Date: Fri, 27 Mar 2009 13:10:45 +0200
From: Dale Taylor <alongweekend@gmail.com>
Subject: The Long Weekend: Chapter 1

TheDevilNinja's note:

This story has been in progress for several years. I first toyed with the
idea back in 2002 and began it then; as is typical of me, I drafted the
first 30-odd pages (the first three chapters) in about a week, then took a
hiatus to think about the structure. The next 30 pages (chapter 4) were
added about two years later, over the course of about 6 months, and
extensive revisions were carried out. Chapters 5 and 6 were drafted and
cleaned up in the last 3 months; Chapter 7, the biggest one thus far, has
been buzzing around in my head for years but only actually written in the
last three weeks. There are several additional chapters planned in my head
but not written yet; I am going through them as fast as I can.

You will probably notice fairly pronounced style changes as you continue to
read, particularly from Chapter 4 onwards. I hope these are regarded as
better rather than worse!

If you like, feel free to drop me a line on alongweekend@gmail.com

Thanks for reading
-tDN-


All rights retained in accordance with Nifty ToS.


The Long Weekend
Chapter 1. There's something about Alec

Two quiet, deliberately understated beeps broke the silence in the
bedroom. One of the figures in the bed awoke, immediately alert. Quickly he
reached out to the side table and picked up the cellular telephone as a
second set of beeps, louder this time, echoed through the room. Without
needing to look at the keypad, he pressed the buttons in sequence to
silence the alarm. It was his morning ritual, after all -- two alarms,
set 10 minutes apart to allow him to snooze if wanted to without
oversleeping.

Having two clocks, though, was unnecessary; the micro hi--fi on the desk
served as one with its handy alarm and sleep timer -- for those periodic
bouts of mild insomnia, or mood--music for post--orgasmic chillout
bliss -- and his small blue Ericsson cellphone with its offbeat, but
strangely enjoyable, selection of ringtones the other. Of course, early in
the morning the alarm ringtone really didn't matter, as long as it woke him
up. The alarm was such that after two sets of beeps, the tone started
playing; most mornings Alec would listen to it for a few seconds. This
morning he'd switched it off as the second set of beeps had
sounded. Unfortunate, really, since the selected tone -- a bizarre
up--tempo cacophony played through the phone's speaker which he reckoned
would have sounded spectacular if played by an adept guitarist with a
decent set--up -- always brought a smile to his face. This morning,
though, he did not want to wake his lover, Matt, and had forgone the
intricate musical vortex. Matt -- bastard -- called it a girlie phone,
anyway.

Sunlight streamed through the gap between the two pale curtains. Even
though it was barely seven o' clock, the long summer days meant the room
was already bathed in a warm glow with the single strip of sunlight running
down the wall to the carpet looking slightly out of place. Nevertheless,
Fudge the cat seemed to like it. This morning, though, she was not annexing
that particular patch of floor as she so often did during the summer
months. Briefly, Alec wondered where she was. Undoubtedly, she would arrive
shortly looking for breakfast. The thought -- breakfast -- galvanised
him somewhat. He had to cook for six at least this morning, and then the
long--planned adventure weekend would begin.

"That's a lot of toast," he thought to himself as he lifted the covers and
swung his legs over to the side of the bed. He could feel the beginnings of
a hangover kicking in, the result of last night's celebrations involving a
large group of guys, a live football match, several mixed cocktails, a very
good red wine and far too much beer -- always a recipe for disaster.

Bracing for the inevitable headache, he stood up and stretched, arms to the
ceiling and backwards, feeling the slight pain run through his skull as the
muscles in his stomach protested briefly to this treatment before giving
over to fabulous sensations. "Damn, that feels fantastic!" he thought to
himself. As he caught sight of his reflection in the full--length mirror
on the opposite wall, it occurred to him to consider finding something to
wear. While none of the guys in the house were prudish, not by any stretch
of the imagination, it was considered polite etiquette to not be naked in
the kitchen. While Alec himself usually slept clothed, whenever Matt slept
over at their place, naked was invariably how they ended up.

He scanned the room briefly. In the corner he could see Matt's
pre-sleepwear, a pair of navy blue boxerbriefs which Matt always pretended
he slept in. Not so -- since his teens, Matt had been sleeping "in the
nick," as he termed it, much to his mother's dismay. While she had never
come right out and complained about it, she had dropped enough hints about
him and his pyjamas that he reckoned she knew what was going on. As a
result, he had always kept whatever he claimed to be sleeping in hidden
inside his pillowcase so that they could be retrieved and put on in a hurry
should the need arise -- "fire and or burglars," in Matt's own
words. Well, that, and of course at the age of 16 he was hardly likely to
wander around the house with no clothes on, so they were also pressed into
service at breakfast and after he'd showered at night to keep the peace
until he dressed for the day or went to bed.

Alec knew that whenever Matt went home, he played out the same ritual for
the sake of his mother, who would generally get ratty and feel affronted
when her 25--year--old son acted willfully, inconsiderately and
generally just did his own thing. Matt certainly could be a handful. So she
was happy, and once he was under covers, in the nick, he was happy too. Not
so at his own place, of course; and not at Alec and Nick's place either,
where Matt would take great pleasure in putting his pre-sleepwear --
play-jamas, he called them -- as far away as he could, usually with his
vocal impression of a fanfare followed by a well--aimed throw into the
furthest corner of the room.

Ironically, outside of sleeping naked, he described himself as "shy" and
was, terminally and enigmatically so. Alec smiled briefly as he recalled
Matt's telling of the story the first time. His own upbringing, too, had
been fairly conservative; unlike Matt, he'd always slept with his door
closed and on the few occasions he had slept naked in his teens, nobody was
any the wiser. It was no mystery as to why Matt had kept his door open as a
kid. As far as he was concerned, closets and laundry baskets were for other
people. As a result, all his "round 2" clothes -- items already worn but
"still clean enough for another go, yeah?" -- were hanging on or over the
door and there was no way short of a small bulldozer to force it shut. Much
to his current flatmate's dismay, this practice had not changed and so
visitors to Matt's apartment were always asked to excuse "Matt's hovel of a
bedroom." Although, as Matt always said, "It's not dirty, just untidy. You
could eat off that floor if you wanted to!" Nobody did.

All this reminiscing, of course, did nothing to help Alec find his own
sleeping shorts. He frowned as he scanned the room once more. They were
definitely not there. "Something funny going on here" he muttered, walking
towards the bedroom door. The single bright strip of sunlight felt
fantastic on his stomach as he surveyed the room from another
angle. Suddenly he spotted them, on the floor on Matt's side of the bed.

He had just pulled them on as he glanced at the sleeping figure of
Matt. The sheet had crept up on the outside of the bed and Matt's gorgeous,
tight, toned backside was on display for all the world to see. It was, Alec
had to admit, probably the most beautiful bum on the planet; a perfect
crescent which filled out a pair of 501s like nobody else could. Alec
himself was no slouch in the body department, but Matt...

Matt had the genes, the temperament and did the necessary activity to
perfect his form. He spent a good chunk of time in the gym, which was where
they had met -- eventually, after much encouragement from Max and Nick
-- and Matt was the envy of anyone who wanted to sculpt their body, as
opposed to trying to bulk up to Mr. Universe, Alec included. He had a
six--pack of abdominals to rival any Men's Health cover boy; pectorals to
match. Legs just the right size and a muscular back cut to perfection
giving him a slight but definite V--shape. His hair was short at the
sides, longer and thick on top; dark brown with light brown streaks running
through. His skin was the colour of strong coffee -- the boy swam for the
University throughout undergrad and now during his post--grad studies,
after all, and had an avid interest in platform diving as well, something
he'd been doing since he was just a kid. Contrasting the cappuccino flesh,
his skin was paint--white below the waistline, in the shape of his racing
Speedo which was one of the skimpiest Alec had ever seen, merely an inch
wide at the sides.

Apart from under his arms, a thin line running down from his navel and of
course his pubes (amongst which nestled a true masterpiece of a cock), Matt
was completely devoid of hair, shaving it at least once a week. If he were
feeling generous, he'd occasionally let Alec shave it for him. He'd never
been that hairy to start with -- Alec was glad of that. Staring at Matt's
milk--white butt caused a stirring in Alec's black bodyshorts as he
remembered the events of last night. Matt's tight little arse had looked
slightly different then; much the same, but those firm cheeks had been
separated somewhat by 6 and a half inches of Alec.

Alec reached over and gently tugged the sheet down into place without
waking Matt. "God, that boy is beautiful!" he thought, wondering for the
umpteenth time exactly how he could have been so lucky. This particular
relationship had been sailing through idyllic waters for the better part of
18 months now; they had finally become an item a week after Alec's 25th
birthday the year before. He was about 8 months older than Matt, although
he felt it wouldn't have mattered if he was 8 years or more older. Things
were good. Not flawless, nothing ever was; still magnificent, though. Matt
stirred and rolled over onto his back as Alec quietly slipped from the
room.

Alec walked through the narrow passage connecting the front and back parts
of the house. It was quite large, really; in an old part of town quite
close to the University, which had seen its fair share of ups and
downs. While the area was certainly back on the up, trends being as they
are, the owner of the house rented it out to Alec, Nick and Max for a
reasonable cost. The place itself had four bedrooms and a very small
lounge/dining room, so the owner had in fact converted the fourth bedroom
into a lounge and replaced the existing one with a second small bathroom.

While the property was not huge, it gave its tenants a decent garden which
was big enough to entertain in, as well as the three large bedrooms, each
larger than the average lounge in those little matchboxes of modern
architecture which people were prepared to sell their lives off for. Pretty
stupid, really, in Alec's opinion. Sure, their address was not the most
fashionable to have, but they got more than what they paid for. He wondered
briefly if his opinion on all of that would change once he'd achieved his
PhD in about 18 months' time and would actually be in the earning world. As
a practical lad, he imagined that it would; reality may cause more of a
change in perception than he would care to admit to himself.

He paused briefly outside Max's bedroom and yawned. A nap later on, early
this afternoon perhaps, wouldn't be a bad idea. He stood there for a few
seconds listening for signs of life. Nothing, really. Well, nothing awake,
anyway. He poked his head around the door and looked down at the sleeping
form of Max, his thick, dark hair spilling all over the pillow, three days'
worth of growth shotgunned about his chin. He and Nick had got lucky with
Max, he thought. The previous incumbent, raving queen that he was, had not
really approved of Nick, and Alec always felt he himself had only really
just been tolerated by the guy, even though Alec actually quite enjoyed his
company. Tension rode high in the end, though, and Alec and Nick were both
very glad to see him graduate and move off so they could choose their own
next roommate. Enter Max, super--bright, good--looking, fun--loving
and all--round hell of a guy who they had both fallen in love with when
he came to look around the place.

There and then he had been offered the room and had been in there for about
two years now. Max was quite an extrovert, completely shameless and, they
discovered, wholly unpredictable. While outsiders reckoned his temper
operated on a light--switch, Max really just had a peculiar outlook on
life and needed a little more time than most to come to grips with certain
people. His sense of humour was more than a touch off--center -- just
plain offside, really -- and he set a lot of store in speaking his mind,
regardless of consequence. "It saves time," Max always said when questioned
about it. "No point in buggering around. Just say what you need to say, and
fuck it." Nick reckoned Max had mellowed a little in his time with them;
Alec was not so sure.

Still, Max was that rare find who played the game differently to everyone
else and still managed to win, and if you ever got into that Eden that was
his personal place, the rewards were like nothing on earth. You got treated
to his gentle insights, intricate thoughts on basic ideas which wouldn't
have occurred to you in a thousand years. You experienced his brain
leveling the most complex issue, or firing a bullet through your head on
the simplest one. He lent his own soul to everything, and if you were in
that sanctuary of his, to you as well.

Max was somewhat of a paradox, though; the outward extrovert who seemed to
be a part of everything was in reality very much a loner, comfortable in
his own company and not wanting for anything he didn't already innately
possess. His two favourite films were Scent of a Woman and Terminator 2:
Judgment Day. His CD collection coupled Ravel and Rachmaninov with Pearl
Jam and Alice in Chains and he would serenade you on his beautiful acoustic
guitar with everything from cheesy Mariachi music to something as intricate
as Flight of the Bumblebee. Max was a complex riddle; Alec hoped he'd have
an entire lifetime of companionship to consider solving him.

Alec walked on, hearing the low voice of Simon talking to Nick as he passed
the latter's bedroom. Now there was an interesting scenario. Alec didn't
dislike Simon, far from it; but it always pissed him off when he couldn't
figure someone out and Simon was someone who puzzled him. He couldn't
figure Max out either, to be honest; but that was... different. Simon, he
thought, was often just otherwise for the sake of it. Alec found it quite
perverse, really. He had found that Simon grew on him as time went by, but
he wasn't sure to what extent this would continue. They had found their own
equilibrium, though, for Nick's sake and both of them tried hard to not
piss each other off. They managed about 90% of the time. Ironically, Nick
was always amused by it and that always got Matt and Max to
chuckling. Simon and Alec just had to agree to disagree on certain issues
and both managed admirably. Alec did fully appreciate that Nick needed
Simon, though; if not Simon himself, then someone like him. It was the
yin--yang thing and Nick definitely worked best with an opposite to bring
out the best in him and keep him ticking over. Alec smiled to himself as he
heard Nick's laughter -- Simon presumably cracking one of his many jokes
again. Alec would give Simon that -- the boy had razor wit.

He rounded the corner into the lounge and headed for the kitchen. Over the
counter, it looked like Chris was still out cold, sprawled in his underwear
and with a bulge like nothing else on earth on the sleeper--couch. Chris
had known Alec since they were both in junior school, more than twenty
years now, when Chris had moved into the area from up--country. They had
hit it off pretty quickly, Chris easily falling into place with Damien,
another boy from the same neighbourhood who was Alec's best friend; from
then on, the three were practically inseparable. Until after graduation, of
course, and they all went off to University.

Luckily, the friendship managed to work over the long distances. Chris and
Alec were a mere forty kilometers away from one another, under an hour in
traffic on an average day; Damien had ended up a good two hours away --
by plane, unfortunately. Thanks to a love of writing long, often arbitrary
letters to the others, Damien himself had steeled and continuously
re--invented the friendship, putting in the hours so it still stood
strong some nineteen years after Chris had arrived on the scene. Even now,
every month Chris and Alec could expect a good few pages of hand--written
garbage -- drafted over a couple of days as the mood struck him -- from
Damien; as well as regular phone calls and e--mails.

Alec was well aware that Chris had been really apprehensive about this trip
-- he'd been told Damien wasn't joining them on the weekend away since he
was based up north in another city these days; anyway, he was in France on
business. This was the first time Chris and Alec had actually seen each
other at all without Damien there after the big bust--up two years ago
and still things were a little tentative.

Chris felt a bit neglected, really -- Alec had Matt now, and there was
relief in that for all of them; Nick and Simon were going on six months and
even Max was taking someone along with him who Chris hadn't met yet, so
while he and Damien certainly were no item, it was the companionship he'd
miss most. Still, four days with some great guys wasn't something to sniff
at; God knows he needed a break from the lab, even a short one, for the
slightest of recharges. He'd driven through the night before from his neck
of the woods at the other University where he was completing his own
Doctorate, to save a little travel time. Of course, after the big
piss--up of the previous evening, he'd managed a good solid sleep.

Alec smiled again as he filled the kettle and put on the stove, thinking
how surprised Chris would be in twenty minutes' time. Again Alec marveled
at how fortunate he was to have such an amazing crop of good
friends. Damien was the only one of them who hadn't gone on to full--time
post--grad study at university; nevertheless he was as bright as anyone
Alec knew. He too was a God in the body department -- ironic for a
computer programmer -- with a brilliant temperament; a superbly long fuse
which was rarely lit in Alec's own time with him. He was an optimist
deep--down, somewhat cynical on the outside, perhaps; all things
considered, probably the nicest one of the lot of them. If Alec were to
want to emulate someone, it would probably be Damien. Max was perhaps a
little too eclectic, Nick too flexible, Chris way too hard and
Simon... well, too Simon, really. And he couldn't be Matt, because then
they'd lose the "opposites attract" factor. But Damien was just about
perfect. Of course, they had always had too much riding on friendship --
that, carefully cultivated, painstakingly maintained, hand--reared,
nurtured friendship -- to seriously consider something intimate between
them.

That was something Alec and Chris had discovered the hard way; once again,
Damien had come to the rescue, managing to reserve judgment -- even
though everyone knew he had been mightily pissed off at the time -- long
enough to arbitrate the matter and reset things to progress back to
something resembling what they were before. It had been a difficult time
for all three of them. Especially Damien, who threw all his
at--that--stage meager savings into a plane ticket and flew back home
the day after the big break--up to begin the process of picking up the
pieces and salvaging fourteen years of history, which he'd spent so many
days constructing and strengthening.

Alec and Chris had suddenly discovered that maybe being friends was better
than lovers; neither had liked the revelation, and each had blamed the
other for not making it work. For two weeks it had been up in the air as
they desperately clung to it, then the big fight happened and it was over,
lying in pieces on the floor. And then Damien appeared like a Paladin of
old, and things were set on the long road to repair. It had taken two years
to fix it up to as best at it ever could be from now on; Damien had moved
over from the middle to assist on Chris's side after Matt came into the
picture, and it was thanks to both of those guys that Chris and Alec were
back where they were. Retrospectively, Alec knew that he and Chris just
weren't compatible. Chris and Damien, though... now there was a thought.

The kettle switched itself off and Alec pulled six mugs out of the
cupboard. "Not six, seven" he murmured. Making the six cups was easy
enough. Only Max took his black -- no surprises there -- and all the
guys took two spoons of sugar. He prepared the big coffee plunger, racked
to the limit with Special Blend - Jamaican Blue Mountain and fine Costa
Rican grounds, topped with a teaspoon of French--Roasted. Chris and
Damien had spent many days in their misspent youth trying to build the
perfect Special Blend and as far as they were concerned, this was it. He
left it for the mandatory three minutes to brew while he fished in the
freezer for a packet of bacon, which he put into the microwave to defrost.

"Hopefully Simon hasn't forgotten he volunteered to make the scrambled
eggs," he thought as he stuck a couple of slices of bread into the
toaster. Nobody could figure out how Simon got it so light and fluffy. That
was another thing about Simon -- the boy could cook. Alec poured a touch
of milk -- low fat, of course; nothing else for the boys in the house
-- into four of the cups, leaving two black and opting to leave the
seventh until it was needed and carried one cup over to Chris. He placed
the cup on the coffee table and reached down to the prone figure.

"Rise and shine, Label-boy!" The words rolled easily off his tongue as they
did when Damien coined the phrase years before to tease Chris that he only
ever wore designer underwear, and that still prevailed. Chris had taken it
in his stride, as always; this time, he opened his eyes, took one look
riddled with disdain at Alec, and closed them again. Alec prodded him. "Big
day today, Christophe" -- another sore point -- "got to make a move,
son." This elicited a flip of the bird from Chris. Alec laughed. "Don't
make me come down there!" he mock--threatened. With no further response,
he opted to give Chris a bit of impetus, giving the elastic of his
waistband a tug and letting it snap back onto his skin.

"Don't start things down there unless you're prepared to finish the job."
Chris's vaguely groggy reply was laced with menace. A disinterested
"thought not" followed when Alec did not rise to the bait. A few seconds
later, Chris raised himself on one elbow, rubbed his eyes, and surveyed his
surrounds.

"Good morning, sunshine." Alec greeted him with a winning smile, his secret
weapon which had got him into and out of so much trouble over the years.

"Bleaeeuhgh." Alec laughed at that. Chris was a great one for succinct
expression through the use of non--words and somehow always managed to
convey what he was feeling.

"How's the head?"

"Throbbing."

"Ah, mine too," said Alec. "That'll teach us to mix our drinks, won't it?"

"Yeah. And I know me -- mine is going to get steadily worse over the next
two hours. Nevertheless, it will have been worth it."

"Y'all jus' talkin' crazy, now," One of Alec's most--favoured sayings.

"Dude, that Merlot was excellent! I know you're not big into Merlots, but
it really was good."

"Well, yeah," said Alec, "but for what you paid for it, it should be."

"Well, what I should have paid for it if I wasn't in with that dude at the
farm, you mean. True enough." Chris rubbed his eyes again, and swapped
elbows.

"Whoring for wine -- nice. Your folks would be so proud."

"Pah." Chris waved the accusation aside. "You're not shy, are you?" he
asked? Alec shook his head. "Good. Because I need... to do this..." He
proceeded to give his equipment a good scratch, the rapture on his face
sending Alec into convulsive laughter. "Now that is one of life's simplest
pleasures. We thank you, Mr. God." Alec shook his head, grinning.

"It's good that some things never change." This was something he truly
believed; and at some stage of their lives, everyone was a case in
point. "Death, taxes, and Christophe... our label boy." Chris pulled a face
at him.

"Ha ha. Now piss off." They both laughed. "Seriously, though, don't dis my
funky jocks, man. You know how much I love them."

"Indeed I do. And Calvin Klein loves you for that, you can bet your bottom
dollar."

"I could, if I hadn't spent it on these already. And they are Armani. Pay
attention -- you can see the Emporio logo on the waistband."

"I'm not looking anywhere near that. What do you think I am, gay?" It was
an old argument, always conducted in good spirits, and always with the same
result.

"Well, Alec, you can't even think straight..." Again they both
laughed. "You're right -- it's good some things don't change. I really do
miss you, Alec; Damien as well, of course." Alec nodded, a smile still
playing across his lips. "And I mean generally -- not from our abortive
affair."

"I know. I feel much the same, Chris. In theory, it should never have gone
wrong. Who could have guessed?"

"Well, Damien certainly had reservations, even though he never would admit
them."

"Newsflash: Damien always has reservations. Another thing which will never
change." Alec's reply, he realised immediately, was perhaps a little more
forthright than he intended. He softened, and grinned at Chris. "Drink your
Special Blend, even though it's not good for hangovers. I gotta go
distribute the rest." He got up and walked back towards the kitchen,
treating Chris to a superb view of his own backside. Chris gave a low
whistle.

"Work it, boy!" Alec grinned to himself and gave it a little wiggle, to
peals of laughter from Chris. "You are such a tease, Alec!" came the
accusation. Alec turned, a gleam in his eye, and a smirk on his face.

"That's not teasing!" Very quickly, he pulled down the front of his
bodyshorts to expose about half of his cock, to Chris's surprise, and as
quickly pulled them back up. "That's teasing." He picked up two of the cups
and headed down the corridor. He slipped into Max's room and placed one on
the bedside table, away from the clock which Max was prone to knocking
over. Max was still fast asleep. Alec took a deep breath -- Max always
smelled fantastic, thanks to his night--time Chrome after--shower gel
routine. He went through buckets of the stuff. "Another of life's simple
pleasures," Alec thought. He stole out of the room and into his own room
with Matt's coffee. Matt appeared to still be sleeping. As Alec turned away
again after putting the coffee down, though, he sensed a movement from
behind him, and suddenly found himself gripped by the waist and pulled
backwards into Matt's arms.

"Good morning, sunshine." Alec used that on everyone. "Seems someone has
been sent home from Dreamland, hmmm?"

"Because I was a bad, bad boy dreaming of dirty, dirty things, that's why."
Alec turned to face him.

"Ooh, I'll bet. That is a problem."

"Yup. But I have a bigger problem. What am I going to do about this?" Matt
lifted the sheet and Alec looked down. Not unexpectedly, Matt was sporting
a fairly impressive piss--boner.

"I don't know," said Alec. "But we'll think of something." Matt looked deep
into his eyes and their lips locked, tongues probing each other and tasting
whatever touched them. He pulled Alec down on top of him as the kiss
deepened, his left hand around the back of Alec's neck, his right running
down the smooth skin of his back and slipping beneath the waistband of
Alec's bodyshorts. "The last time I saw you these just got in the way," he
mumbled, sliding his left hand down, down the other side of Alec until they
converged on his buttocks.

Without warning, he slipped both hands across Alec's hips and the shorts
found themselves somewhere around half--mast. At the same time, he pushed
his own hips upwards slightly, feeling a tingle as sharp as an electric
shock as their dicks touched. Alec squirmed slightly as his cock began to
swell to its full size, his hands slipping beneath Matt to caress his
cheeks and the crevice between them, one finger briefly touching the
puckering rear entrance to Matt's body, as Matt moaned quietly. Abruptly,
to Matt's annoyance, Alec broke the kiss and sat back on his haunches. His
penis stuck up like a lone tree, ever thickening.

"Dude, I got stuff to do. And the special delivery is about to arrive."

"Aw. You're no fun anymore!" Matt didn't mean it.

"Come now--"

"I might, if you stick around," Matt interrupted. Alec gave him a look
tinged with exasperation. "Oh, all right." Alec leaned forward for another
quick kiss and Matt slid the shorts back up to where they belonged for
him. "Don't see what he's got that I don't," he muttered. Alec grinned
wryly.

"A solid seven inches and a fuckload of cash," he smiled. Matt looked
crestfallen. "He doesn't have your charm and suave demeanor, though. No one
does."

"And I'm in better shape than him, don't forget." Matt would be able to
pull that off over just about anybody and he knew it.

"Yeah, and you give better head than he does."  "Did you just call me a
cocksucker?" Matt laughed and shoved Alec off the bed. "Go on, go and do
whatever you planned to do and leave me. Here. Alone. All by myself. But
pass me that tube of lube before you go..." Alec chuckled.

"So now you're a wanker as well! Interesting." He was obliged to duck as
Matt hurled a pillow at him. He threw it back. As he walked back into the
kitchen, he spotted Chris adding a little more milk to his coffee. He had
to admit to himself that Chris was in the best shape of his life, looking
really trim and nicely toned. Alec's eyes slipped inevitably downwards,
eyeing the profile of Chris's body -- his butt was nice; not Matt's by
some distance, but certainly bite--able; and his package looked
particularly impressive, dressed to the right as usual, silhouetted against
the white kitchen cupboards. Alec remembered seeing Chris naked the first
time when they were just boys around seven or so; and then when he'd
discovered his preference for boys at a later stage, he'd looked at him in
a different light.

There was guilt, at first, of course there was; until it became apparent
the feelings were mutual. The sexual tension between them had built up to
something unbelievable during the adolescent years. At first they'd put it
down to curiosity. Damien -- as usual -- was the first to acknowledge
that there was something amiss; bluntly pointing out that, for him, this
was not merely a phase. As he always did, he just sat them down -- didn't
accuse either of them of anything untoward -- and told them how he
himself felt, that he had a strong suspicion he was bisexual if not gay,
and let them deal with his admission. Alec realised that Damien knew at the
time it was the same with him and Chris, and Damien had faith that they
would not leave him out to dry. He was struck again by the profound insight
Damien had, from an early age; and how much he'd relied on them to remain
true to themselves when he'd done all he could to help. Even so, it took
some time for him and Chris to admit it. Snapping out of his reverie, he
looked again critically at Chris, who noticed his gaze.

"You like what you see?" Chris grinned. Alec grinned back.

"It looks a little different to how I remember it. I haven't seen that much
of you in some time." Chris nodded.

"With Matt's help, I have been putting in some time at the gym. And got
back to running. Triathlon season coming up soonish and I am going to get
back into it. But you haven't answered me."

"Yeah. I like what I see. Giorgio Armani would be happy." Chris grinned
again, and indicated Alec's groin, still slightly swollen.

"Are you really that impressed, or is that courtesy of young Matthew?"

"You're wicked, Chris, wicked," Alec smiled back at him. "It's largely a
bit of both." Chris coloured slightly, flattered. Alec took his hand and
squeezed it. "I'm really glad you're here, Chris; more than you'll ever
know. Damien's best efforts aside, I worried about us, I really did." Chris
nodded, and pulled Alec into a big hug. Both were surprised to find tears
pricking their eyes as they embraced. Alec blinked his away quickly while
Chris let his own swell and a single one spilled down his cheek onto Alec's
shoulder. While Alec said nothing about it, he squeezed even harder; Chris
knew he was aware and that was good enough for him. They held each other
for a long while before Chris broke away.

"Er, Alec, I'm getting a hard--on. It's been a while since I had you in
my arms, you know." Without the slightest hint of embarrassment -- they
were best friends, after all -- he reached down and re--arranged his
equipment again. In his mind's eye, each of them remembered their
collective first time some two years previously. While the brief affair was
doomed from the start, they had really loved each other and that had
overflowed hugely into the physical relationship. They remembered each
other's touch only too well. As the images flashed through his mind, Alec
was obliged to re--arrange his own goods as well, much to Chris's
amusement. "I'd have done that for you, for old times' sake, you know,"
Chris remarked.

"I'm sure you would have," Alec responded. In a way, he'd almost hoped
Chris would take the initiative and touch him again so he could reciprocate
without fear of retribution, but Chris was only joking. Or was he? "For old
times' sake only, huh? Nothing else intended or expected?" he asked. Chris
nodded, unsuspecting. "Matt's still in bed..." said Alec, speaking in a low
voice, "...so do it. If you like. For old times' sake, nothing more." Chris
stared at him, unsure. Rolling his eyes, Alec thrust his hips forward
slightly and put his arms at his sides. Chris cottoned on, and, eyes wide,
took a tentative step forward. Alec decided to cut to the chase.

Taking a step forward, he pulled Chris into a second embrace with one hand,
his other immediately gripping Chris's balls lightly through the gray
cotton of Armani's finest. Chris said nothing, but the shallow gasp of
breath gave tacit consent. Alec let go of Chris's balls and slipped his
hand into his underwear. He felt Chris's stiffening cock, almost six inches
flaccid -- considerably larger than any of theirs -- among the dark
blonde pubic hair he remembered so well, and gently ran his fingertips
along its length and over the head, silken to his touch. Firmly, he
repositioned it so that it pointed up towards the right, its usual spot,
against the top of Chris's quadricep. With a final gentle squeeze of his
balls, he pulled his hand out and placed it against Chris's length, their
skin separated by a mere millimeter of gray fabric. "Better?" he
asked. Chris was speechless, at first.

"God! I wasn't expecting that! Somebody fucking mellowed out a bit, didn't
he?" The exclamation, although whispered, certainly dripped with raw
emotion.

"Yes. And that same somebody still has to deliver two cups of coffee and
cook breakfast for everyone, so if we could perhaps move this along..."
Chris pursed his lips, and looked at him reproachfully. Without a word, he
dropped to his knees, and for the second time in a few minutes, Alec found
his bodyshorts somewhere around his knees. Chris took his time, gently
touching Alec in all his glory and feeling every square centimeter of his
ball sack before tweaking a stray pube, causing Alec to wince.

"Softy!" Chris took the opportunity to tweak a nipple as well, before
rising to his feet and pulling Alec's shorts back up. To finish, he took
the beautifully shaped, neatly circumcised head and pointed it straight up
before removing his hands from Alec's body.

In the silence, they regarded one another. Chris was still breathing
shallowly, eyes wide; Alec had more of a measure of restraint. As their
erections subsided, Chris gulped down the rest of his coffee. "Damien's
best efforts aside," he remarked, "after what I just felt, I often wonder
how on earth we fucked each other up so badly. The mind boggles."

"Hindsight -- twenty--twenty," said Alec. "You and me -- never
again. We have some way to go still. But you and Damien... I think it could
work."

Chris raised his eyebrows. "Come on, skeptic" said Alec, "you can't tell me
you wouldn't go for him if the opportunity presented itself! The guy is a
God with everything you could ever want from anyone; and he thinks the same
of you."  "He thinks that of you, too," Chris countered.

Alec shrugged. "Maybe, but I never got hot for him like I did for you. Of
course, you and I are too similar, Chris, and we get in each other's space
because of it. Damien's different, a bit like Max." Chris nodded, wary --
was Alec aware of what was happening with Max? "Think about it," Alec
said. He retrieved the last two cups of coffee. "I gotta drop these off. Do
me a favour -- stick more bread in there." He nodded at the toaster.

"Sure." Chris made a start for the toaster as Alec headed back down the
corridor. He could hear Nick's voice as he pushed the door open, murmuring
something indistinct towards Simon. As he entered the room, it became
obvious why he couldn't hear whole words. He nearly dropped the coffee in
surprise; with eyes wide open, he stepped back outside and burst into a fit
of giggles.

"Come on in, Alec," Nick called. "Don't be shy!" Alec could hear Simon
chuckling in the background as well. He composed himself and went back
in. Both guys had got back under the sheets and covered themselves up.

"Sorry about that, guys," he said. Nick waved it aside.

"Nothing you haven't seen before, I'm sure," he replied.

"Well, that's not entirely true," Alec said, "but now that I've seen
Simon's, er... bits... I can scratch that off my 'to do' list!"

"Hang on," Simon piped up. "I'd at least expect reciprocation!" That
brought a chuckle from Alec.

"All in good time, my good fellow," he said. "We have a whole weekend of
sand and sun ahead of us -- I wouldn't rule anything out quite yet. In
the meantime, though, please have this splendid coffee as a token of my
apology for interrupting your tasting pleasure."

"Brilliant, thanks." Nick was always pleased when he got coffee. Simon
nodded his appreciation.

"I'm still cooking the eggs, yes?"

"If you're up to it, yes, please. Er... you will of course wash your hands
first, right? One can never be sure where Nick's been these days." Alec
sauntered out to howls of indignation from his house--mate, and stuck his
head back into Max's room. Max was awake by this stage and standing looking
out of the window, the sunlight setting his defined, but thin, body on fire
and changing the colour of his hair. "Good morning, sunshine," he said, for
the third time.

"Alec. It is, rather. Thanks for my splendid coffee. Special delivery, just
arrived." Typical Max, Alec thought, completely efficient with no energy to
waste. Suddenly he became aware of what Max was saying. "Excellent!
Breakfast in twenty minutes, yeah?" Alec called as he rushed out.

He made it back to the lounge. At that moment, the doorbell rang. "I'll get
it," Chris volunteered.

"What would the neighbours say? You're half naked!" Alec called over his
shoulder.

"So are you!" Chris retorted. Alec laughed.

"Mine look like shorts. I'll get the door."

"Fine. Screw you, then!"

Alec laughed again. "How's my toast coming, Chris?" He headed towards the
door, Chris still loitering in the kitchen, pretending to be affronted.
After slotting another two slices of bread into the toaster, he returned to
the sleeper couch and sat down, using the remote to switch on the
television. Alec came back in. Without looking at him, Chris asked "Who on
God's earth was knocking on your door at this ridiculous hour? Don't tell
you had to service the newspaper boy! "

"Something like that." The voice was familiar, but Chris didn't place it
immediately. "How you doing, Christophe?" Chris turned, surprised. Standing
next to Alec, and a very smug--looking Alec at that, was Damien. "Pleased
to see me?"


                                   -x-