Chapter 23

So, I have a very rough idea in my mind.

So we'll see how it goes

MirrorSlash

^ Still LOLLING at the accidental 'Slash' xD

Hmmmmmmmm (: Enjoy!

Xxxxxxxxx

Chicken Soup

"You're not drinking it!"

"It's hot!" Syed moaned indignantly.

"Honestly Sye! Go on – open up."

Christian watched approvingly as Syed feebly parted his lips and sipped some of the hot liquid in the Styrofoam cup. He saw Syed's face relax in contentment.

"Mm, it's good."

"Told ya!" Christian laughed. "Must have learnt something working at Masala Queen after all!" he winked. "Actually...it's an old family recipe. You know what they say!"

"Mother knows best," Syed said ruefully, clasping the cup between his hands and allowing its warmth to spread through the tips of his fingers and through his whole body.

Christian immediately even regretted mentioning families. As much as he tried to put a brave face on, Christian knew how much Syed still cared for his parents – the hurt look on Syed's face every time they brushed past him in the market, or turned away in the square, angered him. He may not have had the closest relationship with his parents, but it was beyond him how two people could disregard their own flesh and blood in such a sickening way.

Syed was strong though. No matter how many times his parents had shown – or even said – that they hated him, the flicker of hope in his eyes never faded. Somehow, deep down, after everything they'd done, he truly believed that they'd come round some day.

Why is it like that? Christian wondered. Why are we programmed to love certain people unconditionally? And, even after they hurt us, we're still willing to go back to them time and time again...

It was a question he'd asked himself time and time again over the previous years. Once again, no answer decided to appear in his mind, and so he sighed heavily, bent over and kissed Syed gently on the forehead.

"Get some rest – go to sleep."

"I'm not tired,"

"You really are a whiny little kid, aren't you?"

"I'm ill!"

"Or was that just your way of saying you weren't up for it last night?" Christian teased.

"Give over," Syed rolled his eyes. "Ugh, I don't have time to be ill! I wanted to go out today..." He let of a groan of frustration and attempted to get out of the bed. He ended up collapsing weakly against the pillows and fluttering his eyes shut. "There's – no – time-"

"Just like your mother!" Christian burst out laughing. "Stubborn as always – must run in the Masood bloodline."

Syed was silent.

"I'm sorry!" He was immediately contrite. "Don't know what's wrong with me – I keep landing my foot in it today!"

But Syed didn't reply. He was fast asleep.

Ben snuck into the room quietly. The lights were off and the house was hushed. Syed had gone out – job hunting, presumably, and Christian had left a few minutes ago; Ben had heard the front door slam.

He'd tried to stay away, honestly, he had. He'd sat downstairs and attempted to watch some TV. But today the plots of the daytime soaps seemed particularly dull, nonsensical...pathetic, even. The omnibuses were overdramatic, the day time television was dreary at best, and even the cartoons were cerebrally challenging.

He'd attempted some homework...but the monotone of everyday life couldn't compare to what was waiting upstairs...and so he'd given in. It was risky, yes, but it would calm him down after all he'd been through. It would get rid of the stress and all that sexual tension he'd had brewing inside him since day one of stepping into the Masood-Clark household.

And nobody was in the house. Perfect opportunity to...erm, unwind, Ben thought to himself, blushing hugely.

He glanced around the room quickly. It was their bedroom. He'd never seen it before. There were two mirrors, (Ben wouldn't have been surprised if he'd discovered they were both for Christian. If the man had a flaw, it would've been that he was a little vain) red plush carpet, white walls, medium sized wardrobes and wooden cupboards, a large and messy double bed, and a door that led to the ensuite.

Very nice.

He made his way over to the cupboards in the corner and wasted no time sliding open a drawer.

Socks.

He shook his head, irritated, and tried the one above it.

"Bingo," he mouthed, reaching in and pulling out the flimsy material and stretching it's waistband. Definitely Christian's. Syed had a much slimmer form.

The boxers that Ben was holding were pure white. The thought of Christian wearing them, the very material he held in his hands, clinging to Christian's behind, or loosely brushing itself against Christian's cock made Ben's own twitch expectantly.

He checked behind him at the door. Nobody was there.

He wasted no time in reaching into his trousers, his fingers diving into the depths of his own underwear, and holding his hardening self gently. With his other hand, he brought the boxers to his face, breathing in deeply. He parted his lips and allowed a quiet moan to escape them, a combination of pleasuring himself, and Christian's aroma encircling him.

He'd never – never done this before. Not with anyone. Not even to himself – ever. He'd never felt the need to, but then Christian had come into his life and all his beliefs and morals had completely flown out the window. His head swam with confusion and butterflies fluttered in his stomach as he realised that what he was doing was so completely wrong.

So why did it feel so right? Presently, he allowed his hands to reach down further, gasping out loud as he reached the head, stroking it again and inhaling deeply.

Experimentation, that's what it was. It didn't mean he was gay. Not really. Didn't everyone try this at one point in their life?

Holding Christian's clothing – his underwear no less – felt amazing. It was almost as if he was there with him. Staring at him intently with those emerald eyes, his strong arms around him and holding him tightly, the strong yet subtle smell of his sweat, aftershave, shampoo...all the things that made him Christian...it felt as if it was all there.

Ben closed his eyes and images of Christian invaded the floor of his mind. Christian smiling, Christian laughing, Christian winking...Christian's mouth, his arms, his body...

Ben's eyes flew open in pleasant surprise as he felt the wet drop of pre-cum on his fingers. And he almost laughed to himself. Only Christian could do this to him – this fast, anyway.

He allowed himself to relax as his hands began to move up and down the length, and as his fingers pressed, caressed and explored. He felt as if he was getting to know himself – and Christian.

His breathing became louder, more erratic, heightening with pleasure at the thought of Christian there with him, building up to an orgasm with him, screaming his name...

"Ben! What the hell are you doing?"

Ben jumped and turned, seeing Christian standing a little way behind him. Shit, how long had Christian been there? How much had he seen?

Ben realised he was still holding Christian's boxers to his face, and his hands were still below the waistband of his trousers.

It was exactly what it looked like.

He released the item of clothing hotly and it fell to the ground with a thud. Quickly, he pulled his trousers up properly.

How could he explain this?

"Ben...?" Christian looked confused and angry at the same time. "I just popped out for ten minutes and you're...I mean, you were...?" He shook his head. "With Sye in the same room?"

At that exact moment, what Ben had earlier presumed was a pile of messy clothing on the bed, decided to move and turn onto its side. Ben realised too late, in horror, that it was Syed. He gulped, holding his breath as Syed stretched, mumbled incoherently and opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was Ben.

"What are you doing here?" he spoke angrily.

"I thought you'd gone out," Ben said honestly.

"Ben – get out now," Christian angled his head towards the door.

"What's going on?" Syed asked, struggling to sit up.

Ben widened his eyes and shook his head pleadingly at Christian, who sighed and muttered, "A slight misunderstanding, that's all. Come on Ben."

Syed raised his eyebrows as he saw the white fabric on the floor next to Ben's feet.

"Was he holding your underwear?" he spoke incredulously.

"Don't be silly, of course not," Christian said, glaring at Ben.

"No," the boy said hurriedly, making his way out of the room.

"I just went to the shops," Christian said, "Brought back dinner. I'll go fix it up yeah?"

The second he left, Christian walked across the landing and gripped Ben's arm tightly.

"You made me lie to him," he whispered fiercely.

"I...I'm sorry."

"You were doing what I thought you were, weren't you? Over my things...? Ben, we need to talk,"

Ben struggled. "Let go of me!"

"What's going on?"

Both of them whipped around to see Sye with the strangest look on his face.

"Why are you holding him?"

Christian dropped his hand to his side.

"Don't worry about anything Syed. We were just talking."

"Yeah," Ben laughed, "Just talking."

Syed narrowed his eyes. "I must still be feeling funny..." and he shuffled back into the bedroom.