Sex in the Sky

“NOTE: This is the first of “The Steelman Tales.”"

I’ll say this for Matt, he never beat about the bush. He gave me the bad news almost as soon as we were seated at the booth in our favorite restaurant, the little Indian buffet place tucked away in the busy strip mall.

“Jon, I have to tell you something,” he said. “I’ve accepted a position with the company in Greensboro. I’m leaving with my family at the end of the month.”

I sat there, not reacting yet. I wasn’t altogether shocked by his news. During the two years we had known each other he had talked before about the possibility of moving. Now the unthinkable had come to pass.

“I wish you’d say something.”

“Well, what is there to say, Matt? I can’t change your mind, can I?”

“No. Jon, this is an incredible career op for me. I really couldn’t turn it down. And Christine is overjoyed–we’ll be moving back close to our families. Her folks especially have missed seeing the kids. They–”

“Matt,” I interrupted, “Give me credit for never thinking I came before your wife and kids, okay? It’s just a little hard to know that I’m not even going to be in the running.”

Matt said, “Jon–” but then fell silent. His expression was earnest, willing me to understand. I looked at his face, the square jaw and bright blue eyes I had come to love, though I had never said that forbidden word to him.

“You did this on purpose, right?” I said. “You waited to tell me the bad news until it was your turn to pick up the check. Well, it worked, I’m not hungry now.”

He relaxed a bit as he realized I was kidding him. “Do you still want to work out on Thursday?” he asked.

I rolled my eyes. “Christ, you’re leaving in a month. You think I’m going to pass up an opportunity to see you naked?”

He grinned, embarrassed as always when I complimented his body. “I’ll call you to confirm, OK?”

“Sure,” I replied. “Let’s eat.”

“I thought you said you weren’t hungry.”

“I never pass up a free meal from a hunky guy.”

Matt laughed. “Jon, you’re such a joker.”

I looked him in the eye and said, “What can I do but laugh, Matt?”

It was true. The whole thing between Matthew Mulroy and me had been a cosmic joke all along. Once in a while I would shake my head, amazed that it had happened.

We used to argue amiably about who had started chatting to whom online, but I’m still sure it was him who made the first move. Matt approached me exactly as he would have a potential business client–polite, friendly but doggedly tenacious. It worked, because he had a charm that kept me talking to him even as I found out he was married and had two school-age children–everything I usually refused to have anything to do with, online or anywhere.

It was about a month after his first message to me that we finally arranged to meet in a cafe near one of the roaring commuter freeways we both used to go to and from work. I was nervous–because I was late, for one thing, and also, I had no idea what Matt looked like. I had e-mailed him my picture, which sent him into what I thought was quite undeserved rapture, but Matt had told me he didn’t have one of himself. “I have to be careful, you know,” he said. So here I was, Jonathan Evans, Jon for short, part-time English instructor at Steelman College, gay, reasonably out, unattached since the death of my partner two years ago (David, rest in peace), going to meet a man with a wife and kids who wanted to fool around on the side with another man. As I said, he was a sweet talker.

He was a looker, too, and just as chatty and gregarious in person as he was online. He wore khakis, neatly pressed, and a colorful shirt. “We dress down at my company,” he explained. That was fine by me, especially when he left the table to visit the men’s room and I got a good look at his small, tight butt. Maybe that was what decided me. Maybe it was the rest of his compact, fit body–he explained that he had been a high school track runner. He still entered an occasional race around town. Maybe it was his smiling face, with its square jaw and dimples–I’m a sucker for a guy with dimples. But I think it was what I saw after I took my turn in the restroom and was walking back to our booth.

He was staring out the window, not seeing me yet, and there was a look of sadness and loneliness on his unguarded face such as I hadn’t seen in a long time. He turned and saw me then, and immediately flashed his smile, but not before I’d realized I’d had a glimpse of his private hell. Yes, he was as hot as any man I’d tricked with, Matt was–but at that moment I wanted to help the guy as much as get my rocks off.

We didn’t rush off to bed that first time, though. He had to get back home to his family. “I’d really like to see you again, Jon,” he said outside in the parking lot. “You’re even better looking than your picture,” he added and, hopelessly captivated by then, I swallowed even that tired line.

“I think you’re a attractive guy too, Matt,” I said. He shook my hand, lingering just an instant longer than called for by a casual meeting, and smiled into my eyes.

“I’ll see you online probably,” he said, after we had exchanged office phone numbers. With that we drove off to our respective homes. I half hoped that was the last I would hear of him. I half feared the same.

About two weeks later, we met in another crowded, noisy restaurant, Mexican this time. Lunch was as pleasant as our previous meal together. When it was over and I had picked up the tab, over Matt’s protests, we stood at the edge of the parking lot. Conversation came to a halt as we shifted our respective weights uneasily from foot to foot.

“So,” Matt finally said, “what do you have lined up for this afternoon?”

“Don’t know,” I replied. I stopped there for a moment, then took the plunge. “Actually, I’ve been a little stressed lately. Took the afternoon off, but I didn’t make any special plans– I was going to go home, chill out a bit, you know how it is.”

More silence hung in the air. Then Matt spoke. “Well, Jon–you know what I did back in the restaurant?” I looked at him. “When I went to the restroom, I called my office and told them I wasn’t coming back in today.”

Our eyes met, then we simultaneously burst out laughing with mingled embarrassment and relief. “Great minds think alike, I guess,” I said.

Matt said, diffidently, “I guess I’m hoping you might want some company.”

Jerk that I am, I let him hang in suspense for long seconds before I answered, “Sure, Matt, that would be great.” His face lit up and I felt ashamed at having toyed with him.

“I’ll follow you,” he said.

Twenty minutes later we sat side by side on the couch in the living room of my apartment. He had refused my offer of a drink. I felt his knee touching mine. I reached out and began to massage it through the denim, then looked up into his face. He was gazing at me, not smiling. I raised one hand and began to stroke his cheek with my thumb. His eyes closed and his lips parted slightly. I leaned forward and placed my mouth on his, gently. I started to withdraw but he put his hand on the back of my head. I felt his questioning tongue on my lips and opened my own mouth in response. For long moments we kissed, gently, sweetly.

“That was nice,” Matt said, when we finally broke apart. He reached up and began to unbutton my shirt.

Gentle and sweet was the way I remember that whole afternoon. It was a new experience for me, taking things so slow–Matt was, not surprisingly, a mixture of passion and inhibition. We sat naked on my living room floor on a quilt I spread out, kissing and holding one another. That way I could get a good view of his hairy chest and broad shoulders, surprising on such a slender frame. I masturbated his hard cock, slick with his copious secretions, while we kissed, then looked into his eyes, dark and liquid with desire.

He stroked my cock, a bit hesitantly, and that was about as far as he went. I was surprised that I was enjoying being with him this much, considering we were hardly doing anything sexual, but at last I decided I wanted a little more. Pushing him down gently, I got him on his back on the quilt. Positioning myself between his legs, I bent down and touched my lips to the cool skin on his flat stomach, faintly fragrant with soap. As I gradually worked my way downward, kissing and licking, I felt him stiffen. I looked up and saw that he had raised his head. “What’s the matter?”

“I usually don’t let guys do that,” he said.

For the first time I felt impatient. “Matt, just relax, okay? Lie back and enjoy.” I grasped his cock with my right hand, licked it once and took it in my mouth, knowing that would probably put a halt to his objections. Sure enough, I felt his already hard shaft turn to steel as I went down all the way. He sighed and his body relaxed. One hand reached down and began to caress my head.

I gave Matt my very best blow job that afternoon, slickening his organ with my saliva, sliding up and down on his shaft with tightly squeezed lips, pulling gently on his balls, flicking my tongue around the ridge of his swollen glans, and cleaning the precum out of his piss slit as fast as it flowed out. Soon I had him groaning and writhing on the floor under me.

“Jon, I’m going to cum,” he said finally, trying to wriggle away. Making muffled negative noises, I held him firmly in place, picking up my pace. “I don’t want to cum in your mouth… please… oh god,” he finally moaned, arching his body upward. I let his cum fill my mouth before swallowing it. Finally I let him go and rose, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Matt lay sprawled on the quilt, arms flung out, still breathing hard, his eyes closed. Finally he opened them and looked at me. I was relieved when he smiled. “That was great,” he said.

“I could tell you liked it.” I saw a stray drop of cum on the shaft of his cock, bent down and licked it up. “I enjoyed every drop.”

“I’m going to be absolutely useless for the next hour,” he said.

“No problem,” I said.

“But you didn’t cum.”

I looked at Matt lying there, his legs apart, his cock softening, his chest still rising and falling a bit faster than normal. The expression on his face was sleepy and relaxed. For the first time since we met I could see no trace of anxiety or longing in his eyes. “Like I said, no problem.”

“Thanks, Jon,” he said, rising to a sitting position and putting his arms around me. I returned the hug, surprised at my growing affection for the man. I carried him down with me as I lay back on the floor. Matt stretched out full length, his head resting on my left shoulder, his face toward mine, his eyes closed. I put my left arm around him and stroked his hair with my other hand. He put his arm across my chest and snuggled closer, making a little noise of contentment.

“Comfortable?” I asked.

He opened his eyes and smiled. “And how,” he said.

I don’t know for how long we lay there, not speaking. Finally he stirred and kissed me. “Coming to life again?” I said. He smiled in response and continued kissing me softly, on my forehead, my eyes, my cheeks, working his way down to my throat and chest. He reached my right nipple and began to kiss it. I drew in my breath sharply. His mouth was drawing exquisite sensations.

“Oh Jesus, that’s sweet,” I said.

Matt switched to the other one, pausing only to say, “You have a great chest, Jon.”

He spit into one of his hands, reached down, found my cock, hard again, and began to stroke it, his mouth still on my tit. My hands wandered over his body as I sighed with pleasure. He sat up and began to masturbate me in earnest. In a few moments I groaned and blew my load across my chest and stomach. The first spurt was forceful enough that it hit my chin. I lay back, my arm flung across my face, chest heaving with release. Slowly I came back down to earth. I uncovered my face, opened my eyes, and looked up to find Matt gazing down at me, smiling.

“Gosh, you cum a lot,” he said.

“Your fault,” I replied. “Thanks, that was wonderful.” It had been a long time since a hand job had turned me on that much.

“My pleasure,” he said. “Can I help you get cleaned up?”

“Bathroom’s behind you to your left,” I said. He got a towel and wiped me off. I sat up and looked at him.

“What is it?” Matt asked.

I shook my head. “Matt, you are something else.”

He smiled again. “Thanks, I think.”

“You are one hot looking man.”

He actually blushed. “Aw no, I’m not.”

“Matt, when a guy you’ve just messed around with compliments your body, the correct reply is: ‘thank you.’”

He grinned like a little boy. “Well, thank you.”

I leaned forward, cupped his face in my hands and kissed him. “You’re welcome. Want to take a shower?”

“Only if it’s with you,” he said.

I wanted to tell him many things at that moment–how bizarre the whole idea of my making it with a married man really was. How exquisite being with him had been, and how bizarre that was too, because what we had done had been hardly sex at all by my standards. How my feelings for him were growing out of all proportion to the length of time I had known him, or how much I really knew about him. But I couldn’t put any of this into words. So I stayed silent and enjoyed my view of his muscled back and dimpled butt as I followed him into the bathroom. I must have had a premonition about just how little I was going to be able to see Matt without his clothes on.

Months later in a hotel room in another city, when we finally had some private time together again, I said to him in frustration, “If I’d known how hard this was going to be, I never would have invited you back to my place.”

“I know, Jon,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Just keeping in touch with Matt was not difficult–he was online almost every night, and always hailed me with a cheerful hello. I knew about all his family activities, his ups and downs at work and with his finances.

We exercised together occasionally at lunchtime, after we discovered we both belonged to the same gym. This didn’t work very well. Matt, being a competitive runner, left me in the dust. When he ran my pace on the indoor track, I felt as if he were hanging back against his will. Working out was more fun. I couldn’t keep from watching Matt’s muscles bulge out as he worked the weight machines, of course. Showering with him was an exercise in frustration, trying not to get an erection at the sight of him naked. Matt was a bit of a tease. With a broad grin on his face, he would flash his dick at me from a distance in the shower when no one was around, or when other occupants’ backs were turned. I had my revenge now and then. I would cop a feel standing next to him at the lockers, or grab his cock when we were alone together in the shower and stroke it to erection. “Jon, quit it! Someone might come in,” he would hiss, simultaneously aghast and delighted. Still, locker-room horseplay was no substitute for what I really wanted.

Not that there was much prospect of doing more if we ever did manage to get together again. In our chats online Matt made it clear that what we had done that afternoon was the limit of his sexual activity with men. I was secretly determined to change that.

We had lunch together frequently, most often at a small, nondescript Indian restaurant with surprisingly good and cheap food, halfway between our respective places of employment. I enjoyed eating with him–he was easy on the eye, of course, and at least for a while, hearing about life with a wife and children was interesting, since I had never been close friends with any straight men.

“Do you think your wife suspects?” I asked him once, during one of these meals, a few months after our afternoon tryst.

He considered the question. “I think she knows that there’s stuff I don’t talk to her about. She says I spend too much time online. I tell her it’s work related.”

Matt’s job included communicating with people in the business all over the world, so this was not unconvincing.

“Well, not that I know that much about women, but I have gay friends who used to be married. They all say that when they finally told their wives, the first thing they said was, ‘I knew it.’ Besides, there’s one thing about you that’s a dead giveaway, Matt.”

“What’s that?” He looked worried.

“No straight man could possibly look that good from behind in jeans. You’re out whether you like it or not.”

“Aw Jon,” he said, blushing, “You’re such a tease.”

A silence, then Matt said, “So you really think she knows about me and isn’t saying anything, Jon?”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to know,” I said. “She might have taken a look at what she has. A nice house in a good part of town. An SUV to drive. Two great kids who keep her busy and don’t get into trouble at school. You, or part of you, at least. Maybe she’s added it all up and decided it’s not worth rocking the boat.”

“That sounds so–cold and calculating. Christine’s not like that.”

“Don’t kid yourself, bud,” I said, “We’re all totaling the balance, all the time, whether we know it or not. You’ve done yours and decided to stay married. I did mine at the end of last month and decided you were still worth keeping around.”

Matt blinked–the last sentence had come out more sharply than I had intended. “I know we don’t see each other enough, Jon. I’m sorry about that.”

“We haven’t seen each other at all, Matt, except for lunch, the gym and that Saturday in the parking garage.”

He had the grace to lower his head in embarrassment at the memory of that hasty meeting in the deserted company garage. He had told his wife he had forgotten some paperwork at the office and slipped out for an hour. His eyes were wide with need, his cock hard. I had deep-throated him in the front seat of the Ford Explorer, the denim of his jeans rough against my face, his hand pressing against the back of my head. After I had swallowed his load, he had gone to pick up his son and take him to soccer practice.

“I know, I know,” he sighed. “I’ll see what I can do, Jon. I promise.” Matt’s refusal to make plans for us more than a day in advance drove me crazy. I knew it was because he felt guilty about the whole thing, but understanding that didn’t make it any easier. We finally arranged another afternoon together a couple of weeks later. It was a disaster that almost finished us.

That morning I called him at the office and left a message telling him when I’d be home. When I got to my place, there was a message from him asking where I was, and that he was waiting for my call. I called and left another message telling him that I was now home. After waiting the rest of the afternoon, I gave up in disgust, sure that he had stood me up.

Much later that evening, after I had gone out, gotten drunk and ultimately staggered home alone, I checked my e-mail. There was a note from Matt. “Jon, I’m so sorry. I just got home and re-checked my voice mail and found twenty messages, including two from you. Obviously my pager is screwed up. It never told me I had any calls. I don’t know what to say-you have every right to be mad. Let me know if and when you want to talk to me.”

At that moment, I didn’t care whether I ever saw or talked with him again. I went to bed, slept heavily and woke up with a pounding head. There were no calls or messages from him that day at work. I had to give him credit for that.

I stayed offline that evening too–slowly I had conceded that the whole snafu, when it came down to it, had not been his fault. I just didn’t feel ready to chat again as if nothing had happened. I was sitting reading the paper with the TV on, feeling odd at the unaccustomed activity, when the phone rang.

“Jon?” Matt’s voice said. “Don’t hang up, please?”

Momentarily taken aback, I said nothing. Matt never called me at home or in the evening, when he was with his family. He said, “Are you still there?”

I frantically scratched around his back trying to find the end to unravel his towel. Neill started to laugh against my mouth. His rocking hips shook against mine, the lump of his hard-on providing friction to my straining cock. The naughty clammy hands that had found their way under my shirt dug into my back muscles. As he pressed against me, they got squashed against the wall. We spun over to the other wall, slamming Neill against it, bodies ramming against each other, every part touching, so hot and sweaty. I kissed him hard, probing his hot mouth with my tongue. He giggled and bit me.

“Ouch, shit, man,” I swore, though it really didn’t hurt. Bloody towel. I abandoned trying to find the end of it (How thick do you have to be to not be able to find the end of a towel?) “What’s up with the laughing?”

Neill gave me a big, tonguey kiss before replying. I loved the way his soft lips manipulated my skin, sending shockwaves to my hard cock. “Ticklish,” he smirked. He pushed away from me. “Come on, man, you gotta get some of your gear off before I take anything else off.”

“Are you going to help me?” I whispered, then licked my lips.

“Nah, I’m sure a big boy like you can manage,” he said, nonchalantly. “You can start with the shoes… You’re so fucking hot, you know that?”

His last words would have scared the shit out of me one day ago, but now they only made me hornier. I couldn’t believe that my best mate- Well, it was weird. He found me just as hot as I found him. I wrenched at the laces of my sneakers, discarded them and my soaked socks. “You’re not so bad yourself,” I told him, smiling back. I noticed that he was stroking the patch of towel concealing his cock. “Do you want a hand with that?”

“There’ll be plenty of time for that later, bitch,” Neill said. He frowned a little in response to my worried look. “Did you find that creepy..? I don’t think I’ll say that again.” He laughed, but his laughter didn’t show in his eyes. His skin seemed quite white all of a sudden, although it could have been the fluorescent lighting. Suddenly, he grabbed me aggressively, fingers grasping handfuls of my shirt. “Course I’ll give you a hand.”

He stripped me of my shirt very quickly (though it did get stuck over my head for a bit), and proceeded to run his fingers down my chest, following with his hot tongue. My smell clearly didn’t bother him as terribly as he said, since he managed to lick the salt and sweat from my skin. His fervent tongue traced a whisper over my chest, around my pecs, my armpits, orbiting each chiselled muscle on my abdomen. I was on fire. My skin burnt and tingled, shivering as the little muscles that would normally erect hairs contracted in a wave beneath his scorching, wet tongue. He reached my waist band and stroked his fingers over the skin above it, but did not try to remove my shorts. When I tried to, he flicked my hands away. “Just you wait,” Neill said, savagely, and smirked at me. His blue eyes lit up, his cheeks glowed with happiness. He flicked his pink tongue-tip over his lips then ground them against his teeth.

Neill nibbled his way back up my chest, fingers reaching before him like a climber on a wall. I couldn’t help but cry out “Shit, man- That feels so good- Oh, man- Shit- Fuck- Neill- Arrgh-” and gurgle noises that made no sense. His teeth felt great, just pinching, drawing my skin into his mouth and getting it warm and wet. He prodded and poked me with his hot tongue then licked on. He seemed to avoid any power points that would usually turn me on, like the skin above my cock, my bellybutton and nipples. Still, I hardly wanted anything else. It just felt so fucking amazing. Finally, we were eye-to-eye (Neill’s only a few inches shorter than me).

I tried to kiss Neill, but he tilted his head away. “Just wait,” he whispered in my ear, then sucked the earlobe. He thumbed my nipples causing them to stiffen and burn. Jolts of pleasure shot over my skin in a wave of heat. I wondered why no-one had done this to me before; do girls just not know this stuff, even though we do it to them? My cock burned and swelled, stretching my shorts and briefs even more. He started to pinch the tips with his nails, plucking them outwards until they hardened, then rubbing them gently. More heat, mingled with slight pain. His lips suckled my neck. My moans were muffled by his hair. My pelvis trembled and I tried to rub my burning bulge against his. He pushed me away.

“Now the shorts,” Neill whispered. I felt his fingers slip inside my waistband, tugging the elastic downwards, and causing my cock to be pressed down as well. He left the waistband pushing down my cock, so it tried to stick out on a horizontal angle. The pressure caused by both the band and the stretched fabric of briefs and shorts was excruciating; not exactly painful, but the sort of force that made me feel like I was just about to cum, but somehow couldn’t burst over the edge. My hands reached down to release my aching cock, but he batted them away. “Leave it,” he snapped. “Just wait.” I growled in frustration.

He passed his hand lightly over the fabric encasing my cock, giving only enough pressure for me to know that the fabric was moving. It wasn’t nearly enough. I lost control. I couldn’t help it. My hands ripped at his towel, fingers roughly gripping his hard package through his slippery, soaked boxers. I pulled Neill to me, loving the hot trembling flesh in my fist. We kissed hard and fast, sweaty muscles slipping against each other, creating a heat that seemed only destined for our cocks. Neill’s fingers reached inside my shorts and pressed against the fabric of my briefs. I was shuddering like crazy, head tilted away from his hot mouth, moaning to him to fuck me.

Neill dropped to his knees, dragging my shorts down to my ankles. He let me kick them off whilst he sucked the tensed inside of my thighs. He moved up to my briefs, which were transparent with precum and nearly ripping from the stress my hard cock was placing on them. His hot breath felt comparatively cold to my sizzling groin. He flicked his sweat-sticky fingers down the backs of my legs, working on muscle knots as well as any physio. His face was right against my briefs, but all he did was blow on me. I prickled and shook some more. My hands guided his face further forwards.

I gasped as he licked the steamy fabric over my cockhead. When I tried to take the briefs off, Neill swatted my hands away. He continued to lick and suck the soaked fabric and the bulges beneath, drawing precum out of the fabric and breathing it into his mouth. “Shit-” I gasped. “Shite- Please- Neill, God- Fuck me-” I had to lean against the wall again; there was no way my knees would support me.

Neill’s feverish fingers scraped down my wet briefs, and flung them to the side, so that they slapped the wall. Those few seconds gave me a little relief. Not for long, though. He gripped my shaft, directing me to his hot mouth. He licked and nibbled all the way around bulging red head, drinking in the strings of precum that would otherwise run over his fingers. I looked down, and he did something really dirty. Withdrawing my cock from just inside his lips, along with a thread of clear saliva, he rubbed the sensitive head first across his lips, then over each cheek.

His face was- Well, it was his face-! My best friend was rubbing my cock all over his face, getting all shiny with spit and precum. I couldn’t believe it. My eyes must’ve been on stalks. The rest of my body was shaking like it had electricity running over the skin. All my trembling hands could do was hold onto his sweaty blonde head. His breathing seemed all fucked up like mine. After a few seconds he groaned, “Do you like this… or is it freaking you out?”

Neill’s hand tightened fractionally around my cock, but it felt like I was getting squeezed. I moaned a little, liking the extra pressure. “Hell… yeah,” was all I could get out.

He laughed. “Cool, we’re on the same wavelength.” He nuzzled my cock a little harder, smearing me over his lips to get wet, then grazing me across his skin. I now have in memory the image of my best mate with my cock mashed into his face with precum dribbling down his cheeks (something that I’ll never stop dreaming about).. I could feel the prickle of his stubble, the padding of flesh on his cheeks, the slightly greasy, sweaty texture of his skin brush against my hypersensitive tip. My body was exploding with heat. Every muscle in my body was tensing in preparation to blow cum all over that hot face of his. I tried to hold back, but couldn’t keep it up much longer.

“Please-” I moaned. “I don’t want to cum yet- Please- Neill, shit-”

It hurt, trying to hold off orgasm; it made me even more aroused, on edge, under tough pressure. I survived a gentle lick as he released me. Then I just slid down the shower wall, gasping and convulsing as my muscles relaxed. It felt like I had cum, but there was no spunk, and my cock was still hard. It was wet with precum and spittle, with a bulging plum coloured head and a burning red shaft. Not as super-sized as the night before, more it’s usual size - quite thick and long by most standards. I had to change position. I stretched my legs in front of me and leant back a little, since I couldn’t bear anything touching my tingling, sore cock.

Neill sank down beside me. He lightly stroked my shoulder as I lolled against him. When he was satisfied that I was breathing normally, he spoke. “Hurts, doesn’t it?”

“What?” I murmured.

“Thinking your coming and then stopping it,” Neil said. He laughed and shoved me away. “That’s for what you did last night, when you did whatever fucked up thing you did to stop me coming.”

“Ow, man, that hurt,” I replied, in semi-mock pain. “Sorry.”

“Still felt bloody good though, didn’t it?”

“Yeah. Fucking amazing. But you- You are so bloody dirty or kinky or something.”

Neill flopped his face back, head hitting the vinyled shower wall. His brown-blonde hair was pushed back off his face, except one strand, which he blew away. “I hope that’s a fucking compliment,” he snorted.

“I think it is,” I said.

We just sat there, naked, erections reaching to the ceiling. If we had clothes on, this would pretty much be our position in our room if we were tired, talking shit or drinking. I couldn’t think of anything to say or do; I felt smashed.

Neill suddenly said, “Anyone ever complain you cum too soon?”

“I do not!” I snapped.

He laughed. “Yeah, you do.”

“You didn’t complain last night- and at least I warned you that I was on the edge.”

“You just changed the subject,” Neill said.

“I did not!” I saw that he was about to laugh, probably because my protests all sounded the same. “Geez, if you were under the same fucking pressure, you would too.” I grabbed his hair, forcing his lips to mine. Of course, Neill didn’t object. His fingers played my shoulders, our hips sort of turned over each other. I flinched as our cocks brushed. Then I pushed him away. “Just you wait,” I whispered and smiled evilly.

“Oh come on, Seamus!” Neill protested as I got up. I don’t know what he thought I was doing, but I certainly did. I turned the shower on. Of course, it was cold, as all showers are until they heat up. In fact, because they use artesian water in the Hall, it was bloody fucking freezing. “Oh, fuck! Seamus, you shit!” Neill swore, as he was drenched. His hair, now looking brown, was all forward across his face. I nearly pissed myself with laughter. He got up, nearly slipped, and dragged me under the water with him.

“Shite,” I moaned. Even though the water-pressure sucked, there was still enough water to saturate me. Neill shoved me under the shower-rose. Stupidly, I was swearing at the time, and my eyes were open. It was so cold, like bottled water from the fridge. I struggled to get out of the stream. My hands and body slid easily over Neill’s, every part feeling oiled. I forced him over against the wall, so that the spray was only on our feet. “That was fucking mean,” I gasped.

Neill flicked water in my face from the tips of his fingers. “And who started it?”

I decided not to reply. I didn’t have a come-back to that. Luckily, the water seemed to be heating up; steam was rising, making the lights look hazy. I looked down. We were both still rock hard. If anything, that cold splash would slow us down a little, which might be a good thing. We moved under the stream again.

Neill wrapped his arms behind my back, enveloping me in a hot, slick hug. There was no friction at all between our bodies. I loved how I could feel his muscles tense and release beneath the skin. The way his thorax pushed outwards when he breathed. Even his rapid, pounding heartbeat (although, that could have been mine and I just got confused). It felt as though my skin was much more sensitive to anything that touched it. “Mmmm,” I heard Neill moan. Our cocks touched, slippery and hot, pressed in against our abs. Shockwaves were already shooting through me again.

We clashed against each other, bodies straining hard, lips, tongues, teeth, everything, contacting each other’s flesh. I slammed Neill into the wall and grabbed his veiny cock, stroking as hard as I could. “Uh-” I heard him splutter. “Uh, oh God-” I could hear his breathing hiss in and out in small puffs. “Shit.” His head rocked backwards, eyes to the ceiling, then dropped over my right shoulder. His mouth pulled hard on the little bit of flesh above my shoulder bone. He bit down a little, then harder, still sucking and tonguing the skin in his mouth. It was enough to make me release his shaft, as I fought the waves of pleasure rippling through me.

“That hurt?” Neill asked. He looked a little worried.

I shook my head. “Nah.” I bent my head and sucked his nipple into my mouth. I lightly chewed the hard nub. Neill moaned.

“That hurt?” I asked him.

“God, no,” he whispered.

I smiled through the water streaming down my face. My hands stroked his cock a little more gently, mimicking the way he was treating my meat. I got a bit of a shock when I looked down. He was so long, probably two inches longer than me. What did that make him? 9, even perhaps 10 inches. Fucking freakish porn-star shit.

“Shit,” I whispered. I hadn’t actually thought about his length at all, other than comparing it to mine. I’d swallowed it all right, but how would it go in my arse? Also, the split mushroom of his head looked to be 2 inches across, although he narrowed further down. I kept rubbing his head between my thumb and forefinger, the other hand around his meaty base. He was so wet and hot. I fiddled with his foreskin, stretching it out and pulling it back. My fingertips manipulated the underside of his cock, where there’s this bit where the head joins shaft, that makes my whole body jolt when I play with it.

Neill took me, and I was thicker than that, I realized. Plus the added length of his cock would mean that there was more inside me being touched… Just thinking about it drove me mad.

We were both groaning by then. The water supplied a steady hot stream rippling onto our bodies, bouncing and dripping off onto other parts. The water smoothed our skins, lubricated our bodies. It made me completely hot and wet all over, like it was a sex organ itself. I went back to nibbling Neill’s hairy chest, which took some of my attention away from his cock. But not for long.

Soon I was down on my knees, avoiding his cock and probing his crack with my tongue. He still tasted like musk and cum, a flavor which I drank in the water that ran off his buttocks. From the way he was standing, even though his legs were quite far apart, I couldn’t get my mouth to his shithole. The fingers of my left hand could, though. I allowed my wet fingertips to massage the rim of his tight anus, whilst my tongue retreated to his balls. I nibbled his sack a little. At the same time, I could feel myself growing hotter and harder. My cockhead burnt against my wet abs. I was so caught up in what I was doing that Neill’s groans of, “Shit,” and “Fuck,” and “Oh yeah…” didn’t really sink in. Still, I did feel his hands on my head, pulling my hair and directing my hand and mouth to his dripping, scorching cock.

I expected to be able to take him all at once, as I had before, but that didn’t happen straight away. It took a lot of gagging and coughing. I pulled back after a few attempts and mouthed down each side of his cock, plucking him hard with my lips. The hot water ensured that he was always warm and wet. “Suck my cock, man,” Neill gasped. “Please- Ahhh yeah…” My mouth slurped his head. I sucked a little of him in, then bobbed back, each time taking a further inch. When I was about half way along, he forced my mouth along his extra length as far as I could go. I choked, I thought I couldn’t breathe. He was so thick that I felt like my throat was being closed off by his throbbing cockhead. I tried to spit out, but Neill wouldn’t let me. The air that was coming through my nose wasn’t enough. I was scared that I’d breathe water into my lungs. Why was this so hard, when last night it was easy?

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Neill whispered. He didn’t try to press in any further, but didn’t let me move back either. “Just keep swallowing. It’ll be fine.”

Hot, dilute spit had pooled in my mouth and started to dribble over my lips. It was thicker than the shower water and seemed to stick to my skin. I took Neill’s advice and swallowed, clearing some of the fluid from my mouth, but not really moving him. My tongue pressed his shaft hard against the roof of my mouth in rhythmic waves. I sucked in, swallowed some more. His head was completely slippery. I forced my mouth forward and felt him curve over the soft, then hard back of my tight, hot throat. My moans caused his cock to vibrate in my mouth. I can only imagine how good that felt.

I pulled away a little, then pressed my nose back against his slick, sweaty pubes. I’d stopped gagging. I loved his hot, huge cock, and the noises of appreciation he made as he fucked my face, faster and faster. His balls slapped against my chin, his shaft burnt friction against my lips. At the same time, I forced two wet fingers into his tight arsehole, fucking him back in an erratic motion.

We didn’t keep it up long. I didn’t want Neill to cum before he’d fucked my arse. I was sure I’d be missing out on something if he did.

I spat him from my mouth. “You’ve gotta fuck me, man,” I growled. Shit, it felt surreal that we were doing any of this. All those sweaty nights, half awake, just wondering what it would be like, but not thinking that it would ever, ever happen. I guess I didn’t think that I would really be able to do it, that it would really turn me on like this. I thought fucking Neill was just one of those things in your mind that you think, ’shit, that sounds hot,’ but the actual practice of it would be completely horrible, and definitely not arousing. Goddamn it, I was wrong. Now that I knew what it was like to fuck him, there was no way anything he did to me could turn me off.

Neill’s reply was a feral sounding grunt. He wrenched me from me knees and rammed me against the wall under the shower-rose, thrusting at me with his hips, so our hard-ons clashed in shots of heat. All I could do was moan into his mouth, no even able to kiss him back.

“Just wait a sec,” Neill told me. He left me heaving for air whilst he stepped out of the shower. I slumped against the cold corner. My slick hair dripped water into my eyes. The sight of his hot body was slightly obscured as I blinked the water away. Still, what I saw was just as arousing as the first time I saw him naked after a shower, months back. His hair, dark with water, reached just to the knobbly joint where the neck joins the shoulders. The locks beaded, sending small rivulets of water to join those already flowing down the furrow of his back. His shoulder and upper-back muscles flexed powerfully beneath his tanned skin, smoothing into the longer, streamlined muscles of his back. His butt was muscular, and sort of rounded, pale in comparison to his tan. It dimpled and stretched as he walked. As he leant over to pull something from the handful of clothing he had brought, I saw his balls bob between his legs. His cheeks parted, exposing his tiny pink hole to my eyes. I still couldn’t believe that my fat cock had fitted in there. I made me worry a little about what he had in store for me.

Neill was carrying a clear bottle with some sort of yellowish liquid in it. “What’s that?” I asked, as he joined me in the steam.

“Oh, you remember that shit Jill won?” he laughed.

“Which shit?” I asked. (Jill seems to have a knack for winning things, probably because she enters every sweepstake she can.)

He waved the bottle in my face, ‘Rose’s Massage Oil’. “That kit she got with all those face creams and make-up shit for men.”

I laughed. It was a bit of a standing joke. “Would that be Radio Live’s Metrosexual giveaway?”

Neill nodded. “She palmed a lot of it off onto Greg, but some of it ended up in our room… Want to use it up?”

“Right,” I said, with a smirk.

“Should work just like lube,” Neill said. “And guess what?”

“It’s ‘rose-scented’,” I read from the back label. We both laughed as he opened the bottle and squirted some on my chest. “Mmmm, so flowery,” I said, with a sniff. I couldn’t help but take the piss, ‘cos there’s no way either of us would normally use anything that smelt like roses (that’s how ’straight’ we were; always scared of what other people would think, I guess.) It didn’t smell half-bad, and the oily texture felt great on my skin. I got some on my hands and rubbed him up, paying special attention to his red bulging cock and hairy ball sac.

Neill massaged my chest, my prick, between my legs, so that the water now skimmed over me rather than sticking. He turned me around and did my back as well. His fingers were bloody magic, not too light, nor hard enough to be painful, just enough to penetrate each muscle and give it a good workout. He ironed out knots I didn’t even know I had. At the same time, I felt his fat cockhead pressing into the curve of my lower back. As great as the massage felt, all my frantic mind could think about was having that burning shaft push through my virgin hole. “Oh, man,” I moaned. “Fuck me- Please, just fuck me-”

“All in good time.” Neill kissed the base of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. This was nothing compared to the jolts I felt as his oily palms pressed into my buttocks, swirling up my back and then down again so that his fingertips flicked over the sensitive place between my balls and arsehole. He allowed one hand to linger between my legs, lightly brushing the smooth skin of my balls. The other hand reached for the oil. He drizzled more of the cold liquid down my lower back so that it dripped into my crease.

“Urgh,” I groaned. One of his fingers had slipped between my cheeks, guiding the oil down to my arsehole. He used one hand to hold my buttocks apart while he squirted more oil directly over my tight hole. The intense flow on my sensitive pucker caused me to flinch and gasp. I heard the clonk of the bottle dropping to the shower floor. My body jerked as Neill’s fingertip pressed into me. The tip of my prick slid against the cold shower-wall.

“It’s all right,” he whispered. His finger continued to thrust into my hot, tight hole. I really wasn’t concerned about it, he’d already fingered me before, with incredible results. It was just that everything he touched had me rippling with pleasure, and I couldn’t control the movement my body made in response. I pushed back slightly, forcing his second knuckle past my sphincter.

“Oh God,” I murmured. “Fuck my virgin arse… Please fuck me hard…”

Neill countered the catch in his breath by stabbing another finger into me, circling the two inside my hole. I writhed and moaned like some slutty girl. His other hand pulled my hips back quite a bit, so that I was supporting myself more on my arms than my legs and my hips and back were angled. I was worried ‘cos I couldn’t rub my cock against the wall anymore. As if reading my mind, Neill laughed. “The only way you’re getting off is by my rod fucking your arse.”

I could easily have pushed back into the shower-side, but I didn’t want to. I wanted this cum to be just from Neill’s long cock splitting my virgin channel. “Get on with it then, man,” I moaned. “Fuck my arse.” I didn’t realize that as I spoke, he had already lined his fat head up, ready to burst into me as soon as his fingers retreated.

Suddenly I felt this huge, hot thing, stretching my tiny anus. Jolts of pain shot through me. My body tensed, face creased, lips bitten so I would not scream. Neill thrust further into me and my agony increased. A whine crept from my throat. My skin seemed to prickle with pinpoints of pain. “Relax mate,” I heard him whisper. ‘Easy for you to say,’ I thought. I felt sorry for all the girls I had ever given anal. How the fuck could he have enjoyed this torture?

Neill’s fingertips brushed across my chest, one hand rubbing a mixture of oil and hot water into my nibbles, the other stroking my cock. I moaned as pleasure mingled with the pain. I must have relaxed a little, since I experienced a sudden stab of pain as his thick knob slid past my tight entrance. Suddenly, it felt a bit better. My sphincter was still stretched wide around his ridged shaft, but not as wide as it had been before.

He was gasping in my ear, as if feeling the same pain as I was. “Fuck, you’re so tight. Push down a bit, ease yourself open…”

I rolled my head to the right, so that I could almost see his face behind me in the corner of my eye. The change of position caused the water that had been hitting my head to hit my collarbones, gushing on to my prickly nipples, and down to my engorged cock. The shock caused me to jump, forcing his cock further inside me. My whole body throbbed with the pain of my stretched anal muscles. “What do you mean?” I groaned, as my cock tingled in delight, like it enjoyed the pain.

“It feels like you’re all jammed up… Push like you’re taking a shit-”

“Argh!” I pushed down as he eased himself further into me. His pole felt slippery and hot, but my arse still resisted the invasion. My abs tensed as I fought to expand my channel. Neill was right, it did ease the pressure; I suppose he had figured that out when I couldn’t get inside of him.

He pulled back and pushed in again, going a little deeper this time. My hole pulsed with heat. “How much of you is in there?” I grunted.

“Less than half,” Neill said.

“What?” My surprise gave him a chance to force a few more inches inside me. He thrust in and out to loosen me a little more. His hand continued to play my cock, shooting waves of pleasure through my body, until I was shaking back against his chest, pulling myself up almost straight then moving down again. Slowly, I began to realize that most of the pain had passed. I could feel his hot, thick knob and shaft moving easily in my burning rectum. “How much now?” I moaned.

Neill’s chest hair rubbed against my back as he bent forwards to tongue my ear. “Nearly there,” he whispered. His pace increased. My pelvis started to move against his, thrusting down as he pressed up, forcing more of him into me. The friction of his throbbing cock rubbing against every sensitive place in my tight hole made me moan. My own cock, neglected now that Neill’s hands had moved to my hips, burned against my abdomen. I didn’t need his touch there anymore; the pressure of his scorching cock inside was enough to keep me unbelievably aroused.

“Harder,” I grunted. “Fuck me harder. Split my arse- Uh- Ugh- Uh-” I felt electricity shoot through my veins. My heart skipped several beats. I guessed that this angle was right for massaging my prostate. This was nothing like the pleasant sensation I got from a fingering during a blowjob. My whole body was trembling. I think I saw flashes of color. It felt incredible.

My best mate was fucking my arse and I loved it. I loved him.

Every movement caused my stretched ring to burn, but this was soothed almost immediately by the hot water dripping down my back. I pushed my butt down to split myself further open as Neill’s huge pole thrust back and forth inside me. I felt his balls slapping mine as he upped the tempo. He speared deep inside me, causing my abdomen to vibrate and twinge with pain. He pulled out almost completely before returning to that point, the pain receding as his fat cockhead massaged my velvety insides into tremors of pleasure. My expanding cock wept down my abs and onto my tight balls. I babbled out a stream gasped words that made no sense. “Fuck me- Shite- Harder- Oh, God, Neill- You’re so good- Fuck me- Fuck me open- Neill- Neill- Yeah- That’s good, man- Poke me with your long cock- Harder- Argh- Shit- Fuck me-”

I heard similar words spitting from Neill’s lips. “Oh, man, you’re so tight- You’re so fucking tight- I’m going to loosen you up- Gonna fuck that virgin hole- Gonna shoot cum up you- You did to me- Dirty boy- You love this don’t you?- So hot- Go faster- Fuck, Seamus- Tight arse- My cock’s splitting you open- Seamus- Oh God, Seamus-” He moaned on and on as his pole rammed into me. We were going faster and faster. The friction scorched through my bowels, burning through to my drooling shaft. My butt muscles bounced off his thighs, feeling the prickle of his hairs and the flexion of his muscles. The movement caused my rectum to clench and release around Neill’s slippery pole, increasing the erratic catch in his breathing.

“Uh- Uh-” Neill grunted. He slowed our thrusting right down, rotating his hips so that his cock ground against every surface in my tight hole. I countered by squeezing myself closed, and tilting my hips to crush his cock with my pubic bones. “Urgh,” Neill moaned. “Shit man- I’m gonna-”

“Gonna what?” I gasped. I released my muscles and started to move fast against him, fucking myself on his cock. His hands flinched and trembled on the thick, sweaty muscles above my hips.

“Gonna-”

“Gonna what, man?” I could tell by the way his cock seemed to expand and vibrate in my arse that he was close to the edge. “You gonna cum before me?”

“Seamus, you shit,” he grumbled. Neill’s wet hand grabbed my shaft and started to jack me hard. The assault on both my hole and my cock had me hot and quivering all over. Violent shockwaves shot through me. I convulsed in pleasure. My skin prickled with cold despite the hot water pounding off my back.

Neill pushed into me and held his whole length within. He began to jerk in my sizzling, snug hole. “Admit it-” I groaned. “You’re- Argh!” His cock blew a load of semen inside me. The intensity of the explosion forced cum deep into my tight bowels, far further than his embedded cocktip. “Oh- Shit-” It was so hot, shooting through me. Neill pulled back a little, his cock still blasting and quaking. I felt cum press down around his shaft, lubricating to reduce the friction of his movement.

“Oh, man- Oh, fuck-” Neill gasped again and again. His fingers slipped around my shaft, squeezing hard and releasing me with each wave of his orgasm. I couldn’t help but cry out, I was so close.

“Neill,” I moaned. He had started to ream me again, spreading warm cum all along my burning channel. My knees were beginning to bend. I could hardly take the trembling fire that was shooting through my groin.

His arm slotted beneath my outstretched arms, elbow locking him to my chest. He forced me to stand upright, causing my rectum to tighten around him. His long rod completely filled me at this sharp angle. I moaned as I felt his hard nipples and damp chest hair prickle against my back. The shower water shot hot needles at my tensed face. Neill walked me back, balls swinging against mine, so that the water was aimed at my trembling cock. “Holy shit, Neill,” I gasped as both of his hands began to play my length.

I thrashed, forcing his prick to move inside me, contacting every sensitive nerve inside my tight hole. Hot and cold shot over my body. I rolled my head back and growled. His hot mouth and tongue stroked my sensitive neck. “Cum for me,” Neill whispered.

“Uh-” I moaned.

His fingers massaged my meat harder. “Cum for me, Seamus,” Neill said, again.

I couldn’t stop myself anymore. The heat of the water caused my sensitive cockhead to throb. His hands pushed me further, seemingly drawing cum out of me. And the cock in my arse, added incredible, pleasant pressure. “Argh- Uh- Ugh-” I gasped. My body jolted as semen pulsed out of my cock. “Argh- God, Neill…” I moaned, as more and more hot, thick juice blasted onto my chest, quickly washed away by the shower’s streaming water. He continued to rub me, using watery cum as a lubricant. He slowly humped his prick in and out of my spasming fuckhole, causing further hot cum to spurt through his fingers.

As I continued to moan, Neill slowed down his hands and pelvis, until finally he stopped altogether. He wrapped his arms around my chest and slumped his head over my left shoulder. “Okay,” he murmured. “You win.”

“Win what?” I asked. Both of our cocks had begun to soften. I could feel less pressure and heat in my rectum now. I was sort of sad and glad at the same time. Sad, because now that I’d felt him fuck me, I wanted to do it all the time. Glad, because there was no way I would have the energy to do it again and get through a whole day, including rugby practice that night.

Neill laughed. “I was trying to wind you up… You don’t cum too soon, mate.” He kissed my cheek and started to pull from me.

His cockhead was still wider than his shaft, and took a little more pressure to remove. When it did slither from my burning arsehole, I heard a satisfying sloppy ‘pop’ noise. “Mmmm…” I said as I turned off the water. I kicked the bottle of oil off the silver hole in the floor so that the water could flow away. “We’ll have to thank Jill.”

Neill was toweling himself off. He stopped when I spoke. “For what?”

I picked the bottle up, flicked the lid shut, and chucked it to him. “The oil,” I said.

Neill gave me a strange look. He started to put on a gray-blue shirt. The cuffs were buttoned, so it took a bit of forcing to get his hands through the sleeves. “We’re not telling Jill,” he told me.

“I hardly think she’d care-” I began, but he cut across me.

“Damn it Seamus, you’re not telling anyone. It’s just you and me,” Neill snapped. “We’re not fucking gay, we’re not fucking telling anyone.”

I turned away. I didn’t want to look at him anymore. The violence of his words shook me to the core. I had clearly read him completely wrong. He hadn’t wanted me to come home because he was worried about me ‘freaking out’. He had wanted me to come back so he could have another fuck. Now I was no use to him. He didn’t care about me. He wasn’t my best mate. I pulled on a pair of trackies and a polo shirt, and was about to leave when Neill grabbed me.

I could have easily broken his grip if I wanted to, but I let him maintain it, just struggling enough to let him know that I didn’t want him touching me. “Seamus, please-” he said. I couldn’t look at him; maybe I’d start crying or bash his face in, I don’t know. “Look at me!” he hissed.

Something about the way he spoke made me look at him. I was kind of shocked by what I saw. He was crying. “It’s one hell-of-a-lot to take in, man,” he whispered. “I didn’t think that- It’s fucking scary, okay?”

I gave him a hug and kissed his forehead. “Is scary,” I said. “I don’t- Well, I don’t really want anyone to know either.”

Neill laughed slightly. “Our dirty little secret then?”

“Okay-”

There was a bang at the door. Damn it, people were always banging on doors around here. A man’s voice, “Would you hurry the fuck up, some of us have places to be.”

“Shit,” I swore. My eyes flicked to Neill’s. There was no way out besides the door. “What the fuck are we gonna do?” I hissed.

“Just fuck off and give me a chance to get dressed,” Neill yelled out. “Go upstairs if you’re so fucking desperate.”

“It’s a ten dollar fine for talking to a senior hall member like that,” the voice said. Liam. Shit. I still think that the fucker must have been following us around.

“Sorry,” Neill replied, a little more quietly. “I’m still getting dressed. Why don’t you go upstairs for a shower?”

Liam’s voice became harsh. “Listen to me, Neill Simmons, either you get out of there right now, or I go and get the master key and unlock the door myself.”

“I’m still getting dressed,” Neill protested. We were both pulling on as much clothing as we could. Despite there being no way of getting out of this situation, we weren’t going to be caught naked. “Gimme a bit more time.”

“Well, just hurry up. I’ve got a gym appointment in half an hour.”

I rolled my eyes at Neill. “Usually people have a shower after they go to the gym.”

“What the fuck are we going to do?” Neill whispered. “He’s not going to go away, is he?”

After less than a minute had passed, Liam banged on the door again. “Are you dressed yet?”

“There’s nothing for it,” I hissed. “We’re going to have to just go and hope like hell no-one else is up.”

Neill pursed his lips. He inhaled then exhaled slowly. “Fuck it then.” I stood back as he unlocked the door and pushed his way past Liam.

Liam was still dressed in the too-big pajamas I had seen him in earlier that morning. He had this cruel, victorious snarl on his face. His dark eyes narrowed as he saw me. “Look at that,” he said. “Two fags in a shower. You better have cleaned it.”

Neill bolted. He didn’t stop to look at me or get his towel or anything. He was halfway down the hallway before I had registered that he’d left me to pick up the shit. “Go to hell,” I told Liam.

I stooped to pick up Neill’s gear. As I did so, Liam whispered, “Like having his arse poked, does he?”

The muscles in my neck tightened. I would have let it drop with a verbal comeback, if he hadn’t repeated himself, starting with, “Didn’t you hear me-” Before I knew what I was doing, Liam’s head had knocked into the opposite wall. I rammed him there, fist around his throat. “You say another fucking word and I’ll kick you into next month,” I barked.

‘He can’t do anything,’ flashed through my mind as I contemplated putting another fist in his stomach. ‘What’s he going to do? No-one’ll believe him… If you do this, you’ll be the one in trouble.’ I took a deep breath and released my grip. I picked up Neill’s stuff and left.

Liam spluttered a little, then called after me, “It’s a twenty dollar fine, per person, for indecent acts in a Common Area. Expect an invoice by tonight.”

*

Neill was going nuts when I got back to the room. He paced up and down, kicking things and repeating, “What the fuck are we going to do? What the fuck are we going to do?”

He pushed me away when I tried to hold him. “Jesus, Seamus, what the fuck are we going to do? He knows…!”

I sat on my bed and took a few breaths. “You should sit down for a minute,” I said. “Just slow down a bit.”

Neill’s mouth arced in a strange curve as he stopped and faced me. The skin beneath and between his eyes was creased with worry. Still watching me, he sank onto the floor in a fetal position, leaning against his bed. His face dropped onto his arms, wet hair flicking forward to cover any exposed skin. “What are we going to do?” he whispered. “He’ll tell everyone… I can’t do this, I can’t.”

I shifted over and sat down beside him. I pulled him in so that his head leant on my knees. My hand stroked his hair. “Who do you think’ll believe him?” I asked. “Everyone knows he’s a psycho. He says that to anyone and they’ll back us up, probably give him a hiding to go with it.”

Neill didn’t reply.

“Come on,” I said. “You really think Harry and Greg, or Nate, or Kev or any of the guys will actually listen to him?” I smiled a little, remembering something Kev had said the day before. “We’ve got half the bloody female population of the hall to back us up. Liam can’t do anything to us. He can’t hurt us.” How ironic that statement seems now…

After that, Neill did calm down. We kissed and talked logically for a bit, then talked shit like we normally did. We ate some muesli bars that my coach had said were good for energy for breakfast. Then we got our stuff together and went out to lectures.