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Subject: The Hunters, chapter 6 The Hunters – Chapter Six Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction which features sexual activity between teenage boys, as well as between teenage boys and adults. If you do not want to read such a story, or it is illegal for you to do so because of your age or where you live, then I recommend you go read something else instead. Feedback is very welcome. So, if you are enjoying this story, please do drop me an email at hoo – it really does help encourage us writers! If you can, please support Nifty with a financial donation – whatever you can afford – so that this archive of stories can remain free and available. Just go to http://donate./ *** Monday morning. Eight o’clock. Just out of the shower, a still-yawning Jonathan stared at himself in his bathroom mirror. He looked a wreck: run down, rumpled and slightly overweight. Half-closing his eyes, he allowed the reflection to blur and conjured up the image of a lean, handsome, successful go-getter, raring to face the day. Someone who was in control of his life and didn’t spend every waking moment running just to stand still. Someone who didn’t have to worry constantly about if he had enough money to see out the week. The Jonathan Wilson he longed to be. `Yeah, mate, in your dreams,’ he told himself. `Now get your arse in gear. Your first class is in less than an hour.’ After a breakfast of two doughnuts, consumed while dressing, he set off for college. His walk took him along Wellington Street, with its large Victorian houses. He stared longingly at them, vowing, as he always did, that one day he would own such a house. He had told Mike this when they had driven the route together and the man had told him that Jon could live in a cardboard box for all he cared, provided of course that it had a power shower and Sky TV. Jon knew that success didn’t matter to Mike. It was one of the things that made him special. But still he longed for more. He reached his first class with seconds to spare, though it was rather a dull lesson. The rest of the day followed a similar pattern. Jon had never really enjoyed studying, certainly not since his parents’ accident. But, he knew that if he wanted to do well in life, he didn’t have a choice. Besides, there were some consolations. The sense of being followed had gone. He hadn’t felt it for over a week now. Occasionally, when he had a quiet moment, he would think about the strange woman who’d been to look at washing machines with her friend and wonder what her problem was. But it was her problem. As long as she kept away from him, he was happy for it to stay that way. With college over for the day, he drove his moped out to Mill View House to see his grandmother, a large bunch of lilies in his knapsack to replace the ones he had taken the previous week. He was tired but happy. Mike was meeting him there and they were going out for dinner after the visit. So far they had kept their relationship a secret, but there didn’t seem any harm in people knowing. After all, they weren’t breaking any rules. As he headed up the drive he saw Mike standing on the steps of the hall. He checked his reflection in the windscreen mirror, vowing that the diet would start the next day. Mike always looked so handsome and deserved better than the burst beach ball that stared back at him. He climbed off the moped and gave Mike a wave. He didn’t wave back. His expression was anxious and it looked as if he had been crying. And suddenly Jon knew why. For a moment, he felt dizzy. His legs seemed made of jelly, unable to support his weight. Briefly, he thought he might fall. Then the feeling was gone, replaced by calm so total that it was as if he was experiencing someone else’s tragedy rather than his own. Mike hurried towards him. “You don’t have to tell me,” Jon said. The man hugged him. The teenager hugged him back while trying not to crush the flowers. “How did it happen?” “She died in her sleep this afternoon. They wanted to phone you but I asked them not to. I thought you’d want to hear it in person.” “I would. Thanks.” Jon heard his boyfriend gulp and gave him a squeeze. “Hey, it’s all right,” Jon told him. “I’m glad she died like that. It’s a good way to go.” In the distance he saw two other members of staff watching and realised their relationship certainly wasn’t secret anymore. The thought struck him as funny and he began to laugh. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I don’t know why I’m doing this.” “You’re in shock. That’s why.” Stepping back, Mike wiped his eyes and stared into his boyfriend’s face. “But you don’t have to go through this alone. You know that, don’t you?” Jon gestured to the flowers. “It’s a shame to waste these. Perhaps someone else would like them.” Mike continued to stare at him, his expression anxious. The man kissed his cheek. “I’m okay, Mike. Don’t worry about me. I’ve had a long time to prepare for this.” Taking Mike’s hand, he led him into the hall. *** Tuesday afternoon. The Royal was a hotel on the outskirts of Manchester. It was large and impersonal and ideal for those who wanted to keep their rendezvous a secret. Brandon Price stood naked in front of the dressing table mirror, turning this way and that, flexing his muscles and liking what he saw. Twelve months in the gardening business had done wonders for his teenage body. “The thing I don’t understand,” said his companion, “is how that idiot Stephen could even think of cheating on you.” Laughing, the teenager returned to the bed. Timothy Hunter, also naked, lay upon it, his arms behind his head and a contented smile on his face. A half-empty bottle of champagne stood in a cooler on the bedside table. Brandon filled a glass and handed it to the mature man. “Go on. You deserve it after the hard work you’ve just put in.” He downed the glass in a single gulp. Drops of liquid remained on his lips. Brandon wiped them away while Tim tried to bite the lad’s teenage fingers. His mouth felt hot and wet. “Is Jennifer this much fun?” Brandon asked. Tim rolled his eyes. “Didn’t think so. God, your wife is such a fool.” “That’s cruel. She feels sorry for you.” “I rest my case. She’s so easy to deceive. Self-satisfied people always are. Just let them feel they’re better than you and they’ll believe anything you tell them.” Tim didn’t answer. A troubled look came into his face. Brandon stroked the man’s cheek. “Isn’t it a bit late to be developing a conscience?” the teenager asked. “It’s been six months now. When you can get it up, that is.” “I can always get it up.” “God bless Viagra.” “I’ll never need Viagra.” “Try saying that when you’re eighty.” “Who says I’ll be seeing you when I’m eighty?” “I do.” Brandon ran his fingernails down Tim’s chest, tangling them in the man’s chest hair. “I give you what you need.” “You think a lot about yourself.” “So do you. That’s what makes this special. We’re good together.” “You think this is special?” “Don’t you?” Tim turned and stared at the curtains. Brandon gazed down at him, feeling uneasy. Quickly, the teenager gave himself a metaphorical shake. It was just sex. That was all it had ever been. All he had ever wanted it to be. Or so he’d thought. “So why are we here, then?” Brandon asked the man. “Because we’re bored. You in particular. You’d split the world in two if you could, just to see what would happen.” He turned back, stroking the teenager’s hair. Tim’s touch excited him but it was more than desire. Tim was unpleasant. Brandon was unpleasant too. But even the most objectionable of people could still have feelings. “Am I right?” the man asked. Brandon masked his sense of disappointment with a smile. “Absolutely. Maybe we’ll get bored with each other soon.” “Maybe we will.” “Maybe I’m bored already. Maybe I’ve already got my sights on someone else.” “Like who?” “Someone younger.” Tim began to laugh. The sound was hurtful, but the teenager knew how to hurt him back. “One of your sons, perhaps.” Tim’s eyes widened. The shot had hit its mark. “Don’t be stupid.” “Who’s being stupid? They’re good looking lads. William, in particular.” “He’s still a boy.” “He’s only a year younger than me. To most people Will’s a successful young man who’s destined to make a big noise in the world.” “Is he hell! The only reason he’ll get into Oxford is because of me. It’s my reputation that`ll open doors for him.” “Not according to Jennifer.” “What the fuck does she know about it? William will never achieve what I have. He doesn’t have it in him. If his mother wasn’t such a sentimental fool, she’d see it too.” Brandon continued to tug at the man’s chest hair. “He’s still handsome, though.” He grabbed the teenager’s wrist, squeezing it hard. “Don’t even think about it.” “Why not? What does it matter to you?” Brandon gestured to the room they were in. “As you said yourself, this doesn’t mean anything. We’re just two people passing some time. How I choose to pass the rest of it is no business of yours.” Tim’s grip grew even tighter. “Yes, it is.” Again the teenager laughed. With his free hand, he reached for Tim’s groin, feeling him respond to his touch. “Told you this was special,” Brandon said. Tim began to kiss the teenager, Brandon moaning as the man’s stubble scraped across his face as Tim’s tongue searched his mouth. Brandon moaned as Tim wrapped his arms around him, pulling the teenager close to him. Still grasping Tim’s cock, Brandon traced his fingers along it while sucking on the man’s tongue. Breaking their kiss, Tim manoeuvred himself so he was crouched above the teenager. Slowly, he began to worship the teenager’s body with his mouth. Running his mouth across Brandon’s exposed flesh, he made his way to the young man’s cock, which he engulfed greedily. Brandon revelled in the sensations as Tim began to bob up and down on the teen pole. “Stop, or I’m gonna shoot,” Brandon told the man after a couple of minutes of fervent sucking. As Tim pulled his mouth away from the teenager’s cock, the two of them swapped places. Brandon squatted between Tim’s legs, cramming as much of the man’s thick appendage in his mouth as he could manage. Despite being no stranger to the penis in front of him, Brandon still found sucking it an effort. With his mouth still a little sore from their earlier fun, he had to settle for sucking mainly on the head, and licking up and down the shaft, Tim murmuring encouragement as he did so. Once it was suitably moist, Tim instructed the teenager to sit on his lap facing him, his cock-head rubbing against Brandon’s rosebud. “Are you ready?” the man asked. Brandon nodded. “Fuck me.” The teenager gasped with mingled pain and pleasure as Tim’s eye-wateringly large cock began to advance into him. With his eyes rolled back in his head, he savoured every deliciously agonising inch as he was penetrated deeper and deeper. “Oh, yeah. You love that don’t you?” Tim gasped. “Ooooh yeah… you’re so big…” Brandon moaned. Wanting the man all the way inside him and biting his lip, Brandon slid back up him a little way. Then, letting gravity take over, he plummeted back down to the base of Tim’s cock. Brandon’s back arched in mingled pain-pleasure as they held still for a moment, allowing the teenager’s hole to acclimatise itself to the massive invader. Once the pain had subsided, he began to gyrate slowly on Tim’s lap, loving how the man’s cock rubbed his insides. They resumed making out as Tim made love to the teenager’s bottom. Brandon soon began to bounce up and down, loving how his cunt stretched and contracted around the various contours of Tim’s cock. “Such an amazing hole…” Tim moaned. “Such a handsome stud,” Brandon replied. Grinning in response, Tim stood, lifting the teenager up and fucking him in the air. Brandon’s cock throbbed, rubbing against the man’s hairy body as he began to speed up. “Please fuck me harder,” the teenager gasped. Soon Tim had the young gardener’s back against the wall, pounding into him and gasping. “I’m… gonna… cuuummm!” Tim shouted as he filled the teenager’s tight hole with his cream. The sensation pushed Brandon over the edge too, the teenager spraying his spunk onto his lover’s hairy chest. They held still for a moment, Brandon’s arse clenching tight around the man’s prick. Leaning over, the teenager licked his own cum from the furry chest, before looking up at Tim. “You dirty little whore,” the man whispered. “Yeah, I am. And you love it,” Brandon replied. “Indeed I do. But we best get cleaned up.” They moved into the bathroom, where Tim spent a long time soaping up the youngster’s body, touching the lad all over. Brandon was more than happy to return the favour, getting on his knees in the tub and sucking the man’s cock into his hungry mouth as he washed him. That was all it took. Both of them were hard again and, not bothering to get dried first, Tim chased the teenager back into the bedroom. Brandon crawled onto the king-sized bed, smiling naughtily at the man who stood there, fondling himself. “Come and get me,” the teenager urged, his bottom pointed at the man, wiggling it enticingly. “God, you are such a sexy lad,” Tim moaned as he reached out and grabbed the teenager’s hips. A moment later he buried his face between Brandon’s cheeks, circling the sensitive hole with his tongue, drawing coos of pleasure from him. Reached between the teenager’s legs, he stroked the young gardener while fucking the teen-hole with his mouth. Soon the sensations became lara kendi evi olan escort too much for Brandon. He started to cum, Tim catching the teen’s load in his hand as the lad gasped in pleasure. The man’s face left Brandon’s hole briefly, just long enough for him to slurp the teen-jizz off his palm. His hand now clean, Tim went back in, ferociously attacking the teenager’s starfish. Brandon’s cock remained limp, but the man didn’t mind. He spent the next few minutes making out with Brandon’s hole, before getting on his knees and pushing hard into the young gardener. “Oh, you turn me on so much,” Tim growled. “Leave Stephen. I want you to myself, you nasty, sexy boy.” “Oh yeah, fuck me harder,” Brandon said, responding in kind. “Claim my hole. Breed me like the little whore I am.” Tim snarled with lust. “I’ll do no such thing. You’re going to swallow my cum. That’s all a dirty whore like you is good for.” “Yes, yes I am,” the teenager agreed heartily. “Dump your load in my mouth!” Pulling out of the teenager, Tim dragged him off the bed and onto his knees in front of the man’s big, sexy cock. Brandon opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, waiting for his reward as Tim furiously jerked off above him. It didn’t take long before the man started to gasp. His cock spasmed, shooting cum into the teenager’s waiting mouth. Brandon let the man finish before he swallowed him down, making sure to show him afterwards that like a good little slut he’d swallowed every drop. Exhausted, Tim collapsed back on the bed, looking slightly embarrassed at the way he had just acted. Brandon crawled over and curled up around him, assuring the man that it had turned him on immensely being used like that. As proof, the teenager displayed his fresh new hard-on. Once again, Tim wasted no time in wrapping his mouth around it. *** Wednesday afternoon. Zach stood alone in William’s room. Will was at rugby practice, getting muddy and sweaty. Zach always enjoyed their Wednesday afternoon shags. The raven-haired teen had his own key now. Will had given it to him at the start of the week. After all, the pair of them spent nearly every night in Will’s bed anyway. Zach looked around the room. He couldn’t wait until they had a bedroom to call their own, once they had moved into their very first house together. Of course, that would be several years away, once they had both finished at university. Eventually, they would buy a grand place in the countryside. And that was what was going to happen. He would make it happen. Briefly, the intensity of his feelings had made him weak, but now he had control of himself again. Failure, after all, was not in his genes. He came from a family of achievers and had learned early that when you wanted something you never stopped fighting until it was yours. He wanted Will, and he was going to have him. No one, not even Will himself, was going to stand in his way. There were still hurdles to overcome. The ghost of Ben needed to be properly exorcised. But that was simple enough. It was his friends and family who kept reminding him of Ben and already he was seeing less of his friends. Once they all left school, he probably wouldn’t see them at all. They were idiots anyway. Fools who thought they could bet on Zach and Will’s future, never suspecting that they were the ones who would soon be history. Then there was university. Both of them would be going to Oxford, of course. Unfortunately, Will had his heart set on being at Merton College, just like his father. That would have to change. The past seven generations of men in Zach’s family had attended Trinity College. Zach wasn’t going to let that stop now. And he didn’t dare risk the two of them being at different colleges. He’d have to change Will’s mind. And as for the family… A photograph of Will’s parents and brother stood on a side table. Zach studied each face in turn. The father was not a problem; an egotistical narcissist too in love with himself to care about whom his son fell in love with. The mother would be harder, but already she was clinging to her son too tightly and weakening her hold as a result. In time he would feel suffocated and finally pull free. Which just left Joshua. Once Zach had viewed Josh as his biggest threat, but not anymore. After the things Josh had said to Will on Friday night a rift had appeared that, with Zach’s help, was only going to widen, eventually becoming an abyss that could never be bridged. In the photograph Josh was smiling. Zach formed his hand into a gun and pointed it at Josh’s head. “Goodbye, loser,” he whispered, and fired his shot. Then, smiling, he blew imaginary smoke from his fingers. *** An hour later. Across the other side of school, in Romney House, Josh sat in his room. He had just returned from his `day out’, helping with a trip out by one of the Infant classes. He was exhausted. Supervising the six and seven year olds had proved far more tiring than he’d expected. The only bright spark in the day had been Hannah’s presence, the two of them having been able to sit next to each other on the coach ride there and back. They had chatted amiably, getting to know each other better. As he sat on his sofa, his thoughts turned once more too Will and the argument the pair of them had had the previous weekend. Whilst what Zach had said had been completely out of order, the boy’s attitude had been hardly surprising. What had hurt Josh more had been the fact that Will had taken his boyfriend’s side. The two of them hadn’t spoken since. Since starting their A-levels, they no longer had any classes together, and so had no reason to see each other. Over the past few days, Josh had gone out of his way to avoid his brother at break times and mealtimes. In the dining hall, he’d sat as far away from Will as he could. The thing that hurt the most, however, was the lie Will had told him about also being asked to accompany the Infants on their trip. Although deep inside the deep inside Josh knew his brother had only said it to make him feel better, it only served to remind him how everyone else saw him: as Will’s shadow, the also ran, the second best. And the lie had also given Zach even more ammo to use against him. But it wasn’t just Will that Josh was angry with. He was also annoyed with his housemaster for asking him to go on the bloody trip in the first place. Why him? Why you couldn’t Mr Phillips see that he was better than that? And what was all that shit about Josh only being captain of the second XI, as if his role was unimportant? But most of all, he was angry with himself. Why had he agreed to his housemaster’s request? Why hadn’t he put his foot down and said `no’ to Mr Phillips? Why had he told Will about it, knowing that it would only make him look even more inferior to his brother? And why, why, why, did he let all of this get to him so much? On top of all this, he was also worried about his cousin Olivia. After her no-show at the weekend, he had tried to call her numerous times, getting her answer phone on each occasion. He hoped she was alright. *** Friday afternoon. Jon stood beside his grandmother’s grave. She was being buried in Belmont, a village just outside of Bolton, in the plot next to that of his parents and sister. He stared down at the coffin. Mike stood beside him, holding his hand. The man had insisted on coming, telling Jon that he couldn’t go alone. Mike had even taken the day off university. Jon was grateful for his boyfriend’s concern even though he didn’t need it. He still felt as calm as he had when he heard the news. The churchyard was on a hill. In the distance Jon could see rows of houses. Once, one of them had been his home. He squinted, trying to identify it, but was unable to do so. Not that it mattered. The past was the past and he had learned the hard way that there was no point looking back. The vicar was talking about his grandmother. He tried to pay attention but instead found himself counting the wreaths that lay around the grave. In the build-up to the funeral he had become obsessed with the idea of her not having enough flowers and that it would look as if no one cared. When he phoned her old friends and neighbours to tell them she was dead he had brushed aside their expressions of sympathy, too eager to tell them where to send their floral tributes. Some of those friends were there now. He noticed them watching him and tried not to feel resentful. He didn’t need their sympathy. Loss was a part of life and tears never solved anything. He turned, staring at the church. His parents had brought him to it every Sunday and he would constantly make faces at his sister during prayers, trying, usually successfully, to make her laugh. Once the service was over, they would return home for their Sunday roast and, as they ate, his mother would tell him that he must behave himself at next week’s service. He would promise to do so, secretly crossing his fingers under the table, blissfully unaware that soon the day would come when no one would care enough to make him go to church again. The vicar finished speaking. For a moment the other mourners bent their heads in silent prayer. Then they gathered round him, offering condolences while he smiled politely and wished they would all just go away. *** As Mike stood by Jonathan, listening to one of his grandmother’s old neighbours reminisce, he realised they were being watched. A man stood some distance away, half-hidden behind a tree. Curious, Mike left Jon with the others and walked over to him. He was in his fifties, tall and thin with greying hair and a nervous expression. “Hello” Mike said. “Did you know Mary?” “Yes.” “Were you a neighbour?” The man shook his head. “My name is Simon. I’m Jonathan’s uncle.” “Oh.” “Are you a friend of Jonathan’s?” “I’m his boyfriend.” “Oh. What’s your name?” “Michael.” Simon offered his hand. “Would you like to join us?” Mike asked. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.” “You got that right,” said a voice behind them. Mike turned to see an angry looking Jon. “What are you doing here?” the teenager demanded of his uncle. “One of your grandmother’s friends told us what had happened.” “So? This has nothing to do with you. She wasn’t your family.” “No, but you are.” “Not anymore.” “Jonathan, please, can’t we just…” “What? Bury the hatchet? Don’t tempt me.” “Do you think I don’t regret what happened? There isn’t a day goes by that I don’t wish I’d done things differently.” “Oh, cue the violins.” “I’m still your uncle. I always will be. If you ever need me…” “Need you? I needed you when I was ten and what did you do? Well, I’m not that frightened kid anymore and as I told Nick, hell will freeze over before I’ll ask you for anything again.” Jon walked away. Mike remained where he was. Simon blinked, looking close to tears. Mike touched his arm. “He’s upset. He doesn’t mean that.” “Yes, he does. And the terrible thing is I don’t blame him.” Mike didn’t answer, unsure of what to say. “You should go after him,” Simon said. “Make sure he’s all right.” “Okay. If you’re sure.” “Just promise me something?” “What?” “That you’ll take care of him. I was watching you. I could tell from the way you look at him how much he means to you. He’s not as tough as he makes out and he needs someone like you.” “I promise.” “Thank you, Michael.” Mike headed after Jon. He was standing by Mike’s car, breathing heavily. “Don’t tell me I was out of order,” he said as his boyfriend approached. “I wasn’t going to. It’s none of my business.” “That’s right. It’s not.” He gestured to one of his grandmother’s friends. “She’s organised a get together in the village hall. Chance to say a final farewell.” “Do you want to go?” “I don’t have much choice, do I?” “We don’t have to stay long. We can just make an appearance. Nobody will mind. They’ll know how painful this is for you.” “I’m fine.” Mike nodded, knowing that soon the shock would wear off and the grief would kick in. Jon stared up at the church. “They’re raising money to rebuild the roof. I’m going to give them some money. From what Gran’s left me.” “That’s a lovely thing to do.” “My Mum loved this place.” “I’d like to give something too.” “You don’t have to. You didn’t know my Mum.” “No, but I know you.” “Thanks.” A pause. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.” “You don’t need to apologise.” “We’d better get going. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave.” Together they climbed into the car. “Are you still staying over tonight?” Jon asked. “Do you want me to?” “Yes,” the teenager replied. *** Two o’clock in the morning. Jennifer lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Timothy lay on his back beside her, snoring loud enough to wake the dead. Moonlight crept through the curtains, giving the room a faint glow. She turned and gazed at him, her head full of questions she was too afraid to ask. He had been out all afternoon. Taking a drive, so he had said. She wondered what he had really been doing, and who he had been doing it with. She knew he had never been faithful. Within a year of their wedding the tell tale signs had started to appear. Calls cut short when she entered the room. Discarded receipts from restaurants she had never been to. Business trips that seemed to last just a night longer than was necessary. She had never minded before. Well, not really. It was only a physical betrayal, after lara otele gelen escort all. His only true passion had ever been his career, but now that passion was spent, leaving a dangerously large hole unfilled. During her years in Hale she had seen so many marriages end in divorce. Women that she had called her friends, all leading comfortable, secure lives, suddenly finding themselves discarded for younger models. And when the husbands discarded them the village did too. Money was power and in Hale it was men who made the rules. In the past she had always felt immune from the threat of replacement, something she was sure the other women sensed and resented her for. She could already imagine their reactions if her marriage and social standing were to collapse: public expressions of solidarity masking private delight. In her head she could hear their laughter, like the cackle of hyenas. And the most terrible thing of all was there was nothing she could do about it. Timothy had always had the power in their relationship and if a suitable substitute appeared he would discard her as casually as if she were a soiled shirt. And then all she would have were her sons. She remembered Brandon Price’s words: a son is a son until he takes a wife. Though marriage was inevitable, she was determined they would remain hers. It would be easy with Joshua. His eagerness for her approval would see to that. The real battle would be for William. But she would win that too, whatever it took and whomever she had to hurt. She had no choice. When you were fighting for survival, all rules of fair play went out of the window. Timothy stirred in his sleep. She continued to watch him, remembering her euphoria when this dynamic, successful man from a wealthy family had asked her to be his wife. He had been twenty years her senior, but that had hardly mattered at the time. Though she dreaded losing him, a part of her had started to fantasise about his death. Under the terms of his will, his estate was hers for life, and with that wealth behind her she would always be safe. He rolled onto his side. The snoring stopped, his breathing now so faint she had to strain to hear it. She imagined it stopping altogether; of touching his body and feeding it grow cold. She closed her eyes, trying to silence the voices in her head, but minutes grew into hours and sleep remained elusive. *** Five o’clock in the morning. Jon woke with a start. He had been dreaming about the funeral. As he stood by his Grandmother’s grave he heard muffled screams and realised that it was his parents and sister banging on their coffins, trying to escape before the last of the air ran out… His heart was pounding. He sat up in bed, wiping his face and finding himself drenched in sweat. Moving softly so as not to wake Mike, he went to take a shower. He stood in the bathtub, letting the hot water blast him, breathing deeply, waiting for his heart to slow. Once it had done so, he reached for the shower gel. It stood on the window ledge, next to a plastic model of Nelsons column that had once been full of bubblebath. He had had it since he was nine and had made his first ever visit to London with his family. His parents had bought it for him and though it was tacky, he had always liked it. He picked it up, stroking its surface and remembering the trip. It had cost his parents a small fortune. They’d had to save up for several months to afford it. His mother had left them in the National Gallery whilst she had gone to check that everything was alright with their booking for afternoon tea at the Savoy. She had been taken there as a child and had always wanted to take her children too. Though his father and sister loved the gallery, he had become bored and slipped out to Trafalgar Square, marvelling at its size and the mass of people gathered there. Eventually, after asking directions, he walked up the Strand towards the Savoy, only to see his family gathered outside it, all looking distressed. He called out to them and his mother ran out towards him and slapped his face. It was the first and only time she had ever hit him and he burst into tears. She wrapped him in her arms, covering his face in kisses, telling him that she was sorry, that she had only done it because she was frightened, and making him promise he would never ever wander off like that again. He remembered how tightly she held him. She almost crushed the life out of him but he didn’t mind. Though he had always known she loved him, it was only at that moment he realised just how intense the feeling was. How precious it was. How warm and safe it made him feel. And suddenly he longed to feel like that again. Aching for it with every fibre of his being. Just once. Just for a second. To have someone hug him as if their very life depended on it. *** As Mike’s eyes adapted to the darkness he realised that he could hear the sound of running water. He crossed the hall and entered the bathroom. Jon was crouched in the tub, sobbing his heart out while hot water pounded his back, turning the skin red. Turning off the shower, Mike climbed into the tub and wrapped his arms around the teenager, feeling his own skin grow wet. Jon pressed himself against Mike as the man crooned over him like a father comforting his child, weaving his magic to keep the monsters at bay. “It’s all right,” Mike whispered. “I’m here.” Jon tried to speak, his words lost in gulps. Mike wondered if his boyfriend had cried like this for his parents and whether he been alone when he did. The man wished he could have been there for him then and let him know that however much he was hurting there was still someone who cared. They remained like that for some time, saying nothing while Jon hugged him as if his life depended on it. “I want you to make love to me,” Jon said, eventually. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Mike replied. “It’ll be your first time. I’m not sure it should be like this.” “Please. I need it. I need you to do this for me.” “Okay,” Mike agreed, still unsure, but willing to try anything that might help Jon heal. After drying Jon off, Mike towelled himself down. Hand-in-hand, the two of them made their way into Jon’s bedroom, standing next to his bed. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Mike asked again. “Yes,” Jon responded, his cock rising to the occasion. The two of them pulled together into an embrace, their lips joining and tongues tasting each other’s mouth. Their chests, stomachs and hips were so close together that even a sheet of tracing paper would struggle to come between them. As they continued to snog, they swayed a little, their hands roaming over each other’s backs, gradually moving down to include some caressing of the buttocks. His arms slightly longer, Mike was able to get a finger onto Jon’s pucker. He gave it some tender pressure, massaging it as he began to get it ready for a heavier invasion. “Right, lie down on your back and lift those beautiful legs,” Mike told his boyfriend. Jon lay down on the bed and lifted his legs. Catching them behind his knees, he pulled them as far as he could manage towards his shoulders, lifting his bottom off the bed a little and spreading his cheeks at the same time. Mike bent down, moving his head forward and sliding his tongue along Jon’s crack. Finding the puckered skin of his boyfriend’s hole, he began to lap at it. While Mike licked, Jon could feel himself starting to relax. Mike felt it too, and he began to probe into the hole. Rolling his tongue into a cylinder, he pushed it forward, trying to penetrate the teenager’s sphincter. The sensations Jon was experiencing were unlike anything he had ever felt before. He had played with his bum hole with his own fingers in the past. Over the past couple of weeks, Mike had also pushed a finger or two in as the two of them engaged in some mutual sucking. But this was so different. Was it because he knew it was Mike’s tongue that was doing it, or was it because the teenager knew he was in love with the person doing it to him? Jon couldn’t be sure. Whatever it was, he was really enjoying it and definitely wanted it to happen again. His groans and moans were of pure pleasure, and he was leaking a steady stream of pre-cum. Jon wondered if it would look like someone had left a tap running when Mike actually got his cock into his hole and started making passionate love to him. Mike lifted his head and Jon felt the cold of the KY-jelly as the man spread some around the teenager’s hole with his finger. After getting some more on his finger, Mike pushed against Jon’s hole. “Push out like you’re going to take a dump,” the man instructed. The teenager did as he was told, Mike’s finger sliding in past the first knuckle. He held it there for a bit and then began to twist his hand at his wrist and rotate his finger in Jon’s hole, spreading the lube all the way around. He pulled out, leaving just the tip of his finger in the teenager as he added more lube. Pushing it back in, he began to use a back and forth rotation to help spread the KY around. Soon he was fucking his finger in and out of the teenage hole. “How’s it feel?” Mike asked. “Fine,” his boyfriend replied. “It doesn’t hurt at all.” “Good. I’m going to try adding a second one now.” Even with additional lube, Jon yelped as the second finger entered him. The stretching of his bum hole was going to be more uncomfortable and painful than the teenager had imagined, but he was determined to go through with it. Mike could see the strain on his boyfriend’s face and hesitated. “Don’t worry,” Jon reassured him. “It only hurts a bit. Keep on going, but go slow.” Following his partner’s instructions, Mike slowly worked his fingers in, rotating then, then pumping in and out in a slow but steady rhythm. The pain began to ease and Jon started to experience a more pleasurable sensation. Over the next few minutes it got stronger and made his teen-cock leak more and more. Time became a thing of no consequence and the two of them became oblivious to its passing; only the pleasure being felt mattered now. Mike’s steady piston work on Jon’s rosebud was making it easier to take the stretching. Without a single word passing between them, Mike added a third finger. He pulled his fingers out and when he pushed them back in Jon felt the pressure of the third digit going in with the other two, stretching his hole further. “Is that okay?” Mike asked, pausing once more. “Yeah,” Jon croaked. “Keep at it. Slow and steady like you’ve just been doing.” Mike did as requested. After a few minutes, and knowing that his boyfriend was as ready as he’d ever be, the man paused his movements and picked up the tube of KY again. Squeezing it with one hand, Mike trickled some lubricant over his cock, spreading it around once he put the tube down on the nightstand. As Jon felt the man slide his fingers out, he knew that he stood on a threshold. Looking up into Mike’s face, he saw that his boyfriend was not looking at him but rather at the hand that was holding his cock, guiding it onto the teenager’s hole as he shuffled forwards. As the tip of Mike’s cock entered the boy, the man looked up at Jon to see how he was taking it. The look on Mike’s face told Jon that he too realised this was an important moment in both their lives, where the teenager lost something and gained something else. Jon was about to lose his virginity, but they were going to get each other to love and to hold from that day forward. Still looking at the teenager’s face and holding his cock in one hand, Mike eased forward a little more: the head of his penis popping through the tight sphincter ring. Jon groaned both in pleasure and at the sudden stab of pain that quickly passed. The look of concern on Mike’s face told a story of true love, and Jon told him to keep going. The pain was easing, and as the man slid further in there was the sensation of his cock head sliding over Jon’s prostate, making his teenage cock tingle and his juices flow. Eventually, Mike’s hips came to rest against his boyfriend’s arse cheeks, the man’s pubes tickling against Jon’s legs as his balls pressed on the lad’s bum. He was all the way in. “Hold it there for a bit, please,” Jon asked. Mike stopped and stayed still. “I just want to savour this moment, with your cock deep inside me, and I need to let my arse get used to it.” Mike was patient as he waited for his boyfriend to give him the go ahead to continue. When he did, a sense of relief swept over the man’s face. When Jon had asked him to pause, Mike had become worried that the teenager was going to ask him to pull out and stay out. Once Jon gave Mike the nod, the man slowly pulled back. Just as his head was about to pop out, he began to push in once more, hitting the lad’s prostate and making Jon’s cock bob in excitement and drool, adding to the pool of pre-cum that was now running over his teenage abdomen and heading towards his side. Once again, Jon felt the head of his boyfriend’s penis slide over his sex-gland and continue on until the man bottomed out and started to retreat again. Mike was being very gentle and incredibly controlled. Time still had no say in their love making, and as the man’s need grew stronger, he began to speed up. “How are you feeling?” Mike asked his teenage lover. “Oh God. It’s wonderful. I want to do it again and again.” As Mike thrust in again, he leant forward slightly, allowing him to gain a deeper penetration. Jon lara rus escort felt it as the man stretched that last bit of his colon. The teenager’s rod swelled, bringing him towards the cliff edge. “I’m going to cum soon,” Jon said. “That’s good. Because I’m going to blow too,” Mike replied. “Cum in me. Don’t pull out.” “That’s what I intended,” Mike puffed out with a smile on his face. His movements were becoming less controlled, and he started to hammer away in a frenzy that saw his body tense and the strain show in his face. Jon cried out as his young body went into orgasmic spasm, his chute clamping down around Mike’s cock. His jizz shot out of his dick, the first salvo sailing right over his head. The next hit his pillow behind him, the rest trailing down his face and torso. The repeated clamping and release of the teenager’s sphincter took Mike over the edge, and he began to fill the youngster’s insides with his juices. His frenzy of jerking, spasmodic movements eased, and he buried his prick as deep into his boyfriend as he could for the final spurts. Exhausted, he collapsed forwards onto Jon. The two of them locked into another snog as Mike’s cock grew limp and slipped out of Jon’s hole. Breaking the kiss Jon whispered, “Thank you so much, Mike. I just can’t describe how it felt. It was exactly what I needed.” “My pleasure,” Mike replied. “I love you and want to be with you forever.” He pulled his boyfriend’s head down to his face again and they kissed some more. *** Mid morning. Jon and Mike lay together in his bed. Jon had insisted on changing the sheets, even though Mike told him there was no need. Sweat, like grief, was just a part of life. “I should be at work,” Jon said. Mike stroked his boyfriend’s face. “Is that where you want to be?” The teenager pressed himself against his older lover. “No. This is where I want to be.” “Me too. Look, I’ll ring them in a bit. Let them know you’re not feeling up to going in.” “Thanks.” A pause. “It was peaceful, wasn’t it? For her at the end?” “Yes, it was. And she was happy there. It was nice that you buried her next to your parents. She’d have liked that.” “One day I’d like to show you Belmont properly. The house we lived in. The school I went to. All my old haunts.” “I’d like that too.” “Hopefully we won’t run into my uncle next time.” Mike nodded. “Do you want to hear about it?” “Only if you want to tell me.” “Yes, I think I need to.” “Okay.” “Simon was my mother’s brother, the only family she had. He’s an accountant and was the first in his family to go to university. My aunt has always been very proud of that. Dad was just a car mechanic and she looked down on him because of it.” “More fool her.” “Yeah, that’s what Mum always said. But in spite of that, she and Uncle Simon were close. Despite the distance, he’d always try to visit us when he could. He’d bring my sister Debbie and me presents. He was a great uncle.” He sighed. “That’s what made it so hard.” Mike squeezed his hand. Jon squeezed back. “He and his wife, my auntie Catherine, were a fair bit older than my parents. From what Gran told me, they were desperate for children. They tried for years but Catherine had one miscarriage after another. Then, finally, when they had almost given up hope, she had Nick. He was the apple of their eye and they spoiled him to death. Mum and Dad had me just over a year later. Debbie and I tried to make friends with Nick every time we met up. He was our cousin after all, but he was like his mother and always thought his family was much better than ours. When my parents died, Simon and Catherine took me in. She wasn’t thrilled about it but the only one who really hated it was Nick. He couldn’t bear the thought of having another child in the house, of not having his parents’ undivided attention every second of the day. From the moment I walked through the door he started finding ways to drive me out of it again. He began by telling lies about me. Little things at first. When that didn’t work, he’d break things and say I’d done it. Then, just after my twelfth birthday, he started hurting himself. Somehow he got hold of some cigarettes. He burnt his own arm and said I’d done it. And then…” Jon stopped and exhaled heavily. “You don’t have to tell me,” Mike said. “No, it’s okay. After what happened at the funeral you deserve to know.” “So what did he do?” “He started stealing things from his parents’ friends. Ornaments, jewellery, stuff like that. He hid them in my room, setting it up so his mother found them and of course she thought I was the one who had taken them.” Mike gasped. “Oh, Jon…” The teenager gave a hollow laugh. “Yeah, it never rains but it pours. Catherine said I was a delinquent who belonged in a reformatory. Then my uncle told me they’d make sure that no one pressed charges as long as I agreed to go into care.” “But didn’t you tell him it was lies? I mean, what about fingerprinting…?” “I didn’t have to. That was the worst part. I remember looking into his face as he told me and I could see in his eyes that he didn’t believe any of it.” “So why…?” “Because it was what Nick and Catherine wanted. They were his whole world and if I made them unhappy then I had to go. It was easier that way and Mum always said that Uncle Simon liked an easy life.” Again Jon sighed. “And that’s why he’s the one I really blame. Nick was a kid, a vicious one I grant you, but just a kid. And Catherine was only my aunt by marriage. But he was Mum’s brother. He was all the family I had apart from Gran and she was in a home. He knew I needed him but still he did it.” Fury surged through Mike. He tried to control it. This wasn’t about him. But when he thought of the anxious looking man who had been hiding behind a tree at the funeral, his blood boiled. Jon stroked his hair. “So now you know.” “Thank God you didn’t tell me before the funeral. If you had I’d be up on a murder charge right now. You were a kid! You had no one! If my nephews were orphaned I’d cut my arm off before I’d treat them like that. I’m glad you told him where to go when we saw him. I just wish you’d flattened him as you did it. I wish I had. I just…” He burst into tears. “Oh, hey, come here.” Jon put an arm around him. “It’s done now. It’s in the past. I’ve got my own life now. And everything is going to be okay.” *** Sunday morning. Jon returned to the electronics store. Claire and Nigel offered condolences. Jon found he didn’t mind them anymore. “You don’t need to come back yet,” said Nigel. “We can manage without you.” “Absolutely,” Claire agreed. “Thanks,” Jon said. “And I know. But I sort of feel I need to keep busy.” *** Early afternoon. Jon was busy cleaning one of the TVs. His phone bleeped. It was a text from Mike: `The flowers are lovely! You shouldn’t have done it. Luv u. XXX.’ Jon had ordered a bouquet to be sent to the house Mike shared with three of his student friends. It was his way of saying thank you for the man’s support. He knew that he didn’t need to, but knowing it only made the desire to send them stronger. The previous afternoon they had started planning a holiday and Jon was looking forward to it already. Just to have a break, to relax, and to have his boyfriend with him as he did so. While texting a reply, he heard someone call his name. After pressing send and putting on his best smile, he looked up at the TV screen he had just been cleaning… And for a split second he thought he was hallucinating. That he was back in front of his bathroom mirror, blurring his vision to conjure up the Jonathan Wilson he had always wanted to be. Because it was that reflection he could see on the TV screen now. The face was lean, the physique toned and athletic. The haircut was fashionable and the clothes far more expensive than any he had ever owned. The shock was so intense it was like an electrical surge. His whole body jolted, the mobile slipping from his hand and falling to the floor. He turned round, finding himself face to face with the image he’d just seen on the screen. Jon felt an urge to stretch out his arm, half convinced he would find a plate of glass between them. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. His mouth was bone dry. For a time they just stared at each other. Slowly the young man looked him up and down. “Jesus Christ,” he said softly. Jon found his voice. “Who are you?” He didn’t answer, just shook his head, looking shocked himself. “Who are you?” Jon asked again. “Do I know you?” “Yes. I think you do. Or at least you did.” “What are you talking about?” “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be cryptic. And I’m sorry if I’ve freaked you out. I’m going to try and explain but I need you to listen. Is that okay?” Jon nodded. “I have a cousin called Olivia. We’re very close. She’s more like a sister really. She was working here in Stockport and then one day she just quit her job without telling anyone why and when I tried to contact her she wouldn’t return my calls. I assumed she was embarrassed. My Mother is always giving her grief about not having a career. And then I remembered that the last time we spoke she told me she was about to go and help a friend look for a new washing machine.” “A washing machine?” The young man reached into his pocket, pulled out a photograph and showed it to Jon. “This is Olivia. You met her, didn’t you?” “Yes! She’s been following me, asking all sorts of questions.” “I came down to see her yesterday morning. After trying to play ignorant she eventually caved in and told me all about it. She’s convinced that we’re related and that’s when I knew I had to come and find you.” Jon shook his head. “We’re not related. How can we be?” “That’s what I told myself. She showed me a photo she’d taken of you on her phone. But it was just a photo. You might look completely different in the flesh in spite of what Liv said. It could just be coincidence. But now here you are, I mean… well, God, it’s like looking in a mirror.” Jon swallowed. “I know your birthday is Christmas Day,” he told Jon. “I believe that you were born in the year 2000. Am I right?” “Yes.” “In the maternity ward of St Luke’s Hospital in Bolton?” Jon nodded. “That’s where I was born. On the 25th of December 2000.” Another silence. This time Jon was the one to break it. “I don’t understand this. I’m not a twin. My Mum only had one baby that day. I know she did.” “I know it too.” “So what are you trying to say?” “I’ve been doing some research. I’ve spoken to the hospital and found out the names of all the babies born there on that day. Only three of them were boys. A woman named Rebecca Wilson gave birth to a boy called Jonathan, and my mother, Jennifer Hunter, gave birth to a set of twins called William and Joshua. They mixed us up. That’s what happened. I managed to track down a retired nurse who worked in the maternity ward when we were born. She told me they were chronically understaffed, what with it being Christmas and there was this sickness bug going round. Everyone was under terrible pressure and a mistake could have been made. The nurse I spoke to said her friend, another nurse, had had a suspicion at the time that something had gone wrong, but it was too late and she was scared for her job so she never said anything. We’re twins, Jonathan. You’re a Hunter, and the boy I’ve always thought of as my twin is the real Jonathan Wilson. He’s not my twin. He never was. You are.” Jon felt dizzy. The young man was staring at him, clearly eager to hear his reaction. He knew he should say something but instead his eyes focused on his phone which now lay on the ground. He bent down and picked it up, seeking refuge in action while his brain struggled to process all he had heard. “Say something,” the young man pleaded. The back of the phone had come off. Jon tried to reattach it but his hands were all thumbs. “Stupid bloody thing!” he shouted in frustration. “Let me help.” “It doesn’t matter.” “But I can do it.” The stranger took it from him, made the necessary adjustment and handed it back, their hands touching as they did so. “So you are real,” Jon told him. “What?” “You said that when you looked at me it was like looking in a mirror. That’s what I thought too. I do that sometimes; look in the mirror and squint and try and imagine that I look like a better version of myself. That I look… like you.” “You do look like me, Jon. Just like me. We’re identical twins. That’s why I said that we once knew each other. Of course we did. We shared a womb for the first nine months of our existence. We share the same DNA. We started life as a single person, only now we are two.” Yet again Jon felt dizzy. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Are you okay?” Jon exhaled. “I don’t know.” “Maybe we should go and have a drink. You look like you could use one and I know I could. Besides, you must have a million questions to ask me.” “So are you interested in the TV?” He stopped, realising what he was saying. How stupid it must sound. How stupid he was being. For the first time the tension faded from the stranger’s face, replaced by a smile. Jon remembered people telling him he had a lovely smile and now, for the first time in his life, he could see exactly why. And suddenly, in spite of everything, he found himself smiling too. “I know a good pub nearby,” he said. “It’s only a short walk.” “Thanks, Jon.” “No problem… um… I don’t think I caught your name.” “Sorry. I’m Josh.” *** Note from the author: If you enjoyed this story, you might also want to check out my first story `Tutoring Dylan’ which can be found fty//gay/adult-youth/tutoring-dylan/ Please note that my email address is different to the one mentioned in Tutoring Dylan, so you can now contact me at hoo

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