A/N: Ok, so this is SLASH people. If it bothers you, then I suggest you don't read it. Also, yes, it's underage as well. I don't want any comments about that either. Most people do tend to lose it older than this, but it is hardly uncommon to have underage sex and I've based this in the real world, not the ideal one. Comprende?
Good.
Now, to those of you who are still reading, I would like to thank Timon x3 for giving me the confidence to post this and for pointing out my hideous tense changes. Hopefully that's fixed now!
And now... enjoy... I hope...
-o-O-o-
It's easy to ignore the thunder, now. It used to be harder, but after years of blocking out his parents' arguments, he's become accustomed to loud noises.
No shouting tonight, though. Both his parents are out, though not together. He didn't ask where they were going, didn't want to know, although he's pretty sure his dad's plans involve that twenty-something secretary and his mum's most likely alcohol and friends and a nameless face.
He doesn't dwell on it. For a moment, he stares at the window and the rain lashing against it. It's a violent image, full of contrast. And wouldn't his English teacher just love him for thinking that?
He shakes his head. School tries to change the way you think. It's one of the reasons he doesn't like it. No matter how hard you try, it's going to succeed to some extent.
His musings are interrupted by the doorbell. He blinks and looks at the clock. It's almost midnight. Who would be calling at this hour?
Briefly, his thoughts wander to Alex, and he wonders if he's going to meet a grisly death on his doorstep, but quickly shakes the thought out of his head. He's protected. Alex told him he was.
It takes him a moment to recognise the boy on the doorstep. Sure, the eyes are still brown and the hair still blond, although beaten down flat by the torrential rain, but otherwise, the teen has no resemblance to his friend.
He looks barely there, white faced and shaking.
The rain makes it seem as if tears are pouring down his face, but that's ridiculous. Alex hasn't cried since his uncle died. Not for himself or anyone else.
"Alex?" says Tom, shocked and somehow uncertain. "What's wrong?"
He moves aside and yanks the other boy through into the dryness of the hallway.
Alex opens his mouth to speak, but seems to choke on air and settles simply for shaking his head.
Now Tom is really worried.
Quickly, he pulls a towel out of the closet and passes it to Alex, rubbing him down himself when Alex, once again, fails to respond.
He knows part of it is most likely the cold. His friend is just wearing his school uniform, minus the blazer, so the thin cotton shirt is plastered to his freezing skin.
Fifteen minutes later, Alex is wearing some of Tom's clothes and has a cup of tea cradled between his hands, though he has yet to drink it.
Tom sits down next to him and waits. Alex wouldn't have come here if he didn't want to talk.
"I'm going on a mission tomorrow," says Alex, his voice perfectly calm.
For a moment, Tom relaxes, thinking that it was just the cold making Alex act strangely, but then he remembers the barely concealed horror in his eyes and the way he couldn't speak of it.
And then he tenses, as he realises what his best friend has just said.
"Again?" he says, letting his sadness and anger seep into his tone. "Someone ought to arrest those bastards."
Alex smiles slightly at him, then goes back to brooding over his drink.
"What is it this time?" asks Tom, even though he knows he shouldn't know.
Alex swallows. For a long moment there is silence, then "Child prostitution," he whispers.
For a second, Tom thinks he's misheard, but his brain is writing and re-writing the words across his brain in lines of fire.
He feels nauseous and presses the back of his hand firmly to his mouth while he carefully counts to ten.
To ask Alex to do this is sick, on so many levels. He's still a virgin for Christ's sake!
It would be bad enough whenever, especially at fifteen, but for his first time?
And suddenly, Tom realises why Alex is there, though he doesn't think Alex has yet – at least, not consciously.
He clenches his eyes shut for a moment, then opens them determinedly.
Alex doesn't notice as he shifts closer and only starts slightly when Tom's hand rests upon his shoulder.
He turns his eyes questioningly to the dark-haired boy.
"Tom?" he murmurs, confused and somehow hopeful.
"It's ok, Alex," whispers Tom and Alex shifts closer as Tom's fingers move to his chin, tilting it up towards him.
That first kiss is soft and tentative, the subtle give of Alex's mouth against his before one of them - and he isn't sure who - parts their lips and Tom swipes his tongue forward experimentally. Alex moans.
It's as if it's a signal and suddenly Tom has his arms wrapped around his friend pulling him closer, pressing warm bodies together. He can feel himself hardening at the contact.
"T-Tom," gasps Alex, as Tom runs his hands up the blonde's sculpted chest, the t-shirt bunching up until it is pulled right off in one smooth movement.
"You're beautiful," whispers Tom, before his lips fall to Alex's neck and he begins sucking and kissing and gently biting, rewarded by Alex's moans.
There's something wrong though, and it takes a moment for Tom to realise what it is. It's Alex: he's being unusually submissive and passive, two words that Tom would never have associated with Alex before now.
He pulls back.
"Are you sure you're ok with this?" he asks.
Alex whines and nods, rubbing the evidence of exactly how ok with this he is against Tom's hip.
"Alex," says Tom, nervously. Doubts are suddenly flooding over him. He doesn't know what he's doing. He hasn't done this before. He could hurt Alex.
"Tom, please," begs Alex, leaning forward to kiss him.
"Ok," breathes Tom, before standing and leading the way to his bedroom.
There are a few hitches, such as having to steal condoms from his dad's room (which he very deliberately doesn't think about) because he doesn't have any of his own. And that brings back that this isn't just Alex's first time, it's his as well.
But, well, Alex has been there for forever. He's the best friend a boy could have. He's noble, and brave, and loyal and in all honesty, Tom can't think of anyone else he would rather do this with, even though he's never even thought of another boy in that way before tonight.
Alex's breath hitches as Tom slips his first finger in. It's practically swimming in lube because he's so scared of hurting Alex.
After a few minutes, Alex is moving again, and this time not with discomfort.
"P-please," he whimpers and Tom carefully slides in a second finger, biting his lip in concentration.
He scissors them apart a few times and begins to move them back and forth when suddenly Alex arches off the bed and gives a startled moan.
"Alex?" asks Tom, nervously. "Alex, are you ok? I didn't hurt you, did I? I'm sorry, I-"
"No," says Alex hoarsely, cutting off his friend's nervous babbling. "Definitely didn't hurt me. Felt so good."
Tom relaxes, then smirks and decides he's going to find that spot again.
Alex is practically begging him when he – finally – slides into the blond. It takes every ounce of will to go slowly, his cock sliding inch by inch into Alex.
He bites his lip as Alex begins to moan and writhe underneath him and wants nothing more than to slam back into his friend. But he doesn't; instead he keeps the same slow speed until he physically can't.
Alex is bucking up against him, wanton and needy, as he increases the pace.
They don't last long before they collapse side by side, sticky and sated.
Tom's fingers are gently running through Alex's hair as they slowly regain a sense of reality.
"Wow," said Tom, eventually, and Alex grins at him before pulling him in for a deep, languid kiss.
They're as close as lovers. As close as twins in the womb. And in a way, they feel as if they always have been.
Still curled up together, they drift off to sleep.
It is, perhaps, slightly predictable that half an hour later they wake up and do it all again, albeit with the roles reversed. They are just teenagers after all.
-o-O-o-
Tom wakes to sunlight, warm and bold on the muddy ground as it always is after a raging storm. He is alone. Alex has most likely already left for his mission, he realises with a pang.
But he'll come back. He always comes back. And Tom will be there for him when he does.
-o-O-o-
A/N: Ok, so this is my first serious attempt at slash where it's actually described instead of implied. And I'm really nervous about it. So, be nice, yeah?
Please review and tell me what you thought!