sworn at you, you were only trying to be
nice."

He waved it away. "I deserved that- there's an old school motto- 'if you're
going to talk garbage, expect pain'."

I laughed. "Isn't that from 'Red Dwarf'?" I asked.

"Yeah! You're the first person I've met to get the reference. You a fan?"

"Sort of- I watched it with my dad, he was a big fan. I don't really like
sci-fi, but it's very funny."

"Oh, cool! I'm a bit of a sci-fi nerd." Why did that not surprise me? "But
please, don't hold it against me. I'm quite normal, really." The bell
rang. He sat down at a desk just to the right of the centre of the very
front row. "I suppose you'll want to sit at the back with all the cool
kids. Don't worry, I don't expect you to hang around with me. If you need
any help, ask away though."

The class began to fill with boys of 14 and 15 years old, and all the
variations that encompasses, from those who looked fully grown and adult
size (only two were taller than me, though, I noticed, and only one so
well-built) down to those who were still quite childish in appearance
(albeit none as much as Alex) and everything in between. None of them spoke
to me, but they gave me some curious looks. When it looked like everyone
was in, there were still maybe a half-dozen seats empty- all of them around
Alex. He didn't seem to care. He looked like he accepted it, staring
straight ahead in silence. Well, he had been nice to me, and no one else
had spoken to me, and the sight of him so isolated and small was so sad, I
simply couldn't leave him sitting alone. It was quite possibly social
suicide, but I sat down next to him.

"OI! NEW BOY!" a voice yelled behind me. "I wouldn't sit there! He'll try
and touch you up, or something!"

A homophobe. Joy. Just what I wanted to deal with first thing. Alex stared
at the desk and turned bright red.

"Well if he does, I'll slap his hand away. I can take care of myself." I
said, turning around to respond to the ape-like boy who had shouted. He was
about 5'9'', thick black hair and eyebrows above a jutting brow, sunken,
pig-like eyes and a slack, wide mouth above a jaw that looked like it had
been roughly hewn from rock and not finished properly. He was the only boy
heavier set than me who wasn't fat. This would be the class bully, I
guessed.

"Don't say we didn't warn you," he said. "I'm Brian, but everyone calls me
Wayne. Cos I look like Rooney, apparently."

"I'm David. Everyone calls me David." That wasn't strictly speaking true-
some of the troublemakers at my last school called me 'Taffy',
'Sheep-shagger' or some other Welsh-baiting jibe, or more personal insults
like 'baldy' or 'slap-head' but I didn't feel this guy would need any free
ammunition.

He laughed. "That makes sense. Oh Christ, here comes Bumble," he said, as
Mr Andrews walked in, just too late to hear the joke at his expense. The
nickname suited him somehow.

"Ah, gentlemen, good morning, good morning. Good weekend? Good! Good!" he
spotted me out of the corner of his eye. "Oh! Mr Jones, completely forgot
about you. Sorry. Gents, this is David, he's just joined the school, so I
hope you'll all make him feel welcome." With that, he charged straight into
the register, then sent us on our way as the bell went for lessons.

I followed Alex to our first class, which was double English. This was one
of only two subjects I was genuinely good at, everything else I only did OK
in. The class went smoothly, and I found I had missed precisely nothing
important, and slid into the course seamlessly. History was next, which was
slightly less easy to slot into, but I didn't worry too much, as I didn't
seem too far behind. Brian-known-as-Wayne wasn't in either class, but in
each one, as I went to sit with Alex, someone made a snide remark about his
supposed homosexuality and it's threat to me. Alex didn't seem bothered,
just stared at his desk and tried to make himself look small (he was small-
alright, smallER). I managed to laugh them off, not making any friends,
certainly, but not pissing anyone off either. As we walked out of the
history class for the twenty-five minute morning break, I felt I had to ask
him.

"Why does everyone keep saying you're gay?"

"It doesn't matter," he said, far too quickly. "Look, you know in the
office before, when you said you'd stopped smoking. You were lying." It was
more a statement than a question.

"Why'd you ask?" I said, worried the nerd would grass me up if I owned
up. He discretely slid the top of a fag packet out of his blazer
pocket. Maybe I'd got him wrong- he seemed far more complex than I'd given
him credit for. I grinned. "Yeah, I was lying."

"I know a place round the corner from the school we can hide and
smoke. None of the other kids know about it. We won't get caught, and we'll
be back in time for lessons. Wanna go?"

"Sure."

We went out of the school, as did many other boys in our year and
above. Alex led me in the same direction as everyone else. A few verbals
were hurled in Alex's direction, but he ignored them and my "fuck off"
stares seemed to dissuade further abuse. We walked past a couple of shops
and a cafe and down a side road. He took me down an alleyway that looked
like it led to people's back gardens. It was deserted, and as we rounded a
bend and couldn't be seen from the road anymore, we both lit up.

"Look, Alex, I know we've just met and everything, but why do people keep
hassling you?" I ventured. He was the only boy who had been even vaguely
friendly to me, and I felt helping him with his social issues might return
the favour.

"It's nothing. Just something stupid I did last term."

"What happened?"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"Why?"

"Look, do I keep asking you about your parents dying?" he snapped. "No. Cos
I thought you might not wanna talk about it. I don't wanna talk about
this."

"Alex, how many friends have you got?" I asked. He was silent. "Well, if
the answer's 'none', then I'm in the same boat. I'd like to make it 'one'
for both of us. But I can't be friends with someone who won't talk to me,
can I?"

He looked up at me, tears in his eyes. He took a long drag on his
cigarette, blowing the smoke out through his nose. The baby-faced boy
looked bizarre smoking- it really didn't suit him.

"I can't. You wouldn't wanna be my friend anymore."

"Well, there's only a few things that could do that. Let's see- did you
murder someone? No, that's daft, you'd be banged up. Did you have a fight
with someone?"

"What do you think? Look at the size of me!" he said.

"Did you steal something?" He shook his head. "Did you pull someone else's
girlfriend." He shook his head again. Now for the killer move. "You tried
to kiss a boy."

He looked at the ground. He took another deep draw on his fag, his hand
trembling. He had tears in his eyes. He finally nodded, almost
imperceptibly. I knew it- my gaydar was apparently working perfectly, and
he had shown up early on as a big blip on it.

"Relax, mate, I haven't got a problem with that. I'm gay too." His head
shot up, looking right at me to see if I was lying. I nodded, letting him
know I was telling the truth. "I'd prefer it if that didn't get around, by
the way- if it does, I wouldn't be best pleased- I haven't told anyone
else. But we can be friends now- you know my secret, I know yours."

"How did you..." he began, then stopped, seemingly unable to speak.

"You've heard of the gaydar?" I said. He shook his head. "It's like a
radar, just for other gay boys, not aircraft, and people have them, not air
traffic control towers. You showed up on mine. That, and you seemed more
embarrassed than annoyed by the poof jokes people were throwing around. It
wasn't hard."

"You're really telling the truth? You're not just winding me up or playing
a trick?"

"Hand on heart."

He perked up no end. "Cool! Oh, one thing though- you're really not my
type- not that you're not good looking or anything, just, well, you're a
bit..."

"Thuggish?" I said.

"I wouldn't put it quite like that, but...well... let's just leave it at
'not my type'."

I laughed. "You're not mine either, don't worry. Let's just be
friends. Straight boys have female friends they don't fancy, why can't gay
boys have gay friends like that?"

He grinned too. "Friends?"

"Friends. When do we have to be back?" I said.

He looked at his watch. "Five minutes. We'd better go."

We dropped our fags and trod them out. I offered him some gum and we headed
back to school. The next two classes, geography and German passed without
incident. I found I was pretty much at the same stage as everyone else, and
aside from the German teacher actually being Austrian and me having to get
used to his accent, they went well. No one made gay jokes at Alex, which
improved my mood somewhat. My first impressions of the school had not been
great, on the whole. The teachers seemed OK if uninspiring in most cases
(and odd in the rest), but the pupils seemed like a bunch of arseholes,
paying no attention to the new boy because he had attached himself to the
school leper. The classrooms were cold and out of date, despite the new
coat of paint trying to brighten them up. At least I made a friend. I
missed my old school though. I missed my friends more. I tried hard not to
think of my parents, who I missed most.

Physics followed these classes. I sort of liked physics- I liked hearing
about how the world worked, but suffered from being chronically useless at
it. I scraped B grades last term- due entirely to a genius teacher and
sheer hard work (and a fair dose of blind luck). We sat at benches rather
than desks like in other classes, and, as usual, Alex and I were alone just
off the centre of the front bench. While we waited for the teacher to
arrive, something flew from the back of the class and hit Alex square on
the head. He jumped, and stared hard at the desk, trying to pretend it
hadn't happened. I could see tears of pain in his eyes though. Something
snapped in me, and I jumped to my feet, whirling round and trying to make
myself look as big and hard as possible.

"Who the fuck threw that!" I said, forcing as much fake cockney accent into
my voice as I could, thinking it made me sound harder.

"Me!" said a tall, lean boy on the back row. He was a looker, I gave him
that at least- wavy blonde hair, deep blue eyes and fine, graceful features
wrapped in porcelain skin. He had a self-centred expression which detracted
heavily from the fine figure of a young man he otherwise cut. I walked
around to stand in front of his desk.

"We haven't been introduced. I'm David. You would be the class twat who
likes picking on people, I presume." I practically spat the words at
him. He may be taller than me, I guessed, but I was far bulkier. The boys
either side of him were both emos- rake thin boys with half their faces
covered by their lank fringes. As a staunch heavy metal and punk fan, I was
compelled to loathe emos. The pretty twat leapt to his feet.

"Say that to my face, slap-head!" he nearly shouted at me.

"Sorry, I didn't realise you were deaf as well as stupid. I SAID," I said,
raising my voice for comedy effect. "I'M DAVID. YOU MUST BE THE CLASS TWAT
WHO LIKES PICKING ON PEOPLE, I PRESUME." A laugh went around the room. A
couple of claps followed it. "CARE TO TRY IT ON ME, TOO?"

The idiot held my stare for a few seconds before dropping his eyes. People
told me my eyes were piercing, and I had learned how to use them.

"Good," I said, at normal volume. "I'm new here, and I don't want to make
enemies, but I don't like it when people throw things at my friends. Anyone
have a problem with that?" I said, addressing the whole room. The silence
was vast. "Well, we can all get along then." I began to move back to my
seat.

"What do you wanna be friends with that poof for?" the twat said as soon as
my back was to him.

"You afraid of gay people? You shouldn't be, you ain't that good looking,
much as you obviously think you are." More laughter, and further
claps. "I'm friends with him because, unlike you, his first words to me
didn't include 'slap-head' or any other moronic insults, and he's bothered
to talk to me. That makes him OK in my book, whatever else you say he might
be. Maybe your problem is you're just such an ignorant inbred Neanderthal
that you're stuck with the idea that gay people are all out to convert you,
and you secretly want that. Or is it just that you've had no success with
the ladies- because your head is so far up your own arse that you can lick
your tonsils from behind- that you want him to be gay so that there might
be at least one person on Earth who you imagine might consider touching you
with an eighteen-foot barge pole?"

The titters of before were roaring guffaws by now. My old school had been
fairly free of morons like this, but the banter was always fierce, and you
learned quickly to use your wits and tongue to fit in. This cretin didn't
appear to have any wits, as he stood in stunned silence turning the colour
of an overripe plum. The class was well and truly behind me now. Alex
wouldn't get any hassle from them from now on, partially out of respect for
me and partially because they didn't want to be on the end of a
tongue-lashing of similar proportions. The twat remained silent.

"Cat got your tongue? Or has your last brain cell given up the ghost and
left the building?" He stayed silent. "Wanker. Leave people worth four of
you alone in future, and you won't end up looking like such a total cock in
public."

With that, I retook my seat to whoops, cheers and a hearty round of
applause. Alex was rubbing the back of his head, but the tears were gone,
and a grin the width of the English Channel split his face.

"That was awesome!" he whispered under his breath. "Totally made it worth
getting hit on the head for!"

At this point the teacher came in, a stocky man in his early thirties with
a rapidly receding hairline. The cheers and applause stopped as he came in.

"What's going on?" he said, his tone mild but with a hint of steel. I
guessed this was not a teacher to piss off.

"Oh, David, the new boy, was just saying 'hello' to Malfoy," said a voice
to the left of the room, where the appreciation of my little performance
had been loudest. Malfoy- presumably after the Harry Potter character. The
name suited him- evil bastard with good looks and a high opinion of
himself.

"Well, David, it seems you and Mr Matthews have got acquainted. Do you mind
if I get on with the lesson, now?" he said, staring hard at me. His eyes
were as pale and piercing as my own. I suddenly got an inkling of what it
must be like to be given one of my own "fuck off" stares. I didn't like
it. Good- that was their point.

"Sorry sir," I said. He grunted and began to set himself up.

"What hit you?" I whispered. He held up a two pence coin. Those things
might look small but they bloody hurt if well thrown. Ouch! "You OK?"

"Yeah, no blood this time."

"This time!" I hissed. "He's done this before?" He nodded. Something
clicked in my mind. "It was him, wasn't it? The boy you fancied." He nodded
again, looking sad. I stifled a laugh- I don't know why, but I found it
funny. "You don't half pick 'em, mate!" He smiled sheepishly at me.

The rest of the lesson was thoroughly uneventful. To my total relief, the
physics teacher was outstanding- I actually understood at least half of
what he said, which was a personal record- and I was even slightly ahead of
the rest of the class to boot. After the bell rang and we ran to get out
for lunch, a few boys clapped me on the back and introduced
themselves. Miracle of miracles, they even talked to Alex like a human
being too. I was thrilled. I may have made an enemy, but it looked like I
might make some friends in the process, and may even have rescued Alex from
having been sent to Coventry. We trotted down to the local greasy spoon
cafe for a lunch of junk food- burgers and chips for me, Alex had a full
English breakfast. He insisted on buying me lunch, saying he hadn't had a
friend to buy lunch for months. I agreed on the condition that he let me
pay for the Cokes. The four boys who had introduced themselves after the
physics lesson ate with us.

The first was Jason, who was the only black boy I had seen in any of my
classes so far, which was bizarre for someone like me raised in London and
used to a real mix of ethnic backgrounds. He was fourteen and about my
height, and while he was slightly more narrow-shouldered than me, appeared
to be in no less-good shape. The second was fifteen year-old Tom, but
everyone seemed to call him Mouse- as in Mighty Mouse, as he was quite
short- barely taller than Alex- and built like the proverbial brick
shithouse. His head was shaved, and he looked hard as nails, but was really
quite a friendly, gentle boy. He mentioned he played hooker for the year 10
XV, which I naturally found of interest. He also spoke with a strong
Scottish accent. The third was the ringleader of the quartet, a boy of
medium height and build and a wit and sharpness of tongue that far exceeded
my own, but he only ever used them in jest to his friends. His name was
Martin and he was fourteen and had red hair. He reminded me of a more
stable version of Steve. It had been he that had explained the uproar in
the class to the physics teacher. The last boy was Daniel, who was only 13
but could pass for 15 easily. He had been moved up a year for being bastard
clever. He was lean rather than skinny and of average height for a 15
year-old (so he was tall for 13), had dark hair and eyes, olive skin and
wore fashionable rimless glasses. He was the quietest member of the group,
but when he spoke, it was witty and funny. I liked all of them. Alex looked
like he was having the time of his life. The others included him in their
conversations as much as they did me, and not a single gay joke was thrown
around all the time we were with them. Martin made an announcement when we
had all eaten.

"Right boys, if we're going to accept these two reprobates into our little
gang, we all need to go through the initiation ritual."

"Fuck off!" said Jason.

"Not again!" said Daniel.

"Bollocks to that!" said Mouse.

"Come on lads, we've got to. It's what we do," said Martin, and that seemed
to settle any arguments.

"What, what do we have to do?" I said, nervous.

"We all go down the smoking alley that Alex thinks is so secret," he
whispered, at which Alex looked very sheepish, "and have to make a joke at
our expense- our own heritage, mainly. See, my family's all Irish, Jason's
black, Daniel's Jewish and Mouse is Scottish, so we decided if we all made
jokes about ourselves, any bigots who try to do it to us won't hurt us
anymore, and we can stick up for each other. You two can make up your mind
how to diss yourselves on the way. Come on!"

And with that, we whisked off to the alley. After all of us bar Daniel had
lit cigarettes, the first four each made a truly and obscenely racist joke
about their own backgrounds. Then it was my turn. I wasn't short on Welsh
gags, having heard several million since earliest childhood.

"What do you call a sheep tied to a lamppost in Cardiff?" I said.

"Dunno," said Mouse.

"Welsh leisure centre."

To my surprise, none of them had heard that one before, and roared with
laughter.

"Not bad, David, not bad," gasped Martin, trying to smoke, laugh and talk
at the same time and doing none of them very well. "Next time, make it more
tasteless, though. Your turn, Alex."

Alex looked like he was thinking. As far as I knew, he was white, Anglican
English. Oh, Christ, that only left him one choice of self-deprecation. No,
Alex, make up a French grandparent or something, for fuck's sake don't go
down that route. He ignored my silent advice, of course.

"What do you call a poof riding a pig?" he said. He was greeted up
deafening silence. "Sausage jockey."

The laughs were the loudest yet. We all thought that was genuinely funny. I
hadn't heard that one.

"It's true then? Y'know, that you're..." said Daniel.

"Gay?" supplied Alex. Everyone bar me nodded. "Yes. That bother you? You
don't need to worry you know, you can't catch it, you're born that way. And
you're all ugly, so you needn't worry on THAT front!"

More laughter.

"No, mate, it's cool," said Martin, which settled it for the others. "David
was right before. The thought that I'd be like that arsehole Malcolm Malfoy
Matthews if I had a problem with gays settled it for good- if he hates
gays, I want loads of gay friends!"

We all laughed. Jason spotted the time.

"Fuck! We've missed the bell. Who's playing football, again?" said
Jason. Only Daniel spoke up. Wait- ALEX played RUGBY? WAS HE MAD??? Jason
snapped me from my thoughts. "Then I'll see you rugger buggers
tomorrow. Nice to meet you, Dave." He headed off with Daniel at a run.

"DAVID, MORON!" I shouted after him.

Suddenly the rest of us realised we were equally late and charged off to
get to the changing rooms via our lockers to pick up our kit. We barely
made it out onto the playing fields in time, but somehow managed it. As we
got onto the rugby pitch, I heard a shout.

"Hey! New boy! Catch!" someone yelled at me.

I turned to the noise, just in time to see a spin pass hurtling at my
face. With practised ease, I caught it, and saw that the hated boy Malcolm
Matthews, nicknamed Malfoy, had thrown it, apparently meaning to break my
nose. He was now running clean at me, shoulders down, obviously meaning to
tackle me. I dummied as if I was about to dodge right, then immediately
sidestepped to my left. Malfoy was sold on the dummy and ended up tackling
vacant air, falling flat on his face in the muddy pitch. His day got worse,
as the whole rugby-playing contingent of year 10 roared with laughter at
him. He got up coated in brown mud. It looked like some had even gone in
his mouth.

"Hey, you boy!" I heard called from a man coming up in rugby gear- I
presumed the coach. I thought I heard a south Wales accent. "What are you
playing at? Nincompoop. Get down and do ten, Matthews."

It was definitely Welsh- he was a Valley Boy, alright. My heart jolted at
the sing-song accent, it being close enough to my father's to tug at
memories. I kept my cool.

Matthews was not happy- he was doing ten press-ups, having to press his
face right into the mud for the coach to accept it. When he was done, the
coach turned to me.

"And you boy!" he said, as if about to dish out another bollocking. "Bloody
good work. Played much before?"

"Since I was six, sir," I said truthfully. "I played openside flanker at my
last school."

"Fancy yourself as the next Neil Back, do you?" he said, naming the man who
had played in that position for England in their victorious World Cup
final.

"No sir," I said. "Martyn Williams." Gavin Henson may have been the looker
of the Wales side, but Martyn Williams was my hero. I absolutely idolised
him, as he was utterly brilliant and played in my position for Wales. The
coach raised an eyebrow.

"What's your name, boy?" he asked.

"David, sir."

"I said- what's your name boy?" he said again.

"Jones, sir."

"Welshman, David Jones?" he asked.

"My parents were, sir." A few heads jerked in my direction at the word
"were", Martin's and Mouse's included.

"Well, David Jones, if you can ruck and maul like you catch and dummy, you
can have Matthews' place at openside flanker for the match on
Saturday. Right, lads, tackle bags out, then we'll do some drills." He blew
into a whistle and we got on with practice. So Matthews fancied himself as
an openside flanker as well, was he? Oh, he was going to have a VERY bad
day.

The practice was brilliant. It felt good to tackle, ruck, maul and
scrummage again. It was the first time since 'it' happened that I had had
the opportunity, and the purity of the game was like a cold shower. My mind
hadn't been so clear since before the accident. I think I managed to
impress the coach with my ball handling and willingness to get stuck in and
do the dirty work in the rucks and mauls like a flanker had to do. I was a
bit disappointed when he called an end to it. Martin, who was a full-back,
and Mouse, the hooker, both clapped me on the shoulders and praised my
work. I felt myself blush. Coach Jenkins (as his name turned out to be)
came up to us. He waved twenty-two boys to one side, then turned to the
other fifteen or so boys (which included Alex) and said:

"Thanks boys, good effort. Unlucky this time- you're not in the squad for
Saturday, but keep trying. Go shower, you're all filthy." As they trotted
off, he turned to the other twenty-two of us. "Right lads, you're the squad
for Saturday. Same backs and front row as last game- Wallace, good work at
hooker again but practice your handling, see?- but I'm making a change in
the back row of the pack. Matthews, you were a sodding liability last
game. Buck your ideas up, see? Jones, you're at 7. I'll see you all on
Wednesday morning for our practice match."

A cheer went up from the other boys I had seen play in the pack. Malcolm
was grossly unpopular, it seemed, and apparently making an arse of himself
at the start of practice had lessened his status further. Martin told me
later he had been so reluctant to get involved and do the dirty work last
game that the year 10 team got butchered by the worst school in the
county. They all thought he was a good player, but weren't prepared to
carry him through the rough stuff. At any rate, my promotion to the
starting XV went down well, and Mouse lifted me to his massive shoulders
and carried me into the changing rooms. I noticed Matthews went into a
different one to all the other rugby players- he wouldn't deign to share
our space, wanting to change with the football lot which included his emo
friends. He was staring daggers at me until the last possible second. Oh,
we were proper enemies now.

I noticed Alex was given a wide birth in the showers. I kept my eyes to
myself and my thoughts on algebra, wanting to avoid an inappropriate
stiffy. Any embarrassment avoided, I said goodbye to Mouse and Martin as
Alex offered to guide me back to the Middle School Office. As we walked, I
had to ask him:

"What on Earth are you doing playing rugby, mate? No offence, but you're
quite small, and...well..."

"Feeble?" he supplied.

"Not the word I was gonna use, but it'll do- no offence?" He waved the
comment away.

"You'll laugh when I tell you. You'll think I'm being silly." He was
blushing and looking at the floor.

"I promise I won't," I said.

"I did it to try and impress Malcolm," he said in a small voice.

"And maybe catch a glimpse of him in the shower?" I said. His unwillingness
to meet my gaze was all the answer I needed. "Yeah, it was a bit silly, but
not for the reason you think I think it is- if that makes sense." He
nodded, smiling a little, but still not looking at me. "Matthews isn't
impressed by anyone but his own reflection. I think it's really sweet that
you'd try and play rugby, despite you obviously hating it, to try and
impress him. He'd be lucky to have you, and if he can't realise what a nice
guy you really are, thank God he's straight so no poor guy ends up having
to go out with him."

Alex smiled. "Thanks, David. I was supposed to be looking after you today,
and you've spent most of the day looking out for me. I'd really like us to
be friends."

"We are," I said firmly, smiling broadly at him. We arrived at the
office. "Well, great to meet you Alex. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye David," he said, and left to go home. I girded up my loins and knocked
on the office door. The Geordie voice of Miss East announced it was open,
and to come in.

Inside, Miss East sat behind her desk, Mr Singh was leant against the wall
while Mr Andrews perched his wide behind on the desk. John sat in a chair
infront of the desk, turning to the door as I came in. He smiled
reassuringly at me.

"So, how was the first day, David?" said Mr Singh when I had sat in a chair
beside John.

"Awright, I suppose."

"Any problems? Badly behind anywhere? Students treating you well? Rugby
practice go well?" Miss East asked, to which I shook my head, shook my head
again, nodded, and nodded and smiled respectively. "Good. I'm glad to hear
it. Was Alex helpful?"

"Yes Miss, very helpful." I kept the incidents of other boys' abuse of him
quiet. I could help him more than they could, after all.

"Dr Brown, your physics teacher, and Mr Jenkins said there might be a
problem with Malcolm Matthews. Is that true?" asked Mr Singh. "You can tell
us- it's not dobbing in."

I thought quickly. Malfoy was a world class son of a bitch, but I was no
grass, and while it might do me well in the teachers' eyes to give them a
full run-down of his faults, the hint of me grassing him up on my first day
could ruin any foundations of a good rep I had managed to build amongst the
boys.

"No, sir," I lied. "No problems."

"No incidents with a rugby ball?" John asked me. This was harder- I didn't
want to lie to him, but telling him would only worry him and the difference
between telling him infront of the teachers and telling the teachers
themselves was sheer sophistry.

"Well, he wanted to see what I could do- I'd said I'd played before- so he
gave me a difficult pass and tried to tackle me. Just to see what I could
do- no harm done." If they believed that, they'd believe anything.

"Well, if you're sure," said Miss East, obviously not believing a word, but
with her hands tied by my denial of any wrongdoing. I nodded, settling the
matter.

"Capital! Capital!" said Mr Andrews, who I was already struggling to think
of as anything other than 'Bumble'. It was just too appropriate. "Well,
we've heard nothing but good things from your teachers, so unless there's
anything you want to talk about...?" he said towards John, who shook his
head, looking pleased. "Then I think we're done. Any problems, David, our
doors are always open. We'll see you same time next Monday just for another
catch up, then after that it'll just be parents' evenings, like all the
other boys. Sound good?" Both John and I nodded again. "Oh, would you mind
popping over to the my office in the music department tomorrow lunchtime?
Say about half one? Just to have a quick audition. Just a formality, I'm
sure." I nodded again, beginning to feel like a feeding hen from all the
nodding. Get on with it, for crying out loud, and let me go home- or
whatever it was.

"Come on, David, let's get you home," said John, resting his hand lightly
on my shoulder to guide me out.

Ben was standing outside, trying to look inconspicuous and fidgeting. He
grinned his life-brightening smile of pearly white teeth at me.

"Good first day?" he asked.

"OK, as it goes," I said.

"Good. Can we go now Dad? I'm starving!" he said, rubbing his flat stomach
for emphasis. John laughed.

"Sure. Let's get you home and feed you. Stephanie should be home with Anna
by now."

In the car (why we bothered driving given the tiny distance escapes me, but
I guess John had driven from work) Ben whispered to me-

"The whole school's talking about you ripping the piss out out of
Malfoy. Good- he picks on younger kids, everyone hates him!" He beamed at
me. I grinned wickedly back at him.

"Always happy to be of service," I said, pretending to doff a cap I wasn't
wearing.



Chapter 4

"Sleep, my dear, and peace attend thee, all through the night. I will of
all fears disarm thee, no forebodings should alarm thee, I will let no
peril harm thee, all through the night."



When we got back to the house, Stephanie and Anna weren't there. John
looked worried- apparently they should have been back ages ago.

"Did they phone you?" I asked.

John fumbled in his pocket for his mobile. He realised he had switched it
off for the meeting and hadn't turned it back on. He did so, and it beeped
to indicate he had a voicemail waiting. As he listened to it, Ben and I
looked at him, nervous and fidgeting. John's face went pale and he started
sweating, his hands shaking slightly. He hung up and looked at us, horror
in his eyes.

"Anna's been hit by a car outside her school. Stephanie's with her at the
hospital. I've got to go. You boys stay here. I'll ring when I've got
news. Do your homework. David, you're in charge till I'm back." And with
that, he charged out the door and revved the car up like he planned to race
all the way before driving off, tyres screeching.

I was stunned. I didn't know what to say or do. I felt shock, fear, pain,
renewed grief but most of all abandonment. I turned to Ben, thinking how
much worse he must be feeling. He wasn't standing where I had last seen
him. He had collapsed to his knees on the floor and was shaking with sobs,
his face in his hands. I knelt down next to him and put my arms around him,
holding him tight. He pushed into me, sobbing like his heart had been
ripped from his chest. He clutched at me, out of his mind with his grief. I
found tears running down my own cheeks. When the world gets as bad as it
can, just when you think you turn the corner, life shits on you again- from
an even greater height. I had been robbed of my parents, my home and
friends, and just when I allowed myself even the possibility of having a
school, new friends, a special boy in my life and a new family, it looked
as if the smallest member of the family might be snatched from us.

I rocked Ben back and forth, his weeping a fierce storm unmatched by
anything he had seen from me. I didn't know what to do, I tried everything
I could think of to console him, but he still clung to me like I was all
that kept him from being lost at sea, wailing with fear, confusion and
imminent loss. My thoughts went back to the first time he had climbed in
bed beside me, to console my own, still fresh and raw grief. I remembered
what had set me off.- the memory of the song Mum used to sing to me when I
was little and scared. It was stupid, but I thought it might help. I began
to sing softly to him.

"Holl amrantau'r sˆr ddywedant Ar hyd y nos.  Dyma'r ffordd i fro
gogoniant Ar hyd y nos.  Golau arall yw tywyllwch, I arddangos gwir
brydferthwch, Teulu'r nefoedd mewn tawelwch Ar hyd y nos."

The words were burned into my mind, something that was in my soul, and they
came almost unbidden, even though I scarcely knew their meaning. Strangely,
his weeping lessened, although didn't stop. I sang on.

"O mor siriol gwˆna seren Ar hyd y nos.  I oleuo'I chwaer ddaeraren Ar
hyd y nos.  Nos yw henaint pan ddaw cystudd, Ond i harddu dyn a'i
hwyrddydd, Rho'wn ein golau gwan i'n gilydd, Ar hyd y nos."

He was still sniffing and clutching me tight, and a few tears still ran
from his pink-rimmed eyes, but the wailing and racking sobs had stopped. He
looked at me and sniffed again, rubbing his nose.

"That's beautiful. What is it?" he said.

"A song Mum used to sing to me when I was little and upset. I found it
helped. Did it help you?" I said.

He nodded. "Sorry, it's just- she might be an annoying brat sometimes, but
she's my sister. I love her. If anything happened to her..."

His bottom lip trembled, obviously about to break into inconsolable weeping
again. I kissed his forehead gently.

"Wait to see what happens. She might be fine," I said, praying it was the
right thing to say, and that Anna would indeed be fine.

"Your parents weren't," he said. That stung. I found myself fighting my own
tears.

"No, but they were dead as soon as the car hit. If Anna wasn't still alive,
there would have been a police car waiting for us. Don't give up hope," I
said. He smiled wanly at me.

I looked at the time. He had been crying for the best part of an hour, and
must be starving and exhausted. I suddenly remembered something. I fished
around in my blazer pocket. Where the bloody hell was it? Ah, found it.

I pulled a Twix bar out, and showed it to him. He smiled weakly, looking
into my eyes. I unwrapped the chocolate bar and pushed it to his lips. He
took it in one hand, the other not wanting to let go of me, and bit slowly
into the sweet chocolate. He chewed gently, then swallowed.

"For some reason, chocolate helps everything," I said, quoting my
grandmother. "I promised you I'd get you one if I went out at lunch, didn't
I?"

He nodded. I gently lifted him to his feet, and walked him into the living
room and sat him on the couch. He didn't let go of me the whole time. He
slowly ate the chocolate, the occasional tear coming from his eye and still
sniffing. I noticed my shirt was damp from his tears. I felt such a bond
with him already, his unhappiness was my own. I gently kissed the top of
his beautiful head. He finished the Twix, and we hugged and cradled each
other in silence for about ten minutes. Then the phone rang, shockingly
loud, cutting through the silence. I leapt up and sprinted to pick it up.

"Hello?" I said. It was John. Ben was next to me, his eyes pleading for
news. At the first words from John, I felt relief hit me like a flood. I
turned to Ben, smiling the biggest smile I could, and gave him a thumbs
up. He sank to the floor, not crying but smiling, relief all over his
serious face.

Anna was largely fine. She had ran into the road suddenly, chasing a cat,
and the driver had thankfully seen her and braked hard. He hadn't been
going fast- well within the speed limit- but hadn't managed to stop in
time. Anna had been hit, but not badly. She had a broken wrist, a few
bruises and was very shaken, but would be fine. She wouldn't need an
operation or anything, the wrist had just been put in plaster, but they
wanted to keep her in overnight for observation and to help with pain
relief. Stephanie would stay with her in the hospital- her working there
meant people had pulled strings to get them a side room where Stephanie
could sleep in a little bed next to Anna's- and John was on his way
back. He couldn't talk on, because his battery was dying, but he'd be home
soon. I hung up, crouched next to Ben, hugging him, and told him exactly
what I'd been told.

He flung his arms round my neck and held me fiercely- even throttling me
slightly- and laughed. It was such a beautiful sound, so full of relief and
such a contrast to his weeping just minutes ago. I laughed with him. He
pulled back, and kissed me quickly on the lips.

"I'm so relieved," he said. "Thank you, David, you were awesome. I owe YOU
one, now!"

Then he kissed me again, this time with passion. His tongue wormed its way
into my mouth, and I reciprocated, dancing my tongue with his. We fell to
the floor, him on top of my body, pressing down on me. I felt his
tumescence against my belly, my own erection pressing against his leg. I
stroked up and down his back, while he simply clung to my neck with all his
strength. There was a real fire in him just now, and I felt my ardour
rising quickly. It was all I could do not to rip his clothes from him and
ravish him in the hall. I restrained myself, but continued licking and
sucking his muscular tongue, running my hands over his firm body, my hands
sneaking beneath his shirt to caress his warm back. He felt so hot in my
arms, like he was on fire. It felt good. I slipped one hand down his
underwear and clasped and kneaded his right buttock in my hand. He felt SO
good! He began grinding against me, pushing his groin into my belly. I
responded by grinding against his thigh with my own straining prick. It was
possibly the most inappropriate thing in history, but the emotional
roller-coaster combined with his own fierce passion had me more aroused
than I could ever remember. I had to have satisfaction. Right now. I sensed
he did too.

I quickly yanked my shirt up to my armpits, not breaking the kiss, and
undid his belt and flies, pushing his trousers and boxers down to his
knees. His cock was like a steel drill driving against my stomach as he
began to thrust his hips. He grabbed my own trousers with one hand, the
other still clasped around my neck, and yanked them down. I grunted into
his mouth, as he hadn't bothered to undo my belt or flies, and it hurt a
bit. I forgot the brief pain almost instantly as my leaking prick began
sliding against his firm, smooth, hot thigh. We dry-humped each other with
short, quick, powerful thrusts for all of about thirty seconds, before he
stiffened against me and moaned into my mouth, his hot cum spraying my
stomach. This set me off, and my toes curled and I cried out into his mouth
as my cock pulsed harder than it ever had before, drenching his thigh and
groin with my semen. We hadn't stopped kissing the whole time. Now we broke
for air.

"That was awesome! I really needed that. Do you think that's weird?" he
asked, gazing longingly into my eyes.

"No- you were totally stressed out, and just need to get release. And it
was REALLY good!" I said, smiling and returning his longing gaze. "We
should get cleaned up, though. Your dad'll be back any minute, and he might
get a bit of a shock to find us mostly naked on the hall floor, covered in
each others cum."

He grinned. "Yeah, he might not be best pleased!"

We pulled our last clothes off, to avoid messing them, and headed upstairs
to clean up. We put our school uniforms in the dirty laundry basket and
jumped in the shower. Ben let me wash his hair, and then we kissed again,
our hands stroking up and down our wet backs. Every time we broke for air,
we found we were grinning at each other, a combination of relief over Anna
and the naughty excitement over what we did together in the hall making us
giddy.

"I can't believe we did that!" Ben said. "In the hall! What if someone had
come to the door? What if Dad was back before we finished? I didn't think
of that at the time. I just wanted to be with you, and I was so hard I
thought I was going to break!"

I grinned back, swaying him slightly in my arms, like a miniature dance. "I
know what you mean. I felt so close to you just then, I couldn't think of
anything else. Like it was just us in the world. And I just had to do
something to get rid of that stress. Did you like it?"

He smiled wickedly at me. "Does this give you your answer?" he said,
pointing at his once-again erect penis. I kissed him, and stroked his rigid
appendage.

"I liked it too. I wish we had time to do it again, but John'll be back any
minute. We should get dressed."

He sighed. "Yeah, you're right. Oh well, there's always later!" He kissed
me one last time, and then we rinsed off and got out.

We had barely got our clean clothes on when we heard a car pull into the
drive. I was already completely dry, but Ben's hair was still damp, I
saw. I hope either John didn't notice or if he did, wouldn't guess we had
showered together due to me appearing dry. We headed downstairs.

As John came in, Ben ran up to him and threw his arms around his father's
waist. John picked him up and span him round in a hug, surprising me with
his strength.

"She's really OK?" Ben asked, when John put him back down.

"She's really scared, and your mother was nearly frantic for a while, but
they're both fine. Anna's not in any pain- the hospital's doing a great
job. They even let her choose the colour of her cast. She chose pink, of
course." They laughed. "Are you OK? Sorry I just dashed off like that, but
I didn't think it was the right time to take you there. I was going to come
back as soon as I knew what had happened and take you in. I should have
explained that, I was just...well..."

"Overwhelmed?" I supplied. I knew the feeling.

"Yeah, thanks David. Are you two OK?" he asked, looking at Ben with his
hands on his son's shoulders.

"Yeah, Dad, I'm fine," Ben reassured him. "I was really scared at first,
but David helped me feel better. He was brilliant. I don't know what I'd've
done without him." He looked at me and smiled affectionately at me.

John released his son's shoulders and came over to me. He clasped me in a
fierce bear hug, crushing me tight. I didn't no quite how to respond, but
hugged him back awkwardly. When he released me, he spoke to me.

"Thank you, David. I should never have put you in that position. It was
really wrong of me. Thank you for helping Ben. I've done you a disservice,
and you've done something great for me. Can you forgive me?" he said, guilt
filling his voice.

"Nothing to forgive," I said. "You've taken me in, given me a home and put
up with me. I owe you and Stephanie and Ben- and Anna too."

"That's sweet of you David, but you owe us nothing and I was very much in
the wrong. You're a great credit to your parents. They'd be so proud of
you- for everything. It's a privilege to have you in the family."

At this, I began to well up. I didn't know what to say, and instead just
burst into tears again, not knowing why. I was torn between happiness and
gratitude at the kindness of this family I had so rudely interrupted, pride
over his praise and renewed grief at my loss. John hugged me again. I felt
Ben hug both me and his dad, one in each arm. I slipped an arm around him,
as did John. We all had a good cry to get it all out in our three way hug.

When we calmed down, we had a quick slap-up meal of sausages, chips and
beans- perfect comfort food. When we were finished, John inquired as to our
homework. Ben owned up and said he hadn't even started it, so was promptly
sent off to do so. I lied and said I did mine at lunchtime. In truth, I had
little to do and none of it was due before the end of the week anyway, and
with everything that happened today I wanted to put it off for now. John
and I went out for a smoke. He unloaded some of his worries, things he
obviously felt he couldn't talk about with his wife or son but for some
bizarre reason felt he could talk to me about. How terrified he had been
that he was going to lose his darling daughter, how scared he was that
would destroy his marriage- how parents who lost a child so often broke up-
and how that could maybe even cost him his son and what the whole debacle
would have meant for me. One cigarette became two and then three, and still
he felt the need to talk. I let him. I owed him that much.

"Sorry, you shouldn't have to listen to this," he said finally.

I waved it away. "You put up with my various breakdowns. That's much
worse. And it's not your job to do that, before you say it. You didn't ask
for this, but you've done your best for me. I'm grateful. Listening to you
talk is fair cop. And anyway, you said when I first arrived that you wanted
me to be a part of the family. Well, this makes me feel like one."
Strangely enough, it did- sort of.

He smiled at me. "Thanks David. Your dad would be glowing with pride if he
could hear you." I nodded and looked away, a little choked.

After that, we realised it was bloody freezing and getting late. We went
inside. He sent me upstairs to bed, asking me to make sure Ben went to bed
too. He would write a note explaining why we hadn't done any homework we
hadn't finished then turn in himself.

In the bedroom, I found Ben sitting over his desk finishing some
algebra. He spoke as I went in, not turning around.

"If 2x-7+3=0, what's x?" he asked.

I thought for a moment. "2." I said.

"Thanks. How did you work it out? I hate algebra."

I came over to him, and showed him the working. He got it very quickly-
much quicker than I ever could. I guess he was just smarter than me. He
grinned up at me, and I realised I had said that last bit out loud.

"Thanks!" he said.

"John says bedtime- he'll write a note if there's stuff you haven't
finished."

Ben pulled a face. "Couldn't he have done that BEFORE I finished it all?"

I laughed.

We undressed and got ready for bed. We got in bed and turned the lights
out. For once, I wasn't feeling the need to burst into tears. I was still
terribly sad and feeling displaced, but at least I felt I had some people I
might eventually become close to- maybe even call a surrogate family and
new friends. That thought lent enough weight to the brighter side of my
mood and stopped the grief taking over and pushing me to despair again. I
felt myself begin to settle for sleep.

Then I heard it. A choked squeak, almost like a trapped, frightened
animal. It came again. I looked across the room in the gloom and saw Ben's
form curled up under the covers, shaking and jerking. At first I thought he
might be wanking, then he squeaked again, and I realised he was sobbing,
trying to do so silently. The boy I cared for was in tears again, and he
felt like he had to be silent to avoid disturbing me. I couldn't let this
happen. I slid out of bed, padded quietly across the room, and slipped
straight in behind him. I rolled him over and wrapped my arms full around
him, pulling him tightly into my chest. He clung to me again, like he had
before, like he was suspended over a great height and I was all that
stopped him from falling. He cried into my chest, nearly silently, but
trembling and shaking powerfully.

"What's wrong, Ben?" I said, stroking his back and hair. "What's up? Anna's
fine, she's gonna be home before you know it, and you can be annoyed by her
more than ever. Your parents are fine too. OK, you've still got to put up
with me..." he punched me lightly, letting me know that was no
chore. "What's wrong, Ben? I can't bear seeing you like this. Tell me,
please."

"It's nothing," he sobbed. "I'm just being silly."

"No, you're not. Tell me, please."

He looked at me. "I...I just remembered how scared I was, and couldn't help
it. I was so worried about Anna. And then I remembered how nice you were,
and how I said that awful thing about your parents, and... and I didn't
want to hurt you, I... I like you too much."

I kissed him, tenderly on the lips and lightly on the forehead. "You didn't
hurt me," I lied- he had, but I had forgiven him the second he said it, so
it might as well have been true. "And Anna's fine and I still like you
loads- even more than before."

I cradled him, rocking him, and gently sung "Ar Hyd y Nos" to him
again. Once again, his weeping passed. He wiped his nose and cheeks, and
sniffed.

"Thank you, that really helps."

I kissed his cheek. "Any time, my love."

He looked at me. "What did you say?"

What HAD I said? Did I say what I think I said? Did I call him 'my love'?
Did I love him? I realised the answer to all five questions was yes. I
loved him. I really did.

"I love you, Ben."

He kissed me, the passion of the rutting on the hall in his kiss. "I love
you too."

We pulled each other tight, one of my arms around his shoulders, pressing
his lips against mine, the other stroking and caressing his flank and
back. One of his hands clasped my buttock through my boxers, the other was
on the back of my head, pulling our faces even more firmly together. Our
tongues met in our mouths, licking and pressing together with ever
increasing strength. Our caresses grew more insistent, rapidly becoming
more grope than caress. I fondled down his chest, briefly flicking his hard
nipples with my fingertips, then unsnapped his boxers and pushed them down
his legs. He kicked them off. I stroked his now-exposed penis from base to
tip, finding a small drop of precum on his piss slit, and rubbed it over
the circumcised glans. His hand on my buttock slipped under the waistband
and forced them down. I lifted myself slightly to allow him to push them
right off my hips and then kicked them fully off, our two naked forms
pressing into each other. He grasped my foreskin and began sliding it up
and down over my glans. I fondled his testicles, rolling the grape-sized
jewels around in their loose, hairless sack. I quickly felt my ardour rise,
and was in danger of reaching the point of no return. As much as I wanted
release, I wanted this time to last longer, and pushed his hand from my
cock, clasping his hand in my own. I clasped his other hand too, and gently
rolled him onto his back, kissing him passionately the whole time. I
withdrew, and licked the tip of his nose and looked in his eyes.

"Do you trust me?" I said. I knew the answer even before he nodded, his
dark eyes, so big in the gloom, looking at me in such a way that I knew he
trusted me implicitly.

I kissed him fiercely, darting my tongue around all corners of his mouth,
before kissing down his neck. He rocked his head back and moaned softly as
I kissed, licked and nibble across his chest to his nipples. I kissed and
sucked each pert nubbin, before gently clasping first one then the other in
my lips and giving each a little squeeze. He stiffened and moaned softly,
enjoying the mix of slight pain and exquisite pleasure. I kissed down his
flat stomach, and licked down his still bare pubis to his beautiful
boyhood. As I licked around it, I watched it bounce quickly in time with
his heart.

I took first one, then the other, then both testicles into my mouth,
licking each one and rolling them around his sack in my mouth. He moaned
softly again. He tasted so good, a hint of musk and sweat and that uniquely
male taste. I licked up the line on his cock and swallowed all four inches,
right to the base. He arched his back and gripped my head in both hands. I
began sliding my mouth up and down his tumescence, sucking hard and licking
at the sensitive head, all around the ridge of his helmet and over his
circumcision scar. I began humming gently on his cock, knowing how much my
friend had liked it when I had done that. Ben went nuts, his eyes snapping
wide open, his legs stiffening, his back arched and his toes curling in the
pleasure sweeping over him from his perfect organ. He gritted his teeth to
stop from crying out, and began to thrust into my mouth. With one hand I
kneaded his bubble butt, marvelling at its warmth and softness. With the
other, I fondled his testicles, massaged his perineum, stroked his belly
and pubis or tweaked his nipples, wanting to give him as much pleasure as I
could manage. He gripped my head harder and thrusted more insistently into
his mouth. I let him do the work, and concentrated on licking around his
sensitive head, still humming over his delicious cock. I wanted to drink
him dry, drawing the semen from his young balls by pure force of lust. He
bucked harder still a few more times into my mouth, and then threw his head
back and let out a strangled cry.

His cock pulsed hard against my palate, and I felt a warm, salty deposit on
my tongue. I kept moving my mouth up and down his cock and licking as it
spat two more delicious loads onto my eager tongue. His dick pulsed thrice
more without ejaculate, and I felt him relax under me, his penis beginning
to soften, and I let it fall from my mouth. I swirled his sweet semen
around my mouth, marvelling at how wonderful he tasted, and finally
swallowed the delectable fluid. I then slid up the bed and kissed his face
gently as he recovered from what looked like a truly monumental orgasm. As
he recovered, he began to kiss back, and quickly we were locked in an
embrace, our tongues exploring every detail of each others mouths. He
tasted so good!

"That was... that was JUST INCREDIBLE!" he gasped when we broke for
air. "So that's what a blowjob's like! I didn't think anything could be
better than wanking, but that's so much better!"

I smiled at him, stroking his cheek. "I'm glad you liked it, my handsome
prince," I said. I kissed him again. "I've been wanting to do that to you
ever since I first saw you. Every time I've seen you naked I've been
fighting the urge just to drop to my knees and suck you there and then."

He hugged me tightly, rubbing his naked midriff against mine. "Why did you
wait?" he grinned.

"I wish I hadn't! At least I got to do it now. And I'll do it any and every
time you let me. If I spent forever sucking your cock it wouldn't be long
enough."

He kissed me again. "Well, that doesn't sound such a bad thing. Course,
there are some times that I might have to turn you down- school assembly,
the dinner table, my sister's birthday parties and football matches might
not be the best places for that. Otherwise, my cock is yours anytime you
want it!"

I felt his cock stiffening against my hip again. I kissed him, feeling his
passion rising again. Mine had never lessened, and I was hard and raring to
go at his word.

"Can I do you?" he asked.

"You don't have to, Ben. Only do it if you want to. Don't do something
you're not ready for."

"I want to. I've thought about that cock of yours non-stop since I first
saw it. I want you in my mouth. Right now!" he said, cupping my balls in
one hand and stroking my chest with the other. He looked a bit less sure of
himself all of a sudden. "How'd you do it?"

"Just do what feels right, do what you enjoy, and it'll be great for me. Be
careful with your teeth- wrap your lips over them. And don't try and take
too much in- don't force yourself. It's a bit bigger than yours, so don't
hurt yourself."

"OK. Here goes!" he said, then licked his lips. He rolled me onto my back,
and knelt next to me, looking hard at my cock, which he held in his warm
right hand. At his touch, I felt myself getting even more aroused,
something I hadn't thought ever possible. He licked his lips again, staring
at my leaking prick. My precum was now making quite a mess of my pubes, and
he ran his fingers through my damp push. He licked his fingers, tasting my
lube. He looked up at me and grinned.

"Yum!" he said. It may have been my imagination, but in the dark he looked
hungry, like a tiger spotting succulent prey.

He lowered his face to my crotch, and took the head of my six and a half
inch cock in his mouth. My body stiffened and I clenched my teeth to avoid
crying out in pleasure. The hot moistness of his mouth felt unbelievable. I
fought my instincts and clenched my muscles to stop from grabbing his head
and thrusting my aching dick deep in and out of his throat. I put one hand
on his back and began stroking his warm skin in encouragement. I ran my
other hand through his raven hair, being careful not to press his head
down. He held his mouth still on my cock, only the two inches of my head in
his hot orifice. My cock was so hard the foreskin had totally
retracted. Slowly, as his lips got used to being wrapped around my pole, he
flicked out his tongue and traced around the head. I felt my cock twitch
and a little more precum leak out. He ran the whole of his tongue over my
glans before flicking the tip over my piss slit, lapping up all the precum
I could give him.

He slowly slid his mouth a little lower on my cock. As the warmth and
wetness of his mouth covered yet more of my rock hard shaft, I nearly came
straight away, but managed to fight it off. He kept licking the head, and
he began to hum and suck at the same time, copying what I had done to
him. The vibrations of his humming and the sucking of his hot mouth felt
just ecstatic, and I stiffened further to avoid humping his beautiful
face. He got about four inches of me in him- more than I would have
imagined- and began to slowly move his mouth up and down my cock. I was in
the throes of ecstasy- I had never been sucked so enthusiastically. Before
it had been a grudging favour. This time, Ben was in full lust and wanted
as much of me in him as he could take. Each downthrust I felt him try and
take more, but he couldn't quite manage it. I just felt the tip of my
leaking prick brush the back of his mouth, but that was more than enough to
put me in a heaven of pleasure. Watching him, I saw him begin to slide one
hand up and down the part of my shaft he couldn't fit in, masturbating me
to even higher levels of bliss. The other hand was massaging my perineum. I
noticed his cock was rock hard and arrow straight against his belly.

"Swing round so you're kneeling over my face," I said, wanting to taste him
again as his mouth was wrapped around my own cock.

Not taking his mouth from my dick or even stopping licking, sucking or
humming, he swung his hips around and knelt over my face. His perfect
package was infront of my lusting mouth, and I swallowed him whole, my nose
nestling against his sac. I began repeating the ministrations I had
performed just minutes before, sliding my mouth up and down rapidly while
one hand fondled his scrotum and the jewels hidden in that loose purse. I
slipped my other hand over his pale buttocks, shining brightly in the
darkness. I could smell the musk of his arsecrack over my face, and the
arousing aroma made me double the speed of my bobbing on his cock. Neither
of us were humming now, as we were moaning from the pleasure we were giving
each other and it had the same effect. I quickly sucked one of my fingers,
then began gently stroking his anus. He moaned harder against my cock, and
I nearly came, but just held it off. I slipped just the tip of my index
finger into his hole, delighting as the sphincter clasped it tightly. He
moaned one last time at this intrusion, and came hard against my lapping
tongue, feeding me two small spurts of his delicious cream. This pushed me
finally over the edge, and I came harder than I ever had in my life.

I heard him gag on my cock as my cream hit his throat, but he kept his head
in place and sucked manfully the whole time. I felt his mouth swallow,
trying to take my entire load, but eventually he let my cock slip from his
lips, his mouth totally full of my cream, and my last spurt coated my
belly. Utterly spent, we collapsed to the bed. We recovered quickly, and he
lapped up the last of my load from my stomach, even cleaning the precum
from my pubes. When he was done, I pulled him up and worshipped his tongue,
our passion gone and a new tenderness to our kissing, as we exchanged our
new-found pure love for each other. Finally we broke, exhausted.

"Did I do OK?" he asked.

"No- you did better than OK. You were brilliant. I've never felt so
good. Not ever. I love you Ben."

"I love you too, David."

"Did you like what I did at the end?" I asked. Trying to finger him had
been instinctive. Knowing how much I liked it I thought he might
too. Hindsight was making me question it, though.

"Well... at first I thought it was dirty, but it felt so good I didn't
care. Then when you pushed your finger in, it was the best thing I've ever
felt." The smile on his face said more than his words. I kissed him.

"Good, I hoped you would," I said. "I'm really tired, Ben. Can we sleep?"

"Sure, I'm knackered too," he said. "You're staying with me though, aren't
you?" he added, looking worried. I kissed his forehead.

"Forever."

We snuggled into each other, the top of his head against my cheek, my arms
around him, his around me. I rapidly fell into a deep, contented sleep, the
warmth of Ben's body against mine matching the warm feeling I had in my
heart. I had felt like my heart was dead for most of the time since the
accident. Now it felt more alive than I could ever remember.


To be continued...



So David's life appears to have turned a corner. Can this continue?

Part three is nearly done, and I'll try to post it in the next couple of
days- assuming I'm happier with the draft than I was with this part. Find
out if David's life really does start getting better, how he gets on in his
choir audition and his first rugby match at the new school, how his
relationships with his peers develop and, of course, how he and Ben begin
to explore their unexpected love, birthed amongst their traumas.

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.