Page 8
Chapter Six
DECEMBER 2083
Alex
The club was a grungy place, popular with the arty student set that Alex hung with. He stared into his drink, trying to block out the steady thrum of techno-thrash music and hear what Bax was yelling at him.
Marlon Baxter was studying fashion, as anyone could have guessed by looking at him. With his long, flowing blond hair, almond-shaped green eyes, golden skin, and bee-stung lips, he was also the undisputed leader of the gay crowd at Oxford, and everyone wanted to sleep with him – except Alex.
“So, do you have your eye on anyone, sweetie?” Bax asked, taking a deep pull on his vape and blowing out a cloud of bright pink smoke.
He was wearing a red, skin-tight, metamesh body suit that he’d designed himself, which left nothing to the imagination.
“Nah. I hate this place – bunch of posers.” Alex stubbed out his cigarette on the old wooden table in front of him.
In contrast to Bax, he was dressed almost conservatively in a pair of black jeans, big black biker boots, an electric-blue shirt, and his trademark ankle-length black velvet coat, which, according to Bax, was driving all the gay boys in Oxford wild. His eyes were smudged with black eyeliner, and he’d scrunched his hair so that it hung in messy curls around his face. In his left ear he wore a small hooped earring with a silver feather dangling from it; he’d self-pierced his ear while high on croc a few weeks ago, mainly because he thought it would annoy his father.
“You’re such a bore. Honestly, why do you even come out clubbing with us if you hate it so much?” Bax chided.
“Sex and croc,” Alex replied, with a crooked grin.
“Hah!” Bax waved his hands around theatrically. “As a fully certified sex god you could have anyone you want, as you well know, you vile beast.” He pursed his lips tragically. “Although why the wealthy scion of the House of Lytton can’t afford to buy his own croc is beyond me.”
“I’m going home tomorrow to spend two weeks with my father. If I don’t score enough croc to see me through, I won’t survive.” Alex hunched his shoulders miserably at the thought of Christmas at The Orchard.
“Aw – poor baby. Well, let’s see if I can help, then,” Bax mused. “Oh! I know! I’ve heard that Gerard Lucas-Nash always has plenty of croc, and he’d probably give away half his fortune to sleep with you. Of course, he’s troll-like in his hideousness, so he wouldn’t stand a chance with you any other way. Eww.” He gave a full-body shudder. “I feel like I’m your croc pimp.”
“Who the hell is Gerard Lucas-Nash?”
“Very ugly, very rich.” Bax grinned. “And he’s got a crush the size of Mars on a certain Alexander Lytton. Then again, who doesn’t?” He assumed a mournful pose, one arm over his forehead. “Beautiful, tragic, moody Alex. Do you even know the effect you have on us all, darling?”
Leaning over, he kissed Alex’s cheek. “Of course you do. You could have me any day,” he whispered seductively into Alex’s ear. “I’m yours. Take me!” He splayed out his arms and draped himself in Alex’s lap. Alex rolled his eyes and pushed him away.
“I’m hard for him twenty-four-seven but he doesn’t care, the heartless creature,” Bax lamented, picking himself up and taking another draw on his vape with a magnificent huff of disappointment.
“It’s better this way, Bax. You don’t want to be involved with me.”
“Because you’re so dark, brooding, and sad, doomed by your own beauty to a life of lonely one-night stands?” Bax suggested. “Don’t you see how wild that drives us all, darling? That’s precisely why everyone wants to fuck you.”
“No, you want to fix me. You want to mend my dark heart and damaged soul with the power of your epic lurve,” Alex mocked. “I’d disappoint you in the end, Bax, trust me.”
“Maybe, but the journey would be so beautiful.” Bax sighed. “Just one night in your arms would make me so happy, my dark and despoiled angel.”
“Fuck off.” Alex grinned, lighting another cigarette.
“Why do you insist on smoking those ugly old things when you could make sparkling circles of shimmering light in the air with one of these?” Bax blew out a cloud of bright strawberry smoke to illustrate his point.
“I dunno. I like the taste, the feel…” Alex shrugged.
“And the fact they’re illegal, and these aren’t?” Bax grinned.
“Hah.” Alex just laughed.
“Talking of illegal – where’s your sturdy-but-oh-so-dull flatmate tonight? His clothes should be made illegal. I’ve never seen anything so appalling – all that beige and green.”
“Neil? I dunno. I didn’t ask him along.”
“Thank God! No offence, but he’s the dreariest gay boy in Oxford. How can you bear him?”
“He’s okay.”
Bax looked at him sharply. “Are you sleeping with that beige boy, Alexander Lytton?”
Alex shrugged, and Bax’s mouth opened in a big “oh”. He slapped his hand across it dramatically, pointing at Alex.
“You are! Oh, my poor darling – what a hideous waste. But why him?” He pouted. “What’s he got that I don’t? Hmm? I can guarantee you that I’m more exciting in bed.”
“Look, I’m here with you tonight, and I don’t want to talk about him – okay?”
“Okay.” Bax sniffed. “Always so moody – it’s a blessing you’re so beautiful, or nobody would put up with you.”
Alex ignored him, his attention captured by a pair of shapely brown legs descending the stairs at the far end of the room. Then the crowd parted, and the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen appeared.
Her skin was a warm golden brown, and her curly brown hair was cut into an afro that looked like a magnificent cloud perched on top of her petite frame. She was wearing a tight red mini-dress that clung to her perfect curves, and a pair of knee-high black leather boots. She was gorgeous, and she knew it – heads turned and jaws dropped as she walked across the club to the bar, her pert bottom sashaying seductively.
“Who the hell is that?” Alex murmured, transfixed.
“Who? Oh! I sometimes forget you’re not a hundred per cent gay,” Bax said huffily as he followed Alex’s gaze.
“I’m about seventy per cent gay.” Alex grinned. “But the other thirty per cent is definitely into her.”
“You’ll have to fight all the straight boys here tonight for a chance at her,” Bax told him, glancing around. “Of course, none of them are remotely in her league, darling, so you’ll probably win. Going to try?”
Suddenly turning, the woman looked straight at Alex and gave a cheeky smile. He blinked, startled. She looked away, then glanced back over her shoulder, smiling at him again in what was clearly an invitation.
He handed his cigarette to Bax. “Why not?” he murmured. Elbowing a couple of potential love rivals out of his path, he went over to the bar. Up close, she was even more breathtaking, her eyes an unusual shade of golden brown and her skin flawlessly smooth.
“Hi.” He held out his hand. “I’m Alex.”
“Yeah, I know who you are, Alexander Lytton,” she retorted, and he liked the cool sparkle in her eyes. She didn’t look like someone who’d want to fix him. “I’m Solange Alajika.” After giving his hand a firm shake, she dropped it as if she couldn’t be bothered with him anymore.
“I’d buy you a drink, but I’ve bought my two beers for the night already, so I don’t have the funds,” he said apologetically.
She raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “I thought the Lyttons were stinking rich. Don’t you own all the ducks in the world?”
“Nah – not all of them.” He grinned. “Just the boring ones. ”
“There are exciting ducks?”
“There could be, if anyone would build them.”
“Well, you’d know, I suppose.” She had a slight accent that he couldn’t trace.
“I love your hair.” He longed to touch it, but didn’t dare.
“Yeah, I get that a lot. People always want to know if it’s natural, and it is. Mum was Dutch, and Dad’s family came from somewhere in Africa, originally, years ago.”
“Are the eyes natural, too?” Alex asked.
“Are yours?” she threw back, and he laughed.
“You’re gorgeous.”
“Yeah, I am – and so are you, but you know that.” She glanced around the bar. “That must be why everyone’s looking at us, wondering if we’re gonna hook up.”
“Are we?” He raised an eyebrow.
“I dunno. I doubt either of us is used to trying very hard, looking like we do.”
He laughed again, intrigued.
At that moment, Bax appeared by his side. “Hey, Alex – look who I found,” he said, gesturing to a plump man with terrible acne, who he was dragging along by the elbow. Alex made a face, annoyed by the interruption.
“It’s Gerard Lucas-Nash – you were asking about him earlier,” Bax prompted.
“Oh, yeah, right.”
“I’m delighted to meet you, young sir,” Gerard said pompously, despite the fact he couldn’t have been more than a year older.
Alex gave Bax an “Is he for real?” look, and Bax coughed loudly to hide his fit of giggles.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, young Mr Lytton – none of it good,” Gerard pronounced.
Alex glared at him. “I’m having a private chat with Solange, here,” he said pointedly.
“Well, I’m sorry to interrupt you and the lovely Solange,” Bax said, “but I seem to remember you saying how much you’re looking forward to spending Christmas with your family? ”
Alex had a sudden flashback to the previous Christmas – their first without his mother. Charles had still been in hospital, and he and his father had visited him and then returned to The Orchard for a strained lunch, followed by a blazing row. He couldn’t get through another Christmas of reproachful stares and incessant lectures without copious amounts of croc.
He took a closer look at Gerard; he was as ugly as Bax had promised, with several bright red patches of acne standing out vividly on his pale skin and greasy dark hair. He was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and a black tee-shirt with Living Legend splashed across it in big white letters.
“If you have to wear it written on your chest, you probably aren’t,” Alex pointed out, but Gerard just looked bemused. “Bax says you have croc,” Alex said bluntly.
“I do, yes.” Gerard gave a smug smile.
“Right.” Alex turned back to Solange. “It’s been nice meeting you, Solange. See you around?” She gave him a startled look, and he pressed a kiss to her cheek and then took hold of Gerard’s arm and led him into one of the dark corners of the club.
“Well, well, well. I’m honoured,” Gerard said when they were alone. “Alexander Lytton, passing up a chance with a beauty like that in favour of little old moi .” He puffed out his chest.
“You have croc,” Alex said brusquely. “And I need some. Lots of it. Enough for two weeks.”
“I see. Well, croc’s expensive, you know.”
“I want croc, and you want sex. That’s fine. Blowjobs, handjobs, arse-fucking – I’ll give you whatever you want, and you’ll give me four packets of croc in return.”
“That’s bloody crude,” Gerard blustered.
“What did you expect – a bunch of flowers and a three-course meal? This isn’t romance, it’s a transaction. Take it or leave it – yes or no?”
Gerard wetted his lips lasciviously. “Yes,” he said eagerly.
Grabbing him by the arm, Alex escorted him to the club’s side door. It opened onto an alleyway where two people were throwing up, various couples were snogging, and one man was being enthusiastically jerked off by a drunk woman with wild red hair.
A random Floodite was also patrolling the alleyway, ranting incoherently to an unheeding audience. He wore the usual Floodite badge, depicting an arc and an olive branch, and bore a sign that proclaimed: Mend your ways, or the end of the world will come again!
“How can it come again?” Alex yelled. “Surely the end of the world is a one-time deal?”
The man turned to him eagerly, full of evangelising zeal.
“God made a covenant with all living creatures never again to destroy all life on Earth by flood. The Rising was our warning that if we don’t mend our ways, a worse fate awaits us. We ignore God’s warning at our peril.”
“Oh, just piss off!” Alex growled.
“If God destroys the Earth, it will be because of sinners like you!” the man declared, pointing at him with a quivering finger.
“If only I had the power.” Alex smirked. “Now, leave! Unless the only reason you hang around outside clubs is so you can watch people copping off.”
The man turned haughtily and walked back down the alleyway, still ranting to himself.
“Nutter.” Alex turned back to Gerard. “So, what’s it to be? What do you want?”
“Uh… I don’t know,” Gerard mumbled, and Alex realised that his pompous manner was a front. He wondered if Gerard had ever had sex, much less knew how he wanted it.
“Hey,” he said, more gently. “It’s okay. Take your time.” He put his hand down the front of Gerard’s trousers. “Want me to suck you off, big boy?”
“Yes, please,” Gerard whimpered.
Kneeling down in front of him, Alex opened his trousers and pulled his boxers down. Gerard gave a startled moan. Alex decided that if this was Gerard’s first time, he was going to make it good, so he set about sucking him off with expert swipes of his tongue. Gerard was so excited he would have come within three seconds had Alex not drawn back several times to prolong the experience and give the guy something to savour later. He felt an obligation to earn those four bags of croc.
Gerard began to squeak and mewl. He grasped Alex’s hair in a sweaty handful and bucked his hips excitedly into his face. Alex held on to him, trying to steady him and slow him down, but Gerard was too far gone. At that moment, the side door opened, and Alex glanced sideways… to find himself looking into a pair of startled golden-brown eyes.
“Shit… sorry,” Solange said, and Gerard chose that moment to come.
Alex knelt there with Gerard’s hand still grasping his hair, watching as Solange turned and went back into the club without another word. He wondered how he must have looked to her, on his knees in some dirty back alley behind a club, sucking off an ugly bloke he’d only just met, and all because he’d wanted some croc.
“Thank you, young sir,” Gerard beamed down at him. “That was most marvellous.”
“Nobody talks like that,” Alex said, wiping his hand across his mouth. “Now, give me my croc.”
“Of course.” Gerard reached into his pocket and pulled out a little red-and-green-patterned tin. He opened it, and Alex saw several packets of croc nestled inside. Gerard picked out four, then grabbed another one. “As a tip,” he said grandly. “That really was splendid, my dear Mr Lytton.”
Alex took four of the packets. “We agreed four, so that’s what I’ll take,” he said. “If I make a price, I stick to it.”
“The whore’s moral code, hmm?” Gerard said, beaming at him. “Very well – but if you ever want more, you know where to find me.” He patted Alex’s face clumsily, looking pleased with himself.
Alex shoved the croc into his pocket. A whore? Was that who he was now?
A shadow appeared beside him, and he caught a flash of a thin, pale face in the darkness.
“You got some croc there, mate?” a low voice rasped, and a hand made a quick grab in the direction of Gerard’s tin.
“No! Go away, or I’ll call the police,” Gerard snapped, shoving the man away. He slunk back into the shadows and stood there, watching them pathetically. “Quarrie scum,” Gerard hissed. “There are more and more of them slinking into town these days, like rats from the sewers.” He raised his voice. “Piss off back to the Quarterlands, or do the decent thing and become an IS.”
The pale-faced man melted even further back into the darkness of the building.
“They’ll murder us in our sleep if we’re not careful,” Gerard said. “You coming back inside?” He jerked his head at the door.
“Not yet.”
“Well, don’t stay out here too long – it’s not safe.” Gerard cast a meaningful look at the Quarterlander and then returned to the club.
The pale man stepped out into the light thrown by the club’s exit sign. He was about the same age as Alex, with grimy tear streaks from habitual croc use lining his cheeks.
“Give me some croc, mate,” he rasped. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
“You look like you need food, not croc.”
The man shrugged. “Croc’s better than food. When you have croc you don’t care about feelin’ hungry. Everythin’s good with croc.”
“Yeah.” Alex took one of the little packs Gerard had given him, wishing he’d taken the extra one he’d been offered now. “Here.” He threw it at the man, who grabbed it out of the air like it was manna from heaven.
“Thanks, mate. You want anythin’ for it? You want me to suck you off?”
“No, piss off,” Alex snapped, feeling ashamed. What was the difference between himself and this tear-stained croc-head? The man slunk off silently into the night without a second glance.
Alex was too unsettled to go back into the club, so he perched on a nearby brick wall, turned up his collar against the winter chill, and stuck a cigarette in his mouth. He was patting his coat pocket, looking for his matches, when someone held out a lighter for him.
“Hey!” He turned to see Solange standing beside him. “Oh, it’s you,” he said gracelessly.
“Wow, you know how to make a girl feel special.” She sat down on the wall beside him. “So… you’re gay? I didn’t get that vibe off you back in the club.”
“Bi,” Alex huffed around the side of his cigarette. Blowing out a plume of smoke, he handed it to Solange.
“Ah. Right.” She took a drag and gave it back. “Do you always blow guys you’ve only just met?” She sounded curious rather than disgusted.
Alex shrugged and pulled his coat jacket even tighter around his body.
“It didn’t look like you were having a good time.”
“I wanted croc,” Alex told her bluntly. “Gerard had some, and I didn’t, and tomorrow…”
“Tomorrow?”
“Never mind. Look, I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“Whatever.” Solange shrugged. Alex was impressed – most girls wouldn’t be so cool about seeing a prospective conquest on his knees, sucking off another guy.
“Tell me to fuck off,” Solange said, “but you’re a Lytton, so how come you don’t have the money to buy your own croc?”
“My father gives me an allowance every month and makes me account for every penny. And I mean literally every penny. I have to do accounts for him, provide receipts and shit. He says it’s good practice for managing a budget.”
“Sounds like a drag.”
“Yeah. I don’t mind doing the stupid accounts – it’s the fact he gives me so little dosh. He says I have to prove myself to earn more, but I’m not sure there’s anything I can do that’ll be enough, really.” He wasn’t sure why he was telling her all this when he hadn’t even told Bax, but there was something about her detached style that made him feel at ease.
“Is this because of the accident that killed your mum?” she asked.
He glanced at her sharply; most people pussyfooted around that subject, although everyone knew his story. She raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah. He doesn’t want me taking croc, or drinking.”
“I suppose I can understand that, after what happened.”
“Yeah. ”
“You could always get a job to make more money – you know, like ordinary people.” She gave a sly wink.
“Well, firstly – there are no jobs, and if there were, I shouldn’t take one away from someone who really needs it. But also, he won’t let me. He wants to control all my money to make sure I’m not using.”
“How would he find out?”
“He has a spy.” Alex flicked ash onto the ground. “He sent an IS with me to Oxford to report back on everything I do.”
“Wow, that’s all kinds of fucked up.” She leaned into him for warmth, and he handed her the cigarette again. “So, does this spy know you blow guys for croc – and how did you slip your leash this evening?”
Alex grinned. “I sleep with my spy to ensure his silence.”
She stared at him. “For real? You’re not bullshitting me?”
“For real.”
Her eyes widened. “Wow. Just… wow. You Lyttons are weird.”
Alex laughed. “Yeah.”
“Question is… why do you need the croc at all?” She sounded genuinely intrigued. “I mean, croc’s nice, but it’s not addictive like sable.”
“Nah. I could kick it without giving a shit,” he agreed.
“So, why go down on your knees to suck some bloke’s dick in a back alley behind a club in the freezing cold just to score some croc?”
“Because tomorrow I’m going home to spend Christmas with my unforgiving father, my paralysed big brother, and the ghost of my mother, and I want to be able to take the edge off when it gets too much, which it will,” he told her honestly.
She gazed at him for a long time and then nodded. “I can understand that. Is your father really unforgiving?”
“Yes. He can’t stand the sight of me.”
“He still blames you for the accident that killed your mum?”
“Yeah, but I get that. What I don’t get is the way the rest of the world joins in. They paint me black, so I suppose that’s what I must be.” He gave her a twisted grin. “Don’t want to let down my audience.”
“Sounds shitty.” She raised the cigarette, and he gazed, fascinated, as her painted red lips closed around it .
“Let’s shut up about me,” he said. “I’m boring. Tell me why I haven’t seen you around before tonight.”
“I just arrived – a bit late, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to be here, or what I wanted to study. My godfather had to talk me into it.”
“Godfather? What happened to the Dutch mum and African dad?”
“Both dead,” she said, in a matter-of-fact way. “Duck accident, six months ago.”
He felt an instant spark of connection – now her cool, offhand manner made sense.
“Do you ever feel like you’re watching a movie of your own life, rather than being in it?” he asked. “Like nothing really matters after something big and bad like that? Everyone wants you to worry about your education, and love life, and your friends try to get you to care about all the gossip, like who’s fucking who… but you don’t really give a shit, because it’s all meaningless, and you can’t feel a thing, inside?”
“Yes! Oh, God, yes.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “My godfather is a good man, so I said I’d give Oxford a try. I’m only here for a few days to scope out somewhere to live and get sorted for next term, if I come back.”
“I hope you do.” He put his arm around her and squeezed.
She smiled. “I think I will, and… look, I have croc. My godfather gives me tons of money, and I like how croc takes the edge off all the shitty stuff, too. So next time, don’t suck off some wanker in an alley – come to me.”
“Okay. I will.” He felt his ennui ease a little from having met her. “What subject are you reading?”
“Art,” she said, and he had to fight down the wave of envy. “You?”
“Business. I wish I was reading art and design – if Mum was still alive I would be, but Dad says I need to understand business if I’m going to take over Lytton AV one day.”
“Is that what you want?”
Alex shrugged. “It’s the family business, and I like ducks. I’d rather be designing them than running the company, but…” He shrugged again. “I often attend art lectures anyway, and if I’m smart about it, I can even blag my way into some seminars.”
“Always the bad boy, huh?” She grinned .
“Yeah, that’s me. Now, it’s late, and I gotta get back.” He slid off the wall.
“I suppose I’ll go home as well, then,” she said, holding out her arms so he could help her jump down.
“Can I walk you? There are a few weirdos lurking in the shadows tonight; I’d like to make sure you’re safe.”
“Aw, you’re quite the gentleman, aren’t you?” She giggled. “I didn’t know there were any of those left these days. Better not let anyone see, or your image will be ruined.”
“Hah – they’ll just assume I’m taking you home so I can have my wicked way with you.” He twirled an imaginary moustache, and she giggled again. “I’m not,” he added firmly. “But I would like to see you after the holidays, if that’s okay?”
“I’d like that.” She slipped her hand into his, and he liked how it felt, as if he was a normal boy walking his girl home.
They reached her lodgings, and he said goodbye and was about to walk away when she pulled him back, took hold of his face, and kissed him sweetly on the lips. Leaning in, he revelled in the softness of her skin and the scent of her perfume. After several weeks kissing Neil, it made a welcome change.
“Until the new year,” she promised when she finally let him go.
He hunched his shoulders. “Solange, I have to be honest. I really like you, and I want to see you again, but I meant it when I said I can’t feel anything. I don’t think that’s going to change anytime soon.”
Reaching out, she touched his cheek, her fingers deliciously warm on his cold skin. “You know, you’re not what I expected,” she said softly. “The press make out that you’re an arrogant, spoilt shit, but I think you’re just sad.”
He caught her hand and removed it from his cheek. “No. Don’t. I am a shit, Solange. Don’t romanticise me and please don’t fall in love with me. People do, all the time, and it’s not really me they’re falling in love with – it’s the whole backstory and drama that comes with me.”
“I won’t, then,” she said. “We can be friends, and we can take croc together, and maybe we can even sleep together, if you like.” She winked. “But I promise you that I won’t ever fall in love with you. ”
“Good, because I’d never want to hurt you.” Leaning down, he captured her lips in another sweet kiss and then turned and left.
It was gone midnight by the time he returned home, but Neil was still up, sitting at the kitchen table in front of his nanopad, tapping away studiously. He was wearing a pair of green pyjamas and a brown dressing gown. Remembering Bax’s “beige boy” comment, Alex bit back a grin.
“You shouldn’t have waited up,” he said, taking off his coat and throwing it onto a nearby chair. It missed.
“I always worry when you’re out late – I can’t sleep.” Neil retrieved his coat from the floor, then hung it up in the hallway cupboard. The flat was warm, cosy, and spotlessly clean. Neil picked up after him, did his washing, cooked for him, and made his life easier than Alex thought it had any right to be.
“So, where have you been?” Neil asked, winding an arm around his waist and kissing his cheek.
“At the club.”
“Who with?”
“Bax.”
“Oh.” Neil looked crestfallen. He didn’t know how to behave around exotic gay men like Bax and his crowd, and was often overeager to please, or boorish, or both. “I love Bax. I wish you’d asked me along.”
“The music was annoying, and the club was boring – you’d have hated it.”
“But I like hanging out with your friends. Are you ashamed of being seen with me, Alex?”
“No – I just need my space. The whole point of our arrangement is that I get to have some fun without Dad breathing down my neck. If I get you breathing down my neck instead, then what’s the use of it?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realise I was doing that.” Neil shot him a wounded look. “I want you to be happy. Of course I don’t mind you partying – as long as we can have some fun together, too.”
“Yeah, of course. We do, don’t we?” They shared a taste for action movies featuring hot men and often snuggled up on the sofa together to watch them, late into the night .
“At home we do, but you don’t like going anywhere with me.”
“I don’t bring anyone home with me these days,” Alex said softly. “I give you that, Neil.”
“Promise?” Neil asked. “Promise me that you’ll never bring anyone back, even when I’m not here?”
“I promise.” Alex glanced at his watch and sighed. “Damn it, it’s late, and I’ve got to get my accounts done before tomorrow.”
“No, you don’t. I did them for you while you were out. I knew you’d leave them to the last minute. I know you hate doing your accounts, and accountancy is my thing, so…”
“Thanks. It bores the pants off me, filling in all those spreadsheets.”
“I know, but you don’t need to do it anymore. I’m happy to do it for you.” Neil pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Mmm, you smell good.”
“Perfume. I met a girl tonight,” Alex told him. “A very beautiful girl called Solange.”
Neil gave a tight smile. “How nice.”
“Don’t be like that.” Alex took hold of Neil’s arm. “Come on – let’s watch a movie.”
They settled down together on the sofa, Neil pulling Alex between his legs and wrapping his arms around him, then tugging a big blanket over them both.
“Oh, I forgot. Your father rang asking what time we’d be at The Orchard tomorrow,” Neil said as the movie drew to a close. “We had a nice chat, and I let slip that I’d be alone over Christmas, so guess what? He’s invited me to stay. For the whole two weeks! Isn’t that fantastic?” His hands crept down Alex’s chest, unbuttoning his shirt as he went.
Alex fought down a familiar wave of Neil-induced claustrophobia. “Yes, fantastic,” he repeated sullenly.
“I can creep into your room at night – we’ll have to be careful, but it’ll be exciting.” Neil’s hands drifted lower. He undid Alex’s trousers and slid his hand into his boxer shorts. “I was thinking,” he whispered into Alex’s ear. “That tonight I could fuck your gorgeous arse.”
“No,” Alex said sharply .
“You always say that.” Neil pouted. “Come on, Alex – you’ve fucked my arse plenty of times – why can’t I do it to you?”
“I don’t like it,” Alex lied. He’d started denying Neil this as a way of carving out a boundary in their fucked-up relationship. Now it had become a way to torment Neil, too – and he was enjoying that far too much to stop. “We can do anything else you want, but not that.”
“Do you let other boys fuck you?” Neil asked, in a self-pitying tone. “Would you let Bax fuck your arse because he’s so beautiful, and I’m not?”
“No, Neil – I just don’t like it, that’s all.”
“You’d like it with me. We could go slowly… I’d take good care of you.” Neil nibbled on his earlobe.
“I said no.” He twisted away from Neil’s grasp and landed on the floor. Then he crawled between Neil’s legs and gave him such a great blowjob that his flatmate soon stopped arguing.