TheDevilNinja's note:
This story has been in progress for several years. I first toyed with the idea back in 2002 and began it then; as is typical of me, I drafted the first 30-odd pages (the first three chapters) in about a week, then took a hiatus to think about the structure. The next 30 pages (chapter 4) were added about two years later, over the course of about 6 months, and extensive revisions were carried out. Chapters 5 and 6 were drafted and cleaned up in the last 3 months; Chapter 7, the biggest one thus far, has been buzzing around in my head for years but only actually written in the last three weeks. There are several additional chapters planned in my head but not written yet; I am going through them as fast as I can.
You will probably notice fairly pronounced style changes as you continue to read, particularly from Chapter 4 onwards. I hope these are regarded as better rather than worse!
If you like, feel free to drop me a line on alongweekend@gmail.com
Thanks for reading -tDN-
All rights retained in accordance with Nifty ToS.
The Long Weekend Chapter 1. There's something about Alec
Two quiet, deliberately understated beeps broke the silence in the bedroom. One of the figures in the bed awoke, immediately alert. Quickly he reached out to the side table and picked up the cellular telephone as a second set of beeps, louder this time, echoed through the room. Without needing to look at the keypad, he pressed the buttons in sequence to silence the alarm. It was his morning ritual, after all -- two alarms, set 10 minutes apart to allow him to snooze if wanted to without oversleeping.
Having two clocks, though, was unnecessary; the micro hi--fi on the desk served as one with its handy alarm and sleep timer -- for those periodic bouts of mild insomnia, or mood--music for post--orgasmic chillout bliss -- and his small blue Ericsson cellphone with its offbeat, but strangely enjoyable, selection of ringtones the other. Of course, early in the morning the alarm ringtone really didn't matter, as long as it woke him up. The alarm was such that after two sets of beeps, the tone started playing; most mornings Alec would listen to it for a few seconds. This morning he'd switched it off as the second set of beeps had sounded. Unfortunate, really, since the selected tone -- a bizarre up--tempo cacophony played through the phone's speaker which he reckoned would have sounded spectacular if played by an adept guitarist with a decent set--up -- always brought a smile to his face. This morning, though, he did not want to wake his lover, Matt, and had forgone the intricate musical vortex. Matt -- bastard -- called it a girlie phone, anyway.
Sunlight streamed through the gap between the two pale curtains. Even though it was barely seven o' clock, the long summer days meant the room was already bathed in a warm glow with the single strip of sunlight running down the wall to the carpet looking slightly out of place. Nevertheless, Fudge the cat seemed to like it. This morning, though, she was not annexing that particular patch of floor as she so often did during the summer months. Briefly, Alec wondered where she was. Undoubtedly, she would arrive shortly looking for breakfast. The thought -- breakfast -- galvanised him somewhat. He had to cook for six at least this morning, and then the long--planned adventure weekend would begin.
"That's a lot of toast," he thought to himself as he lifted the covers and swung his legs over to the side of the bed. He could feel the beginnings of a hangover kicking in, the result of last night's celebrations involving a large group of guys, a live football match, several mixed cocktails, a very good red wine and far too much beer -- always a recipe for disaster.
Bracing for the inevitable headache, he stood up and stretched, arms to the ceiling and backwards, feeling the slight pain run through his skull as the muscles in his stomach protested briefly to this treatment before giving over to fabulous sensations. "Damn, that feels fantastic!" he thought to himself. As he caught sight of his reflection in the full--length mirror on the opposite wall, it occurred to him to consider finding something to wear. While none of the guys in the house were prudish, not by any stretch of the imagination, it was considered polite etiquette to not be naked in the kitchen. While Alec himself usually slept clothed, whenever Matt slept over at their place, naked was invariably how they ended up.
He scanned the room briefly. In the corner he could see Matt's pre-sleepwear, a pair of navy blue boxerbriefs which Matt always pretended he slept in. Not so -- since his teens, Matt had been sleeping "in the nick," as he termed it, much to his mother's dismay. While she had never come right out and complained about it, she had dropped enough hints about him and his pyjamas that he reckoned she knew what was going on. As a result, he had always kept whatever he claimed to be sleeping in hidden inside his pillowcase so that they could be retrieved and put on in a hurry should the need arise -- "fire and or burglars," in Matt's own words. Well, that, and of course at the age of 16 he was hardly likely to wander around the house with no clothes on, so they were also pressed into service at breakfast and after he'd showered at night to keep the peace until he dressed for the day or went to bed.
Alec knew that whenever Matt went home, he played out the same ritual for the sake of his mother, who would generally get ratty and feel affronted when her 25--year--old son acted willfully, inconsiderately and generally just did his own thing. Matt certainly could be a handful. So she was happy, and once he was under covers, in the nick, he was happy too. Not so at his own place, of course; and not at Alec and Nick's place either, where Matt would take great pleasure in putting his pre-sleepwear -- play-jamas, he called them -- as far away as he could, usually with his vocal impression of a fanfare followed by a well--aimed throw into the furthest corner of the room.
Ironically, outside of sleeping naked, he described himself as "shy" and was, terminally and enigmatically so. Alec smiled briefly as he recalled Matt's telling of the story the first time. His own upbringing, too, had been fairly conservative; unlike Matt, he'd always slept with his door closed and on the few occasions he had slept naked in his teens, nobody was any the wiser. It was no mystery as to why Matt had kept his door open as a kid. As far as he was concerned, closets and laundry baskets were for other people. As a result, all his "round 2" clothes -- items already worn but "still clean enough for another go, yeah?" -- were hanging on or over the door and there was no way short of a small bulldozer to force it shut. Much to his current flatmate's dismay, this practice had not changed and so visitors to Matt's apartment were always asked to excuse "Matt's hovel of a bedroom." Although, as Matt always said, "It's not dirty, just untidy. You could eat off that floor if you wanted to!" Nobody did.
All this reminiscing, of course, did nothing to help Alec find his own sleeping shorts. He frowned as he scanned the room once more. They were definitely not there. "Something funny going on here" he muttered, walking towards the bedroom door. The single bright strip of sunlight felt fantastic on his stomach as he surveyed the room from another angle. Suddenly he spotted them, on the floor on Matt's side of the bed.
He had just pulled them on as he glanced at the sleeping figure of Matt. The sheet had crept up on the outside of the bed and Matt's gorgeous, tight, toned backside was on display for all the world to see. It was, Alec had to admit, probably the most beautiful bum on the planet; a perfect crescent which filled out a pair of 501s like nobody else could. Alec himself was no slouch in the body department, but Matt...
Matt had the genes, the temperament and did the necessary activity to perfect his form. He spent a good chunk of time in the gym, which was where they had met -- eventually, after much encouragement from Max and Nick -- and Matt was the envy of anyone who wanted to sculpt their body, as opposed to trying to bulk up to Mr. Universe, Alec included. He had a six--pack of abdominals to rival any Men's Health cover boy; pectorals to match. Legs just the right size and a muscular back cut to perfection giving him a slight but definite V--shape. His hair was short at the sides, longer and thick on top; dark brown with light brown streaks running through. His skin was the colour of strong coffee -- the boy swam for the University throughout undergrad and now during his post--grad studies, after all, and had an avid interest in platform diving as well, something he'd been doing since he was just a kid. Contrasting the cappuccino flesh, his skin was paint--white below the waistline, in the shape of his racing Speedo which was one of the skimpiest Alec had ever seen, merely an inch wide at the sides.
Apart from under his arms, a thin line running down from his navel and of course his pubes (amongst which nestled a true masterpiece of a cock), Matt was completely devoid of hair, shaving it at least once a week. If he were feeling generous, he'd occasionally let Alec shave it for him. He'd never been that hairy to start with -- Alec was glad of that. Staring at Matt's milk--white butt caused a stirring in Alec's black bodyshorts as he remembered the events of last night. Matt's tight little arse had looked slightly different then; much the same, but those firm cheeks had been separated somewhat by 6 and a half inches of Alec.
Alec reached over and gently tugged the sheet down into place without waking Matt. "God, that boy is beautiful!" he thought, wondering for the umpteenth time exactly how he could have been so lucky. This particular relationship had been sailing through idyllic waters for the better part of 18 months now; they had finally become an item a week after Alec's 25th birthday the year before. He was about 8 months older than Matt, although he felt it wouldn't have mattered if he was 8 years or more older. Things were good. Not flawless, nothing ever was; still magnificent, though. Matt stirred and rolled over onto his back as Alec quietly slipped from the room.
Alec walked through the narrow passage connecting the front and back parts of the house. It was quite large, really; in an old part of town quite close to the University, which had seen its fair share of ups and downs. While the area was certainly back on the up, trends being as they are, the owner of the house rented it out to Alec, Nick and Max for a reasonable cost. The place itself had four bedrooms and a very small lounge/dining room, so the owner had in fact converted the fourth bedroom into a lounge and replaced the existing one with a second small bathroom.
While the property was not huge, it gave its tenants a decent garden which was big enough to entertain in, as well as the three large bedrooms, each larger than the average lounge in those little matchboxes of modern architecture which people were prepared to sell their lives off for. Pretty stupid, really, in Alec's opinion. Sure, their address was not the most fashionable to have, but they got more than what they paid for. He wondered briefly if his opinion on all of that would change once he'd achieved his PhD in about 18 months' time and would actually be in the earning world. As a practical lad, he imagined that it would; reality may cause more of a change in perception than he would care to admit to himself.
He paused briefly outside Max's bedroom and yawned. A nap later on, early this afternoon perhaps, wouldn't be a bad idea. He stood there for a few seconds listening for signs of life. Nothing, really. Well, nothing awake, anyway. He poked his head around the door and looked down at the sleeping form of Max, his thick, dark hair spilling all over the pillow, three days' worth of growth shotgunned about his chin. He and Nick had got lucky with Max, he thought. The previous incumbent, raving queen that he was, had not really approved of Nick, and Alec always felt he himself had only really just been tolerated by the guy, even though Alec actually quite enjoyed his company. Tension rode high in the end, though, and Alec and Nick were both very glad to see him graduate and move off so they could choose their own next roommate. Enter Max, super--bright, good--looking, fun--loving and all--round hell of a guy who they had both fallen in love with when he came to look around the place.
There and then he had been offered the room and had been in there for about two years now. Max was quite an extrovert, completely shameless and, they discovered, wholly unpredictable. While outsiders reckoned his temper operated on a light--switch, Max really just had a peculiar outlook on life and needed a little more time than most to come to grips with certain people. His sense of humour was more than a touch off--center -- just plain offside, really -- and he set a lot of store in speaking his mind, regardless of consequence. "It saves time," Max always said when questioned about it. "No point in buggering around. Just say what you need to say, and fuck it." Nick reckoned Max had mellowed a little in his time with them; Alec was not so sure.
Still, Max was that rare find who played the game differently to everyone else and still managed to win, and if you ever got into that Eden that was his personal place, the rewards were like nothing on earth. You got treated to his gentle insights, intricate thoughts on basic ideas which wouldn't have occurred to you in a thousand years. You experienced his brain leveling the most complex issue, or firing a bullet through your head on the simplest one. He lent his own soul to everything, and if you were in that sanctuary of his, to you as well.
Max was somewhat of a paradox, though; the outward extrovert who seemed to be a part of everything was in reality very much a loner, comfortable in his own company and not wanting for anything he didn't already innately possess. His two favourite films were Scent of a Woman and Terminator 2: Judgment Day. His CD collection coupled Ravel and Rachmaninov with Pearl Jam and Alice in Chains and he would serenade you on his beautiful acoustic guitar with everything from cheesy Mariachi music to something as intricate as Flight of the Bumblebee. Max was a complex riddle; Alec hoped he'd have an entire lifetime of companionship to consider solving him.
Alec walked on, hearing the low voice of Simon talking to Nick as he passed the latter's bedroom. Now there was an interesting scenario. Alec didn't dislike Simon, far from it; but it always pissed him off when he couldn't figure someone out and Simon was someone who puzzled him. He couldn't figure Max out either, to be honest; but that was... different. Simon, he thought, was often just otherwise for the sake of it. Alec found it quite perverse, really. He had found that Simon grew on him as time went by, but he wasn't sure to what extent this would continue. They had found their own equilibrium, though, for Nick's sake and both of them tried hard to not piss each other off. They managed about 90% of the time. Ironically, Nick was always amused by it and that always got Matt and Max to chuckling. Simon and Alec just had to agree to disagree on certain issues and both managed admirably. Alec did fully appreciate that Nick needed Simon, though; if not Simon himself, then someone like him. It was the yin--yang thing and Nick definitely worked best with an opposite to bring out the best in him and keep him ticking over. Alec smiled to himself as he heard Nick's laughter -- Simon presumably cracking one of his many jokes again. Alec would give Simon that -- the boy had razor wit.
He rounded the corner into the lounge and headed for the kitchen. Over the counter, it looked like Chris was still out cold, sprawled in his underwear and with a bulge like nothing else on earth on the sleeper--couch. Chris had known Alec since they were both in junior school, more than twenty years now, when Chris had moved into the area from up--country. They had hit it off pretty quickly, Chris easily falling into place with Damien, another boy from the same neighbourhood who was Alec's best friend; from then on, the three were practically inseparable. Until after graduation, of course, and they all went off to University.
Luckily, the friendship managed to work over the long distances. Chris and Alec were a mere forty kilometers away from one another, under an hour in traffic on an average day; Damien had ended up a good two hours away -- by plane, unfortunately. Thanks to a love of writing long, often arbitrary letters to the others, Damien himself had steeled and continuously re--invented the friendship, putting in the hours so it still stood strong some nineteen years after Chris had arrived on the scene. Even now, every month Chris and Alec could expect a good few pages of hand--written garbage -- drafted over a couple of days as the mood struck him -- from Damien; as well as regular phone calls and e--mails.
Alec was well aware that Chris had been really apprehensive about this trip -- he'd been told Damien wasn't joining them on the weekend away since he was based up north in another city these days; anyway, he was in France on business. This was the first time Chris and Alec had actually seen each other at all without Damien there after the big bust--up two years ago and still things were a little tentative.
Chris felt a bit neglected, really -- Alec had Matt now, and there was relief in that for all of them; Nick and Simon were going on six months and even Max was taking someone along with him who Chris hadn't met yet, so while he and Damien certainly were no item, it was the companionship he'd miss most. Still, four days with some great guys wasn't something to sniff at; God knows he needed a break from the lab, even a short one, for the slightest of recharges. He'd driven through the night before from his neck of the woods at the other University where he was completing his own Doctorate, to save a little travel time. Of course, after the big piss--up of the previous evening, he'd managed a good solid sleep.
Alec smiled again as he filled the kettle and put on the stove, thinking how surprised Chris would be in twenty minutes' time. Again Alec marveled at how fortunate he was to have such an amazing crop of good friends. Damien was the only one of them who hadn't gone on to full--time post--grad study at university; nevertheless he was as bright as anyone Alec knew. He too was a God in the body department -- ironic for a computer programmer -- with a brilliant temperament; a superbly long fuse which was rarely lit in Alec's own time with him. He was an optimist deep--down, somewhat cynical on the outside, perhaps; all things considered, probably the nicest one of the lot of them. If Alec were to want to emulate someone, it would probably be Damien. Max was perhaps a little too eclectic, Nick too flexible, Chris way too hard and Simon... well, too Simon, really. And he couldn't be Matt, because then they'd lose the "opposites attract" factor. But Damien was just about perfect. Of course, they had always had too much riding on friendship -- that, carefully cultivated, painstakingly maintained, hand--reared, nurtured friendship -- to seriously consider something intimate between them.
That was something Alec and Chris had discovered the hard way; once again, Damien had come to the rescue, managing to reserve judgment -- even though everyone knew he had been mightily pissed off at the time -- long enough to arbitrate the matter and reset things to progress back to something resembling what they were before. It had been a difficult time for all three of them. Especially Damien, who threw all his at--that--stage meager savings into a plane ticket and flew back home the day after the big break--up to begin the process of picking up the pieces and salvaging fourteen years of history, which he'd spent so many days constructing and strengthening.
Alec and Chris had suddenly discovered that maybe being friends was better than lovers; neither had liked the revelation, and each had blamed the other for not making it work. For two weeks it had been up in the air as they desperately clung to it, then the big fight happened and it was over, lying in pieces on the floor. And then Damien appeared like a Paladin of old, and things were set on the long road to repair. It had taken two years to fix it up to as best at it ever could be from now on; Damien had moved over from the middle to assist on Chris's side after Matt came into the picture, and it was thanks to both of those guys that Chris and Alec were back where they were. Retrospectively, Alec knew that he and Chris just weren't compatible. Chris and Damien, though... now there was a thought.
The kettle switched itself off and Alec pulled six mugs out of the cupboard. "Not six, seven" he murmured. Making the six cups was easy enough. Only Max took his black -- no surprises there -- and all the guys took two spoons of sugar. He prepared the big coffee plunger, racked to the limit with Special Blend - Jamaican Blue Mountain and fine Costa Rican grounds, topped with a teaspoon of French--Roasted. Chris and Damien had spent many days in their misspent youth trying to build the perfect Special Blend and as far as they were concerned, this was it. He left it for the mandatory three minutes to brew while he fished in the freezer for a packet of bacon, which he put into the microwave to defrost.
"Hopefully Simon hasn't forgotten he volunteered to make the scrambled eggs," he thought as he stuck a couple of slices of bread into the toaster. Nobody could figure out how Simon got it so light and fluffy. That was another thing about Simon -- the boy could cook. Alec poured a touch of milk -- low fat, of course; nothing else for the boys in the house -- into four of the cups, leaving two black and opting to leave the seventh until it was needed and carried one cup over to Chris. He placed the cup on the coffee table and reached down to the prone figure.
"Rise and shine, Label-boy!" The words rolled easily off his tongue as they did when Damien coined the phrase years before to tease Chris that he only ever wore designer underwear, and that still prevailed. Chris had taken it in his stride, as always; this time, he opened his eyes, took one look riddled with disdain at Alec, and closed them again. Alec prodded him. "Big day today, Christophe" -- another sore point -- "got to make a move, son." This elicited a flip of the bird from Chris. Alec laughed. "Don't make me come down there!" he mock--threatened. With no further response, he opted to give Chris a bit of impetus, giving the elastic of his waistband a tug and letting it snap back onto his skin.
"Don't start things down there unless you're prepared to finish the job." Chris's vaguely groggy reply was laced with menace. A disinterested "thought not" followed when Alec did not rise to the bait. A few seconds later, Chris raised himself on one elbow, rubbed his eyes, and surveyed his surrounds.
"Good morning, sunshine." Alec greeted him with a winning smile, his secret weapon which had got him into and out of so much trouble over the years.
"Bleaeeuhgh." Alec laughed at that. Chris was a great one for succinct expression through the use of non--words and somehow always managed to convey what he was feeling.
"How's the head?"
"Throbbing."
"Ah, mine too," said Alec. "That'll teach us to mix our drinks, won't it?"
"Yeah. And I know me -- mine is going to get steadily worse over the next two hours. Nevertheless, it will have been worth it."
"Y'all jus' talkin' crazy, now," One of Alec's most--favoured sayings.
"Dude, that Merlot was excellent! I know you're not big into Merlots, but it really was good."
"Well, yeah," said Alec, "but for what you paid for it, it should be."
"Well, what I should have paid for it if I wasn't in with that dude at the farm, you mean. True enough." Chris rubbed his eyes again, and swapped elbows.
"Whoring for wine -- nice. Your folks would be so proud."
"Pah." Chris waved the accusation aside. "You're not shy, are you?" he asked? Alec shook his head. "Good. Because I need... to do this..." He proceeded to give his equipment a good scratch, the rapture on his face sending Alec into convulsive laughter. "Now that is one of life's simplest pleasures. We thank you, Mr. God." Alec shook his head, grinning.
"It's good that some things never change." This was something he truly believed; and at some stage of their lives, everyone was a case in point. "Death, taxes, and Christophe... our label boy." Chris pulled a face at him.
"Ha ha. Now piss off." They both laughed. "Seriously, though, don't dis my funky jocks, man. You know how much I love them."
"Indeed I do. And Calvin Klein loves you for that, you can bet your bottom dollar."
"I could, if I hadn't spent it on these already. And they are Armani. Pay attention -- you can see the Emporio logo on the waistband."
"I'm not looking anywhere near that. What do you think I am, gay?" It was an old argument, always conducted in good spirits, and always with the same result.
"Well, Alec, you can't even think straight..." Again they both laughed. "You're right -- it's good some things don't change. I really do miss you, Alec; Damien as well, of course." Alec nodded, a smile still playing across his lips. "And I mean generally -- not from our abortive affair."
"I know. I feel much the same, Chris. In theory, it should never have gone wrong. Who could have guessed?"
"Well, Damien certainly had reservations, even though he never would admit them."
"Newsflash: Damien always has reservations. Another thing which will never change." Alec's reply, he realised immediately, was perhaps a little more forthright than he intended. He softened, and grinned at Chris. "Drink your Special Blend, even though it's not good for hangovers. I gotta go distribute the rest." He got up and walked back towards the kitchen, treating Chris to a superb view of his own backside. Chris gave a low whistle.
"Work it, boy!" Alec grinned to himself and gave it a little wiggle, to peals of laughter from Chris. "You are such a tease, Alec!" came the accusation. Alec turned, a gleam in his eye, and a smirk on his face.
"That's not teasing!" Very quickly, he pulled down the front of his bodyshorts to expose about half of his cock, to Chris's surprise, and as quickly pulled them back up. "That's teasing." He picked up two of the cups and headed down the corridor. He slipped into Max's room and placed one on the bedside table, away from the clock which Max was prone to knocking over. Max was still fast asleep. Alec took a deep breath -- Max always smelled fantastic, thanks to his night--time Chrome after--shower gel routine. He went through buckets of the stuff. "Another of life's simple pleasures," Alec thought. He stole out of the room and into his own room with Matt's coffee. Matt appeared to still be sleeping. As Alec turned away again after putting the coffee down, though, he sensed a movement from behind him, and suddenly found himself gripped by the waist and pulled backwards into Matt's arms.
"Good morning, sunshine." Alec used that on everyone. "Seems someone has been sent home from Dreamland, hmmm?"
"Because I was a bad, bad boy dreaming of dirty, dirty things, that's why." Alec turned to face him.
"Ooh, I'll bet. That is a problem."
"Yup. But I have a bigger problem. What am I going to do about this?" Matt lifted the sheet and Alec looked down. Not unexpectedly, Matt was sporting a fairly impressive piss--boner.
"I don't know," said Alec. "But we'll think of something." Matt looked deep into his eyes and their lips locked, tongues probing each other and tasting whatever touched them. He pulled Alec down on top of him as the kiss deepened, his left hand around the back of Alec's neck, his right running down the smooth skin of his back and slipping beneath the waistband of Alec's bodyshorts. "The last time I saw you these just got in the way," he mumbled, sliding his left hand down, down the other side of Alec until they converged on his buttocks.
Without warning, he slipped both hands across Alec's hips and the shorts found themselves somewhere around half--mast. At the same time, he pushed his own hips upwards slightly, feeling a tingle as sharp as an electric shock as their dicks touched. Alec squirmed slightly as his cock began to swell to its full size, his hands slipping beneath Matt to caress his cheeks and the crevice between them, one finger briefly touching the puckering rear entrance to Matt's body, as Matt moaned quietly. Abruptly, to Matt's annoyance, Alec broke the kiss and sat back on his haunches. His penis stuck up like a lone tree, ever thickening.
"Dude, I got stuff to do. And the special delivery is about to arrive."
"Aw. You're no fun anymore!" Matt didn't mean it.
"Come now--"
"I might, if you stick around," Matt interrupted. Alec gave him a look tinged with exasperation. "Oh, all right." Alec leaned forward for another quick kiss and Matt slid the shorts back up to where they belonged for him. "Don't see what he's got that I don't," he muttered. Alec grinned wryly.
"A solid seven inches and a fuckload of cash," he smiled. Matt looked crestfallen. "He doesn't have your charm and suave demeanor, though. No one does."
"And I'm in better shape than him, don't forget." Matt would be able to pull that off over just about anybody and he knew it.
"Yeah, and you give better head than he does." "Did you just call me a cocksucker?" Matt laughed and shoved Alec off the bed. "Go on, go and do whatever you planned to do and leave me. Here. Alone. All by myself. But pass me that tube of lube before you go..." Alec chuckled.
"So now you're a wanker as well! Interesting." He was obliged to duck as Matt hurled a pillow at him. He threw it back. As he walked back into the kitchen, he spotted Chris adding a little more milk to his coffee. He had to admit to himself that Chris was in the best shape of his life, looking really trim and nicely toned. Alec's eyes slipped inevitably downwards, eyeing the profile of Chris's body -- his butt was nice; not Matt's by some distance, but certainly bite--able; and his package looked particularly impressive, dressed to the right as usual, silhouetted against the white kitchen cupboards. Alec remembered seeing Chris naked the first time when they were just boys around seven or so; and then when he'd discovered his preference for boys at a later stage, he'd looked at him in a different light.
There was guilt, at first, of course there was; until it became apparent the feelings were mutual. The sexual tension between them had built up to something unbelievable during the adolescent years. At first they'd put it down to curiosity. Damien -- as usual -- was the first to acknowledge that there was something amiss; bluntly pointing out that, for him, this was not merely a phase. As he always did, he just sat them down -- didn't accuse either of them of anything untoward -- and told them how he himself felt, that he had a strong suspicion he was bisexual if not gay, and let them deal with his admission. Alec realised that Damien knew at the time it was the same with him and Chris, and Damien had faith that they would not leave him out to dry. He was struck again by the profound insight Damien had, from an early age; and how much he'd relied on them to remain true to themselves when he'd done all he could to help. Even so, it took some time for him and Chris to admit it. Snapping out of his reverie, he looked again critically at Chris, who noticed his gaze.
"You like what you see?" Chris grinned. Alec grinned back.
"It looks a little different to how I remember it. I haven't seen that much of you in some time." Chris nodded.
"With Matt's help, I have been putting in some time at the gym. And got back to running. Triathlon season coming up soonish and I am going to get back into it. But you haven't answered me."
"Yeah. I like what I see. Giorgio Armani would be happy." Chris grinned again, and indicated Alec's groin, still slightly swollen.
"Are you really that impressed, or is that courtesy of young Matthew?"
"You're wicked, Chris, wicked," Alec smiled back at him. "It's largely a bit of both." Chris coloured slightly, flattered. Alec took his hand and squeezed it. "I'm really glad you're here, Chris; more than you'll ever know. Damien's best efforts aside, I worried about us, I really did." Chris nodded, and pulled Alec into a big hug. Both were surprised to find tears pricking their eyes as they embraced. Alec blinked his away quickly while Chris let his own swell and a single one spilled down his cheek onto Alec's shoulder. While Alec said nothing about it, he squeezed even harder; Chris knew he was aware and that was good enough for him. They held each other for a long while before Chris broke away.
"Er, Alec, I'm getting a hard--on. It's been a while since I had you in my arms, you know." Without the slightest hint of embarrassment -- they were best friends, after all -- he reached down and re--arranged his equipment again. In his mind's eye, each of them remembered their collective first time some two years previously. While the brief affair was doomed from the start, they had really loved each other and that had overflowed hugely into the physical relationship. They remembered each other's touch only too well. As the images flashed through his mind, Alec was obliged to re--arrange his own goods as well, much to Chris's amusement. "I'd have done that for you, for old times' sake, you know," Chris remarked.
"I'm sure you would have," Alec responded. In a way, he'd almost hoped Chris would take the initiative and touch him again so he could reciprocate without fear of retribution, but Chris was only joking. Or was he? "For old times' sake only, huh? Nothing else intended or expected?" he asked. Chris nodded, unsuspecting. "Matt's still in bed..." said Alec, speaking in a low voice, "...so do it. If you like. For old times' sake, nothing more." Chris stared at him, unsure. Rolling his eyes, Alec thrust his hips forward slightly and put his arms at his sides. Chris cottoned on, and, eyes wide, took a tentative step forward. Alec decided to cut to the chase.
Taking a step forward, he pulled Chris into a second embrace with one hand, his other immediately gripping Chris's balls lightly through the gray cotton of Armani's finest. Chris said nothing, but the shallow gasp of breath gave tacit consent. Alec let go of Chris's balls and slipped his hand into his underwear. He felt Chris's stiffening cock, almost six inches flaccid -- considerably larger than any of theirs -- among the dark blonde pubic hair he remembered so well, and gently ran his fingertips along its length and over the head, silken to his touch. Firmly, he repositioned it so that it pointed up towards the right, its usual spot, against the top of Chris's quadricep. With a final gentle squeeze of his balls, he pulled his hand out and placed it against Chris's length, their skin separated by a mere millimeter of gray fabric. "Better?" he asked. Chris was speechless, at first.
"God! I wasn't expecting that! Somebody fucking mellowed out a bit, didn't he?" The exclamation, although whispered, certainly dripped with raw emotion.
"Yes. And that same somebody still has to deliver two cups of coffee and cook breakfast for everyone, so if we could perhaps move this along..." Chris pursed his lips, and looked at him reproachfully. Without a word, he dropped to his knees, and for the second time in a few minutes, Alec found his bodyshorts somewhere around his knees. Chris took his time, gently touching Alec in all his glory and feeling every square centimeter of his ball sack before tweaking a stray pube, causing Alec to wince.
"Softy!" Chris took the opportunity to tweak a nipple as well, before rising to his feet and pulling Alec's shorts back up. To finish, he took the beautifully shaped, neatly circumcised head and pointed it straight up before removing his hands from Alec's body.
In the silence, they regarded one another. Chris was still breathing shallowly, eyes wide; Alec had more of a measure of restraint. As their erections subsided, Chris gulped down the rest of his coffee. "Damien's best efforts aside," he remarked, "after what I just felt, I often wonder how on earth we fucked each other up so badly. The mind boggles."
"Hindsight -- twenty--twenty," said Alec. "You and me -- never again. We have some way to go still. But you and Damien... I think it could work."
Chris raised his eyebrows. "Come on, skeptic" said Alec, "you can't tell me you wouldn't go for him if the opportunity presented itself! The guy is a God with everything you could ever want from anyone; and he thinks the same of you." "He thinks that of you, too," Chris countered.
Alec shrugged. "Maybe, but I never got hot for him like I did for you. Of course, you and I are too similar, Chris, and we get in each other's space because of it. Damien's different, a bit like Max." Chris nodded, wary -- was Alec aware of what was happening with Max? "Think about it," Alec said. He retrieved the last two cups of coffee. "I gotta drop these off. Do me a favour -- stick more bread in there." He nodded at the toaster.
"Sure." Chris made a start for the toaster as Alec headed back down the corridor. He could hear Nick's voice as he pushed the door open, murmuring something indistinct towards Simon. As he entered the room, it became obvious why he couldn't hear whole words. He nearly dropped the coffee in surprise; with eyes wide open, he stepped back outside and burst into a fit of giggles.
"Come on in, Alec," Nick called. "Don't be shy!" Alec could hear Simon chuckling in the background as well. He composed himself and went back in. Both guys had got back under the sheets and covered themselves up.
"Sorry about that, guys," he said. Nick waved it aside.
"Nothing you haven't seen before, I'm sure," he replied.
"Well, that's not entirely true," Alec said, "but now that I've seen Simon's, er... bits... I can scratch that off my 'to do' list!"
"Hang on," Simon piped up. "I'd at least expect reciprocation!" That brought a chuckle from Alec.
"All in good time, my good fellow," he said. "We have a whole weekend of sand and sun ahead of us -- I wouldn't rule anything out quite yet. In the meantime, though, please have this splendid coffee as a token of my apology for interrupting your tasting pleasure."
"Brilliant, thanks." Nick was always pleased when he got coffee. Simon nodded his appreciation.
"I'm still cooking the eggs, yes?"
"If you're up to it, yes, please. Er... you will of course wash your hands first, right? One can never be sure where Nick's been these days." Alec sauntered out to howls of indignation from his house--mate, and stuck his head back into Max's room. Max was awake by this stage and standing looking out of the window, the sunlight setting his defined, but thin, body on fire and changing the colour of his hair. "Good morning, sunshine," he said, for the third time.
"Alec. It is, rather. Thanks for my splendid coffee. Special delivery, just arrived." Typical Max, Alec thought, completely efficient with no energy to waste. Suddenly he became aware of what Max was saying. "Excellent! Breakfast in twenty minutes, yeah?" Alec called as he rushed out.
He made it back to the lounge. At that moment, the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," Chris volunteered.
"What would the neighbours say? You're half naked!" Alec called over his shoulder.
"So are you!" Chris retorted. Alec laughed.
"Mine look like shorts. I'll get the door."
"Fine. Screw you, then!"
Alec laughed again. "How's my toast coming, Chris?" He headed towards the door, Chris still loitering in the kitchen, pretending to be affronted. After slotting another two slices of bread into the toaster, he returned to the sleeper couch and sat down, using the remote to switch on the television. Alec came back in. Without looking at him, Chris asked "Who on God's earth was knocking on your door at this ridiculous hour? Don't tell you had to service the newspaper boy! "
"Something like that." The voice was familiar, but Chris didn't place it immediately. "How you doing, Christophe?" Chris turned, surprised. Standing next to Alec, and a very smug--looking Alec at that, was Damien. "Pleased to see me?"
-x-