Date: Fri, 28 Feb 2003 18:27:46 -0000
From: Ardveche <ardveche@hotmail.com>
Subject: Educating-Alex-11

DEAR READER

===========

An updated version of Educating Alex 11 - a bit longer than the originally
posted version, chapter 12 will follow shorty.  I finally have some time to
myself and I hope to finish Educating Alex at long last.  Enjoy.  You may
have noticed that ardveche.com is gone, and with it is that email address,
so anyone who wants to contact me will have to use ardveche@hotmail.com
(which is also my MSN username).


DISCLAIMER

==========

This is a work of fiction; any resemblance to persons living or dead is
entirely coincidental. The author asserts all legal and moral rights
(copyright (c) 2003 - ardveche@hotmail.com) to this work and you may not
copy it or transmit it in any way except in its entirety and with this
disclaimer. This story features descriptions of sex between adult males:

- if such material is prohibited in your jurisdiction, please DO NOT READ ON,
- if you're under the legal age to read such material, please DO NOT READ ON,
- if you don't like, or are offended by such material, please DO NOT READ ON.

Now, if everyone who is still here is meant to be here or at least aware
they shouldn't be, let's get on with it.  All comments are welcome and
gratefully received (email them to ardveche@hotmail.com).


EDUCATING ALEX XI

=================

It was unpleasantly warm when I woke up Wednesday morning, the apartment
heating was cranked up to full and the bedclothes seemed to be tied in
knots round me.  I haven't been sleeping well since I told Alex about the
scholarship to Oxford.  Thankfully, there was a glass of water by the bed,
so once I had extracted an arm I was able to take a drink and ease my
parched throat.  I was alone.  Monday, Tuesday, and now today Alex, the man
who could sleep through a war, had been up and out for a run before I had
even begun to stir.  This was his way of dealing with stress - run it out
of his system.  And, I guess this whole thing was as stressful for him as
it was for me.

That said, over the weekend I had thought he might strain a smile muscle he
was trying so hard to be upbeat for me.  Eventually, I had snapped and told
him to stop it he was getting so much on my nerves.  And I regretted it
immediately, his face fell so suddenly, he looked like I had slapped him.
I hate to make Alex sad, it's like kicking a spaniel, and I can't bear it.
The worst part of it was that he was trying so hard to put on a brave face
to keep my spirits up.  I instantly felt like a total ingrate, but it gave
me an excuse to hug him tight and tell him how much I loved him.  I was
still lying staring at the ceiling and thinking over the last few days when
I heard the front door bang.

"Hey, sluggard!"  Alex called as he ambled into the bedroom and stripped
off the tank top he had worn for his run, using it to wipe the sweat from
his face.  Alex flushed from exercise was always a sight worth seeing -
especially if you were involved in the 'work out'!

"Sluggard?"

"I'm displaying my erudition."

"What's with the ten cent words?"

"I done got me a boyfriend at Oxford."  He put on his finest hillbilly
drawl as he kicked off his sneakers.  "Gotta git me a improved
vocab-yully."

"Dork."  I threw a pillow at him, but he dodged and the throw was
half-hearted at best.  "You don't need to become a thesaurus to show me
you're smart, I know it already."

"You said it."  He grinned foolishly as he finished stripping, kicking his
running shorts in the vague direction of the laundry hamper.  It was a hell
of a good view, Alex's body was in prime condition, but the sight of him in
running shorts, tight spandex cycle shorts under those, well it made my
pulse race.  But that wasn't the only physical reaction Alex produced in
me, sometimes I would look at him and my stomach would roll over at the
realization that this wonderful man was mine.  Sometimes I would even look
at him and feel my eyes starting to tear up at how beautiful he is and how
lucky I am.  Dumb, huh?  I was brought back to the here and now by the
sound of his voice.  "What?"  He demanded.

"Huh?"

"You're staring at me.  What's up?"  He wore a quizzical expression.

"Nothing, just thinking."

"Yeah?  Wicked thoughts?"

"Maybe!"  I laughed at the wink he gave me.  "Now go shower."

"Come with me?"

"I'll join you in a minute, once you wash some of the sweat off, stinky."

"Charming."  He struck his flamingo pose once again to pull off his socks,
which he balled and threw at me.  Thankfully, his aim was about as far off
as mine was and I was able to bat them away into the corner of the room.

"Jesus, Alex!  Chemical weapons, no fair!"  He now stood naked, except for
the turquoise teardrop I had bought for him and his ring both of which he
seemed utterly attached to, sleeping and even showering with them on.  The
turquoise would need a new cord soon, I suspected.

"Har de har."  He stalked haughtily into the bathroom, head high, an
expression of hurt on his face and I laughed heartily at his back as he
went.  Moments later I heard the shower running and I lay back on my
pillows, reflecting how great it was that Alex and I showered at the same
temperature.  It may sound dumb, but its little things like that that add
up to a life of pure bliss!  With a sigh, I finished untangling myself from
the sheets and padded into the bathroom where Alex was humming tunelessly
under the torrent of warm water.  I stood in silence and watched the
muscled perfection of his back as he worked shampoo into his hair before I
stepped in with him and took over.

"Mmmm.  That's good."  He practically purred as I massaged his scalp.  His
hair was in need of a trim; he had allowed it to grow again since he had
had it cut for his scholarship trustees.  Admittedly, that meant there was
more to bury my fingers in which was a good thing, but it also meant it
hung over his face a good deal more which was a bad thing.

"I am a trained expert."  I murmured.

"Well you gotta be good at something."

I ignored the jibe and concentrated on washing my boyfriend's hair
thoroughly; lather, rinse, repeat, a pleasantly vacant way to spend some
time.  When his hair was clean and silky again I reached for the shower gel
and squirted a load onto his broad back, knowing perfectly well how cold it
would be.  He jerked away from me a little, but remained silent, though I
think I heard a faint sigh as I worked the gel into a lather on his smooth
skin and carefully washed his back.

"You like that?"

"Mmmm.  You have great hands, Ry."

"Yes, I do."  I replied in a low voice as I stepped closer and allowed my
hands to slide around his waist and onto the solid curves of his abdominal
muscles.  A shiver ran through me as I pressed against him from behind and
one of his strong hands clasped mine as the other slid round to my butt,
pulling me close to him.  By this stage, he had to have a pretty clear idea
that he was turning me on, so I wriggled one of my hands free of his grasp
and it crept lower to see if he was aroused too.  Guess what?  He was.

"That feels nice."  He mumbled as I pressed my lips against his faintly
pineapple-smelling shoulder and started a slow, rhythmic motion with my
hands, one on his belly, one slightly lower - if you take my meaning!

"Good."  I whispered, rising up onto my toes to nibble at his ear.  Water
was still cascading down, but because of how we were positioned the stream
was mostly hitting him in the chest as he leant his head back toward me.
"That was the plan."

"God, I love you."  He replied, turning round to take me in his arms,
pressing his lips against mine and kissing me forcefully.  I reveled in the
sensation of his powerful arms around me as I hugged him back and slid my
hands down to his ass, pulling him urgently against me.  He took a tiny
step back, drawing us more fully under the shower, and I directed my
attention away from his lips to the rapidly hardening nubs of his nipples.
Early on in our relationship I had discovered that Alex was seriously
ticklish, unless he was sexually aroused, and then I could do as I wished.
I had also discovered that his nipples were very sensitive indeed,
especially to a gentle bite, and that was proved now as he gave a low, deep
groan of appreciation.

"Okay?"  I asked, straightening up and stroking his shoulders, water
getting in my mouth as I did.  He nodded happily, and flashed the
pearly-whites at me, his adorable brown eyes alight.  "I love you too,
Alex."

"I know."  And again we kissed, preventing him from continuing.  This time,
though, it was Alex who pushed me gently away, dropping to his haunches in
front of me.  With a quick glance up at me, and a wink, he took me in his
hand and began to lick and kiss my shaft before taking me fully into his
mouth.  His hair was plastered against his head as I moved my feet further
apart to ensure my balance as he worked, resting my hands on his shoulders.
The most intelligent response I could make to his smug remark was a little
groan of my own, as his much increased skills were concentrated solely on
my pleasure.  The sensation of the water pouring down my chest, over my
crotch, mingled with the glorious talents of Alex's mouth made it
impossible to delay my orgasm for long.  Soon I was gasping out the
ecstatic agony of my release as Alex swallowed me to the hilt, a new skill
he seemed as fond of as I.

"Fantastic."  I gasped, resting my head on his shoulder as he rose smoothly
to his full height.

"I'm gonna miss that."  He replied, taking me by the scruff of the neck and
shaking gently.

"You are?"  My incredulity was obvious.

"Sure I am, I love it.  Feels good.  Tastes good."  He grinned sheepishly
at me, as though suddenly embarrassed by his own enjoyment, a slight flush
in his cheeks as he dropped his gaze.  "And it makes you feel good, which
always makes me feel good."  He offered a little shrug.

"You are the cutest."  I pinched one cheek as though he were a schoolboy.

"I'm horny, too."  He replied with a laugh, flapping my arm aside and
nodding at his own obvious arousal standing between us.

"So I see."  I replied with a raised eyebrow.  "And you want me to do
something about it?"

"Nah, s'okay.  I can jerk off."

"Get used to it!"  I joked.

"Yeah.  I guess I'd better."  He answered with a sad shake of his head, his
smile suddenly gone.  I felt bad at reminding him of my own imminent
departure like that, knowing how torn he was between wanting me to stay and
knowing I should go.  I reached out again, placing a forefinger under his
chin and raising his head until he was looking at me.  I smiled and cupped
his cheek with my hand, drawing him close for a kiss and reaching round him
to shut off the water with my free hand.

"I love you Alex, and I'm going to miss you so much."  He looked as though
he was about to speak but I stilled him by putting a finger to his lips.
"But now you need to stop looking so dejected and make love to me, okay?

"I can do that."  He answered, his grin restored.  With a decisive little
nod he released his lower lip from where he had been nervously chewing on
it and, surprising me yet again with his strength and speed, he swept me up
into a fireman's lift and carried me to the bedroom.  With a grunt, he
deposited me on the bed and dropped down with me, kneeling astride my
prostrate, and once again aroused, body.  Have you ever lain on your back,
looking up at the muscled form of a stunning, dripping wet, blond God
moments away from fucking you?  Let me tell you, its not to be sniffed at!

"Stunning."  I was able to gasp as a few drips of water fell from his hair.

"Yeah?"  He smiled, a little smugly, as he flexed his arms for me and
showed off his magnificent physique.

"Totally."

His grin broadened still further as he reached past me to the nightstand, I
had never given up wondering just how broadly the boy could smile, and I
felt him nudge against me.  Never one to refuse Alex, I obligingly raised
up a little, drawing my knees up to make his job easier.  With a tenderness
that never ceased to amaze me in his hundred ninety pound, six foot two
frame he pressed slowly forward, his passage eased by lubricant.  Even in
the height of his passion, he was always mindful of my comfort and pleasure
as much, if not more so, than his own.  A more considerate lover I have
never known, and I groaned my gratitude as he inched further and deeper
into me - suffusing me with an exquisite feeling of completeness of which I
could never tire!

"Okay?"  He asked as I moaned deeply and arched my back, if he actually
expected an articulate answer to that question, he was sorely out of luck.
"Guess that's a 'yes'."

"Shut up!"  I finally barked at him, my hands clasping convulsively at his
thighs.  As he raised my legs and inched forward on his knees, I slid my
grip round to the backs of his legs and we quickly established a glorious
rhythm.  Every time he drew back, I would tighten my grip and draw him back
into me, his hands on my ankles, eyes closed in ecstasy.  Lust, and the
desire to satisfy my lover were all that mattered to me at that moment,
beyond coherent thought I urged him onwards to his own climax.  My own
body, much developed under his guidance, was aflame as his breathing became
erratic and his thrusts less regular.  I knew he was nearing the end, but I
did nothing to help prolong his climax as I could feel my own, second,
orgasm building within me.  Knowing Alex's passion for having the two of us
come together I tried every trick I knew to hold back and wait for him.
Soon all my efforts were rewarded as with a mighty groan Alex came and I
too spasmed repeatedly, caught up in the throes of my own pleasure.

"Wonderful."  Alex finally gasped after he had leant forward supporting
himself, barely, with his arms to prevent resting his full weight upon me.
"Amazing.  Beautiful.  Perfect, perfect man."

"Me?"  I asked as he carefully rolled away and onto his back.

"No, Brad Pitt."  He hit my arm playfully and then his hand sought mine and
gripped it firmly, raising it to his lips and kissing my knuckles before
letting it drop to his chest.  "Of course you, doofus."

"You need another shower."  I commented, tracing delicate patterns on his
chest.

"I'm not alone."  He answered with a grin, rolling onto his side and
kissing me over and over.  Not that I tried for a moment to stop him!
Finally he stopped and with a languorous stretch he raised himself into a
sitting position, arms extended above his head.  With a slap to my bare leg
he stood up and offered me a hand.  "Coming?"

"Just did."

"Funny.  On your feet, stud."

"Oh, alright."  I took his hand and let him pull me to my feet and lead me,
with shuffling gait, to the shower.  After a quick wash, and only the
tiniest amount of groping and kissing, we were soon both clean again and
returned to the bedroom to dress.

"Let's just goof off today, huh?"

"You are unbelievable."  I said, rummaging in the closet for my gray shirt
to go with my t-shirt and khakis, having begun to dress a lot more casually
since being with Alex.

"I know.  But forget about sex for a minute."

"Ha, funny.  Well I'm gonna miss one of my classes anyway, so what the
hell."  I knew I should have been less blasé about cutting class, and he
certainly should, but it just didn't seem to matter then, especially as
there was less than two weeks of classes left.  I glanced over at him, to
see a huge grin on his face as he yanked on his faded blue jeans, pleased
with himself at having won.  I threw his sweatshirt at him, mostly to
disguise the melancholy smile on my own face.  We spent the morning just
lazing in the apartment, making out from time to time, chatting aimlessly,
watching bad talk shows and hooting with laughter at the bizarre topics
being discussed.  Later we ambled into town for some lunch and after a
desultory, and unproductive, couple of hours of Christmas shopping we
picked up some videos and went home.  The evening was not untypical for the
two of us, we phoned out for pizza and ate it in front of the TV - dietary
considerations forgotten - and fell into bed a little after nine, for
another round of leisurely lovemaking.

That was the pattern for much of the next week, with the occasional foray
back into the world of academe, neither one of us seemed to have the
inclination to actually DO anything.  I guess we were both preoccupied with
the future, so the present seemed less important.  Since he had moved in, I
don't think I had spent as much time solidly in Alex's company, we
practically clung to one another for the whole week.  There was something
hopelessly fatalistic about it all, although we did get plenty, and I do
mean plenty, of sex.  By unspoken agreement, we didn't talk about Oxford at
all, just kept our thoughts to ourselves.  Then one night the dam burst,
Alex became terribly maudlin and we wound up clinging to one another,
crying like babies, and saying over and over how much we loved one another.

It rained a lot that week, the weather strangely reflective of our mood,
over which a pall had fallen, and we walked a great deal in it, risking
colds for the sake of being together and for getting out of the apartment
for a while.  It was raining on Monday afternoon as I stood staring out the
window, a mug of steaming hot chocolate clutched in my hand and Satie, my
favorite depressing music, playing quietly when the doorbell rang.  Alex
was at the pool, so with a pained sigh I put down my mug and went to answer
the door.

"Hey, Ryan."  It was Blair.

"Oh, hey, Blair.  How's it going?"

"I should be asking you that."  He laughed as I stepped aside to allow him
to come into the apartment.

"Let me hang that up for you."  I held out my hand for his coat which I
took through to the bathroom, so it wouldn't drip on the carpet.  "Why
should you be asking me that?"  I called through to him.

"Well you guys have dropped off the face of the Earth since Thanksgiving,
buddy."

"No we haven't."  I answered, a shade defensively as I walked back into the
room, Blair simply raised an eyebrow at me and made no response.  "Well,
maybe a little."  I admitted.

"So what's up?"

"Nothing."  I answered with a shrug and a masterful segue.  "You want some
hot chocolate?"

"Alex proposes to you, and you call that nothing?"  He demanded, rising to
follow me to the kitchen.

"How did you know that?"  I was astonished.

"He was wearing the ring, stupid, I'm not blind!  I saw it and asked what
the deal was."  He flashed a winning smile at me, and I was reminded again
of how much I liked Blair, he was okay for a straight guy.  "He went beet
red."

"I bet he did."  I laughed, blushing a little myself.

"But I got it out of him eventually.  Sounds pretty romantic, Ryan."

"It was.  Here."  I handed him a mug of hot chocolate, a huge smile on my
face now at the recollection.  "It was amazing, I couldn't believe what I
was hearing at first."

"I bet.  But you know Alex, man, he's an old fashioned kinda guy."  He took
a sip of his drink.  "Mm, this is good."

"Committing to his gay lover is hardly what I would call old fashioned!"
The idea struck me as amusing.

"It is in principle."  Blair cocked his head on one side and looked at me,
waiting for me to think it through.  And, you know what?  He's right, Alex
asking me to commit to him was exactly the same in principle as him asking
a girl to marry him, and it was sort of old fashioned.  But old fashioned
in a wonderfully Alex-ish way, that he saw no distinction at all.  All he
was doing was demonstrating to someone else how much he loved them.  His
naiveté was by turns his most charming and his most frustrating
trait. Then again, Blair saw it that way too, and nobody could accuse him
of naiveté.  Once again, the only person with a different perspective
was me, the gay activist, who was so busy seeing the differents I couldn't
see the sames.

"Yeah, I guess it is."  I conceded, a little annoyed that once again it was
me, out and proud, who was having trouble getting my head around the whole
relationship thing, something even Alex seemed to be taking totally in his
stride.

"So why aren't you guys out there?  Telling the world?  Huh?  You should be
singing and dancing and skipping down the street."  He grinned at me again,
a slightly comic chocolate mustache on his lip.

"Um, well, there's more to it than that."  I told him all about Alex's
proposal and the scholarship letter and how torn I was between wanting to
go and wanting to stay.  He listened in silence throughout my story, his
eyes never leaving my face, studying me intently.

"Oxford, that's what's bothering you?"  He asked when I finished, that
quizzical eyebrow of his back in play.  I nodded sadly, glad that he
understood me.  "Bullshit."

"What?"  I asked, surprised by his sudden aggressive stance.

"I'm going to tell you the same thing I told Alex."  The same thing he told
Alex?  So he already knew all about it, manipulative bastard!  "Forget
about it, it's a long way off, and its only for a few months anyway.  Jeez,
you two are acting like somebody died or something.  If you really love
each other, and I think you do, then you'll be fine.  If anything, this'll
just make your relationship stronger."

"But..."  I tried to speak.

"And think how great the sex'll be when you get back!"  He winked at me and
I had to laugh at him, the expression on his face was priceless.

"Blair..."  I tried again.

"So you two recluses are coming out of here.  Like it or not.  I'm having a
party Friday night, before people start to head for home, and you are
coming.  You'll get to talk to someone other than Alex, won't that be fun?"

"Was that an invitation?"  I asked, a smile on my lips now, my spirits
lifted by Blair's infectious irreverence.

"Best you're gonna get.  Where the hell is he anyway?"

"Pool.  He should be back soon, if you want to hang here you're welcome."
I glanced at the clock, Alex would normally have been back by now.

"Thanks, but I have to go meet Natalie.  I'm late already."

"Oh, okay."  I shrugged and left him for a moment while I retrieved his
coat.  "Thanks for coming by, Blair.  It's been, um..."  I struggled to
think of an appropriate word.

"Educational?"  He suggested, pulling his coat back on.  "Listen, Ryan, I'm
serious about Friday, I want you both there and I'm relying on you to make
sure he comes too.  Understood?"  He fixed me with a very serious look.

"I'll try, but you know Alex when he gets an idea in his head."

"You'll think of ways to persuade him, I have faith in you."  Another wink,
causing me to blush again and shake my head sadly at him, but I couldn't
quite hold back my smile.

"I'll see what I can do."

"Good man, see you later, Ryan.  I don't want to cramp your style, I'm
relying on you here."

"Bye, Blair."  And I closed the door behind him, leaning against it to
think for a moment before going to wash the mugs we had used.  I had a
feeling Alex was not going to be in a particularly party mood as we were
due to go home to our families a few days later, but I had told Blair I
would try to get Alex to go and I would.  To be honest, though, it wasn't
exactly what I had planned to be doing with our last Friday together,
especially not as I still had so much to put in order before my departure.
With another heavy sigh I turned my attention to the more mundane tasks of
life: laundry.

"Honey! I'm home."  Alex announced his return to the apartment, scarcely
necessary as I had already heard the door bounce off the wall as he came
in.  I recalled the expression on Megan's face the day she had met Alex and
he had used the same greeting.

"Hey, handsome."  I called back to him.

"Whatcha doin'?"  He asked bouncing into the room and kissing me before
flopping down on the couch.

"What's it look like?  I'm ironing."

"Cool.  You do my blue shirt yet?"  He stood again and began rummaging
through the pile of laundry awaiting my attention.

"No."  I answered before he could knock the whole pile over.  "I'm getting
there."

"Cool."  He flashed me a dazzling grin, which almost made up for the inane
repetition.  "You know, you're really pretty domesticated."

"Just as well one of us is."

"Yup.  You'll make a good wife."  His grin broadened as he baited me, but
we had played this game before and I refused to rise to it this time.

"Blair stopped by."  I changed the subject.

"Yeah, he said he might."  He threw himself into a chair.  "Did he tell you
to try to make me go to this party Friday?"

"Yep."

"And?"  He asked tonelessly.

"And what?"  I asked after a long empty silence, which was repeated before
he answered me.

"And are you going to try?"

"I think we should go, if that's what you mean.  But I'm not going to nag,
or wheedle, or beg.  You should make up your own mind, if you don't want to
go, we don't go."  I shrugged and continued with my ironing.  Once again I
was answered with a long silence as Alex sat and chewed on his lower lip,
his brow furrowed.

"I want to spend this time with you."

"I know, and you still can, but a few hours with your friends won't hurt."
I replied.

"Don't be so damned reasonable."

"Why not?  Where's the point in making you do something you don't want to
do?"

"Who said I don't?"

"I assumed from your attitude."

"My attitude?"

"Yes, your bearing, your manner of behaving."  I explained, deliberately
missing the point of his question.

"Ha!"  Was all the response he made to that.

"So?"  I finally asked.

"All right!  God!  We'll go!"  He got up from the chair abruptly and
stalked off to the kitchen.  That was, frankly, far too easy, I had
expected to have to do some more manipulating.  I heard cupboards banging
open and closed and then the unmistakable sounds of coffee being made.
Alex returned a few minutes later and set a cup of coffee down beside me.

"Thanks."

"Sorry."  He muttered.

"For what?"  I asked, genuinely confused.

"For being such an asshole."

"You're never that."  I answered as firmly as I could.  "I just think it
might be fun to get out of the house, it'll be good to see everyone and
it'll be a chance to say goodbye to our friends."

"Yeah, I guess."  He lapsed into silence.  "I don't deserve you, Ryan."

"Yeah, you're right, what did you ever do that was so wrong?"  I grinned at
him, and my old Alex was back, smiling at me and laughing along at my
feeble joke.  With a shake of his head and a wink in my direction he
settled back into the cushions of the couch and clicked on the TV.
Silence, but not the bad kind, descended over us again as I continued
ironing clothes.  I had a feeling of real contentment for the first time in
days; the sure knowledge that no matter what happened Alex and I would
always be able to enjoy quiet moments together like this.  I pulled his
blue shirt from the pile and began to iron it, my thoughts drifting in a
pleasant mindlessness.  Quiet.  Quiet is the real deal for me.  Quiet is
the real measure of a close relationship, the want of a need to fill
silence with pointless chatter.

"That's gonna burn, Ry."  Alex's soft voice brought me back from wherever
my own thoughts had taken me.  I glanced down at the iron and saw at once
that he was right, I was in danger of burning a large triangle into his
shirt.  I swiftly pulled the iron away and offered him an apologetic smile.
"Where did you go?"

"I don't know."  I shrugged.

"Somewhere nice?"  He asked, draining his coffee and rising to come over
and stand behind me, his chin on my shoulder in a familiarly Alex-ish way.
He slid an arm round my waist and kissed the back of my neck gently.

"Well, you were there..."

"Flatterer."  He murmured.

The argument seemed to be over for now.  We were going to go to Blair's
party, and secretly I thought it might be quite fun.  The only problem left
was the endless agonizing about what to wear!

The time passed quickly, much as it had been for the past weeks, we each
had a lot to do to prepare for the vacation and, in my case, for the
semester overseas.  So, before I really knew what was happening, most of
the packing I had to do was done (what can I say?  I like to be prepared)
and Friday had rolled around.  Blair was, unsurprisingly, an excellent host
and he had put together one hell of a guest list.  He had done his level
best to invite as many of my friends as he could, as well as the usual
suspects he and Alex knew from the various sports teams they were on.  To
say it was an unusual mix would be a major understatement.  But, as these
things tend to, it got bigger as the night went on and more random
passers-by joined the party.  Blair, to his eternal credit, coped
wonderfully with the unexpectedly huge turnout and seemed to know pretty
much everyone who showed up.  As you would expect, there were pockets of
people from different groups, but it never really broke down into sort of
separate parties, as it could so easily have done.  Maybe because, partly
thanks to Alex and me, there was now a lot more interaction between various
groups.

Still, despite the kind words from everyone, I won't pretend I wasn't glad
to get away!  Don't misunderstand me, I had a fantastic time, and all my
friends were thrilled about the whole commitment thing, but it was
wearying.  Alex coped well, his friends' reactions were a bit more lukewarm
than mine, but that was to be expected, I guess.  Still, when he sought me
out after a few hours and slipped his hand into mine, I could tell from the
look on his face that he wanted to leave.  We said a few quick goodbyes,
thanked Blair profusely (and both kissed him on the cheek) and snuck off.
One thing I knew for sure was that while I was away from him Alex would
have the best possible friend in Blair.

"That was fun."  Alex said as we walked the quiet streets back to the
apartment, a thin mist of rain in the air, my hand still held firmly in his
strong, sure grip.

"Yeah, it was."  I answered with a small smile as I glanced up into his
eyes.

"So why are you so down?"

"I'm not."  I replied, my eyes on the ground.  Alex stopped dead, and his
hold on me meant that I had no choice but to do the same.  He raised my
chin with his other hand until I was looking directly into his warm, brown
eyes.  Oblivious to the rain which was now beginning to fall more heavily,
darkening the brown leather of his jacket, he looked at me intently.  Alex
has this way of looking at me, where he just seems to be boring right into
my brain, you know?  Where it seems like he's looking right into me, knows
what I'm thinking without me having to say a word.  After an age, he leant
forward and kissed me lightly on the forehead.

"Everything's gonna be fine, Ry."  He smiled softly at me, no teeth, just a
slight turning up at the corners of his perfect lips.  "Trust me?"

"Completely."  I murmured, I don't know if he had meant it as a question or
not, but somehow it seemed to need an answer.

"Good."  He released my chin and pulled me close for a quick, deeply
reassuring, reaffirming hug.  "Let's get home."

We resumed our walk, through the park where once we had danced in the
pouring rain and Alex had made an impassioned speech, telling me how much
he loved me, how when he was with me I was in color and everyone else was
in black and white.  The memory of that day made me feel like crying, and I
squeezed his hand tightly as we approached the bandstand.  He smiled fondly
at me again, reading me perfectly.

"Want to stop?"

"Do you?"

"Could get out of the rain for a minute."  He shrugged, but there was a
twinkle in his eye.

"Okay."  I smiled more broadly at him and we climbed the steps of the
bandstand slowly together.

"May I have the pleasure of this dance, Mr. Thomson?"  Alex asked when we
reached the top step, sketching a little bow at me as he did.

"Why, Mr. Hayes, are we a-courting?"  I asked him, coquettishly.  We both
laughed, and Alex pulled me close for a hug.  "I'm gonna miss you, big
guy."

"I know.  Me too."  He whispered against my neck.  "But it isn't that long.
Maybe I can come visit you out there."

"Yeah.  On your private jet."  I snorted a little laugh at him.

"I'll work something out."  And although I knew there was no way he could
afford the time or the money for such a visit, something in the confidence
of his tone almost made me believe it.

"You're something else, Alex.  You really are."  I replied releasing him
from the hug and taking his hand in mine.  "Let's get home."

"Ok."  He gave me one of his adorably lopsided grins and we headed down the
steps and back towards our little apartment, and to the peace and quiet I
knew he'd been craving, and that I had started to as well.  He squeezed my
hand tightly as we strolled homewards through the park, the rain not
seeming so very troublesome now as I pressed my shoulder against his and
enjoyed the feeling of warmth and strength I always got from being near
him.

Over the weekend we both packed for the vacation.  Alex, once again showed
how much better at that sort of thing he was than I, just like on our
sojourn to Blair's uncle's cabin.  He had little to pack, as he only had to
take enough home for a few weeks, whereas I had the vacation and the
semester in Oxford to consider.  Most of my clothes had to be packed along
with many of my personal possessions.  I am not the world's greatest at
this kind of thing under the best of circumstances, but thankfully Alex
pitched in and helped me out.  If nothing else, it meant that we spent the
last couple of days entirely in one another's company, casually brushing by
each other as we got things from closets and drawers.  Which, as I think I
may have mentioned before, is sheer bliss.  The whole thing, although
tinged with sadness at my departure, was delightfully domesticated as we
had little 'married couple' exchanges over the most trivial things.

"Do you want to take this shirt?"  He asked me.

"Might as well, I guess."

"I've never seen you wear it."

"Are you kidding, Alex?  That's one of my favorites, I wear it all the
time."  In truth, I very rarely wore it any more, but it had been a real
mainstay as recently as six or seven months earlier.  Still, admitting I'm
wrong is not something I'm all that good at.

"You do not."

"Sure I do.  Pack the damn thing."

"Sheesh!  Testy!"  He shook his head sadly at me, but the grin on his face
belied his attempt to look like he was serious.

"Bonehead," I replied, throwing a balled up pair of socks at him, which
bounced satisfyingly off the side of his head.

When we finally finished late on Saturday night (more because of a late
start after Blair's party than the size of the job), I stood and
contemplated the collection of bags and boxes.  Alex had somehow contrived
to get everything he was going to need into one large backpack and a sports
bag.  My collection was considerably larger; my wardrobe, much more
comprehensive than his, was definitely going with me!

"So that's it," Alex said, coming back into the room and placing his hands
on my shoulders, "all ready to go."  He kissed the top of my head softly as
I reached up and placed my hands on his.

"Yeah," I whispered back.

"Doesn't look like much, does it?"

"Well yours certainly doesn't!  You'll look like a hobo."

"Back home, ev'body done looks like a hobo," he drawled goofily into my
hair.  Mocking his own origins again, or rather mocking the way I sometimes
mocked his origins.

"You know what I mean."

"Sure I do," he turned me around and fixed me with those gorgeous
light-brown eyes of his and smiled gently, "but I have clothes and stuff at
home, so I can travel light.  Don't really need much else, my mom'll take
real good care of me."

"Well, she'd better," I replied, only half-jokingly, "or she'll have me to
answer to."

"Nobody messes with my boyfriend," he grinned broadly at me.

"Damn straight!"  I replied, grabbing his wrist and towing him towards the
sofa, he came willingly.

"I sure hope not!"  He laughed flopping down beside me.

We spent the rest of the evening like that, just sitting in one another's
arms, watching the TV intermittently, and talking quietly the rest of the
time, savoring the little time we had left together before we went home to
our families.  That night, in bed, I couldn't sleep and I lay awake, my
back to Alex feeling his warm regular breathing on the back of my neck and
running over and over in my mind every moment of the time we had spent
together.  I could feel tears beginning to form in the corners of my eyes,
tears of mingled sadness and joy.  Alex stirred slightly behind me and a
small whiffling sound escaped him.  His arm was draped loosely over me and
I squeezed his hand a little more tightly.  He shifted again.

"What's wrong?"  He whispered and I felt him pull himself up onto one elbow
so he could see my face.

"I thought you were asleep," I replied softly, keeping my eyes closed.

"I was," I felt him shrug.

"Oh, I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't, I just woke up, I thought something was wrong," he paused and
I could almost hear him chewing nervously on his lip, "I guess, I kinda
dreamed it, but I thought you were crying.  I started to wake up and you
felt tense.  I don't know, maybe I was half awake already."

"I almost was crying," I replied, rolling on to my back to look up into
those reassuring, calm pools of brown, "I was thinking about us."

"I thought as much," he smiled reassuringly at me, "you think too much,
Ry."

"I do?"

"Sure," he prodded me in the side, eliciting a little squeak as I jerked
slightly away, "just go with it, everything will be fine."

"Says you."

"Says me, and I'm right.  Don't ruin these last few weeks by dwelling on
what might be."

"But..."  I started to protest.

"But nothing.  I'm not going to tell you again.  You're going to have the
most amazing time in England, and I'm going to be here when you get back.
I'm going to miss you, but we can still talk, and when you come back I'm
going to love you more than ever."  He punctuated his words with soft
kisses to my forehead and cheeks.

"I guess," I finally conceded after lying gazing at him for a long time as
he looked down on me with that incredible, unflappable sincerity of his.

"The only problem now is getting through the vacation with our families!"
He tickled me again and I squirmed like crazy, grabbing hold of his wrists
to try to stop him and, when he broke free, fighting back.  Soon the two of
us were tied in knots with the bedclothes and both were gasping for breath
between convulsions of laughter.  My depression, for the time being,
forgotten in the sheer exuberance of being with Alex.  I snuggled back into
his strong, sure arms and waited for sleep to overcome me.

Sunday dawned, bright light streaming in through the windows, I must have
fallen asleep because I woke up with a start and found I was alone in bed.
I flapped one arm around limply, looking for a couple hundred pounds of
boyfriend, but he wasn't there.  Gone for a run, I assumed.  I relaxed back
into the pillows and tried to make a list of everything I had to do that
day before leaving for home.  For some reason I felt a real torpor, I had
no will whatever to do what needed to be done.

"Hungry?"  Alex asked, entering the bedroom backwards, pushing the door
open with his butt, and bearing a tray.  I was surprised to see him there,
he usually made such a lot of noise doing things in the kitchen.  "I sure
hope so."  He approached the bed and sat down, one leg dangling over onto
the floor the other folded under him, and placed the tray beside me.

"Wow, impressive."  I said surveying the pancakes and bacon piled on the
plates.  The boy had been holding out on me, I looked up and grinned
broadly at him.

"Yeah, but what about breakfast?"  He answered.

"You're not funny.  Let's eat."

"Okay."  He replied agreeably.  So we munched our way through a thoroughly
unhealthy breakfast, feeding each other little tidbits as we did.  It was
delicious, suddenly the boy had learnt to cook.  I ate with all the relish
of a man enjoying his last meal and complimented him fulsomely.  Though, as
some gentle prodding revealed, he'd phoned his mother for instructions;
still ten out of ten for effort!

But the day's activities could not wait, however pleasantly soporific
eating in bed with Alex was there was much to be done.  With a heavy sigh
and a long face (don't you love zeugma?) I shuffled off to the bathroom as
Alex had volunteered to wash the dishes he'd used.  My flight was earlier
than his, and he was going to drive me to the airport and see me off before
coming back and getting his own stuff.  I mentally reviewed my list, again
(yes, I know how obsessive that is), as I showered, and as far as I could
tell I hadn't forgotten anything.  And so, it was with the heaviest of
possible hearts that I climbed into my clothes and performed a desultory
check of drawers to make sure I really hadn't forgotten anything.  In
truth, my mind was elsewhere - wanna guess where?

"Ready?"  Alex finally called, and a glance at my watch showed me the
answer would have to be 'yes'.  He stuck his head round the bedroom door
and grinned at me.

"How can you be so cheerful?"  I asked him.

"Because I am an optimist," he replied as he approached me, "and you," he
jabbed me in the chest with one finger, "are a pessimist."

"How do you figure?"  I grabbed his extended finger to stop him from poking
me again.

"Because, you, Mr. Thomson, are all 'oh, no, I'm not going to see Alex for
a week' and I'm more, 'I'm going to see Ryan again in a week', see the
difference?"

"I'm not going to see you for ten days."  I pointed out.  "Does that make
me a realist?"

"No, a pedant."

"No, just right.  As usual."

My reply obviously failed to impress him, he shook his head sadly at me and
kissed me on the forehead.  "I'm gonna miss you so much," he whispered as I
slipped my arms around him and let myself enjoy his strength.

"Me too.  More than you know," was my own whispered reply.

"Now come on, Ry, or you're gonna miss that flight and I don't wanna have
to deal with Megan if you don't show up tonight!"

"Fair point!" But I made no effort to let go of him, nor, I noticed, did he
try to release me.  "We should go."

"Yup."  Still neither of us moved.

"OK.  So let's go."

"OK."  Alex mumbled to my neck and then, with a hugely indrawn breath he
pushed himself away from me and released my arms, letting the air out as a
deep sigh.  "OK. You're right, grab some bags, space boy."

Reluctantly I picked up some of my bags and Alex grabbed the others and we
were ready to go.  Dutifully I followed him out of our apartment and down
the stairs to his car, packing everything in wherever there was an empty
space.  Just like on our cabin break, I pretty much left the job to Alex,
he seemed to have a good idea of what he was doing.  Eventually he seemed
satisfied with the arrangement of the bags and with a goofy wave of his arm
indicated that I should get into the car.  Unwillingly, I complied, in a
few hours I would be separated from him and then with the exception of a
few days at his parents' home, I would most likely not see him again for
months.

Continued in Chapter 12