Sex in the Sky

I had just gotten home, trying to unwind from a trying day, when the doorbell rang. I opened the door to two men. One was tall, suave and polished. He was dressed to perfection, creased and pressed. Not a hair out of place, not a move that wasn’t smooth and efficient. He didn’t do a thing for me. He was too perfect, too practiced, and too straight. But the other guy, well, he gave me an immediate temperature rise, plus a rise in other areas. He was the opposite of his cohort. He had dark hair and was tall, about six-four and muscular, hulking with muscles. He wore a wrinkled jacket over a wrinkled shirt with a crooked and loose tie. His shoes were scuffed and his pants were lived in. His hair was mussed as if he constantly ran his fingers through it. He had a dark, five o’clock shadow and the most intense blue eyes I had ever seen. He exuded a macho, masculine air that just about had me on my knees. I was taking in the whole package when I noticed that he dressed definitely to the left, heavily to the left. My mouth began to water. Then macho, hunky perfection cleared his throat and the two men flashed me their badges. It couldn’t have been better choreographed. If I had had a better day, I would have laughed.

“Are you Zachary Phillips?” from Mr. Macho.

“Yes.”

“This is Detective Martin Anderson and I am Detective Jason Bailey. We need to ask you some questions.”

“Come in.”

I led the way to my living room, choosing the plush armchair by the fireplace rather than deal with one of them by my side on the couch. I felt a bit of an adrenaline rush, more excitement than fear at the whole situation. I wondered what this could possibly be about.

“Mr. Philips, do you know a Matthew Jamison?”

Matthew, what did he have to do with anything? “Yes. We were… together until eighteen months ago.” At my hesitation over the nature of our relationship, hunky Jason raised his eyebrows and gave me a disapproving look. I really wanted to slap it off his face.

“When was the last time you saw him?” this coming from dapper Martin.

“Again, eighteen months ago.”

“What was the nature of your relationship?” This was from not so hunky Jason.

“We were lovers for seven years. Eighteen months ago he came home and told me it was over. He packed his bags and was gone. I haven’t seen him since. Why? Has he done something wrong?”

Martin looked significantly at Jason and then turned to me. “Matthew Jamison is dead. He was murdered last night in his home.”

Shock overcame me. And to my surprise, tears sprang to my eyes and I had to blink repeatedly to clear them. I slumped back in my chair, defeated. “How? Why?” My voice cracked over the words.

“He was stabbed. As to why, we were hoping you could help us out. There was a letter in his pocket written by you and dated just a few weeks ago.” Jason looked suspiciously at me as he said it. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. They thought I was involved. I shook my head, trying to clear it from shock, from anger, and surprisingly from hurt. It hurt that he thought so little of me, considering how well, even though it was in a sexist way, I had regarded him.

“I wrote that letter to him and mailed it to the last address I had for him. I usually receive them back as ‘address unknown.’”

“Why were you writing him?” His attitude was starting to get on my nerves. So I snapped back.

“You must have read it. It should be obvious. I wanted to know what went wrong, why he left when things had been so good. I wanted an explanation. I just wanted a minute of his time. I wanted an answer and some peace.” My explanation was rambling, but it was the truth. We had made love the night before he left, moaning each other’s name. We held each other through the night, just like always. Then the next day he was gone with no explanation. It still hurt.

Perhaps sensing my pain, Jason’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry, but the nature of the letter was a lead we needed to follow up on.”

I nodded at him, realizing that the macho man also had a soft, compassionate side. “I understand. I really want you to find out who did this. No, I’m sorry. You both are just doing your job. How can I help?”

Martin took over, perhaps this was a good cop-bad cop routine and Jason had softened me up. It didn’t upset me; I really did want to help. “Did you have any idea about his finances?”

“No. We met in college. I was a freshman and he was a graduate teacher of my beginning History class. Within two days after the term was over, we were together. He took care of finances while I was still in school but he required that we keep our paychecks separate once I graduated and started working. He left just a few years after I graduated. So, no, I don’t know what his finances were like.”

Jason asked. “Did you know if he was seeing anyone recently?”

I got annoyed. “I already told you I haven’t seen or heard from him in over a year. I wouldn’t know if he had gone bald or had a million tattoos. I don’t know.”

Martin stood up and indicated to Jason that they should go. They apologized for taking up my time. Call us if you think of anything. And then they were gone. Once the door was shut, my heart started to slow. I had been revved up; high energy from the moment Jason took my hand to shake it. I was sad about Matthew, but somehow I was just numb about it. There were still so many unanswered questions. I decided to forget dinner and just go to bed. My first dreamy wisp was of a dark haired detective with really strong hands.

**

When we left Zack’s home, I felt bad. I know I treated him poorly and I don’t know why. But there was something strange about the whole situation; something put me on edge about him. Not that I believed he stabbed his ex-lover in the back. I didn’t. He wasn’t guilty. But I still hounded him with my questions, forcing him to lose control of his emotions. I had noticed how he checked me out, looking at me and obviously appreciating what he saw. It was flattering. With Martin as a partner, usually I couldn’t get the time of day. But he looked at me with hunger, and I could feel that hunger. To be truthful, it freaked me out a little. So I struck out to keep him away. I felt guilty and I don’t know why. Him checking me out didn’t really bother me. Like I said, it was flattering. But when he shook my hand, there was a spark of something that really had me nervous. If I didn’t know better, it was awareness. Human beings are basically animals with pheromones and instincts just as simple and base as any other animal. What I felt with that simple gesture was extremely base and had me shaking my head.

Martin and I finished up a few paperwork trails then called it a day. Martin was going home to his doting and devoted wife and me to my empty house. I should probably do laundry, but I just didn’t feel like it. I was still a little edgy from that interview today. So I stripped down and put on a pair of briefs before going into my office/gym and working out. I keep a set of free weights and a treadmill there. I usually do sets and then run, but today, I wanted the mindlessness of running. So I got on the treadmill and set a grueling program of hills and terrain changes to keep me on my toes. I ran for over thirty minutes, sweating profusely into my eyes and blanking my brain of everything but the burn of exertion. When the program stopped, I walked for ten minutes, grateful that my mind had cleared and I could focus again on something other than Zack. When I had cooled down, I walked into my bathroom and stripped off my soaked briefs before climbing into the shower. I set the water to pulsate against my neck and back. I prefer cooler showers, but now I wanted scalding hot, to relax and soothe. After ten minutes I crawled out from under the spray and flopped down in bed facedown and went straight to sleep. I awoke several hours later, sweaty and tangled in sheets, still dripping from my wet dream and even more nervous than before. The main attraction had been Zack and what he did to me with his tongue. I was shaking from the memories of the dream. I was still hot and hard, aching in my erect state. I took hold of my shaft and thought about the last woman I slept with, of her body surrounding me, of her nipples beading on my tongue as I suckled them while thrusting heavily into her. My fist was pumping my shaft in a heady rhythm when I realized the last woman I slept with was my ex-wife, not really something I wanted to remember. The woman beneath me in my mind was replaced with a man. He had hair on his chest and it rubbed against my cheek as I took his nipple in my mouth while I thrust hard into his tight ass. I tried to pull away from the image, but it was too late. I was gasping and spurting before I could make my fantasy change.

I got up and took a cool shower, washing away the remains of two heavy orgasms. I stepped out of the shower and decided that it was the perfect time to do laundry. I started and washed load after load. I lifted the free weights I had ignored earlier, doing a punishing amount of sets. Then I cleaned my kitchen and bathroom. I even vacuumed. It was going to be a long night.

**

I was rushing to get ready for work. I had overslept. I never do that. I gathered my papers and disks into my briefcase and grabbed my jacket and keys, preparing to run out the door. I had the key in the lock when I remembered the one disk I left in my computer. I pulled the key out and ran towards the house, still disoriented and distracted from a night of hot dreams involving Detective Jason and his big, strong hands. I haven’t had a wet dream since I was fourteen, but I had three last night. Thankfully, I probably wouldn’t see him again and could put that intense attraction and recognition I felt behind me. I got to the front door, still trying to shake my head to clear it. Then the car exploded, propelling me into my living room.

Within ten minutes, my yard was filled with fire trucks and an aid car as well as cops galore. The paramedic had bandaged my head where I had hit against the doorknob. They were checking me out for other injuries when Detectives Jason and Martin arrived. They both walked up to me. The usual belligerent swagger gone from Jason’s walk, and his face, he actually looked concerned. Martin knelt by me.

“Are you okay?”

“Sure Martin, every day is a bomb filled joy at my house.”

“All right, so it was a pretty stupid question. But seriously, are you badly injured?”

“No.”

Jason piped up. “When was the last time you drove your car?”

“When I got home last night, just a few minutes before the two of you showed up.”

“Did you see or hear anyone last night?”

“No. I didn’t really sleep well last night, but I didn’t hear anything.”

Martin joined back. “I’m sorry we brought such sad news last night.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad I didn’t find out about it later, after the funeral.”

Jason looked pensive, but he didn’t stop staring at me. It’s strange, but I felt as if he were making sure I was okay. His gaze and demeanor were almost protective. This is too weird. I stood up, against the wishes of the paramedic and only swayed for a few seconds. Then Jason grabbed my arm to steady me, causing me to feel dizzy again. It felt like his touch sent electricity through me. This is not good. I didn’t even feel half this much with Matthew. This could be trouble. Then the bomb squad came up and confirmed that there was indeed evidence of a bomb. Someone had set it up. Jason looked at me and told me that I was leaving. He told me to pack a bag or two of clothes. When I asked how long I would be gone, he told me until they caught who bombed my car. So I went inside with Martin and packed a couple of bags. I grabbed my laptop and enough work to keep me busy. Martin helped me carry it out to their car and I crawled in back, trying to calm down now that the adrenaline was wearing off.

Jason and Martin drove me to a house a few miles away. I got out, not really paying attention to what was going on around me. I felt really disoriented and disconnected from the world. Jason opened the door and led me down the hall to a bedroom. It was a simple room with hard wood floors, white walls, a big bed and soft bedding. It was inviting and tempted me. I sat down on the bed and Martin suggested I take a nap. I hated feeling like this, but I needed the time to regroup. I lay back and was out. I only vaguely remember someone laying a blanket over me.

**

I found myself concerned over Zack. All I could think about from the moment the call about the car bomb came in was to make sure he was okay. I finally took a deep breath once I saw him and knew he would be okay. He looked pale and had dropped off to sleep so quickly. But it was probably an adrenaline crash. Plus he said he hadn’t slept well. I don’t know why I brought him to my house. Martin gave me a couple of pointed looks but thankfully didn’t mention anything. I decided to have a black and white patrol by my house and went with Martin to continue investigating. By four I had the bomb squad report: simple trigger, simple timer. Put key in lock and it started a thirty-second timer. He so easily could have died. There was nothing left of the car. That thought disturbed me. So much so that I called it an early day and headed home, just to make sure Zack didn’t wake up alone and confused in a strange house. Martin dropped me off and I went inside, heading instantly down the hall to where we had left him. He was still lying there, vulnerable and innocent. I was drawn to him. I found myself sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him sleep. I saw his eyelashes fanned on his cheeks and his eyes were moving in that fast motion of someone dreaming. For the first time I really got a good look at him. We were almost the same height, but I had at least forty pounds of muscle on him, if not more. His hair was golden. He wasn’t feminine looking, but he wasn’t ruggedly handsome either. For lack of a better word, he was cute. Not as in good looking, although I assume he was, but in a childish, innocent way he was cute. He had long fingers and he had a graceful look to him. I imagined him as a swimmer, lithe and sleek in the water. Then I thought about the dream last night and felt myself thickening in my pants. I looked at his chest and wondered if his chest was hairy, like the guy I thought about while jerking off. That thought disturbed me as I thickened further in my pants. I wasn’t hard, but I was more than flaccid. Then I noticed Zack start to get agitated. He was thrashing in his sleep. Then he sat up and cried out.

I grabbed his shoulders to keep him from hurling himself off the bed. I noticed that he was solid, deceptively stronger than he looked. He was shaking. I found myself wrapping my arms around him, pulling him tighter so he would have an anchor to hold on to. His arms stayed at his side and I felt him swallow several times. Then he pulled away and looked at me. He was embarrassed. I didn’t want him to be. We all have bad moments that we relive.

“Are you okay, Zack?”

“Yes.”

“Are you hungry?”

He nodded. “What kind of pizza do you like?”

He actually laughed. “Don’t you ever cook Jason?”

“Cook. No. Cook… are you crazy… Cook?”

He laughed harder. Then stood up and put on his shoes. He grabbed my arm and told me we were going to see what was available. After seeing my fridge with a six-pack and a dead lime, the pantry with a package of saltines, and a cupboard with a couple of cans of chili. He smiled at me and then laughed behind his hand. I grabbed my keys and told the smart ass that we would go grocery shopping.

The experience wasn’t all that bad. He asked if I was allergic to anything and then we bought ingredients for a few basic meals, both breakfast and dinner with some simple things for him for lunch. I actually enjoyed the playful banter while we walked up and down the aisles of the grocery store. After about an hour and over $100 later, which he demanded we split, we returned home and put everything away.

“So Zack, what are you making for dinner?”

“I’m not. You are.”

I sputtered for a minute or two. He was trying not to laugh again. Smart ass. “Okay fine. What am I going to cook?”

“Jambalaya. Let’s get started.”

Jambalaya. What the hell is jambalaya? I soon found out. I put on some rice to cook. I mixed up some cornbread and slipped it in the oven. Then he had me chopping onions and peppers then sautéing them with some olive oil and garlic. Then I threw in some chopped ham and smoked sausage. We had purchased a chunk of roast chicken and roast beef in the deli and I cubed it. When all was warm and smelling divine, he had me open a couple of cans of tomatoes and throw in some sage and cayenne pepper. All the while I was chopping, he was cleaning up around me, handing me a beer and opening a bottle of red wine. He had one glass and then poured a good cup into the mixture. Then he added a cup of barbeque sauce to it. I then added the rice and stirred. I pulled out the corn bread while he set the table. Then we sat down to eat.

My first bite I actually moaned. Then I polished my plate, practically licking it clean. I had three pieces of corn bread and went back for seconds of the jambalaya. And it all went down with a couple of beers. Zack laughed when I was done eating, smiling at me because I had eaten so much. But damn! I was a good cook.

“Okay, what am I making tomorrow?”

“I thought we would stick to pot roast or something simple.”

“No, let’s do French. I can cook anything now.”

He laughed. I really liked it when he did that. I helped him with the dishes and we sat in front of the fire, me with my beer and he with more wine. He saw the picture of my ex-wife on the side table. He asked about her.

“We got married right out of college. I had started the force almost immediately after high school and attended at night. We were married for almost two years happily. Then one day I found a home pregnancy test while taking out the garbage. We hadn’t talked about kids. But the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. But I waited for her to tell me. After a couple of weeks, I figured it was negative and she didn’t want to worry me. Then I got a statement from Planned Parenthood. She had had an abortion. I fell out of love right then and there. I kept wondering how she could have done it without at least talking to me first? When she got home that night I hounded her about it. I kept asking why. She told me she did it because she couldn’t be sure who the father was. I just packed a bag and left. The divorce was final two years ago.”

“I’m sorry Jason.”

“Well, what can you do?”

“At least you got an explanation.”

“What do you mean?”

“Matthew and I met while he was teaching my freshman history class in college. I was attracted to him and we kept staring at each other, all the time. But we waited until the course was over. I moved in with him the day after grades were posted. Then eighteen months ago, he comes home and packs his clothes and leaves. No explanation. No apologies. Nothing.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. That’s why I kept writing to him. I just wanted to know what had happened. We had gone from loving each other, together for over seven years, to gone in less than a day. I mean we had been together the night before. Nothing was different at all. Now I’ll never know.”

That sort of killed the conversation. The funny thing is we just sat there in silence for almost an hour. But it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. In fact, it was more than pleasant. After his confession about how lost he felt because of Matthew, I wanted to find the answers for him. I wanted to help. I also had to catch myself from hugging him. After a few more silent minutes he got up and went to bed. I followed a few minutes later.

I pulled off my clothes and lay down in bed. I lay in the dark and thought about the strange events of the day and my thoughts kept drifting to the man down the hall. Eventually, I fell asleep. I awoke a few hours later, sweaty and sticky from another wet dream. I couldn’t go back to sleep. I was too keyed up. I slipped out of bed and put on a pair of briefs and went to my gym and did some sets followed by an hour run. Dawn was breaking as I wound down from the treadmill. But while I was cooling off I realized that all the exercise in the world wouldn’t erase the images from my dream. I had been lying on my bed with Zack fucking me. And I liked it.

“No,” I moaned. “No.” I found my tongue. “Don’t you get it? I’ve been a dick, a complete shithead. I want you, I do, I want you so badly-”

“Oh, just cut the crap,” Neill spat. He tried to punch me again, but I blocked his fists.

“No- It’s true, I do, I do. I wanted you to shag me last night, but I was stupid and scared- I’ve wanted you so badly for so long, but I’m such a shithead that I was scared someone would find out. It doesn’t matter, I don’t care who knows, I want you!”

Neill sort of calmed down after that. He chucked the bag off his bed and sat down. He took a deep breath and looked at me properly. His eyes were wider than usual, and a little wet. “Oh shite, Seamus…”

I took a deep breath and sat on the bed beside him, close to his legs, but not touching. “So… are we cool?”

“Yeah,” Neill said. “Look, um, no-one needs to know about us. I mean- well, it doesn’t mean we’re gay or anything, really. You haven’t done this before, have you?”

“No,” I replied. “Have you?”

I think I saw a flash in his eye of some distant memory, or maybe I was just imagining it. “Once, sort of- Me and Marcus were drunk last year, but nothing really happened.”

“Marcus?” I said with a bit of a smirk (Marcus is this guy who is best described by the words ‘hairy’, ‘huge’ and ‘ape’. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a good mate, but he can be a bit thick, and he is the hairiest human being I have ever seen.)

“I was really pissed,” Neill protested. “It doesn’t matter does it?”

We both laughed. “Of course not,” I said.

Everything went still then, as if time had stopped. We sat there for ages, just looking at each other’s faces. Then one of us touched the other, and it was like someone had pressed the fast forward button (sorry if this sounds like Burton’s ‘Big Fish’). Electricity crackled across our skin, our lips met, our arms pulled us together. His lips were soft and muscular, and I found that he was leading me, coaxing my mouth open with his hot tongue. I willingly let him slide inside, his hot saliva merging with my own, our tongues entwined, massaging one another like the hand on my groin. I went wild. It was amazing. We moved against each other, pushing, pulling, like we were fighting one another rather than prefucking. My skin blossomed with heat, his every touch sent shivers through my body, radiating warmth. I was so hard already, harder than I’ve ever been in my life.

Neill pushed me back on the bed, so that I was lying beneath him. He pulled himself up and straddled me, his knees pressing in below my shoulder joints and squeezing my chest tightly. His pants were loose and made with a thick weave (he had his sixties ugly pants on that day), but I could still feel his hard cock and balls burning into my chest. He wiggled himself around a bit, making sure that I could feel it. “Ride me,” I groaned. He did just that, slowly humping himself against my chest whilst he leant forward and kissed me. His silky hair formed a tent around our faces, but there was nothing girly about it. He smelt wonderful, a sort of combination of cinnamon, dope, old man clothing, sweat and cum. My senses reveled in the assault they were getting.

Neill moved further down me, and lay his head on my chest for a bit, whilst I draped my arms loosely around him. “Shite,” he gasped.

“Yeah- God-” I replied. I pulled him up to my face and kissed him, and it was all on again. Our sweaty muscles fought and twisted against each other. We took off our shirts, relishing the way our bodies met, hard muscle on hard muscle, stretched ligaments and tendons moving with the muscles under our skins, sort of rippling like water over our chests.

I was fascinated by his nipples, they were brown and not actually as big as I had thought they were, but the had very thick, hard heads. I bent my head and licked him, generating a moan of, “Fuck, do that again.” I did, flicking the tip off my tongue over both nipples, starting with the left and moving right then left again – whilst I moved between them, my hot saliva went cold, so that when I came back, they were warmed up once more, causing Neill to shiver. After a few seconds of doing that, I bent over and properly administered my tongue, swirling all over then sucking the nipple into my mouth. Neill went crazy – he trembled all over, threshing his body against the bed, moving his hands over my back and pulling me further onto him. His pelvis seemed detached from his body, tilting and humping against me in a powerful frenzy. “Oh- Ugh- Fuck, Seamus-” he moaned. I wondered how he would be when I sucked his cock.

I pulled off him and started to unbuckle his belt. Just then, there was a knock at the door. “Fuck,” Neill swore.

“You guys haven’t murdered each other, have you?” My ex, Jill, from two doors down. She was cool, we were still friends.

“No, we’re fine!” I called out.

Another voice, Kevin, who didn’t actually live in our Hall, was about 28, but always seemed to be there. “Have you guys kissed and made up yet?”

Someone else, “Neill, your car’s still out the back with the trunk open. Do you want me to move it? The kitchen staff are seriously considering getting it towed.”

“Greg,” I said, identifying the voice.

“Shit,” Neill said. He got off the bed in a hurry and did up his belt. He struggled with his t-shirt for a second, then got it on back to front, so he had to take it off and put it on again. “Nah man, I’ll come out and shift it- I’ll just be a second, I’ve lost my keys with all this shifting around. Could you go down and stall the staff?”

“Yeah sure. I’ll see you there.”

“Do you want a hand bringing your bags back in, Neill?” Jill asked.

“Yeah that’d be good.” By that time we were both dressed, and trying to hide our boners. Neill wedged his behind his belt buckle (ouch), I relied on baggy trackpants and a long rugby jersey. We opened the door.

There were six people crowding the hallway. Jill, Kevin, Greg, a girl I didn’t know, Harry (our neighbour) and our RA, Liam. Liam glared at me. He always glared at me, I don’t know why. He slapped Hall fines on me whenever he possibly could. To make matters worse, he was also in my rugby team, and somehow managed to get me in trouble with Coach a lot. I think he had what I call short person’s disease – because you’re small, you make up for it by having an immense ego. Liam was about 5′5″, bulky, yet fast – he was nicknamed ‘the Bullet’. He had a military-issue haircut (apparently it made him run faster) and narrow, dark eyes. (If you’re wondering why I’m telling you this, me and Neill taught him a lesson he wouldn’t forget in a hurry that year, I’ll tell you about it later).

“Shit, what happened to your face?” Kevin exclaimed, staring at me.

Instinctively, I touched my face, sort of checking that it was all still there. There must’ve been a mark from when Neill had hit me. “Somebody punched me,” I said.

“Yeah, I thought you guys must be having a fight,” Harry said. “It’s all over, I hope?”

“Look, I’d better go rescue my car before it gets impounded. I’ll see you guys later.” Neill pushed through the group, followed closely by Jill (’Wait up! Don’t walk so fast!’ If she wasn’t wearing her knee-high fuck-me boots it probably wouldn’t have been so hard.)

I smiled. I couldn’t help it. “Yeah, it’s all over.”

“Look man, if I’ve learned anything at all here, it’s that one girl and two room-mates do not work,” Kevin told me. Neill must’ve have told them we’d fought over Simone, I guessed.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Anyway, you’re both good-looking guys – I mean, half the hall wants to fuck you, and the other half has already done Neill in the three years he’s been here. You’ll get more chicks.”

I almost laughed.

In the next story – I tell you how me and Neill finally slept together, and how Liam finally got his come-uppance.

“Sorry- I couldn’t help myself. I love seeing you squirm,” Neill whispered, then laughed. More seriously, he said, “Did you like that? Did I do it right?”

“Better than anyone else,” I said, honestly. I slumped, facedown onto his bed. I felt drained and my arsehole throbbed with fire, yet I could not stop shaking with excitement. My spent cock dribbled between my legs, onto Neill’s bed and the carpet.

Neill climbed up beside me and knelt on the bed. It had a crappy soft mattress, so as he sunk in, I was drawn into the dip around him. “Mmm…Thank you,” I murmured. “Thank you so much. I can’t believe what a dickhead I was to you last night. I’m really sorry.” I pulled myself upright and put my arms around him and began to lick my tangy, slightly bitter cum from his face. Intermittently, we kissed, hard and fast, sharing the flavor between us. Very quickly, his face was all clean. I stopped for a second. “Was that okay? I mean, on your face? Was that okay?” I had only ever met one girl who had liked that. The rest seemed to get freaked out about the mess or psychological shit (like I mustn’t respect them if I came on their face).

“Stop worrying,” Neill whispered as he nuzzled my ear, treating me to open-mouthed kisses on my neck and jaw. “Anything you want, just do it to me. Everything you do drives me wild- I was getting so frustrated, I thought about- climbing in your bed and sucking you while you were asleep- or getting you so stoned that you couldn’t stop me- I mean, I wouldn’t really do it-”

“Yeah, I had some thoughts like that,” I said.

“Why didn’t you do anything about them? I dropped enough hints.”

I pushed him onto his back, his head at the foot-end of the bed, and leaned over and kissed him. “Cos I’m an idiot… I was scared about what would happen- I wasn’t even sure you were for real, or just playing gay chicken. I have to be the dumbest guy on the planet… But damn, I’m glad that we sorted it out…” I brushed his chest with my fingertips, and with both hands pulled his shirt as wide open as I could get it.

Neill’s olive skin enshrouded long, lean muscle. He had broad shoulders, but his body tapered along his trunk, and his hips were narrower than mine. His powerful, yet slender, shoulders and upper-body muscles were a result of competitive swimming at high school, as were his lean, muscular legs. He wasn’t bulky like me, but definitely not unfit.

His chest hair was an object of fascination, since I had religiously removed mine since I was eighteen (a girlfriend told me that she didn’t like it on her tongue or face). His chest seemed more masculine, with its the triangle of golden curls above and between his nipples, and the narrow trail down to his groin (I looked forward to licking down that path). I loved the way the hairs felt; thick, coarse and silky at the same time, so different to my own smooth skin. In places, his hair was slick with cum, but as I bent to lick it off, Neill pushed me away.

“We gotta stop.”

I was completely taken off guard. “Why?”

“You invented a half plausible excuse with Jill, but you gotta remember that its around tea-time now. They’ll all be coming back to their rooms, or down here to talk to people. You can’t stall by telling people I’m at Mike’s and you’re wanking all night. For all we know, Harry is sitting at his desk, the one pressed up against our wall, right now. Joanna might even be home.”

“The walls dividing the rooms are made of concrete bricks, mate. You can’t hear a damn thing through them. The wall with the door is the only one not soundproof.” I was angry. “I thought that you wanted this!”

“I do,” Neill hissed. “I just don’t wanna get caught out, and neither do you, else you wouldn’t have been so fucking paranoid last night and you wouldn’t have lied to Jill.”

“Look who’s being fucking paranoid now,” I snapped. “I just want to give you back what you gave me.”

“I can wait, we can both wait. Fuck, I’m sure the anticipation or something’ll make it even more explosive, yeah?” His voice mellowed. “Is that okay? Are we cool?”

“I suppose so,” I said, disappointedly. I wasn’t finished with him just yet – I managed to suck his neck until he moaned and pushed me off the bed. “So we get dressed now and pretend we’re normal, straight guys for a few hours?”

“We are normal, straight guys,” Neill replied. I had begun to doubt that… “You should probably go see what Jill wants. I’ll clean up, then sit in the common room in half an hour or so, and tell everyone I’ve just come in from Mike’s house.”

*

Jill let me into her room with her normal, wry smile.

“Don’t worry, I’ve washed my hands,” I joked.

“Good,” she replied. “I won’t have to go round with spray-n-wipe after you leave.”

Let me tell you about Jill. She had long, shiny, straight hair dyed a dark, purple-black color. I’m pretty certain she was naturally blonde, if the hair color of other areas was anything to go by. Her skin was very light, like cream, with a pink flush along her cheekbones. She lined her eyes with thin stripes of black eye-liner, and always had a streak of purple on her lids. She was incredibly beautiful and had an amazing body. Yet, most guys were scared of her and I don’t think she had many female friends. I guess it was ‘cos she looked a bit Goth and had some very deep convictions about things like the war and freedom of speech. She was plainly spoken, and said what she really thought, rather than lying to protect people’s feelings, which some people would prefer. She fitted in well on our floor. She was “one of the guys” in thought, speech and action, but her clothing was definitely different.

That day she was wearing a bright, emerald green skirt sewn from what looked like old curtains. Around her neck was a tarnished gold chain with an amulet of amethyst. A tight black top dipped low on her breasts. I won’t get started on her breasts. They were perfect, I’ll leave it at that. On her feet were some purple velvet stilettos decorated with tiny, off-set bows. Jill was the only girl I knew that wore pantyhose because she liked them rather than ‘cos she had to for work and stuff like that. That day she wore sheers in a muted purple color, which shone slightly on her curvy calves.

Her room was a single room, probably about a third-quarter the size of mine. Since it was a cheap room, perhaps cheaper even than mine and Neill’s, it was crappily furnished. The Hall had provided her with a tiny, skinny bed (it hardly fitted Jill, let alone anyone extra), and a desk. There were built-in cupboards by the door. While we were ‘going out’, Jill had bought a couch for $10, which wouldn’t fit in her room – Mike had cut it back to three-quarters size with a chainsaw, and Jill had slipped bricks under the side that didn’t have an arm. It was now wedged in the space between the bed and the wall the door was on, but you had to climb over its corner to get into the room.

“Don’t stare at me, sit down,” she said. “Look, let’s just forget this afternoon, ay? I’m not embarrassed but I think that you are.” She grinned savagely and opened her wardrobe door. It always amazed me how she managed to fit things in odd places. She had a small refrigerator and a TV in her wardrobe so that you could sit and watch TV on the couch with a beer (these were not new – she had gleaned them from the transfer station at the tip and fixed them up). She opened the fridge and got herself a bottle, giving me a good view of her curved bum and the Celtic tattoo above it. “You want one?” Before I could reply, she chucked it to me.

Seating herself on her bed, her back supported by black satin pillowcases, Jill said, “I’m really worried about Neill.” Jill had gone to school with Neill, and they’d been friends for years. I don’t know if they were ever girlfriend-boyfriend, but they were very close. I had only known Neill and Jill one year, and they were my best, most honest mates. I felt like I didn’t have to pretend to be smart or strong or a lout around them, I could be myself. I hated lying to Jill about me and Neill, but truth was I couldn’t say anything until we’d figured out how serious it was. As far as I knew, it was only casual sex, not important for anyone to know, just like when me and Jill had slept together for a while. We cared deeply about each other, but sex was a secondary relationship to our friendship.

“Over the last week, Neill hasn’t been himself. He’s been grumpy and on edge and taken some stupid risks. I mean, it’s not like him to start fighting with you over some silly girl, and he never drinks alone. You’re pretty close to him, do you know what’s going on?”

My cheeks felt hot, but if I was blushing, Jill would have commented. “He’s fine, Jill. Everyone has bad days. He’s back to normal now.” I hated lying to her. Jill deserved better than that. But if it was only casual and going to end soon, what was the point in telling anybody? Me and Neill were not gay, and didn’t need our lives complicated further by people who thought we were.

“Are you sure?”

“Course I’m sure,” I replied.

“But you’d tell me if there was trouble?” This wasn’t like Jill at all. She normally went straight to the point and did not muck around fishing for answers.

I smiled, “Oh come on, don’t look so worried. It’s not like you to get all wound up like this. Of course I’d tell you if there was anything going down. There’s not. Neill’s just been a bit shitty lately, that’s all, and I’m sure he’s sorted it out. It’s like when you have PMS.”

“I don’t get PMS!” Jill snapped in mock-anger. Her expression quickly shifted into a frown. “Has he said anything about Liam?”

“He had a lot to say about his car being towed,” I replied.

“Yeah, he was bloody angry,” Jill said. “I was scared that if he kicked Liam’s door anymore times his foot would go through it…” Her voice trailed off and she looked quite serious again. “You’ve both had problems with Liam lately, haven’t you?”

“Stop worrying. Liam’s not going to get anyone too upset. Yeah, he has a problem with everyone, but everybody knows he’s an arsehole, and nobody takes much notice of what he does, other than swear a bit.”

“You have to be careful,” Jill whispered.

Perhaps if she had told me everything she knew, some things wouldn’t have happened. That doesn’t mean I blame it on Jill, far from it, but if I knew Neill’s background better I may not have hurt him so much. I might have understood why he behaved as he did, instead of trying to work it out later and getting angry and doing stupid things. Of course, it wasn’t really up to Jill to tell anything; it was Neill’s life, after all…

After that, we moved on to other topics, and through some beer. Jill went back to her normal, joking self. However, her worries about Neill and Liam still clung in my mind. It was just so unlike her to give guarded questions like that, and not say what she was really thinking. Later, we joined Neill and some others and went up to an impromptu pool tournament in the main common area of our wing (a big games room upstairs.) Neill came second, so we had to celebrate that. There was a lot of drinking (the RAs were mysteriously absent, most were nice enough not to fine us for alcohol in common areas).

Couples started to pair off and disappear, until only us ’singles’ remained, draining off in loose groupings. It was after midnight by the time we got back to our room, since we diverted to Greg’s large, third-floor room (a fucking mansion compared to our basement room) on the way to listen to music and talk shit. We held liquor well, as students generally do. Neill and I were both ‘happy drunk’, not quite tipsy and definitely not comatose.

Our room was pitch black. I heard him lock the door, but after that, he moved so quietly, I didn’t know where he was. The lights flicked on. I was standing next to one of the desks, which had just found my shin in the dark. I felt his arms come around me from behind. “I’ve been waiting for this all day,” he whispered in a husky voice, nuzzling my neck.

“You’re certainly pleased to see me,” I gasped. “Or is that your wallet grinding against my butt?”

Neill laughed a little, then said, “You were just waiting for a moment to say that cliché, weren’t you? Anyway, you had a boner half the night. I saw. When that Becky-girl sat in your lap, she thought it was for her. Greg couldn’t understand why it was so funny when she slapped you… Now, tell me, was it for her?”

“You know who I was hard over, and what are you complaining about, Mr. Stand-close-to-the-pool-table-and-hope-no-one-notices?”

“I was not!”

“You were so. I bet your boxers are all wet with precum, if you’re wearing any of course.” I swiveled around and shoved my hand down the front of the sports-pants he’d changed into. As usual, he hadn’t bothered with underwear. The lining of his pants felt as hot and slick as my boxers. He was red-hot and hard as wood. I grabbed his shaft, roughly, and pulled it from his pants. “What do we have here?”

Neill’s steely fingers grabbed me through the front of my trousers, and pulled me to him. I felt myself spasm like I was about to cum, and was seeing stars. “Probably a similar specimen to what we have here,” he whispered. He kissed me, not gently like before, but hard and aggressively, like he knew what he wanted.

When he released me, I was quivering all over. “We’ve got to fuck,” I gasped. “Please fuck me. You’re making me so hot.”

Now that I look back, I wonder when I stopped being scared. Was it when Neill sucked me earlier, or when I was half-pissed that night? A change had come over me and I no longer really cared what people would think if they knew. I said and did exactly what was on my mind, anything to feel the incredible arousal that Neill’s presence drew from me. I know I sound like a sap, and a slut, but that’s how it was for me. I’d do anything for Neill.

Neill moved his arms around my back and pulled me into him. His blue eyes narrowed. “You sure?”

I rubbed my body against his, enjoying the friction of our clothing on my sweaty skin. His engorged cock, still over the waistband of his pants, dribbled hot precum onto my polo-shirt. “Of course I am. This is what I want.”

“Have you ever..?” Neill asked, “Has anyone ever put anything in your arse?”

A shiver washed over me. “A few fingers, nothing bigger.”

He smiled. “Me neither. Scary, huh?”

“I trust you,” I whispered. “I want you to fuck the virgin out of it. I know it’ll hurt, but I don’t care.”

“I just makes me so horny, thinking about it – you in me, and me in you. You ever butt-fuck a girl?”

“A few times,” I said. “What, you think that means we’ll know how to do it?”

Neill shook his head. “I don’t know, we’ll have to try and see.”

“What about condoms? Have you ever had sex without one?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “Why?”

“I haven’t either. That means we’re clean right? ‘Cos I want you to fill me up when you cum, not some rubber bag.”

Neill kissed me hard with an open mouth. Our hot tongues played and tasted the night’s mixture of drinks. He started to pull my shirt off whilst mouthing my cheekbones, neck and jawline. “That’s so fucking hot,” he murmured into my ear, teasing it with his soft lips. He pulled back so I could haul off my shirt. He did the same. “I don’t want you to use a condom either, yeah? When my arse is split open, I want your juices pumping into me.”

“Fuck man, don’t say it like that. You’re making me so horny I might force you down and do it now,” I groaned.

Neill kicked his shoes off and ripped his pants down. “Go ahead, Seamus, I’m all yours.”

I was hyperventilating as I stared at his hot body. Those long, lean limbs and his finely muscled abdomen drove me wild. His blonde hair glowed under the lights, on his head, his chest, right down to the patch above his cock, his heavy balls and legs. His cock, red and raw in the shaft, and deep purple in the head, curved up in front of him.

I tore what was left of my clothing off, and grabbed some lube from my bedside cabinet. I pushed him back onto my bed, whispering, “On your back,” then climbed astride him. He made a strange, purring noise. His fingers traced the curves of my arse. “Mmmm…” I groaned, enjoying the sensation. I pressed back so that his hot cock and flushed nuts pressed between my cheeks, my cock and balls flat on his chest. I rocked myself against him for a moment. His breathing was coarse and erratic.

“Fuck man,” he whispered. “This is so fucking hot… Just you and me…”

I moved up Neill until my cock brushed his lips. He eagerly opened his mouth to feed on my meat. “Just to get me wet,” I murmured as I stroked his hair. I was a selfish prick. “Let me know if it’s too weird.” I allowed him to lap his tongue around my swollen red cock, all the time watching the way his head tilted as he puffed breath and his eyes smiled on mine. I felt his lungs and ribcage expand with every erratic breath, then deflate once more between my tensed, muscular thighs. My balls rubbed against the stubble on his chin.

After a bit, I lay against him and we tongued, sharing hot saliva and the flavour of the night’s drinks and foods. Sweat ran from my forehead onto his face, quickly cleaned up by my mouth. The bedsprings screeched as we humped our sweaty bodies against each other. We gasped and groaned, telling each other how fucking great it felt. I was beyond caring whether anyone could hear us or not. Harry was out with Kev at Pump. We couldn’t hear Joanna screaming, so she wasn’t there. If worst came to worst, we could always blame sound on Joanna (’the Nympho’), who had an extremely active sex-life when she was home, which was seldom. Nobody really knew her at all. Greg thought she was a hooker.

My right knee looped between Neill’s, causing his legs to be forced apart. I pushed my right hand into the gap. My sweaty fingers found a way behind his balls, to stroke lightly across his dry puckered hole. I wouldn’t stick anything inside him unlubed, but he didn’t know that. I teased the hot skin with a bead of sweat that had dribbled between his clenched butt-cheeks. He jerked involuntarily against me, squishing his hard, wet meat, into the knotted muscle where my abdomen joined hip. I reached between us with my left hand and grasped him tightly until he whined for release. Release he got. Eventually.

My own body was just as out-of-control as his. Against Neill’s side, I rubbed my fully hard cock, swollen and demanding attention, although his mouth had temporarily sated it. Everywhere we touched burnt and dripped sweat as if we were in a furnace. Most of all, I noticed that whenever I did something to Neill that sent him shivering, moaning, or forcing my head to his body, my corresponding body part would go into palpitating spasms, sending shocks of warmth to my cock.

I maintained my grip around his long shaft as I licked a line over and between his nipples. I stopped to tease each hard point with my teeth before giving them a light suck that had Neill moaning like a child. I would have liked to spend more times on his nipples, but I was too frantic with thoughts of his cock to bother.

His chest-hair felt wonderful as I swirled it around my tongue, sucking it to form small tents on his chest. Maybe it was the friction, the way it tasted (salty, pungent with a strange after-taste that I couldn’t quite pin-point), or the fact that it was definitely masculine, that resulted in my shivering skin. I licked down his chest, drawing hot, wet circles that became smaller and colder as I left his nipples. Finally I was tongue-circling the hairy skin above his cock, around and around and around. I mimicked the action with the fingers I had pressed to his tight anus. I don’t think either of us could take it anymore. I lifted my head and gave him a long lick along his ridged underside, then parted my lips.