"Ssssshhhh," I hushed gently as I stroked Tim's hair. He was still in that stage of crying where he was finding it difficult to breathe, reducing himself to hiccups and dry sobs. It was bad enough that it had made the paper but now it was all over the news because that sick bastard had been an MP. I'd put the television on mute straight after and now we were sitting in the dark, two hours later as the latest soap played on in silence.
"It's okay," I soothed but he shook his head forcefully.
"Why won't they leave me alone? I haven't done anything."
At least I think that's what he said. It was very muffled by my jumper. Looking down I could see him wipe his nose on it but this wasn't exactly the time to tell him off for that.
"In a month no-one will even remember this."
I gave him a squeeze and it's like that was some sort of trigger because he started to cry all over again.
"And them I'm going to sue every bastard that dragged you into this." He huffed then.
"But then I'll be in the news all over again."
I didn't know what to say. I had no idea how to make it better or how to comfort him. I just knew that I wanted to personally rip the insides from each of the people who had sat in front of that camera and talked about my Tim.
"So, Mr Anderson, you can confirm that the Tim in the letter was in fact Tim Cornish?"
The mousy looking man had smiled wanly at the camera.
"Yes, he was a classmate of mine. He was this tiny waif of a boy. Very feminine as I recall, an easy target for bullies.I think that's what drew him towards them; that they could offer some sort of protection against the other pupils.
"Where you close? Did he ever, talk to you about what was happening?"
She'd placed a strange emphasis on the word talk.
"Oddly, no. He was always very quiet. Charming, but quiet. I shared a dorm with him, however. For about three years. As I'm sure you can imagine that provided all the evidence one would ever need," he chuckled darkly. He didn't get quite the reaction he was hoping for.
"You regularly heard the abuse take place, but did nothing to stop it?"
"Well...eh, no. Not in that sense," he stammered.
"And you never approached him to ensure he was alright?"
He seemed uncomfortable then. Good.
"Well, we were just children, you see. I don't think at the time any of us really understood what was happening," he insisted.
The camera cut then back to the reporter who went on to discuss how Tim's book was fast approaching the number one on the bestseller list and theorising over whether it revealed anything about his schooldays. I'd gotten so sick of hearing from the publisher that I had pulled the phone cord from the wall and instructed Tim that he was not to answer any calls or open any letters unless I was there.
I kissed the top of his head, reveling in the delicious honey scent. He was quieter now.
"Can we have sex," he asked out of the blue. Had I heard him right? He was still buried in my jumper so I pulled back a little.
"What?"
He sat up and it was heartbreaking to see those gorgeous green eyes so swollen and bloodshot. He sniffed and wiped at his cheeks with the back of his hand.
"Can we have sex," he asked again in a quiet whisper. I was definitely surprised. He could easily see my hesitation.
"Please. I just don't like feeling so breakable," he said sadly as he leaned in to kiss my cheek.
"I just want to feel safe with you," he ran a hand down my chest and snuggled in to start kissing my neck. It felt lovely if a little damp from the tears he hadn't fully wiped away. Grabbing the remote, I switched the television off and leaned back a little to give him more access. My back ached from sitting here for so long in such an awkward position and Tim could feel my stiff movement. He took the hint and helped me up, trailing me by the hand to the bedroom.
I smiled at the warming scent of vanilla. After telling Tim about my strange dream he had bought a handful of vanilla scented candles from the shop and dotted them around the bedroom. I made him sit on the bed as I lit the ones closest to the bedside table, knowing I wouldn't want to have to get up later to blow them out before we fell asleep.
He had his hands out either side of him, placed on the bed. His shoulders were a little hunched, his legs resting out in front of him, one crossed over the other at the ankle. He licked his bottom lip as he smiled at me. I watched his eyes roam up and down my figure as I stepped slowly towards him. Tonight had to be something new, something different. My brain was processing what he had told me about wanting to feel safe with me and I was coming up with different ways of ensuring it.
I stopped in front of him and his hands reached up to rest on my hips. I used my thumbs to wipe away the last residue from his tears and he closed his eyes. His eyelashes fanned out across his alabaster skin and I leaned in very gently to place a kiss of his forehead. He twitched slightly as I moved down slightly to place a kiss on the very tip of his nose. He smiled a little, like it tickled, so I did it again. Much more sensual this time. I pecked my lips to his cheek, then to the other, my hands cupping the sides of his face. His eyes opened and we were so close that it was almost numbing.
He smirked as I leaned in to brush his lips but he hesitated when I stopped right in front of him; my lips hovering so close to his but not quite touching. He moved forward by a margin and I pulled back a little. I felt the huff of his breath from his annoyance. He loved to be the tease but wasn't such a fan of it when it was him being taunted.
So softly, I pressed my lips to his. If it wasn't such a sensual environment, the kiss would almost be chaste. Something youthful and innocent; curious but hesitant. He leaned forward and I pulled his bottom lip into my mouth. It was soft, silky and perfect. His responding kiss was a little awkward. It reminded me of the first time we had kissed in the elevator when there was no mistaking that I was kissing him. His mouth had just fallen open a little in shock and I had taken the opportunity to pull on his top lip before dragging myself away. It was like that now. His eyes were again closed; fluttering slightly, his lips parted, cheeks flushed, hands shaky.
I brought a hand down to push his legs part and I placed it under his thigh to pull it up to my hip. I was too busy kissing him now so I hoped he would take the hint to wrap his legs around me. He did and I laughed a little at how comical it must look owing to how long his legs are. He squeezed them together, trapping me and reminding me that he had most of the control. In one easy motion I had scooped him off the bed. He wasn't expecting it and his head fell back a little, his hand reaching out to steady himself. It took a little more effort to kneel on the bed and move us towards the headboard. I could have just told him to do so but this seemed more fitting.
His hands reached up to pull at my shirt, lifting it from the waist to expose my abdomen. My muscles were tensed and his fingers brushed against them softly, sending shivers along my skin. I pulled the shirt over my head and threw it to the floor, making sure to avoid all the candles. His hands explored what they could from this angle and he lay on the sheets; breathing heavily with lust.
I removed my own trousers and boxers and he smiled. He was still fully-clothed and I'm sure he liked that I was making myself vulnerable first to make sure he felt in control. He slipped a hand to his jeans and undid the button, watching me for a reaction. I just sat back on my heels and enjoyed the show. Him biting his lip, arching his back as he shimmied his way out of the trousers. He made a song and dance of undoing all the buttons on his shirt and by the time he was finished I was very aroused. He allowed me to move him on the bed so that we lay with me spooning him. I kissed his neck and along his spine, my hand smoothing along his chest; down to his stomach, along his pelvic bone, further and further down as he arched his back. It meant he was grinding against me and the sensation was sublime. He brought his knee up to his chest to grant me further access and I set to work massaging him gently with my knuckles.
Every now and then he would give an endearing little gasp or moan and each time he did it sent a wave of pleasure from my ear to my tailbone. He was touching himself now, each movement slow and gentle and I carded my fingers through his hair in the same rhythm. He usually complained that I made it greasy but he enjoyed it in this setting. He tilted his head so that he could look at me over his shoulder and I leaned in to kiss him, using my tongue to lick along his upper lip.
I reached for the bottle in the bedside drawer and I could feel him tense a little as he heard the sound of the cap opening. He breathed sharply as I slid a finger in and I stilled. I worried I was hurting him. He grabbed onto my wrist as a non verbal way of communicating and I watched every micro-expression on his features to be sure.
It didn't take long before he was giving me the signal that it was okay and I held tightly onto his waist as I felt him adjust to me. I couldn't think, could hardly breathe. What was the point of existence outside of this moment? My hormones raged a war within me of telling me to just give in to lust. To satisfy myself and be done with it. I had enough of my sanity however to suppress the primal urge and to focus on Tim. Hadn't he said something about needing to feel safe? Trust, maybe? Oh God, I could barely remember my own name right now never mind what this gorgeous creature wanted from me. He didn't seem to be very coherent either. He just seemed to be clutching at the bed sheets and whimpering a little. It had been quite a while from when we last did this and I wondered whether that made it harder for him or more pleasurable.
I could feel all the bones in his body because of how slim he was and without even meaning to I was biting down on his shoulder, nibbling at his neck as he panted beside me. This was delicious, carnal and intense. I moved gently despite the voice in my head that was screaming nonsensical things at me.
"Ivo," he sighed.
That's what my name is! I'd forgotten for a moment there. I licked along his outer ear and I could feel each wave of pleasure as I slowly moved in and out. The heat was suffocating and wonderful at the same time. I was being a little more forceful than I intended and I felt Tim's hand on mine as I rested it on his chest. I have no idea how long we were there. Seconds and days at the same time. Hearing him say my name so reverently was sinful but I would gladly go to hell for it. There was no one else on this earth that could make me feel the way he did. He didn't seem to understand, the severity of my love for him. It consumed me in everything. When I'd first met him I've never been more depressed. I wanted to know what he was doing. Where he was, what he was thinking, what he felt, was he thinking about me? Would he want someone like me? Was he even gay? He'd said about his many girlfriends? Was this creature sent here just to torment me?
I was so wrapped up in the moment I hadn't even realised Tim had already reached his climax. His hand grasped at mine as a signal that this was too much and I stopped reluctantly. He exhaled sharply as I pulled out and he watched me with half lidded eyes as I brought myself to orgasm. Usually I am fastidious about cleaning up but right now I didn't care. Did I even have bones anymore? It certainly didn't feel like it.
We lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling as our heart rates began to calm. Tim's would return to normal, resting state much sooner than mine given the age difference. We were holding hands like teenagers and his foot reached over to brush against mine.
"Thanks," he sighed with a soft laugh.
"Anytime," I replied.
He turned to cuddle into me and I wrapped my arms around him.
"Do you have any idea," I asked him. "Just how much I love you."
He gave a slight nod.
"I think so."
I breathed in the smell of him and lay back, completely at peace here. The real world was somewhere else right now. Somewhere people were talking about him or speculating or feeling sorry for him and I was the one person who actually got to be next to him.
"You know, I feel kind of sorry for them," Tim said. "James and Charlie and everyone."
He does?
"I mean, I'm sure they wish they could go back and change things. But if we weren't all so messed up; repressed and lonely and burdened with responsibility, then we would have just gone to school and grown up and figured it out."
I didn't say anything. Only Tim could feel sorry for people like that. Stockholm Syndrome at its finest.
"I don't know. I just figure that they're not as bad as what people think. People are just scared, that it could be their kids. Or what if it had been them? So they make them look like monsters so that they can comprehend it. But they weren't monsters, which is the scariest part. They were just really unhappy kids."
"You were unhappy and you didn't make a point of ruining other people's lives," I said angrily.
"But I did," he said knowingly. "That's the point. I don't want to sue them. I don't want them to go to prison. But it's not about what I think is justice. It's all these other people that it has nothing to do with. And they say the word 'abuse' like it was just invented yesterday. Nobody asked me. James didn't think it was abuse because he loved me. Not the right way but in his own way I'm sure he did."
He sighed dramatically and pushed his hair back off his face. It seemed fitting that we should both be lying there completely naked as he bared his soul to me. He was so different to when I had first met him. Ageing suited him beautifully. He matured yet remained eternally beautiful.
"I'm not the first, Ivo. I won't be the last. All of this is some moral panic that everyone has to pretend to go through because someone of some significance brought it up. Yeah, I'm glad that this could bring justice for other people, other kids even. But if anyone were to ask me then to be honest I don't really care. I just want to be left alone. It's like this is the only significant thing about me. It's the way everyone has and will always think of me. The victim. Well what if I don't want to be the victim? What if I've decided to forgive them and move on with my life?"
I squeezed his hand in my own. He looked at me with his big eyes and it struck me that even when the rest of you has grown up and changed, your eyes always remain the same. Even the same size. They were the same eyes his parents had looked into with so little love and the same eyes that Gilman and all the others had looked into as they did the most horrible things to him. How could they be so cruel to one so beautiful?
"What," he asked with a laugh, probably unnerved by my intense staring.
I smiled.
"Just thinking about what's hidden behind those gorgeous eyes," I said.
"A brain, I hope," he whispered.
"A brilliant one."
"Mmmm, Dr Steadman, you flatter me," he laughed.
It was a nice feeling being there with him, despite the circumstances and the on-going mayhem that seemed to be our lives. He was worth all of it. Just to know that he loves me.