Oscar - 22. Part 22

‘What shall we do now?’ I said.

‘That’s up to you,’ he said, stroking a stray stand of my hair back into place.

His fingertips were hot against my forehead and a tingle spread out and around to the back of my head as he stroked. Then it blissfully rolled down my spine all the way to the soles of my feet.

Our spoon session over, he was on top of me again. In between my legs like before. Both of us still naked on his oversized bed; our cocks soft but our muscled bodies hard. His abs on mine. His chest on mine. My load dry and crusting on my stomach and sticking his chest hair together. Our breath slow and controlled and normal.

Everything else far from it.

‘Oh yeah?’ I said, lost in his sensual eyes.

‘Yeah. The way I see it, you have two options,’ he said.

‘I like a choice.’

‘One, we shower and I take you home. Or two, you stay here a little longer and we make more memories.’

‘What time is it?’ I said.

Shifting onto his side he peered at a small digital clock on his bedside table. Rolled back on top of me and said, ‘Eleven.’

‘Plenty of time,’ I said.

‘For?’

‘Option two.’

‘Good lad,’ he said.

He kissed me on the mouth. Not fast but not slow either. Just the right amount of speed and force and softness and tongue.

Perfect.

Everything about him was. His body. His lips. His chin. His nose. His ears. His voice. His laugh. His cock.

His power.

I wanted more. I wanted to see what else I could add to the list of what was perfect about Mr. Price.

‘I want to fuck you this time,’ I said, my balls tightening at the thought of burying my cock between his cheeks.

But he laughed. Raised a single eyebrow and said, ‘Don’t hate me, but I’m not into that.’

I should have kept my mouth shut.

‘Bullshit,’ I said.

‘Sorry, matey. It’s not.’

I wasn’t thinking straight. I was too caught up in the moment. Too excited. Too eager. Too idiotic.

‘Yes, it is. You were on your back when your wife caught you,’ I said.

Playtime over.

His smile vanished. His forehead crinkled and he cocked his head to the side. But not like before. Not smirking like in the park. Not sizzling with excitement like downstairs in the hallway. This time he was confused.

Confused and angry.

It was then I realised what I’d said. What I’d done. He’d told me about his wife. How she’d caught him with another man in the very room we were lying in. But he hadn’t given me the details. The other man had given me those.

‘Who told you that?’ he said.

‘You did,’ I lied.

He rolled off me. All the way this time. Then he walked to the centre of the room and picked up his underwear. Pulled them on and up and turned. Stared at me for a second before moving to the end of the bed, blocking out the light from above.

In the darkness, his face was partially hidden, but I could still make out the whites of his eyes glistening in the dim. No, not glistening. Piercing into me like razor sharp icicles.

‘No, I didn’t,’ he said.

‘Yes, you did,’ I lied again, sitting up against the headboard and looking around the room for my clothes as nonchalantly as I could. Panic rising in my throat.

I’d put my foot it in royally, and the only solution I could think of was to leave.

Get the fuck out.

But there was no sign. No sign of my shirt. No sign of my shorts. Underwear. Socks. Trainers. House key.

Then I remembered. Half of my outfit was outside on the landing. The rest was crumpled in a heap downstairs, carelessly discarded in the heat of the moment. I was completely naked. Naked and defenceless and cornered.

‘Don’t lie to me. I know what I told you, and I didn’t say a single word about how or in what way my wife caught me. How do you know this?’

‘I must have made it up,’ I said, hopping off the bed and walking towards the door.

He sidestepped in front of me. All six-foot-three of him. Muscled and toned and unmoveable.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he said.

‘To get my clothes.’

‘Not until you answer me.’

‘Get out of my way.’

‘No.’

I had three options.

One was to kick him in the balls and run. Fling my leg up and peg it like the wind, snatching up clothes as I went. Which might work in the movies, but not in reality.

Tim was a big guy, literally trained in physical education. And he’d played rugby all his life. He knew how to dodge and defend himself against oncoming body parts. There was a ninety-nine percent chance he would block and have me down on the floor immobilised in next to no time, even angrier.

The second was to tell the truth. Admit that I’d lied to him. That I knew all about his wife and how she’d caught him.

But then he would wonder. Wonder what else was a lie. The flood gates would open. How I knew where he ran. How old I was. Who told me I knew he was gay.

He would never trust me again, which would have been fine if he was some random hook-up. I would never see or think of him again. I wouldn’t care. But he wasn’t and I did. Mr. Price was the best I’d ever had and everything I’d always wanted. And I wanted him again.

Again and again and again.

Option two was no good. Not in a million years, which left option three. Keep lying and lie some more. Put the blame on someone else. Create a distraction so big it blindsided him from the truth.

Make someone else the problem.

‘Ok. Ok. I’m sorry,’ I said backing off. ‘I shouldn’t have lied to you, but I didn’t even think it was true.’

‘Explain yourself.’

Sitting on the side of the bed I hung my head. Bunched up my body into my shoulders. Made myself look ashamed and upset.

It worked. I sensed his body relax. His muscles unclench. His fists untighten.

‘Adam Stanmore,’ I said.

I didn’t need to look up to know the name had made him flinch. At least mentally. But I did anyway.

Staring at the floor he slumped his shoulders. His eyes glazed over, lost in deep thought. No doubt thinking of the schoolboy he’d spent hours with on the pitch. In the changing room. In his car. His home. His bed.

The schoolboy who had made his life come crashing down like a tonne of bricks.

‘I heard from some friends still at school that he came in a couple weeks ago,’ I said. ‘Fucked up. All battered and bruised.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yeah. They said his dad beat him up because he’s gay or bi or whatever. Either way he doesn’t seem to care who knows.’

‘Fuck,’ he muttered.

Like he was muttering to himself. Like he’d forgotten I was in the room with him. Then he looked down into my eyes for the first time in two minutes.

‘Go on,’ he said.

‘We’re not friends or anything. I mean, I was in the year above,’ I lied. ‘But I wanted to talk to him.’

‘Why? So you could find out his secrets?’

‘No. Nothing like that. I wanted to see if there was anything I could do. Because I know what it feels like. To get the shit kicked out of you for being different.’

He said nothing. Nodded. Then he sat next to me on the side of the bed. Not touching but close. Close enough to feel his heat and smell his body.

‘I waited for him after school by the gates,’ I said. ‘To ask if there was anything I could do. But he told me he didn’t need my help. He laughed in my face. Said his boyfriend would look after him.’

‘He has a boyfriend?’

‘Yeah,’ I said, throwing Tim a look.

A look he deciphered instantly.

‘He’s saying I’m his boyfriend?’ he said.

‘Not to everyone. Or at least I don’t think he is. But he did to me. It was like he was showing off. Bragging about bagging the ex-teacher. Just like he brags about fucking girls at his house parties.’

Tim’s features softened and he nodded again. He was saying nothing but believing every word. But I couldn’t lay off. I needed to finish the lie. Plant it deep and cement it over.

‘I told him I didn’t believe him. That he didn’t need to make up stories to make himself feel better, because I didn’t care who he stuck his dick in. But then he told me you and him had been fooling around since he was sixteen. He said he was the reason your wife left. He said he had you on your back when she came home.’

‘He told you that?’

I nodded.

‘And you believed him?’

‘Like I said, not at first. I guessed you two must have spent a lot of time with each other, what with rugby practice, but the idea that you might like guys was, well, honestly it was too good to be true. But then when I saw you out running, I couldn’t stop thinking about you,’ I said, resting my fingers on his forearm.

My touch snapped him out of his daze. His eyes locked on mine. Kind again. But tinged with something else.

Fear.

It was time to seal the deal with the best possible solvent. A sprinkling of truth.

‘What?’ he said.

‘You were right. I did fall over on purpose.’

‘What? Why?’

‘I didn’t know how else to talk to you. I thought you were ignoring me all those times I waved and smiled because Adam was telling the truth. That you two were together and you weren’t interested.’

‘Why didn’t you just say hi?’

‘I was jealous.’

‘We’re not together. I haven’t seen him in over a year.’

‘I know that now. Well, I went ahead and assumed. But I like you. I’ve fancied you since I can remember. I thought you and me would never get together, so I ignored what Adam said. Passed it off as bullshit from the world’s biggest bullshitter. But then, watching you run around that field in your red t-shirt and your tiny shorts, I had to find out for myself. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I thought it would be best if I just pretended like I didn’t know anything.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you’d think I was sad. And desperate. I would.’

He didn’t reply. Not for a while at least. But he did put his arm around me. Around my shoulders.

Then he pulled me into him and kissed me on the side of the head.

‘Thank you for being honest, Oscar,’ he said.

‘I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.’

‘It’s ok. I understand. It’s difficult.’

‘Are you ok?’ I said.

‘I’ve been better.’

‘Can I help?’

‘Not really.’

‘You sure?’

‘Just promise me you won’t say anything about this to anyone. I could get in a lot of trouble if people hear what he’s saying.’

‘He’s eighteen now.’

‘It doesn’t matter. What we did was wrong. And at the end of the day it’s his word against mine. He’s the star rugby captain and I’m the disgraced ex-teacher. I don’t like my odds.’

‘So, it’s true? He was the guy she caught you with?’

‘Yes. But the rest isn’t. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since I quit.’

‘I’m guessing that’s the reason you’re not into taking it up the arse?’

He nodded. Then he nudged me playfully. Said, ‘It does look like a lot of fun though.’

I laughed. But nowhere near as hard as I’d wanted. Mr. Price had just bought my utter bollocks about Adam and I’d managed to save myself by the skin of my teeth. I would have cackled maniacally if I could.

Then the room went quiet and neither of us spoke for almost two minutes.

‘Should I go?’ I said.

‘Probably,’ he said.

‘Can I see you again?’

‘Yes. I’d like that.’

‘When?’

‘How about this weekend? I’ll cook for you. You can let me know exactly how terrible I am in the kitchen.’

We laughed. Then ten minutes later we were dressed. Two minutes after that I was in his car.

The journey to my house took five minutes and we talked the whole way. Talked about how great the evening had been. In the woods. On his sofa. Against the wall. On the landing. In his bed. We talked about how funny it was that I’d thrown myself in front of him and how glad he was that I had.

He parked a few doors down from my house and placed his hand on my leg, the car interior light bright and blazing between us. Our reflections in the black glass of the windows. Total darkness outside.

‘Oscar, I want to say thanks for tonight.’

‘You really don’t need to thank me.’

‘I do. It was nice to have someone to speak to. All the stuff about Adam aside, until tonight I didn’t know how nice it could be to just be myself with someone. Someone who doesn’t judge me over my past. So, thank you.’

His words hit me. Hard and soft at the same time, like a sledgehammer made of marshmallow, right in the centre of my ribs.

Then something peculiar happened. Something I hadn’t felt in a very long time. A swelling in my chest. In my heart. Warm and strong and powerful, heating and radiating through me. Pulling my lips into a smile I couldn’t shake.

I like him.

Not just his body or his legs or the fantasy of Mr. Price. I really liked him.

‘It was a pleasure, sir,’ I said, still unable to shake my smile. ‘Are you going to talk to Adam?’

‘About what he’s been saying?’

I nodded, my fingers, toes and bollocks crossed for the answer I needed.

‘No. I thought about it, but at the end of the day, I don’t want to dredge up long-dead feelings. He can say what he wants, he’s obviously going through a tough time, but just as long as other people don’t corroborate his story I’m sure I’ll be fine.’

Phew.

‘I understand,’ I said.

‘Just one thing, though,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘Is there anything else I should know? Anything else you’re not telling me?’

‘Like what?’

‘Nothing specific. It’s just, not so long ago, there were a lot of lies in my life. And I don’t want that anymore. If something you’ve told me isn’t true, no matter what it is, this is your chance to tell me. I won’t care, I promise.’

My smile disappeared.

I thought about sitting on Adam’s bed all those weeks ago. Listening to his stories and prying out the juicy information. Leaving him high and dry and then laughing in his face. Stalking Mr. Price. Watching him on my reconnaissance missions in the park. Waiting for the right time. Telling him I was nineteen. Pretending to know nothing about his past. Naked in his bed, with the hum of his cock still resonating through my body, lying again and again.

Lost in his eyes, a small part of me wanted to tell the truth. The part buzzing and tingling from his words. This is my chance. He won’t care.

Of course he will. I’ve been a psycho. If I tell him the truth, then what? It will be over and I’ll never feel this feeling again.

‘No,’ I said. ‘There’s nothing else. I promise.’

‘Good,’ he said smiling. ‘Sleep tight, handsome boy.’

‘Good night, sir.’

What’s the harm in one more lie?

More than I could have imagined.