Date: Mon, 1 Feb 2010 10:54:33 +0000 From: Josh Cock Subject: Gareth 2 Skittles was a lot of fun. Stickin' up the pins was well borin', Gareth thought, but the couple of pints of lager smuggled down to him, and the packet of twenty Jack gave him at the start of the evenin', `so he didn't have to keep nippin' up the skittle alley every time he wanted a fag' were far from borin'! He had a well good laugh. He even followed Jack out to the bog for a piss, an' made sure Jack never even got a glimpse, Gareth kept his hand coverin' it all the time he was pissin', and made sure Jack knew he was doin' it deliberately. That was well evil! He let Jack give him a squeeze round the shoulder, though, at the end, when they was all tellin' him how well he'd done as a sticker up, and would he fancy doin' it again next week? Another tenner, more lager and fags and another evening with Jack? Course he'd do it again next week. School was gettin' to be a good laugh as well. Gareth made a point of always being a perfect, normal, schoolboy, never letting slip any hint that he knew Jack as anything other than `sir', never taking any advantage of the developing situation; just occasionally fluttering his eyelashes, or licking his lips when there was no chance of anyone else noticing. Gareth knew he was telling Jack that he had a pretty clear idea of the very unteacherly thoughts that were going through the maths teacher's mind, and he also knew he was telling Jack that there were no objections to those thoughts. "You think away," Gareth was saying, "I don't mind, I quite like it." But there were only silent, coded, thoughts. This was in school, and Gareth knew without having to be told, that Jack needed to keep things this way, that their developing relationship must stay a complete secret. In school, Gareth was a schoolboy and Jack, a teacher, and both must keep rigidly to those roles; once out of school, Gareth and Jack were free to explore, to perhaps, develop their relationship into something more, but only out of school. Gareth was quite happy with this arrangement: it gave him a secret thrill to know that not one single person had the faintest idea that Gareth and Jack were moving around the edges of developing an intimacy that might, sometime soon, possibly lead to Gareth being Jack's boyfriend for real. In school, Gareth did the things he had always done, enough mischief to be the same as his peers, not enough to get him into any real trouble. Gareth had never been a problem pupil, and he didn't become one now. And at three thirty, he was outside, in the car park, jumping into Jack's Audi for the long way round ride home, and some more teasing and word games. "It's got to be more than just you, hasn't it?" Gareth tried to explain to his cock at night. "It's got to be more than he just wants to get his hands round you." "Always been enough for both of us before," his cock complained, "What's so different about this?" "He's not a boy," Gareth said, trying to work out why that made it so different. He knew it did, but he just could not find the words to explain why. "Neither was that slag who tried to pull me out by the roots, but you still let her have a go at me." "I know," Gareth both grinned and winced at the memory, "Bit of a mistake, that one." "Tell me about it!" cock said firmly, "I don't mind if you don't put me through that again!" "You might be right, there," Gareth agreed, "Certainly not for some time, anyway." "So what's so different about this one? It's male, he's gonna know how to treat me properly." "I don't know," Gareth almost whined, "I really don't know." "It's because it's not just about you," a new voice joined in, a voice Gareth had not heard before, a voice that came from somewhere behind him. "What's it got to do with you?" cock demanded, annoyed by this interference with a private discussion. "Because it's a man this time, not a boy; boys deal with you, a man is gonna want to get at me as well." A moment's pause, then the voice continued, "And because it's a man, he's gonna want him," clearly referring to Gareth, "To involve me as well." "Shit!" said Gareth out loud, "Shit! That's it!" "Finally got it into your head that I'm not just for shit, have you?" the voice sneered; "Taken you long enough." Suddenly it was so obvious to Gareth, why hadn't he realised it before? He didn't want Jack to be just interested in his cock, he wanted Jack to be interested in him, all of him; and yes, that would involve the other bit as well; and if that bit was going to be involved, then Gareth wanted, no needed, Jack to like him, really, really like him; like him as Gareth, like him because he was Gareth, not just because he was a boy with a gorgeous body and a nice smile. "You really like him, don't you," both voices said softly, sympathetically, understandingly, "We mean, like, really like him." "Yeh, I do," Gareth whispered, happy that his body understood. "Good," arse said with feeling, "Cos I ain't lettin' just anyone get up me!" "No worries about that!" Gareth responded with just as much feeling; "No-one gets in you unless they're very, very, special!" "Is he special?" mind asked. "Yeh, I think he is. I think I might.....sorta....lo.....like him a lot!" Gareth confessed to mind and body. It was on the way home from the second skittles evening, the evening of the last day of term, that Jack finally spoke; not innuendos, not word games, but something that meant something. He'd done something silly that lunchtime, something that he'd done on impulse; no it hadn't been on impulse, it had been something he'd been thinking about most of the week, and he'd finally done it. He was silent for the first few minutes of the drive home, and that was unusual. Jack usually chatted cheerfully, not about anything in particular, but just talked so there were no awkward silences. He didn't this time; he just drove, looking at the road ahead. Gareth wondered if he should say something, something like, "Thanks for the lager and fags, again, Jack; it's really good of you." "No probs," Jack answered absently; and then, suddenly, awkwardly and embarrassed with himself, he said in a gush, "You know I like you, don't you, Gareth. I mean, really like you. Like you more than I should like you; like you more than you might want me to like you." "Yeh, I sorta guessed," Gareth said, flatly, although his heart was suddenly pounding. "Are you ok with it? I mean, knowing that......well.......bollocks, I might as well say it; knowing that I want to get your zip undone," Jack blurted out. "I can stop seeing you if you'd prefer; if knowing that upsets you." "Course I don't want you to stop seein' me, you daft sod," and Gareth found it harder to keep his voice flat this time. "I will if you want," Jack said quietly, "If it's awkward for you, knowing that I want, well, you know. If that's too much for you. I ain't gonna like it very much, because I'm fucking crazy about you, but if you feel things would be better if we were, well, sorta ....more...distant, then tell me to fuck off an' I'll do what you want." Gareth just did not know what to say; how could he answer this? The words Jack was saying weren't the ones he'd dreamed about hearing, but the meaning behind them most certainly was! "I'll be upset, but I promise I won't take it out on you, won't make things hard for you, at school and stuff. We can still be friends;" and Jack tried to make a joke of it, adding, with an obviously false little laugh, "You can still do the sticking up at skittles." "Don't want you to fuck off," Gareth managed when he at last got control of the lump that had appeared in his throat, and, unable to say what he really meant, settled for, "Want you to like me lots; like it." "You mean that?" Jack's voice was dripping with hope. "An' anyway," Gareth confessed, knowing that it was time to tell the truth, let Jack know he wasn't alone out there; "I always known you wanted me cock." Jack was hit with an enormous left hook of shock. How could the boy have known? He'd always been so careful not to betray his feelings. To behave in a `proper' manner towards the boy. How could he have guessed? "How...?" he started to say. "Way you looked at me from the first moment you set eyes on me," Gareth grinned, suddenly happy that he could at last talk about it, talk with a person, not just with himself. "You've known all along?" Jack was still struggling to come to terms with this. God, supposing the boy had run straight home and said, `My math's teacher fancies me.' End of job, end of career, end of just about everything! "Yeh," Gareth might have said more, said why he'd never really let on that he knew, but `yeh' was enough for now. "Yeh, an' you better go right here, cos we need to stop somewhere. I need a fag." The car filled up with the fug of cigarette smoke -- it was far too cold to open a window -- but neither spoke for a few minutes, both absorbing the enormity of what had already been said. Gareth didn't object when Jack's hand found its way onto Gareth's leg, and stayed there, only moving when it was necessary to produce second cigarettes for both of them. "Sorry if I embarrassed you," Jack finally said, gruffly, trying not to sound soft and silly. "Didn't," Gareth said to his cigarette smoke, and then, trying not to sound soft and silly himself, added, "It was nice." "Was a bit surprisin' though," he went on after another couple of silent drags on his fag. "Didn't know...." he struggled to get the right words, "Didn't realise.....you....well....liked me...as much as that," he finished in a rush. "Knew you wanted me cock, but didn't know.....well... you know." "Neither did I until I started saying it, well, I did really, but perhaps not just how much," Jack confessed. "I mean, I knew I was well fond of you, but I didn't realise just how fond until I knew I had to let you go if that's what you wanted." At fifteen and a couple of months, Gareth didn't have enough life experience to know just how `fond' of someone you have to be to just let them go without any trace of bitterness, but what he did know was that he was seriously, seriously happy that Jack wanted to be with him. "Don't let me go," he said, because that seemed to cover everything. "Won't, promise," Jack smiled and squeezed Gareth's thigh in a more than just friendly way. "Can you handle it? Me being well serious about you?" Wanting your cock and stuff?" "Don't know," Gareth said honestly, "But I'm gonna give it a fuckin' good try! An' I wouldn't be sittin' in your car, parked up in the woods, if I was bothered about you wantin' me cock, would I!" Jack's hand started to move a bit higher but Gareth stopped him putting his own hand over Jack's. "Not here," he whispered, and then, knowing that the time for teasing was past, added, softening what he knew was a disappointment for Jack, "Not here, not in the car." He couldn't explain to Jack, that much as he wanted Jack's hand on his cock, he couldn't let it happen now. Jack would find him already hard and he didn't want Jack to think that all he was interested in was getting wanked, that he was some sort of hot, horny, boy slut. He couldn't let Jack think that, because that is exactly what Gareth knew he was, but he was only that for boys, not for Jack, Jack was different, special. And he couldn't tell Jack that he wanted that first touch to be on his naked body, not a grope through his jeans in the front seat of a car, because that would make him seem like some sort of slut as well. At fifteen and a couple of months he had no way of knowing, really knowing, that if he'd told Jack that, he wouldn't have seemed the least bit like some sort of boy slut, but he would have seemed an awful lot like a boy in love. "School holidays, now," Jack said softly, disappointed that he was not going to get just that little bit closer to what he really hoped was his new boyfriend. "No skittles or anything, so we won't see each other for almost three weeks." "Fuck that! Don't mean we can't see each other, does it?" Gareth asked, horrified at the thought of three weeks without Jack. "Less you're goin' away or somethin'?" "No, I'm not going away," Jack told him, trying to think of a way they could contrive to meet. He couldn't just ask the boy to meet him; if he did that Gareth was bound to think that Jack wanted to meet just in the hope of getting inside his knickers: and yes, he did want to get inside the boy's knickers, but this time, this first ever time, it was more than just that. Gareth's mind went into overdrive, no way was he going to waste three important, valuable weeks of his brand new, first ever, love life. "Not that good at maths, am I," he said suddenly, with a burst of inspiration. "Not that good, no," Jack smiled, lost by the apparent sudden change of subject. "So some extra lessons would be good for me, wouldn't they." "Guess they would." Jack still hadn't grasped Gareth's thought line. "So if I could have some lessons, if I came to your place........." Gareth let the sentence trail off, the implications of his statement being plain to him. Was Gareth suggesting what Jack hoped he was suggesting? "The bus from Gaydon Road does happen to stop right outside my door," Jack said thoughtfully, not pushing the boy, leaving the decision to him, knowing that if Gareth really did come to his house, it could only mean that the boy liked him enough to be willing to take the risk of his zip coming undone. "First lesson tomorrow?" Gareth suggested, voice full of hope. "Ten be alright with you?" Jack croaked the words, his heart pounding. "Perfect," Gareth gave a huge grin, leaned across and gave Jack a quick kiss on the cheek, and then, with total seriousness, he said, "But if you got any ideas about snoggin' me, think again." He paused, unable to resist this one, final tease, waiting till he thought he'd got Jack disappointed again, before adding, "Unless you have a bloody good shave first! I ain't snoggin' sandpaper!" Jack moved his hand from Gareth's thigh, put it round the boy's shoulder and pulled him close for a good, tight hug. He buried his face in the boy's mop of dark curls and muttered, "Lommghh you," into the boy's scalp. "Now, take me home," Gareth said when he was released, "I don't wanna get in trouble for bein' late. Don't want them stopping me goin' out tomorrow." "Oh, shit! Oh, fuck! Yeeessss!" Gareth yelled silently as he hurled himself into bed. "An' you gotta go without tonight," he called down to his cock, "Gotta save it for tomorrow." Gareth was half way into his school shirt when he realised he couldn't wear that. The `rents thought he was going to town to meet some mates, go to one of them's house, play on an Xbox, get a burger; just hang around all day and be back home at ten, on the last bus. He wouldn't do that in his school shirt. He had a silent curse, it would have been so appropriate for Jack to take off his school uniform when he undressed him in about an hour's time, and Gareth had no doubts that Jack was going to undress him! He settled instead for a loose, white tee shirt, worn over a tighter, black sweatshirt. The image that confronted him from the mirror looked tasty enough; definitely boyish, with white for innocence and the black for something else, he giggled to himself. It'd have to be jeans too, he'd never go out to doss around in anything but jeans, but he had some black ones that were a bit thinner and less total jeans than the normal blue ones; go well with the sweatshirt as well. He hoped Jack would like the outfit, not that he wanted Jack to let him wear it for too long. It had taken four months to get to this point, and Gareth didn't want to wait any longer. Four months was quite long enough! He had twelve hours to spend with Jack and he wanted to make the most of every second! Jack wouldn't see the outfit at first, of course, cos Gareth would have his padded, winter hoody on, far too bloody cold to go out without that, but that would come off the moment he was in Jack's house, and Jack would be able to see that Gareth had made a real effort to look as sexy as possible for him. Jack, for his part, was scraping his face with his razor for the third time that morning, almost shaving the skin off in an effort to make sure there was no hint of stubble, just in case Gareth really was going to let himself be kissed. At five to ten, Jack was upstairs, peering out of the window, watching to see the bus arrive. He had moments of doubt, would the boy really come? Was Gareth just teasing him, and having a laugh somewhere at his expense? And then the bus arrived and Gareth's, unmistakable to Jack, figure descended onto the pavement. Jack was downstairs, door open, before the boy had even had time to walk the ten yards to the front garden gate! Gareth shrugged off the outer layer and semi posed for Jack to admire, and admire he did. "You look fucking gorgeous," he whispered hoarsely, "Good enough to eat." "Hope you ain't had breakfast, then," Gareth sniggered with an irresistible flutter of his eyelashes. "What do you want to do?" Jack asked, "How long you got?" Jack had seduced and bedded a reasonable number of boys, but he hadn't been in love before, not really in love as opposed to in lust. He was as nervous as a virgin, and he certainly wasn't a virgin! "Do what you wanna do," Gareth responded, ambiguously, "An' I gotta be home by ten," he added with a mischievous twinkle in both eye and voice. "Ten?" Jack squeaked, "Ten tonight?" "Yeh," Gareth contrived to sound peeved, "They wouldn't let me stay out all night `cos it's our first date!" It took Jack a few seconds before he sputtered with laughter, Gareth joining the mirth. "Anything you want? Jack asked, his entire body all of a flutter as he fussed around the boy who'd come here for him. "Fag, tea, beer, whatever: no, too early for beer; tea then." "What do you want to do?" Gareth asked, understanding properly and for the first time, that out of bed, the boy controls the man; in bed it was going to be a different matter. All those men on their cams, telling him to `get his kit off', `show his cock', `get it hard, make it spunk'; they weren't real: men might do that with a boy they were paying for, but not with a boy they liked, liked an awful lot. As Jack had said he liked Gareth. Jack thought for a moment, and then took the plunge; "Sit on the sofa with you for a bit, have a fag and cuddle you, then, if you let me, I'd like to take you upstairs." "Sounds good to me," Gareth gave a huge grin; "But we might have to get up for lunch." "I'll get a pizza delivered, then we can eat it in bed," Jack joined in the final word game. "Thought you wanted to eat me," Gareth sniggered; "Boy pizza, sounds interestin'." "The boy or the pizza?" "Know which bit you'll want," Gareth sniggered again, "So I spose I'll have to make do with the pizza." They sat close, enjoying each other's closeness, as they smoked. "You are magic, Gareth," Jack's words were soft in the companionable quiet. "Love being with you, close to you." Gareth snuggled in a little closer, he couldn't answer without sounding soft, and fifteen year old boys don't go in for sounding soft. "I think I could be happy just being here with you like this;" the lovers of fifteen year old boys can get away with being soft. "Happier still if my hand was inside your knickers, but this is nice," Jack hinted. They both knew that sex was coming soon, so Jack didn't feel guilty at trying to move things along, just a little. "No way you gonna get your hand inside me knickers," Gareth said, fighting to keep the laughter out of his voice and his dark eyes. Presented with an opening like this, there was no way he could resist one final, really final this time, tease. He could feel Jack's mood change, sense the lead weight he had just dropped on him, and, not having the heart to prolong the disappointment, added, casually, "Ain't wearin' any." Jack's expression as it switched from poorly concealed disappointment, to amazement at what he'd just heard, to a sort of amused annoyance at being fooled by this boy yet again, was too much for Gareth, and he just hooted with laughter. "You shoulda seen the look on your face when I said you weren't gettin' in me knickers," he sputtered though his laughter, "An' then the look when I said I ain't got any on! Fuckin' ace!" "You are one very wicked boy," Jack gave a rueful grin. "I know, that's why you love me," Gareth giggled, not realising the import of the word he'd used. "I do love you," Jack said quietly, all serious now. The laughter went from Gareth's face as he whispered back, "Love you, too;" and this time he didn't give a fuck if he sounded soft. And they'd done it; they'd said the L word, the easiest and hardest word of all to say. They looked at each other; thirty eight year old man and fifteen year old boy, and they fell into each other's arms in a rib crushing embrace. No more words as Jack led Gareth upstairs; no words as Jack softly, tenderly parted Gareth from his clothing. A slow intake of breath when the loose, white tee shirt, and then tighter, black sweatshirt came off and Gareth's perfect upper half was revealed to Jack's admiring gaze. The zip of the black jeans was undone with care, care to avoid any possible damage to the erect, five inch, throbbing, boyflesh beneath. Jack said nothing as he admired the beauty fortune had given him, what words could he possibly find to describe how he felt? He waited till, naked himself, he joined the naked boy in his bed. "Oohhhhhh, Gareth," he whispered as he took the boy in his arms; and that said all that he needed to say. They started slowly, started with gentle kisses and soft caresses. This was a special moment, their first moment as confessed lovers; lust would come for both later, this was a moment of love. They enjoyed each other's mouths; they stroked each other's backs as they kissed; they caressed the swelling mounds of each other's buttocks and they eased their hands along firm flanks. Their organs were pressed tight together between them; two firm tubes of flesh expressing love in their own way. "Oohh, Gareth," Jack breathed again when their first embrace ended. `Thou art the stuff that dreams are made on.' Gareth's education in literature hadn't progressed that far, so he just enjoyed the words. "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more beautiful," Jack quoted as he stroked Gareth from neck to knee cap. This time Gareth was forced to ask what Jack was on about. "Shakespeare," Jack grinned. Maths teacher he might be, but he wasn't illiterate. "Opening of a poem to his boyfriend." "Shakespeare had a boyfriend?" Gareth said in amazement; his opinion of Shakespeare going up by leaps and bounds. Fuck! He'd pay more attention in English Lit. lessons from now on! "Certainly did; don't suppose he was as beautiful as you, though," Jack whispered as he continued to stroke Gareth: which may have been true or just plain, simple flattery; Gareth didn't care either way, he just liked being told he was beautiful. "Wicked," he breathed. Jack's hand finally located Gareth's centre point, closing round the rampant, five, and foreskin covered inches. It was a moment both had waited so long for; a moment that made both man and boy sigh with contentment at the final consummation of a long awaited union of cock and hand. "Lovely," Jack breathed, referring to Gareth's cock. "Nice," Gareth breathed back, referring to the feel of Jack's hand. Slowly and lovingly, Jack kissed his way down Gareth's firm, slender body. He started with the neck, moved to shoulder and then to under the arm, finding surprise and pleasure in the absence of both hair and yucky tasting deodorant, and giving Gareth completely unexpected pleasure in this, to him, brand new experience. It had never occurred to the boy that armpits were somewhere to kiss, but he was glad to have found out they were! He gasped for real when Jack's mouth reached and engulfed a nipple. He'd seen it done and read about it in internet porn, but he'd no idea it sent shock waves through the entire body! None of the boys he'd been with had sucked balls either; that was another first, and another first that Gareth was determined would not be a last! And, finally, his cock was engulfed in the hot, wet, tenderness of Jack's mouth. Being sucked was far from a first, but being sucked like this was! Boys gobbled you to bring you off; some swallowed, some didn't; either way they sucked to get your spunk out. Some made it last, the ones, like Gareth, who liked having cock in their mouths; others got you to spunk as fast as possible. Jack sucked him for the pure pleasure of sucking him and for the pleasure Gareth was getting from being sucked. He sucked him long and slow, taking Gareth right down to the root, He pushed it in the side of his mouth so Gareth sort of fucked his cheek; he licked it top and bottom; he teased and nibbled foreskin with his lips and tongue; He sucked fast, tongue underneath Gareth's cock, forcing the head to drive against upper palette; he sucked Gareth into a world of bliss, a world he would only leave when his spunk eventually jetted into his lover's mouth. They had hours of lovemaking and lust making to come, but both needed this first union, this physical declaration of their love; and what better way for man and boy to join together than the boy feeding his cream to his man, not in a frantic, panting rush, but in a long, slow, pleasure filled consummation of their joining together. Gareth squirted, his cock throbbed, pulsed and squirted it's almost twenty four hour store of cream into Jack's eager mouth, a mouth that milked every last drop, every final oozing; savoured, swirled and swallowed. "Promise me you'll do that to me forever," Gareth murmured when they lay in each other's arms again. "Can't promise that," the mathematician said, pragmatically, "But I will promise to do it for you for as long as we are together," the lover added, far less pragmatically. "That'll be forever," Gareth murmured once more, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, wondering why that ceiling seemed to be rose coloured now, when he'd have sworn it was white, earlier. Fifteen year old boys are immortal and immortally fifteen, so Gareth saw no exaggeration in his declaration of everlasting love. Jack's thoughts had turned to a different aspect of love. It would take the boy twenty minutes or so to recover and reload, which gave him time to discuss something that had been bothering him, just a little. "Got to get you something for Christmas," he said. "Don't have to do that," Gareth said, forcing his eyes away from the rose coloured ceiling; "Don't have to give me nothin'." "I want to," Jack said baldly, "I want to give you something." "Don't have to," Gareth repeated, flattered by the idea that Jack wanted to give him presents, but also bothered, knowing that anything Jack gave him would be expensive and hard to explain away to inquisitive parents. "I got this for you," Jack ignored Gareth's protestations and reached into a bedside drawer. "This isn't a Christmas present, it's just something I got for you." He paused, should he tell the boy the truth? Would it make him look really silly if he told Gareth why he'd bought it? He risked it. "I got it before skittles yesterday," he said, hoping, praying, he was doing the right thing. He extracted a black, velvet sort of covered, box, the sort of box that jewellers put things in. "I knew then that I'd have to tell you what I felt about you," Jack said, almost hesitantly as he handed Gareth the box. "I got it to give to you for when you told me to piss off, something to say I really am nuts about you, I mean, really nuts and, well, sort of something you could remember that by." Gareth took the box, slowly opened it and his mouth opened in a silent gasp. "You didn't tell me to piss off, so it's something to say...well....love you and thank you." Carefully Gareth extracted the gold chain with its astrological symbol pendant. "It's gorgeous," Gareth whispered. "How the fuck did you know my sign?" "Er, school records," Jack admitted. "I had a peek." "You were gonna give me this if I told you to fuck off?" Gareth asked in wonderment. The thing must have cost a bomb! "Yeh," Jack admitted sheepishly. "Bad idea, really, I suppose. You'd told me to fuck off, last thing you'd want is something to remember me by." "Fuckin' hell," Gareth breathed and slipped the chain over his head; the gold chain and topaz pendant looked perfect against his smooth, unblemished skin. "Anyone asks, you can always say you saved up your skittles money," Jack said, hoping that the boy would accept it. "Cost a fuckin' sight more than that!" Gareth breathed. "No-one would know that unless they got really close to it," Jack pointed out; "You could have got it in the market." "Like markets sell three hundred quid pendants," Gareth said, holding up a piece of paper that had been left under the pendant. "You bought a three hundred quid pendant to give me if I told you I didn't wanna see you any more?" The expressions on Gareth's face flicked between, amazement, disbelief and something very like adoration; "You daft, soft, cunt." There was nothing but affection in Gareth's tone, no matter what the words were. "You really are fuckin' nuts about me, ain't you." "Yes," Jack said simply. "Shit, you make me so fuckin' happy," Gareth sniffed, not used to emotions of this nature. "You fuckin' wonderful, stupid, soft, daft, cunt;" and he hurled himself into Jack's arms, burying his face on Jack's shoulder, so Jack couldn't see the soft, daft, stupid, tears that threatened to flow. "There is one thing you could give me for Christmas," he muttered into Jack's shoulder when the tears were under control, "Or try to give me." "What's that?" Jack, so relieved it seemed to have worked out well, that Gareth had accepted his gift and accepted his love, failed to notice his shoulder was slightly wet. "You can try to give me a baby," Gareth whispered. It took a moment for Jack's ears to relay to his brain the words they had just heard. "You want me to..," he started to say, but Gareth interrupted him; "I want you to do everything you want to do to me and with me," Gareth said, his voice still soft and slightly muffled by Jack's damp shoulder; "Everything and anything," he repeated. He lifted his head from Jack's shoulder, looked directly into the man's eyes, dark eyes locking onto lighter brown ones; "I'm yours now," Gareth struggled to get the words right, the words were so important; "I belong to you," he whispered. Jack had bedded many boys, but never one like this: never before had a boy declared himself so completely, so openly, so honestly; but then, Jack had never before bedded a boy who was in love with him. "Oh, Gareth, Gareth," he whispered, his heart full, "Lovely, wonderful, Gareth." "And please, Jack," Gareth begged, "Do it properly. Even if it's just this once, please do it properly. No rubber, Jack, not this first time; you can't give me a baby if you use a rubber." Gareth's eyes pleaded with him, wide with longing and desperation. This first time, this one and only first time, had to be perfect; it had to be; it would live with them for the rest of their lives. Jack understood and wondered again about the beauty he had so unworthily had bestowed upon him. No more words now as Jack eased the boy close; no more words now as Gareth surrendered his body to his lover and Jack took that body, treating it as the precious gift it was. No more words, no need for words, no possibility of words, for mouths were no longer for speaking, mouths were for joining, joining man and boy as only man and boy can ever join. They kissed with a fierce passion, devouring each other in a way they had not done earlier. This was not lust, this was an expression of the intensity of their feelings and Gareth knew this moment would live in his heart and his mind for as long as he breathed. Whatever the future could bring, it could never take away the moment when he shared his first love and knew what bliss truly was. Jack kissed him again, from neck to knee cap, but took a lot longer this time. This time Gareth really learned just how much of an erogenous zone the armpit is, and he would have wondered, if he'd been capable of wondering, why his nipples seemed to be directly attached to his groin. He really writhed and twisted this time as Jack sucked, licked and nibbled his nipples, nibbling one and tweaking the other, then nibbling one and fondling his balls, then nibbling the other one and stroking his carefully shaved thighs. "Love me, Jack," Gareth whispered to himself, but he whispered it aloud and Jack heard; "Love me till I burst!" Jack loved every inch of him, loved in particular those smooth, strong, slender thighs; he loved them with his mouth, loved them with his hands. He held then tight against his chest as he kissed the boy's ribs and stomach, then he loved them with his hands again when he took Gareth's balls in his mouth again, one at a time and then both together. He kept on loving them until he turned the boy over; so easy to do, just the merest touch and Gareth rolled onto his stomach so Jack could love his back as much as he had the front. Gareth experienced bliss again as Jack's tongue slid into his thumb parted crack, licking softly from perineum downwards, leaving not a bit untouched. Time and time again Jack licked and time and time again Gareth moaned, Jack's tongue conducting Gareth's moans. Jack had licked boys into bliss before, licked them there because he enjoyed his mouth in a boy's arse, licked them there because, once in bliss, they would open that arse for the cock Jack intended to plunge into them, but he'd never before licked a boy into bliss for the sake of the boy. He'd never really thought of the boy, just his own lust; now he thought of nothing but the boy. His tongue probed gently at Gareth's rosebud, softly stroking it, softly, softly easing into it. No rush to start getting the boy open for his inevitable defloration, but gently, slowly so his Gareth could experience the full joy of every second. And when that rosebud started to bloom, to open to full flower, Jack restrained his impulse to plunge in deep, as deep as tongue could plunge, so not one moment, not one second, not one instant, was wasted for the boy. No jaw can stay open for as long as Jack wanted his jaw to stay open, and, eventually he was forced to end his oral adoration of his young lover; end it in part only, for he eased Gareth onto his side and engulfed those long since hard again five slender, boyish inches in his stretched mouth while a finger softly probed where tongue had already been. He didn't enter the boy with his finger, he just pushed it gently against the closed again rosebud until that bud opened and drew his finger in. Gareth gasped at the suddenness, at the way his arse sucked the finger inside it, greedily drawing it in and engulfing it in the warm, soft, velvet sheath that awaited it. The gasp turned into a sigh, a long, slow sigh of fulfilment as his body adjusted to a new feeling, and when both knew the time was right, a second and a third finger slipped in to join the first. Gareth knew he was being prepared, being opened and stretched, ready for cock. He knew because he had read about it, watched it on the porn vids he so often wanked to; he knew it and he welcomed it. Jack would soon penetrate him with more than fingers and Gareth longed for the moment it would happen. It would hurt, he knew it would hurt. No matter how gently, how carefully Jack prepared him, it would hurt. Gareth didn't care that it would hurt: pain and pleasure are two sides of the same coin, you cannot know pleasure unless you also know pain. Gareth would wade through the pain for the pleasure to follow, and if the pain was too great, too overwhelming so the pleasure never came, the pleasure would still be there for Jack, and that meant the pleasure in knowing that, would be pleasure enough for Gareth. He would never, never, let Jack know if he was hurting him; this one and only moment must be perfect for Jack as the moments leading up to it had been perfect for Gareth. There was pain, but he buried his face in the pillow, clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. He breathed deep and slow, forced his body to relax, and, wonder of wonders, Jack was inside him, he could feel Jack inside him, filling him, joining them together in a union of love. How long they were joined, how much the lust of man and boy overtook them, how gently or how violently Jack fucked him, Gareth had no idea; he had no idea either, of when the pain went, but go it did. Gareth was in the clouds and angels were singing; Gareth was in a small boat in a rough sea, tossed from wave crest to wave crest; Gareth was in flower strewn meadows and on fairground roller coasters. He was riding a rocket to the stars when the rocket exploded and his insides were coated with something that was warm and wet, and Gareth knew Jack had done as he asked and given him the present he had wanted for Christmas. From now on, for as long as Jack stayed with him, for as long as they were together, there would only ever be Christmases. Those of you who got this far, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed the story. If you got the occasional lump in the throat as well as a lump somewhere else then all is well in the world. Comments are, as always, appreciated. joshcock@hotmail.com