We sneak into the building via a basement level rear door, Tony chuckling with mischief ("goin' in the back door !") and retire to the our boilerman's flat. Tony has had little to no sleep these last few days, while I have had too much, and yet he's bouncing about, cackling away over stupid things, cracking silly jokes. I force from my mind the thought that he's behaving like a person in love – buzzed, full of light, giddy.
We sit side by side on the bed and share a single Russian cig, apparently called Java, bummed from our cabbie, which is rather extremely strong and without any filter – the tobacco going from end to end, so that each time, you get tiny strands of the stuff in your mouth. Tony's fidgety, eying me and grinning in that knowing, alluring way as he pulls bits off his tongue.
As he continues, I'm finding the sight of the perfect pink wet protruding fleshy thing unbearably sexy, and I finally lean over to capture his mouth, which at least causes him to stop fidgeting.
When I pull back, he's grinning again, and whispers.
"Thought you wanted to wait."
I smile.
"Thought you didn't."
"So is this the way it's gonna be, then ? Nonstop sex ?"
"Of course. You were expecting ... ?"
He shrugs, playing along.
"Dunno ... flowers ...?"
We lean in again. Tony likes to take the lead, when kissing, and I like to let him, and it strikes me that he really should teach a course, he's so bloody good. Pressure, suction, timing, the all important nibble-factor, and that glorious, ingenious tongue. Just as I'm out of breath and beginning to get tingly, he pulls back so that our lips brush.
"So which is it, then ?"
Christ, he is nothing if not fucking boiling maddeningly hot.
"If you give me a choice right now, Tone, it's absolutely going to be sex ... even if it is a little terrifying."
He looks at me.
"Terrifying ? Why ? I'm the one getting buggered."
I lean back. I sigh.
"Okay, I have two responses to that, or rather ... three. One, 'you say that like it's a bad thing'; two, I've always hated the term – it makes something intensely wonderful sound intensely unappealing, like dog-fucking, or something. And three, of course I'm nervous – it's your first time, Tone. Huge responsibility. I want it to be good. I want it to me more than good. You of all people know well what I'm talking about, there."
He grins. His eyes sparkle.
"I can honestly say I've never had a moment's worry with virgins, Max, or for that matter," he chuckles, "anybody, really." His grin fades. He shrugs. "But then, I'm friggin' sex on legs."
I take his hand. It's not actually because I love him that I'm saying this ... he's not actually bragging. He's simply speaking the truth.
"Believe me, you have no argument from me there, but you forget, I'm hardly you."
"Max, are you kidding ? You're scorchin' ! Don't you know that by now ? Come on- ya gotta have a little self confidence. 'Sides, virgins are, guaranteed, the easiest people on earth to please – cuz they don't know any better, right ?"
"But we're only talking that you're a virgin in that one area. This is hardly like your girl-virgins who'd never kissed a boy before."
He grins.
"I'd never kissed a boy 'fore you."
"You know what I'm saying, Tone."
"Ya," he laughs, "I'm just fuckin' with ya. I'm in a really good mood- I'm about to get fucked ! But, okay ... if I'm honest," he sighs. "I am a tad nervous. It's a bit scary, innit ? Still, at the same time, I gotta admit the suspense is sorta killin' me. Like I said, of the many oodles of dozes of times I've sunk my willy into somebody who then right before my eyes went completely apeshit, I mean ... only a very, very dull boy wouldn't, y'know ... wonder."
While I see his point, I resist the urge to ask him just exactly how long he's wondered ... figuring we can get into that sort of stuff later. Meanwhile, he leans in and kisses me, shallow, closed-mouth, once, twice, then pulls back and whispers into my face.
"Take off your clothes."
Gulp.
I let out a nervous, turned-on laugh.
"Why me ? You're the one getting buggered."
There is a certain sort of zen quality to it, I think, not, I admit, that I know shit about such things, but I do believe that's the right term, or at least ... feeling. Certainly helping is the fact that, outside, it's begun raining quite hard. The steady soothing drumbeat is somehow eerily perfect as far as atmospheric backdrops go; only a thunder and lightning storm could be better.
We sit on the bed, face to face, torsos close, our legs criss-crossed so that Tony's knees are bent, those long thighs stretched out over mine, his feet somewhere behind me.
We quietly kiss, while softly and mutually stroking, the unhurried nature of it something I find extraordinarily erotic as well as pleasingly romantic.
"Does it work better if I'm hard ?" he asks, between kisses.
Tony is ever Tony. I'm slightly frustrated and slightly saddened by his question. Why can he not see that:
"I just wanna bring you pleasure, Tone."
"Maybe it'll relax me ?"
His nervousness is helping to fuel mine.
"Should," I lie, and kiss him.
God, I mean ... it could be disastrous, couldn't it ? Easily. It could really hurt and he could end up hating it and swearing it off forever.
What then ?
Some moments along, Tony pulls back, breathless, looking down.
"Gettin' close. Should we do it ?"
I swallow.
"Okay." I kiss him quickly. "Lay back."
"Again ?"
I laugh.
"You forget, I gotta prep ya, Tone, but, I'll tell you what - just to relax you more, I'll bring you off at the same time – okay ?"
He stretches back and lays his head on the pillow, grinning ear to ear.
"You learned that from me ..."
I smile, and allow myself one more little white lie.
"Yup."
I crawl between. For a moment the disbelief, the insane, inexplicable, otherwordly miracle of this whole situation hits me: Tony ... who is sort of my boyfriend now ... (though I highly doubt he would use that term) ... is spread out before me, on a bed ... waiting for sex.
He tilts his pelvis, and I start off, gently as I can, requesting permission every step of the way, with a well lubed pinky finger.
He flinches a bit, and a quick glance shows that he's gripping the sheets.
"Alright ?"
He hesitates a moment before answering.
"Ya." His voice is a bit wobbly. "Just ... slow, right ?"
"Right."
I lean, and quickly kiss his belly, blown away and honored that he trusts me to take him down this road at all.
He is, it has to be said, extraordinarily tight, of course, which is to be expected, though at the moment it seems to me impossible that a cock could fit here.
I look up.
"Not hurting you, right ?"
"No. It just feels incredibly ... weird. A bit uncomfortable."
"Sorry. It is a bit that way at first, and I can't say there won't be some discomfort or pain, there usually is a bit, in the beginning, but ... it'll be worth it."
He smiles. He chuckles.
"What ?" I ask.
"Judging from you hoppin' up and down in my lap like a bloody rabbit earlier, I expect it will be."
I flush slightly.
"I don't have a golden, god-like cock like yours, Tone. I doubt, um, rabbiting, could possibly feel that good to you ... should we, I mean, ever get to that point."
"Oh, I intend to get to that point."
I lean up, careful not to dislodge my carefully placed work, and kiss him.
"You are insanely hot, d'you know that ?"
His grin tells me he does.
"Get back down there, mate," he purrs. "Work to do."
I do as I'm told, and move to kiss his cock, which is disappointingly floppy, but I figure, not for long. Indeed, within another minute, it's shiny, wet, and very stiff. Sigh. Simply what one must do, if the situation calls for it.
Some minutes along, as a trio of digits, none of which were particularly welcomed, begin sliding within and teasing that certain inner spot, while at the same time, I'm, because it can't be helped, rather strenuously and enthusiastically teabagging him ... he suddenly and without warning, comes, hips lurching, spurting high onto neck and chest.
"Holy fuck," he pants, hoarse, as surprised as me.
I look, and am met with a sight that is almost too incredible to be real, and eerily recreates not only high quality softcore gay porn, but about a million and a half of my own masturbatory fantasies: Tony's beautiful, pale, flushed, bumpy and rapidly heaving chest ... slick with a thin sheen of sweat and streaks of his own fresh ejaculate ...
I dive and lap up the white, running my tongue excitedly up his torso to meet his mouth. We grab each other's faces with both hands, kissing madly as I thrust myself towards him.
In literally all of my wildest dreams I never knew sex could be this blistering.
I pull off him finally, panting with excitement and nerves.
"How d'you wanna do this ?"
"I don't know; am I ready ? What would hurt less ?"
My gut clenches. My poor lovely boy.
I start to ... then stop ... then start again, realizing, shit, I'm allowed to now ... as I reach out and tenderly cup his face.
"I think you're ready – again, I'm not huge, like you, Tone, and ... I think maybe laying on your back is best. Face to face tends to be less deep – a bit gentler."
"Ya, but, you'll be lookin' at me, Max. Fuckin' embarrassing."
Who knew that somewhere within Tony there existed such a sweet, shy boy ? And now the dilemma. I really had wanted it seared into my brain: his face, as he is penetrated for the very first time. It's something I actually believe all straightboys should experience at least once in their lives- that exquisite sort of vulnerability, that automatic and beautiful surrender that accompanies allowing someone in, literally, and figuratively. But I suppose, yes, it makes sense to allow him this small bit of privacy while he undergoes something as profound, and undoubtedly to him, profoundly taboo, as this.
"Okay, if it'd be easier for you, we can turn you over. We'll just prop you up with some pillows under your hips."
"Why don't I just kneel ?"
"Your legs are a bit long, Tone- they're like the entire length of my body. I'll never be able to, y'know, reach unless I almost sorta, like, stand behind you, which'd be a bit awkward. I mean, we can try ..."
"Nah, forget it. You're right. I'll just flip over and lay on my gut."
Behind him, with visibly shaking hands, I slip on a lube-drenched condom, and approach, leaning over his back a moment to apply a kiss.
"Alright ?"
"Ya," he answers softly. "Just ... go slow."
It takes every ounce of energy to keep from telling him that I love him and that everything will be fine.
"I will," (my beautiful darling boy), "I will. If at any point you want me to stop, please just say it, Tone, and I will."
"Okay."
I slide the tip between, smearing him with excess lube and wait, sitting at the opening, absolutely nervous out of my skull.
"Go ahead," he whispers.
I lean forward to kiss his back again, lean away, and carefully place the tip, softly bouncing against the opening ... which if I'm not mistaken he seems to like, as he exhales a small breath, all of which gives me the confidence to proceed further ... and then immediately everything breaks down.
He inhales sharply.
"Wait – wait !"
I yank myself out – I'd only been in half an inch.
"I'm sorry, did I hurt you ? !"
"It's just," he clears his throat. He sounds freaked. "It's just really fucking tight. You feel huge."
"Well ..." god, I'm shaking – even my voice is shaking ... "there's usually a bit of pressure to start. There's this big ring of muscles at the opening-"
"-Fuck, Max," he snaps, panting, "don't friggin' get medical on me right now, 'kay ?"
Ouch. If only to be able to crawl beneath the bloody floor boards ...
"Sorry," he says quickly. "I'm sorry. I'm really tense. Just ... try again, please. Seriously."
The second attempt proves a sadder replica of the first, with Tony stopping the act almost before it's begun, and my heart plummets. What is especially worrying is the thought that, if this doesn't work, the prospects for us coupling up, for that to actually work, seems dim, the act being the one thing I can offer that girls can't ...
I fidget, ringing my hands, mouth gone dry, feeling wholly and utterly inadequate. Tony is waiting for me to know what to do ... and I don't !
I look round in desperation ... and suddenly spy something which I had previously given no notice but which is right now a frigging, glowing bloody gift from god ...
On top of the boilerman's miniature fridge is a tray containing utensils, paper towels, a salt and pepper shaker, and ... a big, magnificent roll of cling wrap, undoubtedly used to preserve half eaten late-night fare, but which will now be used for a much higher and greater purpose.
As I lay a sheet of the stuff across Tony's bum, he's flustered. He turns, annoyed.
"Maxxie, what in the fucking hell are you DOING ? ?"
"Shut up. Keep still. Give me a sec."
"What, are you tryin' to diaper me ? !"
I stop and look at him, annoyed myself.
"Ya, Tony, totally into infantilism, arsehole. Sooner you find out, the better."
He turns back, muttering"what the fuck", in disgusted and disappointed tones ... which catches in his throat as I lower, spread his cheeks, and flick my tongue into the straightboy's stubborn hole ... in response to which he lets out an instant, high pitched, shocked, laughing shriek.
"What the hell is that ? !" He giggles, squirming beneath me.
I ignore him, gliding my tongue easily along, around, over, into ... aided by the glop of lube on the other side of the plastic.
"Uh – shit ! Fuck ! Holy fuck !" he moan-laughs, writhing even as I try to hold him in place, so that I have to spank him once or twice ...
"Ow ! !"
... and threaten him with more.
The laugh-gasps he continuously emits are like a mixture of delight and torment, like his foot has fallen asleep and he's trying to walk.
As I continue, I am repeatedly rewarded with everything from high pitched shriek-whoops of "Fuck ! ! That's totally amazing ! !", to strangled cough/gasps and giggled curses, to deep, sensual shuddering moans and full body writhing, particularly as I shape my tongue into a point and flick.
As the moments pass, his voice lowers to a hoarse unintelligible growl, a thin sheen of sweat and rosy colour spread up his torso, his lower back arches sharply upward (insanely sexy- that), and most beautiful, most telling of all: the writhing intensifies, that is to say, it slows ... to an unbearably erotic slither ... which is just impossibly wonderful to be in the middle of, quite literally, although there is a bit of 'follow the moving target', but who on earth is complaining ? It is obvious that Tony is absolutely bloody smitten with these heretofore unknown sensations and may have just happened upon his new favorite thing in the world, the secret, magical universe of rimming.
Thus I can't bring myself to stop. I'm floating, flying, losing track of date and time, of my own bloody name, lost in the glory of Him, the uber-responsive, demonically sensual being that is Tony Stonem, every last pore, every last beautiful ounce–
"-Max," he whispers hoarsely.
I jolt, shaken out of my giddy, over the top reverie.
He speaks between pants.
"I'm kinda … going … fucking insane here …"
I gloat momentarily. Yes, thank you. I am incredible.
"… But I really don't wanna come yet."
Translation: Fuck me, you idiot. What exactly are you waiting for ?
I quickly discard the plastic and position myself, silently praying, and, with his permission and encouragement, finally plunge just inward.
Any joy I feel is squashed as he instantly stiffens and calls out, neither in a good way – but insists he's alright and to just wait a moment, which I do, caressing and kissing his heaving back, wanting so desperately once again to tell him of my love, and also to fire off a series of questions ...
So what do you THINK ? Isn't it amazing ? And comments: Boy, you are crazy-tight. I now understand what you meant about your dick was being 'strangled'. We'll definitely have to do something about this.
"I wish this was easier," he says, wearily.
My heart moves to sink, but I catch it before it does, knowing that we're half way there and Tony is unlikely to remember the petty initial bits.
In another minute I move another fraction or so, then another, each time it being met with a less than glowing response ... but pretty soon, I'm to the hilt and laying on Tony's back, in relief and exhaustion, the both of us panting.
"How is it ? Is this okay ?"
"Weirdest fuckin' thing I've ever felt in my life," he responds, not wholly unhappily, "like bein' filled up, and shit, like somethin' big sittin' inside ya. Fucked up !"
"Just wait. It'll be amazing, I promise."
"Well, I see what you mean about the bloody prostate, or whatever," he laughs. "Fuck ! What did you tell me about it again ?"
"I thought you didn't wanna hear medical stuff," I tease, nibbling on his ear and running my hand up into his hair to muss it.
"Come on."
Kiss, nibble, lick ...
"Okay, listen though. Gonna be a test on this later. It was about those glorious ejaculatory ducts, remember ?" I whisper breathily, "which, it just so happens, are happily and conveniently located within the prostate gland, which, it so happens, is best accessed via a man's bumhole ... all of which means, of course, that a cock sliding and rubbing into it-"
"-Shit ! Brilliant ! So then, men were meant to be butt fucked !"
I laugh.
"Seriously, Max ! If it was designed that way, then who's to argue ?"
"Not me," I whisper, and turn his head to kiss him.
Okay, now ... and finally ...
Here ... we ... bloody ... well ... go ...
The moment you could say I've been waiting for my whole life ...
Tony braces himself as I pull slowly back ... and then swing my hips inward for the first time ... which causes a surprisingly large pocket of air to spew from his lungs, seeing as it was just the test swing.
"Fuck," he laughs-coughs.
"Okay ?"
"Yes," he immediately responds, in a very chipper and upbeat tone.
A second careful backwards pull and then ...
Hard, right into him, eliciting my first genuine grunt, and Tony's first corresponding half-shriek.
Yes ... shriek. Tony is quickly finding, first hand, just exactly why Chelle and I and everyone else he's had have uttered such inordinately embarrassing sounds.
I rear back, and thrust forward a third, fourth and fifth time, which, may I say, feels very fine indeed, like your birthday, wedding day, Christmas and New Year's all rolled into one, like fucking your dream man should. Only problem being, it's so good I'm beginning to worry that I may not last.
Why hadn't I bloody thought of this before ? There, on the floor, too far to reach, my damned shoe – a lace from which would have worked as a perfectly executed makeshift cock ring ...
"Come on, Maxxie," he blurts impatiently.
Hardly needing to be told twice ...
Slam !
"Uh !"
Bang !
"Gah !"
Thrust !
"Fuck ! !"
Again. Again. Again ...
We're both trembling – me, aching and weak muscles; Tony, shivering with eager anticipation. He in fact proceeds to raise himself up slightly and meet me for the next round, so that we lock into a beautifully erotic, and intensely sensual rhythm ...
Good god, just the feeling of it let alone the knowledge that I'm right now plunging my poor cock deep into the warm, tight confines of bloody TONY ! ... all as he actively and rigorously engages me, thrusting back, our bodies slapping, our gasps and cusses and grunts mingling and filling the room ... and then, as I speed up further, he goes straight off into breathless non-stop desperate shriek-mode.
A minute into which I halt, absolutely elated, flying, over the moon ... but needing a moment's respite ... however Tony's right on me.
"Why'd you stop ? ! Don't frigging stop !"
Why indeed ? I chuckle to myself, and turn to kiss him sideways.
"Slut," I pant, reaching back for his hips, which I clutch, lay forward on his back and then ...
Bang !
Hurtling myself and biting into his shoulder as I swing my hips mercilessly, eyes crossing as orgasm creeps ever close ... so incredibly turned on by his desperate, anguished cries ... until there it is, on the near horizon ...
I reach round to toss him off, terrified I will come before he does, but he bats my hand away.
"Fuckdon'ttouchit," he pleads, speaking now so that everything's one word: "Don'tstop ... don'tfuckingstop ..."
I do my best in fact, to speed up ... and it's seconds later that his body goes rigid as the spasms, which, amazingly, I can actually feel, rocket and ripple through cock and body, causing him to jerk and quake and call out in my arms ... shortly after which I follow suit, shooting what feels like several small bucketloads into him.
I collapse into his heaving, sweat soaked back as he falls to the mattress. We lay there, each of us, in utter disbelief and, aside from the wheezings, complete silence ... which extends for what feels like 10 minutes ... a bit too long for my liking, to the point where, even now, even at this point, it serves to feed my newly buried but always just under the surface insecurities ...
Please god, you cannot be this cruel. Please do not tell me Tony is feeling any sense of remorse right now, seeing as he's done, and unquestionably absolutely loved, the one act that straight boys fear, shun, and ridicule in harshest terms ... the one act that signifies a crossing over into definite homo territory ...
I wait ... the moment, the day, my entire life hanging in the balance ...
He finally smacks his lips. His voice is gruff, and worn.
"How soon can we do that again ?"
I gush, audibly ... and it's huge, threatening to bowl me over, this sensation of joy, bliss, euphoria. My smile is metres-wide, triumphant. Really, there is no wiping this proud and pleased grin off my face.
"Like it, did you ?" I ask, kissing his cheek and wanting to hop and skip round the room in undignified fashion, but instead opting to roll, slip off the condom, and curl my body towards him ... which he reacts to by turning on his side and tucking me (what feels) protectively under his shoulder, in a sweaty and impossibly wonderful Tony-embrace ...
"Fuck ya," he whispers, and promptly falls asleep.
In an hour or so, Tony awakens, and is on me – he wasn't kidding, he wants to do it again, and right away. We make quick work of it, seeing as we're actually both soon due to show up for the day's field trip, no excuses.
This time at least, he faces me, though it's not what I'd planned ... he was so intrigued, transfixed, it turns out, by my riding him that he's taken to giving it a go, himself, bouncing and hurtling and shouting with absolute glee, straight up and down in my lap, which goes on for some time, seeing as I made the mistake of letting slip that a shoelace is an awfully nice thing ...
He rises and falls increasingly hard, forcing me deeper and deeper and ... my god, it's quite nearly unbearable, the sensation ... and I am struck that this is just completely surreal ... that it's not actually happening. How could it be ? Tony in bed with me ? Deliriously impaling himself in my lap ? He looks hazy, to my eyes, his features softened by a warm glow, like something out a dream.
Finally though, Tony's eyes fly open and his face changes. He slows his speed, instead choosing to grind and pull at me in devious and ingenious ways – like an expert, like a whore, like he's done this a hundred thousand times ... and, really, there's only so much a boy can take ... I scramble to pull at the end of the lace but Tony laughs, whispers "not yet" and bats my hands away, taking and pressing them next to my head and leaning to capture my mouth in a spectacular kiss, biting and pulling on my lower lip, brazenly licking my tongue, the two of us panting into the other's mouth until Tony's face sparks.
I watch, in awe, the changes, the beads of sweat on his brow, the rising colour in his cheeks. After a half dozen further joltings, his body stiffens. Twice more and a beautiful storm passes over his face as the spasms begin rippling through his body. I can feel it in his thighs, in his fingertips, in his spine, that he's coming. He calls out hoarsely. His lids flutter and his face is blissful indeed. He collapses into my neck, panting with great effort.
After a beat, he kisses my ear, raises his pelvis, yanks on the end of the lace, and whispers.
"I'm gonna make you come."
In the shower stall, he's animated.
"Gay sex is good, did you know that, Max ?"
I laugh.
"No idea, really ? Seriously ? Why would you wanna do that, though ! ?"
"Cuz it makes you come better than you ever have. Puts barbies and chick-lettes to shame."
As we dress, I begin getting very, very jittery over our pending re-entry into the real world, especially since Tony is determined to announce it right away, soon as we climb the bloody stairs.
He shrugs.
"I just don't see any reason to wait."
"How will Chelle feel, though ?"
"Who gives a shit ? We're all but split, anyway. I'm a free friggin' agent."
"But she might hate me. She might blame me. Sid, too, maybe even Jal."
He shrugs.
"Fuck 'em, if they can't handle it."
"They're my friends though, Tone."
He then says it, right out of the blue, as if it's a solid, established and irrefutable fact, something you could look up in a dictionary.
"And I'm your bloody boyfriend."
The phrase echoes about the room and bounces inside my heart and head.
He leans to kiss me quick. I'm still staring off, in disbelief, over what I've just heard.
"Right," I finally blurt. "We've done nothing wrong. And if we continue like this, it'll be sneaking round behind Chelle's back, which I don't wanna do. It'll take some getting used to on everybody's part, but we'll find out who our real friends are anyway."
"Exactamundo. Can't exactly argue with two people in love."
My head whips around.
"Two people what ? !"
He shrugs.
"Sorta fallin' in love with ya, Max." He grins beautifully. "Innit obvious ?"
We grasp hands, and climb, or rather, float up the stairs. Yes, I feel exactly like I'm levitating. It seems months since I was last here, in this hallway, yet incredibly, it's been less than a week. I was a different person then, completely different, it turns out. I'm convinced I look different, that I've grown a foot, that my eyes are brighter, that my complexion's better. I'm convinced I've undergone a profound biological change, in fact, on maybe a cellular level. How else to explain this feeling of newness, of being so alive and fresh and ridiculously happy ? All quite unfamiliar things for Maxxie.
Shit, I'm even thinking about myself in the third person – definitely Tony's influence.
It then flashes through my mind, the idea of telling mum and especially dad, who will insist that we're taking the mick, that someone's paid Tony and I to walk around town holding hands as a joke ...
We round the corner and enter the cafeteria, hand in hand, my stomach doing nervous flips, and dead straightaway, the place falls silent, with all of the air sucked immediately from the room.
Everyone stares. After a long beat, Jal is the first to speak.
"What the fuck is this, then ?"
Tony shrugs, and speaks matter of factly.
"Maxxie n I've hooked up."
Chris laughs.
"Right – good one, bloody good one, mate."
"It's not a joke, Chris," Tony continues, calmly, "nothin' funny 'bout it, really."
Chelle then approaches, red faced.
"What kind of bullshit is this ?"
"Elasticity of human desire," Tony replies.
If the atmosphere weren't so tense and awful, I'd be laughing with delight.
"Meaning what, exactly ?" Jal snaps.
"Meaning, Maxxie's my boyfriend now. I recognize it'll take some getting used to-"
"-Boyfriend ? ?" Chelle spits. "Is that so ? Since when're you a poof, Tony, huh ! ? You're a tosser, and a wanker and a continuous cheating bastard, but I never saw you as a poof !"
"Fuck off," I actually hear myself blurting, and then I immediately feel bad. I know she's cool with gays, I know she's just saying it in anger due to one of us inexplicably taking up with her almost officially ex-boyfriend without warning ...
"-Come off it, Chelle," Tony explains, "we're dead, you and I, no use pretending otherwise, is there ? And yes, I cheated on you like nuts, every chance I got, but I'm all through with duplicitous behavior."
"Duplic- what ? ?"
Tony nods.
"Totally ridin' the pole, now. Lickin' the plastic. Doin' the rabbit-bounce. Tyin' and untyin' the shoelace. Yep, sex is rather inordinately kickin'."
"Sex ? !" Chelle shrieks, looking quickly from me to Tony. "You've had sex ? !"
I flush. God, I hate that I feel this embarrassed.
Tony sighs as if he's bored.
"Ya, once ... ten minutes ago ... once, ten minutes before that, and like, two dozen times otherwise."
Fuck. Not exactly nice.
"I'm sorry, Chelle," I finally blurt. I can't help it.
She turns to me. Her eyes fill as she spits out her words.
"How long has this been going on ? ?"
"Just a few days, I swear. Only since Russia."
Her eyes narrow.
"So while I was bringing you crisps and magazines and holding your hand in hospital you were fucking him ?"
"No." I fidget, flustered. "Yes. I mean-"
"-I went after 'im, Chelle, not the other way around. Not Maxxie's idea. In fact, he said no at first cuz he was actually thinking of you."
"Thinking of me ? !"
"It's true. You don't have to believe me, but it was practically the first words out of his mouth."
"Chelle," I say, feeling horribly guilty but at the same time defensive, "I'm sorry about this, I never wanted to hurt you, but ... thing is, I mean, ... now that Tony and I are, like, established-"
"-Established ! ?"
I clear my throat.
"Now that we're established, we felt it was best to be honest about it as soon as we could, and plus, I mean, ... remember you did tell me yourself you were splitting up."
She shakes her head, looking disgusted.
"I cannot fucking believe this."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen, Chelle, I swear. We didn't plan it; we didn't set out to hurt you and again, honestly, in the long run, I mean ... I know it feels shitty, but ... what difference does it ultimately make if you and Tony were already pretty much through ? And, also ... if we'd waited a month to tell you, wouldn't that've been worse ?"
She stops. Seemingly stumped for the moment.
"I wish so much it didn't involve hurting you, Chelle, but at the same time, I mean, ... you have to understand, I can't help who I fall in love with."
"In love ? ! You think you're in love ? !"
I tighten my grip on his hand.
"Yes."
She snarls.
"This is such unbelievable bullshit ! Isn't it really just lust ? !"
"Nothin' wrong with lust," Tony cracks.
She begins shouting.
"You're just a little slut, Maxxie ! A little blonde slut like all of Tony's tarts !"
"Hey !" Tony shouts, but she continues.
"I know you've always wanted 'im, for years, now, right ? Don't deny it ! In less than a week you turn 'im gay ? What kind of ... are you a fucking witch or something ? !"
"A warlock," Tony calmly interjects.
"You've had a whole year with with him, Chelle, and as your friend-"
'"-Friend ! ?"
"-As your friend and as somebody who actually cares about you, I'm sorry it didn't work out, but that's not my fault or my doing ! Please, Chelle. I know this feels awful right now. I know you feel like we've betrayed you or whatever, but if you'd just give us the tiniest benefit of the doubt that we didn't actually plan this – I swear to you it came completely out of the blue ! And then the only decent thing to do was to try and tell you as soon as we could !"
"Oh, well that's just so thoughtful of you, Maxxie ! So generous ! Thank you !"
Enough. I've given it my best shot. I re-clasp Tony's hand. I look into her face and say it.
"He's not yours, anymore, Chelle."
"Jesus," someone behind her mutters.
"Well good luck to you then," she says to me with deepest sarcasm. "I wish you all the fucking best."
"Look," I look round the room. "I know everybody's a bit upset about this cuz it's so sudden and a bit shocking that Tony would've gone with me, and I wish right now we'd introduced the idea in maybe a better way. But at the same time I feel good that we're coming clean here and being honest about the situation. I'm just genuinely sorry it's hurt anybody. I never wanted that."
"Well," she says, sniffling, "you can't have it both ways," and storms off.
My heart plummets. I really had hoped she would take it better, but that was clearly naive of me, and now it seems I've lost a friend.
Sid follows quickly, with Tony shouting after him.
"Cheers, Sidney, go after 'er ! She's single now, mate."
"Shut up," I tell him.
"Fuck off, Tony," Jal mutters as she moves to leave.
"Give a bloke a break, willya Jal ? We're in love !"
She continues to glare, to which Tony responds:
"You of all people know Chelle and I were through, Jal. Don't pretend otherwise."
"That may be true-"
"-It is !"
"-But it still doesn't excuse you going about it this way, without any warning, without preparing her ahead of time. To just walk in here with Maxxie announcing you've jumped ship ? "
"You homophobic, Jal ?"
"No, arsehole-phobic !"
"Well, you know what ? We don't actually owe you or anybody else an explanation. Maxxie n I are givin' it a go, riding' out that elasticity til it twangs like a freaking violin, like a freaking symphony, understand ?"
She squints, baffled, like he's nuts. He looks behind her and shouts.
"How many of you lot are gonna run out on two of your friends just cuz they hooked up ? Just cuz one of 'em turns out maybe slightly gay ? Hmm ?"
And so the remainder of the week continues in this fashion, with everyone, save for Chris, shunning us. Chris is certainly the only one who will sit at our table in the cafeteria, though even then, the conversation is stilted and awkward.
At one point, though, later on, he stops me in the hallway, on my way to the loo.
"Just wish you'd gone about it in a better way, mate. That's all. Maybe a lot of this ugliness coulda been avoided, y'know ?"
"I know," I say, sadly. "I guess I wish it hadn't been so public – I wish we'd thought about it a bit more ahead of time."
"Oh well ... I guess that's the price ya pay for love, ya ?"
I shrug. I sigh.
"I guess."
"Don't worry, Maxxie. Things'll right themselves."
He slaps me on the back and grins.
"So, anyway, how's the ol' Tone-meister in the sack ? Big dick, I hear."
At night, Tony and I retire to our downstairs flat and drown our sorrows in each other (though Tony doesn't seem particularly sorrowful), fucking and hurtling and riding and rimming til we lose our strength. Invariably we do some version of it again in the middle of the night, and in the morning awaken groggy but sated.
Upstairs, the miserable shunning happens all over again, which is particularly jarring for Tony, I realize, in part because as a straightboy, it's not something he's often had to experience, at least on this blatant a level. For me, as a poof, I've many times been avoided and ignored, even by so-called friends.
The trip comes to a thankfully quick end, with a near-silent plane ride home, save for the snoring, seeing as Tony falls immediately to sleep and stays that way.
A few weeks later, I'm approached after class by Sid. I brace myself, and am relieved when it's not to have a go, but rather to assure me that he's thought about the whole situation, holds no grudges and still wants to be my friend.
I could kiss him.
"Is Chelle ... I mean, how is she doing ? She totally avoids me. She hates me, I suppose."
"She doesn't hate you, Maxxie. She's just hurt. She loved Tony a lot at one point – not all that long ago. She wanted it to work out but I think she's comin' round to the reality that it wasn't gonna happen. And that that's totally not your fault. Plus ... I sort of asked her out."
I look at him, astonished.
"What ? ?"
He grins shyly.
"So what'd she say ?"
He nods.
"Amazingly, she said yes. She knows, everybody freaking knows I've been in love with her for a bloody decade, thanks in no small part to Tony spellin' it out for her, but that seems to have worked in my favour. She says the good thing about splittin' from Tone is that she'll always know what she definitely doesn't want."
I feel a bit of an insulted twinge here, and it must show on my face, because right away Sid's scrambling to apologize.
"Sorry – I mean, you know what I mean, Maxxie. Tony can be ... I mean, he's ..."
I touch his shoulder.
"I know, Sid, but he's getting better. He really is. He misses you guys. We both do."
The next day, it's Jal.
"Chelle wants to talk to you."
"Talk to me ? Fuck, what, to rip my head off again ?"
"No. I think she genuinely wants to normalize things, a bit. She's still hurt, but she feels bad that nobody's talking to you."
"Or to Tony."
"Tony's a prick, though."
I look at her.
"Sorry," she says quickly. "Sorry. I forget you're with him." She smiles. It's so nice to see Jal smile. "What's that like, anyway ? How'd it happen ?"
I grin shyly. I can't help myself.
We hunker down in two chairs and whisper like friends.
"Listen," Chelle says right off, "I was really hurt that day-"
"-I know. I'm sorry."
"No, what I'm trying to say is, I've been thinking a lot about it, what I said, and I know it's maybe too late, but I don't want you to take it personally. I was in shock, like. I was angry, mainly at Tony, it's just that it was easier to take it out on you, Max. But I'm better about it now, and while I still don't understand how Tony could suddenly be gay, or whatever, I guess I hope you guys do okay."
I'm blown away.
"Chelle ... wow ... that is ..."
"I just ... I just think you should know that Tony's really difficult."
"I know. He's trying, he really is, but I know."
She sighs. She leans and gives me a long, emotional hug.
"I just miss you, Maxxie. I hate all this silence and all these shitty feelings."
"Me too."
We pull back.
"So, we're cool then ? Put it behind us ?"
I smile.
"Ya, definitely."
She grabs my hand and kisses me on the cheek.
"I hear you're gonna go out with Sid ... ?"
She smiles. She laughs.
"Ya. What do you make of that ? Been a long time coming."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: the story continues with Chapter 11, 'More From Bristol', and then the actual final chapter (promise) of this overlong story, chapter 12, 'Afterword'.
Okay, another just about literally slaved over set of chapters, here. Seeing as it's the end, and seeing as I have come to love these boys so much ... I really badly wanted it be perfect. Feedback regardlng my success or failure in this venture is much appreciated.
Chapter 10 was one of polar opposites - a bit of a schizophrenic emotional roller coaster: first part being Tony's absolutely yummy deflowering and subsequent declaration of love, and then the painful second part in which they finally come clean with their friends, and it doesn't exactly go well. I felt terrible for poor Maxxie, of course, I mean, what a thing to be caught in the middle of - your love for your dream man, which you've just learned for the first time is requited (!), and your loyalty and love for your friends - and almost being asked to make a choice between the two - a cruel position for anyone to be in. I could also understand Michelle's outrage, though, and her friends rallying around her and taking her side, at least for a while. And then it was sort of a nice little twist to have hapless little milktoast Sid (of all people) stepping in and inadvertently proving the catalyst for it all. (Sid is btw my favorite Skins character.) Oh, and I just absolutely HAD to have Tony be incapable of keeping to himself all the new sexual things he's learning about, ('riding the pole', 'tying the shoelace', etc ).
Forgive me but the sex in this chapter was so hot I have to comment on it: First, the face to face kissing and slow, mutual masturbation on the bed as it pours down rain outside ? Fuck! I would honestly pay Hoult and Hewer to reenact that one scene for me, let alone ... the deflowering, of course, Maxxie's brief spank of Tony (surprisingly hot!), followed by all that damned rimming- phew! Mind you, the latter is not something I'm not squeamish about, and the plastic simply meant they could kiss afterwards, without running the risk of Hepatitis. (Not to get too 'medical'!)
More on the sex: Tony experiencing said rimming for the first time (the idea was that he's never even heard of it, let alone had it done to him) and finding himself helplessly writhing and slithering on the bed- my god, seriously - call the fire department ! I love Maxxie enjoying Tony's slitherings and mutterings so much that he forgets to stop. And earlier, Tony's surprise orgasm, just from being fingered and 'teabagged' alone, I mean, fuck ! And then once it all gets going, Tony's impatience when Maxxie hesitates even for a moment, poor dear.
Okay, so if you please ... go ahead and jump on over to chapters 11 and 12 ...