This is a story involving love between an adult man and a boy. There will be sexually explicit parts in places, though sex is not the central theme. It also explores themes that some may find disturbing. Nobody is forcing you to read anything that you dislike, or to continue reading about matters that upset you. While the story is complete fiction, it is not written in a vacuum.

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By villager@hushmail.me 

Abuse – Part 9

continued from part 8 ...

Half an hour later, Matthew padded quietly from his room and snuggled into John's arms beneath his warm duvet. Shortly thereafter he was gasping breathlessly as John's increasingly practised lips and tongue brought him to a shuddering climax. What neither of them realised was that Jake had always had very sensitive ears, and the tumour had not affected his hearing one bit …

Matthew was eager to start his self-defence lessons right after breakfast. John and he moved the furniture to clear an area in the living room.

“Why don't you take the bed apart and use the bedroom?” Jake suggested as they laughingly pushed the sofa, with Jake on it, toward the side of the room. “You could put the bed and mattress in the loft and have the whole room.”

“Where would Matthew sleep?” asked John.

“Why, with you like he usually does,” Jake replied.

Matthew and John looked at each other worriedly. Jake spoke quietly, as if to himself, “I've never told anyone else before, not even Matthew's mother, but when I was Matthew's age, I used to worship someone. A man. He must have been about twice my age. Colin, his name was. He seemed to like me as well and we spent a lot of time together.” Jake looked at Matthew, “He taught me a great deal, and helped me to grow up … in many ways.” Jake again became introspective. “At night I used to hold my pillow and pretend that he was in bed with me and I was snuggling up to him. I think it must feel so good to have someone strong to cuddle like that at night, especially if life has become a bit scary – I never got that chance. Mind you ...” Jake looked up at John sharply, “He lost interest in me after a couple of years … upset me, that did.”

Matthew went over and sat next to his father on the sofa. “Dad ...” he began tentatively, “Were you … I mean did you love Colin … when you were my age?”

Jake looked at his son and nodded slowly.

“Did you ...” Matthew began, then changed his mind and remained silent.

“Yes, we did,” Jake said softly.

John went over and sat on the other side of Jake, and took his paralysed left hand in his own. “I won't, I promise you Jake.” John gave a sudden start, “Jake!” he exclaimed, “Your fingers just moved!”

“Yes, I felt that too,” said Jake excitedly. He grimaced in effort.

“And again!” said John.

“Let me feel,” demanded Matthew, pushing John's hand away and replacing it with his own. “Yes, I can feel it too!” he shouted.

Lunchtime saw the trio back at the “Oak.” Steve, the landlord greeted them, and John diplomatically made it clear that he expected to pay for the meals this time. After the meal however, Steve insisted on buying them each a drink, and as they had walked to the pub (or wheeled to the pub in Jake's case), there was no driving to be done, Jake and John opted for a beer each. Matthew became slightly bored with the conversation, and as soon as he politely could he wandered off to look at two youngsters playing pool on the pub's pool table. One looked about 19, and the other slightly older. It was quite obvious that they were brothers. The pair saw Matthew's interest in their game, and gave him a friendly greeting. When they discovered that Matthew did not know how to play the game, the eldest explained the simple rules, and they both gave a commentary on their shots. John watched from where he was seated, pleased that Matthew had found some friendly youngsters to chat with. After their game, he saw the young lads setting up the table again, and this time the oldest lad gave Matthew a cue and proceeded to teach him to play against his brother. Matthew was happily engrossed in his game, and John and Jake readily agree to a second round of drinks. Steve asked a waitress to take a fresh soft drink over to Matthew, and John asked if she would also take a drink for each of the other pool players. Both looked over toward John and raised their glasses in thanks as they got the drinks, and John waved back a greeting.

The waitress said something to the younger lad, and he looked at Matthew in surprise. “Hey, are you the guy on the news who saved his grandmother from a murderer?”

Matthew looked embarrassed. “Um yeah, except it was Auntie Joan not my grandmother – that is, she's not my real Aunt – and the news is a lie 'cos I didn't do what they said, I just punched the robber an' Auntie Joan sprayed him in the eyes.”

The older lad looked at Matthew wide-eyed. “I thought you looked familiar,” he said, “So what happened?”

Matthew was reluctantly the centre of attention as he explained what had really happened. He was persuaded to lift his shirt and display the knife wound. The two youngsters seemed more impressed by the fact that Matthew had disputed that it was anything newsworthy than the event itself.

John noticed the attention Matthew was receiving, and the fact that he appeared a bit uncomfortable, and went over to join the group.

“How about playing me a game of pool, Matthew?” he asked, “If that's OK with you guys?” he added, speaking to the other two.

As Matthew started the game, Jake wheeled over to watch. Matthew had proven to be a quick study, and while John could easily beat him, he knew that that situation would probably not be the case for much longer if Matthew played regularly. Jake followed the game and began verbally coaching Matthew to improve his technique. The two young men watched the game and all five of them chatted pleasantly. Both John and Jake decided that they liked the two youngsters.

As Matthew started racking the balls for a second game, the sound of raised voices reached them from the bar. An obviously very drunk woman was demanding a drink, but Steve was explaining that she had had sufficient to drink, and was offering her a free coffee in an attempt to placate her. As John looked up to see what was going on, a heavyset thuggish-looking man walked up beside the woman, put an arm around her and began shouting at Steve, demanding that he serve “his girl” a “real drink”.

The pub had been the fulfilment of Steve's retirement dream, and being quite a small 70 year old he was not suited to physical confrontation. John decided to give Steve some support, and walked over to the arguing group. He noticed that the thuggish fellow was about his own age, and had the words “LOVE” and “HATE” tattooed on the fingers of his left and right hands respectively, and there was also a line of tattoos visible around his neck. He glared at John as he approached them at the bar, clearly signalling him to stay away.

“Steve is not legally permitted to serve your friend alcohol,” John said quietly to the man, “You don't want him to lose his licence, do you?”

“Who asked for your opinion,” the man snarled nastily, “Fuck off.” The man made a sudden movement toward John. John stood perfectly still and did not flinch away as the man had expected him to do, but just looked into the man's face.

The man looked back at John, evaluating him. Something about John's stance and his hard, confident expression made the thug decide not to take a chance. “Fuck you. C'mon Deb, it's not worth the aggro, let's piss off out of this shithole.”

As the couple walked out the door, Steve said, “Thanks, John. If I had had to call the police it counts as a black mark against the pub when the licence comes up for renewal.”

“Do they come in often?” asked John.

“Debbie, the woman does,” answered Steve, “Usually high on something before she gets here, and if not she's completely drunk before too long. Usually she just collapses in a chair at one of the tables and is no trouble, but she got that boyfriend of hers a month back, and he is a nasty piece of work even though he doesn't drink as far as I can tell. He doesn't come in with her very often, but when he does he always creates some sort of scene. He'll cause serious trouble one of these days, I know it. I feel sorry for her kid.”

“She has a child?” John asked, surprised.

“Yes. He'd be about the same age as Jake's lad. He used to occasionally come in to collect his mum, and practically carry her home. I haven't seen him since she took up with Mr. Ugly though.”

“That's not right at all,” John stated.

Back in the house, Jake was showing John and Matthew how he had been experimenting while they were at the pub, and he could manage quite a good movement of his fingers. “I've got to get these shoes off and check my toes,” he said, “I think I can move them as well.” A few minutes later it was proven that that was indeed correct.

John gave Joan a call with the news, and the phone was passed around so they all had a chat with her. She told them that she would be dropping round on New Years' day. John and Matthew had taken Jake's suggestion regarding the bedroom, and John spent an hour or so instructing Matthew – and again Matthew turned out to be a quick learner. As evening fell, Matthew became engrossed in a TV program. Something was niggling at the back of John's mind.

“Fancy a quick drink round the Oak while Matthew's watching his program, Jake?” John suggested. “If you wouldn't mind, Matthew,” he added.

“No of course not,” Matthew agreed.

“You're trying to turn me into a pisshead, John,” Jake joked, “But the idea does sound good.”

Back at the “Oak”, Steve welcomed them once again. John ordered an orange juice, and Jake had a shandy. “Looks like you're not such a pisshead after all,” Jake laughed.

John was however looking across to the woman slumped in a chair with her head on the table. Steve had said that she usually came in the evenings. There was no sign of the thuggish boyfriend. Jake and John discussed the woman, and Jake was also shocked to discover that she had a child. “We should help her home,” Jake stated after they had finished their drinks. “Or at least you should – I'm not a lot of good.”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” John agreed.

Steve looked at John gratefully as he saw her approach the woman and speak to her in a friendly way. She responded groggily, and soon he was helping her across the floor. Once outside, she was proving to be a cumbersome package to handle. Jake suggested that she sit on his lap in the wheelchair, and he held her steady with his good arm while John, saving the battery of the wheelchair, pushed the loaded conveyance to where he had discovered Debbie lived in the village.

John had just opened the front door of Debbie's house when he heard the voice of a child coming from within. “I promise I'll be good, Pete, please don't … “ the words choked off and were replaced with a sudden loud and agonising scream of obvious pain. John made a mad dash up the stairs of Debbie's house to where the scream had emanated.

To be continued …

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