“Aw, Dan, you’re such a sweetheart. I love you, too.” Chris cups my face and kisses me before returning his gaze to the screen.
Our life is one of routine and that’s the way I like it. We go to work Monday through Friday and spend the weekends together, mostly hanging out at home. Sometimes we catch up with a few friends at a local pub or restaurant, but mostly we prefer each other’s company.
Chris is truly my best friend. We rarely argue, and he knows when to stop talking and give me some space, something I’ve needed since getting out of prison. We enjoy a beer or two at night and take an annual holiday somewhere quiet, away from the stress of suburbia. It’s a simple life with no drama, no violence, and no poverty, and that’s a hell of a lot more than I ever thought possible.
Our sex life is good—although a little vanilla—but I can’t complain because I get it on the regular and I know Chris would never cheat, which ranks pretty high on the dealbreaker list. I’ll take faithful over fireworks any day.
Swinging my legs up onto Chris’s lap, I’m rewarded with a foot rub. My feet ache from standing most of the afternoon and I moan appreciatively as my muscles relax.
“Sounds like you’re enjoying that, sweetheart?” Chris says with a wink.
“Maybe you can massage me with your mouth?” I reply, raising my eyebrows. I sound completely lame but who gives a shit.
Chris laughs. “In that case, I really hope you’re talking about your dick and not your feet.”
“Well, sinceyoumentioned my dick…”
Chris crawls up my body, kissing me deeply before making his way back, dragging my trackies down to my thighs and releasing my already thickening shaft. My eyes close as he takes me into his mouth. It’s warm and wet, and I find the familiarity comforting. I build slowly towards my orgasm, pushing my hips up as Chris sucks harder.
Seconds before I’m about to come, an image of Kyle on his knees, lips wrapped around my cock, flashes before my eyes. I gasp. Then I’m coming in Chris’s mouth, feeling pleasure and guilt in equal measure.
Chapter 3
Kyle
23 years earlier
“Fuck,” I murmur before blowing warm air on my hands. I’m waiting for Bren but freezing my ass off, huddled in the corner of the players’ shelter. The Snakepit—the nickname for the local footy oval—is almost scary at night and Iwish Bren would hurry the fuck up. The moon is barely a sliver, so the only light is from the streetlamps, casting an eerie fog across the field. I check my watch again: twenty past eleven. It’s not unusual for Bren to be late and sometimes he doesn’t even turn up at all because of his asshole foster dad.
I used to think my parents were the worst, but since becoming mates—or whatever you want to call it—with Bren this year, I figure I ain’t got it too bad. Sure, my parents barely know I exist and couldn’t give two shits about any of us kids, but Bren’s foster dad treats him like a fucking dog. He’s practically a slave in that house and regularly gets the shit beaten out of him. The old cunt has Bren working for him, moving his product, and Bren’s already had to do time in juvie because of it. Everyone in the Pines knows about Bruce and Daisy Wilson and why they take in foster kids.
Bren and his sister, Stacey, have been there the longest though, ‘bout eight years now, and it doesn’t seem like they’re ever getting placed elsewhere. Their parents are both dead. Well, their mum is for sure. Bren told me she died from an overdose when he was eight and that’s why he never touches the stuff. I respect that. As for his real dad, no one even knows who he is.
Standing, I pull my hoodie up and look across the oval, straining to see if there’s any sign of Bren approaching. Where the fuck is he? For a second I think I can make out a figure but realise it’s just my eyes playing tricks on me.
I slump back down on the bench seat. If he’s not here by 11:30 I’ll head home. Maybe 11:40. Okay, 11:45 at the latest.
My brother’s the only one who knows the truth about me, and about me and Bren. Around here, you don’t want anyone to know you’re gay, because you’d have to watch your back 24/7. I’m only in year eleven so if those year twelve assholes knew, they would jump me at the back of the school and beat me to a pulp. Not that I’m a pussy or anything, I can hold my ownin a fight, but not against a whole gang. Bren can fight better than anyone I know, and he’s a year older than me, but even he couldn’t hold back four, five, six dudes. Most people are scared of Bren because he's got a short temper and likes getting into it, but I don’t think people would see him the same if they knew he was gay. Shit, I don’t think even Bren knows he’s gay.
The school kept him down, so he’s repeating year eleven this year. That’s how we became mates. I haven’t got a lot of friends because my clothes are second-hand and fucking embarrassing, and when I was younger my mum never looked after me properly. My clothes would stink because she wouldn’t wash them, and I never got to go on school excursions, or have friends over. Once I got to high school, I started doing my own laundry, and my older sister and brother helped me with my homework and taught me how to cook. Things have gotten better, but kids still remember and everyone in town knows my loser parents.
I probably don’t have a chance in hell, even though I’m doing well in school now, but one day I’d like to be a doctor. Stupid fucking dream. But what else do I have to keep me going but my dreams? Anyway, it’s not surprising Bren and I started hanging out. He doesn’t judge me, and he gets it.
The first time something happened between us we were playing footy, and I tackled him. I was just being a smart ass, sitting on him and holding him down, and then his dick got hard. I’ve known I liked boys since I was ten or eleven, but I never imagined someone like Bren could be gay.
We haven’t kissed yet. Every time I try, he finds a way to avoid it, but I think he wants to. He just needs to let himself try it.
I sigh. I want to kiss him so bad. I want to fuck him so bad! But all we’ve done so far is jerk each other off and I’ve sucked him a few times. I think about doing all sorts of things to him.
I don’t really wanna get fucked, that looks painful as hell, but I’d let Bren do it if he didn’t want me to fuck him. That’s how badI’ve got it for him. It’s embarrassing really. I think I’m in love, not that I’d ever tell him. He’d probably deck me if I said that. He says we’re just mucking around, boys being boys and all that. But I don’t know any other boys that jerk each other off all the time or sit touching when they watch TV. What two mates just look at each other even when they’re not talking?
There’s a loud bang on the back of the shelter and I jump to my feet, raising my fists. “Motherfucker!”
Bren’s laughter breaks through the shadows, then his smiling face appears a second later. “You’re a fuckin’ pussy, Davies.”
It’s pretty dark, but I can still make out his features. “You’re a fuckin’ asshole. And you’re late. Been freezin’ my nuts off waitin’ for you.”
“Yeah?” he says, voice dropping low as his eyes slide down my body, stopping on my groin. “We can’t have that now, can we? Want me to warm ‘em back up?”
