Date: Thu, 22 Oct 2015 09:35:47 +0100 From: DS Subject: New Life with Denholm Chapter 1 I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is James. I'm 16 and going into the first year of sixth form. I'd say I'm a pretty average height at 5"10 and my body is relatively defined. Students in schools these days are judged on popularity, and as far as I'm concerned I couldn't give a shit about whether I was popular or not. As it turns out though, not many people dislike me, I tend to withdraw from drama, and therefore never really fall out with anyone. To begin with, I live in a small village just off from Manchester with my dad. My mum has been out of the picture indefinitely ever since my dad had found out that she had been unfaithful on more than one occasion. She left my dad and I without notice and didn't think twice to leave her 8 year old (at the time) child behind as she found a new life. At the time we lived in a small bungalow in York, but a year later that changed when my grandma died and my dad happily picked up the inheritance to their house; he was never fond of his mother, he'd mentioned in the past how they'd fell out because he returned to England from South Africa one year before compulsory conscription. He didn't believe in the cause and he wasn't even from South Africa, so it makes sense to me. Anyway, they'd lost contact ever since, despite his parents moving back to England in 2001, easily out right buying a beautiful house in the countryside. But that it seemed, worked out in our favour, as we headed down with not an ounce of grievance in our hearts. Now, we live in this rather secluded area, at the end of a winding road leading into the forest. The house is nothing short of magnificent, 12 bedrooms, a swimming pool and endless wildlife to see. I'd always wondered why my grandparents even needed such a big house though, and so many bedrooms, but I'll give them credit, they'd chosen well. My room is on the very top floor. As a matter of fact, the whole floor is mine, with a bathroom and spare bedroom further down the corridor. There are 4 floors in total, and my dads bedroom was the first floor. He rarely exceeded the second floor, partly because we rarely spoke, and he had no need to, and partly because he injured his back whilst jumping off a trampoline when I was young and now struggles to walk up even a few stairs with ease. My dad and I have a mutual relationship where neither of us require much attention, and we generally just get on with our own needs. He works as a translator. Usually boring text translations but occasionally this requires him to travel. This is fine by me; I like having the house to myself, it gives me a sense of freedom, although it can get lonely sometimes. Right, enough of the introduction, let's start off with the day that changed everything. It was the last day of term, and the school was about to break up for the yearly 7 week break. I always liked this day, teachers regarded the last week or so as the 'fun' week. This basically meant that they didn't have to teach, rather shove an old DVD on while they waited for the lesson to be over. This was fine by me. I'd passed my exams and I couldn't think of any reason to do work, as we'd be starting sixth form next term. The final bell sounded and as if unchained from a prison I headed home, walking the winding route home, until my phone started to vibrate. It was my dad, so I answered, and before I could say hello he quickly said, "Hi James, you ok?" Despite being confused by the surprise call, as this rarely happened, I said, "Yeah I'm good, just walking back now, what's up?" After a brief pause, he said, "I need you to get home as soon as you can, something has happened, don't worry though, I'll explain when you get home." "Okay dad, see you soon." And with that, he'd hung up. I felt an urge to pick up the pace on my way home, filled with anticipation, I unplugged my headphones and carried on. As I opened the door my dad was sat at the large wooden table, his eyes fully focused on his intertwined fingers. He looked up, and asked me to sit down. Reluctantly, I did so, and held brief eye contact with my dad and thought, this is bad. Glancing up again, he said, "this may be hard to hear, but I need you to know the details." He then explained that an old close friend of his had been brutally beaten by her husband, subsequently leaving her for dead. The dad had ran away immediately after and didn't report it. At that moment, I didn't know whether to comfort my dad or to keep on listening, as he didn't appear to be finished talking. "The worst part is, they had a son together, a 12 year old boy." And with the slight pause that followed I guessed straight away and quietly said, "and he found her." Dad nodded his head slowly. "That's awful," I said. "Where is he now?" With yet another pause, my dad said, "that's the thing son, he has nowhere else. His parents were both single children, so don't have any siblings to take him in and their parents aren't around anymore. Which is why I needed to talk to you about this. "Okay?" I said, confused. "I've offered to take him in. I think we're his best bet, I know we haven't met the lad before but we've got so much room, more than we need, and the schools not far away and.." I stopped him there. I sensed he was trying to persuade me, something he didn't need to do. "Dad it's fine I'm okay with it. I think it's a really good idea." With a sigh of relief my dad patted me on the back and stood up, and went for the door. He turned back and said "he'll be here later tonight, I'd appreciate it if he were to sleep in the spare room on your floor, I need you to keep an eye on him. Can you do that?" I nodded, and then added quietly, "No kid should see what he saw." With a look of agreement, my dad left the room. That was the most we'd talked to each other in years, and if felt strange, but pleasant. For the next few hours I found myself nervous in some way. I had organised the spare room and made it nice for the boy, though I doubt he'll be sleeping much tonight, given what he'd saw. I'd also tidied my own room, and eventually the whole house, just to make it seem more welcoming. By the time I'd finished, it was eight o'clock, the boy was due any minute. Twenty minutes later, I heard a car approach the house, the tyres grinding over the pebbled path. I was in my room and intriguingly peered out of my window, directly overlooking the driveway. At first the social worker came out of the car. A short, plump woman with far too much makeup on and a beige cardigan. She then turned back towards the back seat, opened the door and began talking to the kid. I couldn't see him yet, but by the looks of it he wasn't in a hurry to get out. After a minutes persuasion, I saw him slowly climb out, and look up at the house. He was fucking beautiful. At least he looked it from where I was standing. He was wearing a grey shirt and black track pants. I rushed down four flights of stairs and saw my dad similarly peering out of the window. He looked at me and said. "Denholm, Denholm is his name." I'd never heard of that name before. It intrigued me. The door rang minutes later, and as always, my dad answered, smiling warmly to both the social worker and Denholm. After shaking the woman's hand and signing a sheet of paper, she promptly left, leaving the boy helplessly alone at the door. My dad knelt down to him, and put his hand on his shoulder. "Son I know what you've been through tonight, and I think you're incredibly brave right now. My name is Richard, and I'm going to be looking after you from now on, is that okay?" The boy nodded, although really he had little choice. I felt now was the time to walk over and see the boy for myself, and my initial thought was, fuck he's beautiful. He was standing at about the height of my chest, and boasted fairly short, blond hair. His eyes were the purest shade of light blue and his lips were beautifully plump. I wandered over and my dad said, "This is my son, James, he'll show you around and help you settle in. At this point, Denholm finally looked up from the floor, and it seemed like he gazed back into my eyes, something I was also doing, which I seriously couldn't help, given the look of him. I was too shy to talk too much, so I simply said, "hi," smiling warmly, as I picked up his suitcases and walked over to the staircase. I turned my head and said, " You'll be sleeping on the same floor as me, I have a room made up for you." With a slight hesitation, he followed behind me, his wide eyes staying focused on the floor in front of him, occasionally glancing up at me, to see where I was going. As we reached the top floor, I showed him to his room, and put his cases down on the carpet next to his bed. "You want any help with unpacking?" I said. He shook his head, and sat on the single bed looking around the room. I showed him how to work the TV, and showed him where the bathroom was. I then told him that my dad was ordering us a pizza and that If he wanted he could eat it in my room. (My dad and I never ate together, and even under these circumstances, this was never going to change.) He eventually replied, the first words that he'd said since he'd gotten here. "No, thanks. I'll be fine in here by myself." This sentence was heart breaking, added to the softness of his voice i just wanted to hold him there and then. Instead, I simply said, "that's okay, only if you're ready." While holding his shoulder. "I'll bring your pizza in when it gets here okay?" He reverted back to nodding his head, and with that I left. Typically on a Saturday night, service was slow for takeaway food, and by the time the food came it was half past nine. Up until then, I'd virtually forgotten about Denholm; he hadn't made a sound from his room. I went downstairs and took the two remaining pizzas from next to the door that my dad had left and carried them back upstairs to my floor. I timidly knocked on the door of the spare bedroom and walked in slowly. When I got inside, he was asleep, which I thought was strange. I wouldn't have been able to sleep had I experienced what he had. Nevertheless, I quietly placed the pizza on the table next to him, not wanting to wake him up. I then left the room, and sat on my bed to eat my food. I watched some TV for a few hours, then eventually switched it off, along with the light, and rolled over to sleep. A few hours later, during a light phase of sleep, I suddenly noticed a noise coming from the other room. Listening closer, it sounded like a quiet whimpering. It seemed Denholm had woken up, and was crying. Again, this broke my heart listening to him. I can't imagine what he must be going through, and to be the one to find his mum in the state she was in must be horrible. I stared at the ceiling for a moment, then stood up, making my way to his room. I walked in slowly again, turning a small lamp on next to his bed. The sudden light caused him to close his now wet eyes and momentarily adjust to it. Looking at his face simply made me want to cry. Everything in his life had been ripped away, throwing him into a new, big scary house with no one that he knows. I reached down and wiped a tear from his face as he looked at me with a look resembling guilt. "You know it's my fault this happened?" I was shocked. And quickly responded with, "don't be silly. This had nothing to do with you. " "They were always arguing about me, my dad said I was too much of a handful because I messed around in school." He paused to sniffle and breathe a deep breath, "I wasn't even in school when it happened, I was skipping it and playing with my friends, and the school rang my dad. He must have just taken it out on her like he normally does. I hate him, I always have. He never even cared." At this point he planted his face into his pillow, punching it in anger at himself. Taking this in was both difficult to hear but also slightly relatable. I never really cared for my mother and felt the same way that he did about his dad, although I'm certain the hatred he felt was worse than mine, without a doubt. "Look, whatever happened, you can't blame yourself. I didn't know your mum or your dad, but by the sounds of things, your dad is to blame, and you know that. Your a boy, and you did what boys do, this has nothing to do with you." He looked up with those beautiful eyes again, sat up and hugged me. Naturally I wrapped my arms around him and let him cry on my shoulder. I was in shock that he had just opened up to me like that, and now he was hugging me as if we'd known each other all our lives. I won't lie though, I enjoyed the hug a lot. I felt like I was protecting him, and as if he was no longer alone. Not just him but myself. The hug didn't just help him, but it helped me, and I loved having someone to hold, especially someone as beautiful as Denholm. "You know If you ever want to talk about this, or if you need anything, I'm here for you. Consider me a big brother." We parted then, and I noticed a smile forming on his face. "I've always wanted a brother." "Me too." I said, returning the smile. "How about tomorrow morning I show you around, the village, show you your new school and maybe go into town to have a look around?" He smiled again, and said, "That sounds good. But you might have to show me around the house first, I don't fancy getting lost." I laughed at this, and then he joked with a cheeky grin on his face, "which way is the bathroom again?" I smiled back and held his shoulder. "You'll be okay, I'm here if you need me." "Thanks James," he said. "Goodnight." And with that, I left, climbing back into my bed. It felt good that I had talked to him. I wanted to make him feel better in any way I could, and weirdly being with him made me feel warm and as if I had a constant inner feeling if belonging. From this moment I knew I had to be there for him as much as I could, after all, he wasn't going to get much communication from my dad, and he didn't know anyone from the area or his new school starting in a few months. The next morning, I was woken up by the shower running in the next room. I hadn't sorted out a towel for him the night before, so quickly got up and fetched one from the laundry cupboard on the third floor. By the time I reached my room again, I was greeted by the sight of Denholm sitting on my bed, shivering, wearing nothing but his underwear. "What's up?" I asked, with a concerned expression on my face. "There's no hot water and I don't have a towel." He replied, his jaw shaking from the cold. "Ahh sorry about that bud, there's a switch on the wall in the bathroom to turn the hot water on. I'll show you, and here." I said as I threw a fresh towel over to him. He immediately covered his chest to warm himself up, leaving the bottom half of his body exposed, which I couldn't help but look at without him noticing, of course. His package was hidden by the corner of the towel, but I noticed his smooth skin on his relatively defined thighs. At the time I was wearing just my underwear and a pair of silk shorts, and naturally the hardness I was developing looking at this wonder sat on my bed was about to become apparent to the boy, so I quickly turned and headed to the shower, turning the switch on as I passed it. I explained how he could put his towel on the heated radiator next to the sink, then it would be nice and warm by the time he got out. He did just that, placing the towel on the raised heater, exposing again his nearly naked body. This time I got a full view of the outline of his package. And I wasn't expecting the little guy to be sporting his own boner. It was about 5 inches from where I could see, and was tucked neatly into the left of his underwear. It was almost as if he wanted me to see it, as he continued to face me, as if he were about to ask another question. It seemed he thought about it, but instead he just smiled, thanked me and with that I left the room. For the next ten minutes I couldn't help but hold the image of his body in my head. I wondered what made him hard in the first place, but then smiled at myself when I thought back to what I was like at that age, anything could set me off. For now, I needed to get rid of my own hardness, before he came back out to get ready for breakfast. He was taking quite a while, and again I reverted back to what I would do, given ten minutes alone in a locked room. I smiled again at this, although it didn't help much to fix my own problem with the image of next doors antics going on. He emerged minutes later, and again like he wanted me to see, or as if he had no idea it was even there, he walked past me with a smile, sporting a noticeable tent in his towel. After adjusting my shorts, again, I went into the bathroom to do the same, (wash myself, that is). However, when I first stood in the shower, and slid the door shut, I noticed what was unmistakably semen on the glass panel, around the height of Denholm's young member. I touched it to make sure, sliding the warm wetness between my fingers. Yeah it was definitely that. "Horny little shit." I said quietly, giggling at the thought. When I'd finished, I came back out (no pun intended) and pulled a clean pair of underwear, shorts and a shirt and then headed to Denholm's room to see if he was ready. I knocked, and after hearing him say come in, I did so. Surprised, I looked at him knelt on the floor, searching endlessly in one of his suitcases. He was wearing just his underwear, which allowed me a decent view of his cheeks, although covered with a thin fabric. I couldn't stop looking and almost forgot to speak as his perfectly shaped behind stared at me directly, instantly causing my own dick to stand to attention. "Uhm, what you looking for bud?" I said after the long pause I took to admire him. "My iPod that my mum got me. It was in my suitcase when I was waiting in the foster home to be brought here. One of the other kids must have stolen it." Things couldn't really get much worse for him at this moment, not only had he lost his mother the day before, now he had nothing to remember her by. No photos, old messages, nothing. Knowing a little about this kind of stuff, I told him reassuringly, "you know everything on there will be saved on a cloud storage system? You haven't lost anything on it." I said holding his shoulder. "But it was all on my iPod and I'll never get that back." He replied, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. I though for a moment, then said, "wait there." As I left the room, rummaging through an old box in my wardrobe. I found my old iPhone. I'd recently got the newest one, so still had this from before. I then reached into my pocket and pulled out my new phone, switched the SIM cards so that mine was in the old phone. I figured he deserved it more than I did. I returned with the new one, and held it out to Denholm, who looked up confused. "Here, it's yours." I said. He looked up in disbelief, and said," what? Really? What will you do for a phone?" I brushed his comment off, and said, "don't worry about me, I've got an old one to use. You keep this one, and after breakfast I'll show you how to get all of your information back on to this phone. Okay?" And with that last comment, he stood up and held me tightly. I hugged him back, my hands resting on his smooth upper back and the side of his head. His skin felt warm and soft, and his hair was fluffy to the touch. I'm fairly certain my dick would react to this, so I gently parted and said, "come on, you need to eat something." As I looked back over to the untouched pizza from the previous night. He agreed, and began walking beside me down the stairs, reaching his arm around my waist and leaning in against me. "Thank you James, really."