Page 26 of Rhymes with Metaphor

T he next morning, Reg opened his eyes to see Joel standing beside the bed, utterly naked, looking like a butterfly newly emerged from its cocoon.

“Thanks,” said Joel. “For yesterday.”

“It was my pleasure, cariad.” Reg pushed himself onto his elbows. He looked at Joel appreciatively. “Well, well...”

Joel got into bed with Reg and lay on his back. “My lips are sore.”

“Mine too.” Reg smiled and kissed him softly. “Did that hurt?”

“I can’t tell. Do it again.”

Reg did and made it last longer.

He pulled back the covers and surveyed Joel’s body.

All of him. Reg touched him, running his hand lightly over Joel’s chest, over the dark hair over his pectorals, down his smooth, bare abdomen, over the blades of his hipbones he had previously only felt through Joel’s clothes.

Joel rose up to meet him, and Reg enclosed him in his hand.

Reg worked him firmly and purposefully. “Remember your elements.”

Afterwards, in the bathroom, Reg pulled Joel’s clothes out of the tub.

“I’ll clean them,” said Joel. “It’s my mess.”

“But I made you make it, cariad. Which element did you get to?”

“Hassium. Element 108.”

“Good.”

“Why is that good?” said Joel.

“Pleasure is more intense when you make yourself wait.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” said Joel.

And because Reg couldn’t lie to Joel, he just laughed.

“Can I see you naked?” said Joel.

Reg sighed elaborately and started pulling off his undershirt, but then Joel’s hands were over his, helping him shuck off his clothes, and then Joel was pressed against him, breathing Reg in like he was pure oxygen.

If it was clear Joel was infatuated, well, it went a little both ways. As long as Reg didn’t get too attached, there was no real harm.

––––––––

A fter breakfast, which they ate in bed, they relaxed in the bedroom, curtains and windows wide open to the breeze.

The air was hatched with rain, the clouds a dull grey.

Reg lay in bed, watching Joel explore the room, examining the objects on the mantelpiece and bureau, asking Reg about each one—the miniature toads his grandfather had carved for his grandmother, the glass seagull Reg had bought at a curio shop near Crosskeys, and his mother’s aquamarine broach.

Joel found the brass plaque with the fox engraving.

“What’s this? An award for something?”

“A thank you,” said Reg. “From the local wildlife trust. When I was ten, I volunteered at their centre.”

“Why did you stop?” said Joel.

Which question hit close to home. Sometimes, Joel could be too canny for comfort.

“You know how it is when you’re a child.”

“No?” said Joel. His eyes looked so much like a fox’s.

Reg patted the mattress beside him. “Come back to bed.”

Joel crawled onto the bed, smiling, and lay down beside Reg, pulling himself close. He hooked his finger round the gold chain Reg wore and held up the ring that was fixed on it, looking at it curiously. “What’s this?”

“Heirloom of the Fieldfares,” said Reg. “It’s been in my family for over two hundred years.”

“It’s beautiful,” said Joel, turning it in the morning light.

A sapphire and amethyst ring made of Welsh gold.

It had belonged to his mother, and she had worn it on a chain as well, as it had been too large for her delicate hands.

Reg kept it on the same chain because it was too small for his.

He had never let anyone touch it before.

Not even Flip. But something about the reverence and innocence in the way Joel held it made it seem all right, not a violation.

“I never take it off,” said Reg. “It’ll be buried with me.”

Reg returned the breakfast tray to the kitchen. Joel followed. Reg made tea, and they sat in the front room while the rain pelted down, Reg on the recliner, revising last night’s poem, while Joel stretched out on the sectional, writing in his Argyle notebook.

As Reg watched Joel writing in his journal, he could see him sporting an obvious erection. Joel noticed Reg watching him and licked his gold pen suggestively.

“Don’t be puerile, Joel.”

“If I was being puerile, I’d suck it.”

“What are you writing?”

“Don’t you know?” said Joel.

“No. That’s why I asked.”

“Juliet would have read it by now, if she were here,” said Joel.

“She’s not here, cariad, and your private thoughts are yours. You don’t have to share them if you don’t want to.”

“Aren’t you curious?”

“If it pertains to me, I trust you’ll tell me directly.”

“Half of it’s what we’ve been doing,” said Joel. “The other half is what I want you to do to me.”

“Are you afraid you’ll shock me, cariad? I’m sure you have a prodigious imagination, but I’ve been abroad in the world, and I’ve done a lot of shocking things.”

Joel turned back a couple of pages and recited from the journal, “This afternoon, Reg drove me to Dunraven Castle and fucked me in the back of his car.” He passed the open notebook to Reg.

“Your writing is obscenely tidy. It looks like your hand took elocution lessons.”

“Would you, Reg?”

“You’re underestimating how compact my car is. Imagination rarely accounts for scale.”

“Would you at least do something with me in your car?”

“Joel, I appreciate your willingness, but you’re so innocent right now. Do you even know how to masturbate?”

“I’ve never tried,” said Joel.

“Why not? Religious hang-up?”

“It’s not something I ever thought about. Tickling yourself doesn’t make you laugh. How would it work?”

“Why don’t I show you?”

“I’d rather you just did it to me, like you did this morning,” said Joel.

“What if I helped you?” said Reg. “Come over here and sit on my lap.”

“I won’t be too heavy?”

“No.”

“Should I close the curtains?” said Joel.

“The sheers will stop anyone seeing in. Come along.”

Joel went to the recliner and carefully lowered himself onto Reg until he was settled. Reg pulled Joel back against him, resting his chin on Joel’s shoulder.

“Which hand do you want to use?” said Reg.

“Does it matter?”

“Everyone’s got a preference, and it’s not always the hand you write with.”

Joel considered, then held up his right hand.

Reg took hold of it. With his other hand, he unzipped Joel’s trousers and put his hand inside. Joel was already hard, his erection straining against his briefs. Reg fumbled Joel’s cock free, then he enclosed Joel’s right hand in his own and curled it around Joel’s cock, holding it in place.

“Reg, I can feel you.”

“Is it uncomfortable?”

“No, but I want you to fuck me.”

“I know you do, but I’m teaching you how to masturbate.”

“But you want to fuck me,” said Joel, shifting his ass against Reg’s cock. “And I want you to.”

Reg put his other arm around Joel’s waist to stop him moving in his lap. He held Joel’s hand firmly and guided it along the length of his cock, up and down. “Does that feel good?”

“I guess,” said Joel.

“Focus on that feeling.” Using Joel’s hand, Reg stroked him slowly. “Imagine I’m fucking you right now.” Joel’s cock instantly stiffened to full mast.

“That’s it,” said Reg.

Joel tried to shift position again, but Reg held him fast.

“Can you feel that?” Reg pressed.

“Yes,” said Joel quickly.

“When you get close, slow down, like this.” He slowed Joel’s hand on his shaft, then stopped. A bead of pre-come dripped off the head of Joel’s cock.

“Now imagine I’m entering you. How does that feel?”

“I’m...”. Joel leaned his head back on Reg’s shoulder. His breathing became harsh, and he started shaking.

“I’m fucking you now, Joel. If you can’t stop yourself, let it go.”

Joel made a choked-off sound and came.

Reg held Joel’s hand until he was spent, then he put both arms around Joel.

“That’s how it’s done. Next time you’re alone, and you feel the need, imagine I’m there, and remember what we did.

Now you can do it for yourself.” He patted Joel’s side companionably and reached for the tissue dispenser on the little table beside the recliner, twitched out a handful and began sopping up the spill.

Joel grabbed some tissues and insisted on cleaning everything. Then he tucked his cock back into his briefs and zipped his trousers. He dropped the wadded-up tissues into the wastebasket.

“I wish sex wasn’t so messy,” said Joel.

“Well, it is. That’s what makes it so glorious.”

“I would have come quicker if you’d been fucking me,” Joel said reproachfully.

“I don’t think so. You’ll find the fantasy tops the reality.”

“Will I have to take your word for that?”

“We’ll see,” said Reg.

––––––––

I n the garage, Reg unearthed the kite he and Martin used to fly, and he took Joel to the sand beach in the old harbour to fly it.

The kite tore across the sky, and they passed the line back and forth between them, once, holding the handle together, vibrating in their hands as the line pulled on them.

Afterwards, Reg led Joel among the rocks of the headland to a natural stone seat hidden in the crags.

He and Martin had found it while hunting for shore crabs.

He had Joel sit, then he pulled down Joel’s swimming trunks and gave him head while the gulls wheeled above them and the faint strains of the music from the fairground sounded from the other side of the headland, Joel gasping, back arched against the rock, sand-spackled skin gleaming and gritty under Reg’s hands.

He came blissfully quickly and effortlessly.

Reg pulled himself up and sat beside Joel, putting his arm around his shoulders. “I think you like coming in public. Part of you wants to get caught.”

Joel pulled up his bathing trunks, then looked at Reg appraisingly, lying back, slack and sated.

Reg lit a cigarette. Joel grimaced and turned his head away.

Reg blew out a plume of smoke. “I thought you didn’t give unsolicited advice.”

“I wasn’t.”

“It’s what you’re not saying, and how you’re not saying it.”

“Maybe, I’d like it if you didn’t leave too soon,” said Joel, still not looking at him.

Reg watched his cigarette burn to the filter, then he dropped it on the sand and crushed it underfoot. He put the half empty cigarette pack back in his pocket.

Joel rested his head on Reg’s shoulder. “What if I gave you a blow job?”

Reg laughed.

“I mean it,” said Joel, looking at him.

“Not here. Not for your first time.”

“When we get home?” said Joel.

“Perhaps.”

“What if I just use my hand? Can we go in the water and do it?”

“Tried it once,” said Reg. “The channel’s too cold. This isn’t the tropics.”

Joel spoke, voice getting quieter and quieter.

“Even if you didn’t come, wouldn’t you like it if I touched you?

” His hand strayed to Reg’s lap and found him hard.

Although Reg had allowed Joel to touch him before, he’d never allowed it to go so far that he was in danger of coming.

On this occasion too, Reg gently but firmly moved Joel’s hand away.

“Why are you doing all this for me?” said Joel. “What are you getting out of it? Everything you do is to make me happy. None of it’s for you.”

“Seeing you happy makes me happy.”

“But how can you be happy when you never get off?” said Joel. “It’s unfair.”

“I’m not complaining.”

“It’s unfair to me ,” said Joel. “You’ve done so much for me and never asked me for anything back.”

“Only for your company. That’s no small thing.”

“But I want to do this for you. It would feel good for me too. Why won’t you let me?”

“You’re young—”

“I’m an adult.”

“You’re a teenager.”

Joel sighed heavily, crossed his arms, and looked away from Reg.

“I can see you’re frustrated. Do you want me to do something else for you?”

“You know what I want.”

“You told me once that you would do anything for me,” said Reg. “Remember?”

Joel looked at him. “Name it.”

“I want you to wait until I’m ready. Will you do that? For me?”

Joel looked at him consideringly. “All right.” But it was clear he was only temporarily mollified.