A Boy Who Came In from the Cold Ch. 18

Rayne moaned quietly as his face was pushed back down. Ant rested both hands on the back of his head and fucked his throat, delirious with satisfaction. His lover took this for a few moments then planted the heels of his hands in the shifting sand to either side of Ant's bucking hips, pushing himself back up. He took a long breath and another and Ant gazed at him in silent awe, his well-sucked cock shaft still glistening between his young lover's soft, clever lips. The warm breath that spilled over him was almost enough to make him cum on its own. Now Rayne moved to straddle his right thigh and rubbed his hands together, dusting the sand off them before applying them skilfully to Ant's twitching bone. His sexy little tongue wriggled over the leaking glans as he stroked the base of his mate's aching penis. Decisively now he moved between Ant's legs, nudging the older man's thighs apart with his knees. Lifting his head he spat into the palm of his left hand.

"That's it! Fuck me baby!" Ant coaxed breathlessly. "Fuck my sweet arse then get your pants off and ride my cock!"

Rayne stroked Ant's sex wordlessly with that spittle slick hand. He bent forward, tilting his head and running his teasing tongue gently under the other man's throbbing balls. Ant cried out eagerly when he felt the boy's warm, wet lips part around his jolting bollocks, taking them into his mouth one at a time and sucking on that sensitive sac as his deft hands teased Ant's dribbling prick.

"Uuuggggghhhhhh... yeaaaaaahhhhh! Make me cum!" Ant growled, throwing his head back and squirming under him on the yielding sand.

Rayne blew gently on his slippery cock and balls. He bent forward again, an intent expression on his pretty face; dark hair spilling into his pale eyes as he kissed and licked Ant's twitching erection. His fingers and thumb worked the lower six inches vigorously now whilst his lips and tongue satisfied the fat, spongy, purple head.

"You're very tasty," he whispered, in a sweet little voice that made Ant's nuts clench as if they were locked into a vice. "I'm gonna make you cum in my mouth now."

"Aaahhhhhh... yeaaah!" Ant grunted eagerly. "Yeah! Then I'm gonna fuck your hot, tight, teasing arsehole for you!"

"Uh-huh," Rayne murmured, shaking his head a little as he lapped at Ant's big bell-end. He suckled on it like a child with a delicious, melting lollypop.

"Get your pants down!" Ant gasped, bucking excitedly in his mouth. "Get them off! I wanna... Uhhhhh....ohhhhhhh....ooooohhhhhhh God!"

Rayne's hand slipped beneath his ball sac and his fingers rubbed Ant's clenching nuts rhythmically as his lover began to squirt in his open mouth. As the older man gazed imploringly at him he stuck out his tongue, still coated in thick, pearly cream and began to lick Ant's spurting head. Beneath him the naked man stretched out, supine and shot the rest of his hot ejaculate all over his companion's pretty face.

Once he could breathe again, Ant pushed himself into a sitting position whilst Rayne wiped his cheeks on the back of one hand and licked the cum off like a little cat washing itself. Ant leaned in under his forelock and kissed him gratefully. His hand reached down between Rayne's thighs, groping for the fly of his jeans. At once the boy pushed it away and Ant tried a couple more times before he moved physically out of reach.

"Awww, c'mon," Ant cajoled. "Let me fill that tight little fuck hole for you. I've missed that gorgeous arse grinding in my crotch. Let me make you cum hard, baby. I promise you'll love it!"

"Ant... not here," Rayne begged huskily. He was still wiping the spunk off his face and trying to smile, but there was a note in his voice that warned his older mate not to push it. "I'm not ready. Go back to the boat and I'll come and join you there once I've got my shit together. You can do anything you like to me then, I swear. Just give me a few minutes on my own, will you?"

Ant kissed him again, with lust in his heart.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah... go on, you idiot!" Rayne was looking up at him with a small, tolerant smile. He was so beautiful that Ant's heart nearly burst out of his chest with longing for the boy.

"I can really do 'anything'?"

"That's what I said, innit?" Rayne rolled his eyes incredulously.

"You're really not going with McNamara?" Ant shook his head, still unable to comprehend this.

"I'm still here, aren't I?" Rayne said a little impatiently. "Look Ant... I don't need his fucking money. I'm not just some fuck toy for people like him and Leland to put on display. Oh..." he looked down suddenly, rummaging in one of the pockets of his discarded jacket. "You 'can' do something for me. Will you take this?" He lowered his voice conspiratorially now, handing Ant a chunky package in a crumpled envelope; "It's the money I got for the film. I feel nervous carryin' it about with me."

Ant took the envelope, both honoured and surprised that the boy had chosen to trust him with it.

"I didn't know he'd paid you," he said, surprised by this. "I thought they made a loss."

"I guess I was worth the effort," Rayne said sarcastically. "Just take it, will you?"

"If you're sure," he ventured, feeling a flood of warmth and protectiveness towards his young lover.

"I'm sure. I just need a minute to get my head together and I'll follow you," Rayne exhaled. He sounded relieved.

Ant crouched lower and kissed him softly on the mouth one last time.

"Don't sit out here too long. You might wash away," he whispered between the boy's lightly parted lips. "I'll warm the bed for you."

Rayne caught his hair gently in one hand as he moved to rise. His lips offered another kiss and Ant accepted greedily.

"I'm sorry," Rayne breathed as they drew apart again.

Would wonders never cease? Ant stared at him disbelievingly. "What on earth for?"

"I've really fucked you about, 'aven't I?" the boy said in a small, contrite sounding voice. The tip of his nose brushed against Ant's and they kissed one another again. "I can never make it up to you."

"You can make a start tonight," Ant promised him with a grin. "We'll start off with you getting out of your clothes, then getting that sweet young arse nice and slippery so that you can sit yourself right down on my big hard cock."

Rayne stroked his cheek fondly for a moment then let him go.

"You'd best go back and start lubing it up for me then," he advised with an innocent little smile.

Ant strode back down the beach with the lightest of hearts. He even whistled to himself as he marched over the damp sand at the water's edge. A couple of times he glanced back over his shoulder until the darkness made it impossible for him to make out the huddled shape of his beloved boy, gazing out to sea with eyes that were impossible to read.

ENDGAME 1:

Rayne Wilde hugged his knees to his chest and watched the older man go. It had been a relief to give him the money. It solved one problem quite neatly for him and made the rest of his plans much easier to carry out. The next would be much harder.

He was surprised at how painful it was to watch the other man walk away knowing that he would probably never see him again. Ant had been incredibly good to him and he did not deserve half of that kindness. He knew in his rotten heart that Ant would be gutted by the truth. The fellow tried to hide his vulnerability behind a tough act that Rayne saw straight through. It was so easy to make him happy. The right buttons to push were just out there, on clear display. Once upon a time Rayne would have pushed them all and milked the poor sucker for everything he had, then walked away as fast as he dared.

He supposed that he was not the same boy who had come away to France with Ant almost three weeks earlier. This experience had changed him. He worried that it had also weakened him.

Rayne sat and watched the sea for a while. The moon was not yet risen and the waves were whispering ghosts in the gathering gloom. The hiss and hush of their surging passage up and down the beach, tugging sand and shells in their wake reminded him of his childhood. He had grown up beside the sea and the sound of it always soothed his spirits when he was feeling low and restless. Now he propped his chin against his knees thinking of the other day, standing to his shoulders in the cold water, letting the current tug at him. How close had he come to yielding; allowing the pull of the ocean to swallow him down and keep him forever? Would it have been less complicated to sink into the drowning depths, to follow the ghostly voices that called out to him? They would never let him hurt another soul. He could still do it. If he stripped off and walked out into the sea now no one would ever find him and the world would be a better place.

A noise jolted him out of his morbid reverie, a cautious tread in the sand behind him and he turned abruptly, worried that Ant had come back to look for him. Standing behind him was a burly, bearded man, his broad, hairy body unashamedly naked. He was stroking his cock and smiling with idiotic hopefulness.

"You want company?" he asked carefully in a heavily accented voice.

Rayne exhaled a long, shuddering breath. His heart was already slowing as he swallowed to combat the sudden dryness in his mouth.

"No," he said firmly. "I'm okay. Thanks... anyway!"

The man kept on watching him and stroking very deliberately as Rayne pushed himself to his feet and picked up his belongings, slinging the strap of the guitar case over one shoulder and throwing the black satchel with his clothes and the rest of his stuff over the other. Shaking his dark head, he turned and trudged off along the beach, following the edge of the water, walking with his back to the lighthouse and the sounds of music and muted laughter from the clubs and bars of the Cap. He kept his gaze fixed on the distant, twinkling lights of Sete and he did not look back.

ENDGAME 2:

On Daniel's boat, back in Ambonne, Ant settled down on the bed with a bottle of wine and two glasses and poured some lubricant into the palm of his hand. He lay back, taking his time, enjoying the pull of his slippery hand on the shaft of his stiffening cock. Thierry looked in on him and asked if he wanted company, but he shook his head. He thought the pretty French lad looked disappointed but he did not quibble and left Ant to his own devices. In turn Ant felt guilty for casting him aside so readily, but his thoughts were already running ahead to the delicious things he would do to Rayne once the black sheep returned to the fold. His gaze moved to the face of his watch on the bedside cabinet when he had been masturbating more vigorously for a little while. He watched the minutes tick by and a flicker of anxiety replaced his eagerness. It had been nearly half an hour now. Was Rayne all right? Had some predator like Christophe pounced on him as he walked back in the dark.

"I should have stayed with him," he murmured to himself, shaking his head as he pushed himself up from the bed.

He paced the room impatiently for several more minutes. When the time elapsed reached the three-quarter hour mark he poured a good measure of red wine into one of the glasses and threw it down, then reached for the envelope that the boy had given him out on the beach. He had left it on the cabinet next to the wineglasses and now he ripped it open with trembling hands. A sheaf of five hundred franc notes tumbled out through his fingers and he went to his knees at once, gathering them up from the floor, his heart beating more rapidly now. There had to be thousands of pounds here. As he scrabbled for them, trying to put them back into a tidy stack, his fingers snared up a sheaf of folded notepaper that had fallen onto the floor under the bed. It had his name on it in purple pencil. Ant sat back on his heels, staring at it blankly.

Setting the money aside, he stumbled back onto the bed and unfolded the note carefully.

'By the time you read this, I'll have gone,' it began in the boy's rapid, nervy hand. Ant closed his eyes for a moment seeing the reality surge up to meet him. He had been such a fool. With a sinking heart he looked down at the letter again. 'I owe you more than I can ever truly give you, Ant. At the end of the day you'll be better off without me though. I only cause you trouble, don't I?"

Ant felt his lips frame a quick, sorrowful smile at that, in spite of the tears that were rising to his eyes.

'Don't follow me!' Rayne had written, and underlined this instruction firmly. 'I don't want you to get hurt any more because of me. Leland was right. I fuck up everything I touch. You'll find someone normal, I know. Someone kind, like you deserve. I hope it's soon and you're not too upset. One day I'll pay you back, I swear it. I'm sorry, Ant. Don't ever think about me. Just try and forget me. I promise that I won't mess up your life any more. I hope you don't hate me, but I would deserve it if you did. You always tried to be kind and I just treated you like filth. You were really good in bed too, it wasn't about that. I know you think that I preferred Paddy but that wasn't true. You're very different people and both sweet in your own ways, but I'm not good enough for either of you. I hope it works out okay for you and you find someone nice to look after you. Take care, Ant.'

He had signed the letter simply; 'Rayne'

"You little bitch!" Ant gasped through tears of rage and frustration. He crumpled the letter in his hand and threw it aside then sank down on the bed and wept, angry with himself as much as Rayne Wilde. Johnno had warned him back in London that the little whore was manipulative, but he had been determined not to believe it. Well that lesson had come back to bite him in the arse, well and truly.

Thierry crept into his bed once he had stopped sobbing and cursing into his pillow. The blond lad said nothing, just put his arms around Ant's torso and held him close. He was a small, warm, comforting presence against Ant's back and after a little while the older man turned in his arms and kissed him gratefully. Thierry did not object when Ant rolled onto him and pushed a lubricated finger into his snug young arsehole. His mouth roamed greedily over the French youth's slender neck and shoulders as he frigged the boy , then eased his stiffening rod between Thierry's perfect peachy bum cheeks, pushing his hungry cock head into the boy's receptive anus.

"Mmmmmhhhhh..." Thierry moaned softly, encouraging him in his own tongue. He murmured words that Ant did not understand but took heart from as he powered deeper into the boy's slim, willing body. Rayne had instructed him to forget but it still was not easy. As he fucked his way further up Thierry's sweet young hole he closed his eyes and for a few moments he held Rayne Wilde in his arms and he buggered the boy with all the rage and longing in his heart.

Thierry cried out at one point but did not beg him to stop and Ant used him long and hard, until all of his seed was spent in the boy and he collapsed exhausted into his young mate's trembling arms. He kissed Thierry with genuine warmth and gratitude then, scooping him up and holding the youngster close until he stopped shaking and was able to sleep, finally, in Ant's hot, sweaty embrace. Mr Right did not succumb to sleep for a good many hours though. He lay, with his face pressed into Thierry's soft, blond hair and thought bitterly of Rayne.

THE END OF THE ROAD:

Rayne Wilde followed the beach until the jetty of Marseillan Plage barred his way and he could not walk any further without coming inland. His feet carried him out of the darkness onto an illuminated street so startling in its normality that he felt like Judy Garland stumbling back into Kansas after the Technicolor insanity of Oz. Only in reverse!

Ordinary families wandered up and down the town's handful of streets, gaudily dressed in their every-day shorts and t-shirts. Children ran in and out of doorways laughing and shrieking at one another. Women haggled over flip-flops and beach mats and couples hovered in the entrances of restaurants, peering at the menus and trying to decide what they could afford. Bright neon signs danced in front of his eyes and he let his feet carry him away from the main drag whilst his mind sought the shadows of the quieter residential thoroughfares. He found the slow, dark ribbon of the creek, glittering with reflected moonlight, and followed it up towards the bridge that carried the main road around the back of the little seaside town.

There was a truckstop just before the bridge and he climbed up from the calm, moonlit waterway and crossed the carriageway, peering up into the cabs of stationary lorries parked up for the night. Most were in darkness though, their drivers no doubt already bedded down. Rayne sat on the low stone barrier by the side of the road and dumped his bags, holding out a hopeful thumb to the passing traffic. It was getting late now and the cars were few and far between. He was just resigning himself to a long walk into Sete to make some money and catch a train when one of the lorry drivers returned to his wagon carrying a paper bag of provisions and a polystyrene cup of coffee. The smell was enough to make his mouth water and he tilted his head back to watch the guy pass behind him.

The driver was a tall fellow, broad in the shoulders but still narrow at the hips and waist in spite of the beginnings of a belly under his rumpled Kiss t-shirt and baggy jeans. His head had been shaved close to the skull to disguise the receding hairline, although his unshaven, square jawed features suggested that he was probably no older than forty. A swirl of dark, celtic tattoos ran down his left arm to the back of his hand. Rayne smiled at him winningly and in turn he responded in French.

Rayne shook his head vaguely.

"London?" he ventured in a hopeful tone of voice.

"English?" the driver grinned back at him, showing a mouthful of good, strong, ivory-coloured teeth. He spoke with a heavy accent. According to the legend on the side of his truck he had come from Valencia.

Rayne nodded.

"I go to Thu-rrock," the driver said then, pronouncing the two syllables very precisely. 'Too-rook'. "Is near for you?"

"Near enough," Rayne declared, bouncing to his feet with an answering grin.

The driver unlocked the door to his cab and boosted him up there, passing up his bags and the sack of provisions.

"Jesus," he introduced himself once he had climbed up behind the younger man. He pronounced it 'Hay-zuth'.

"Rayne," Rayne responded, shaking the proffered hand.

Jesus stripped off his sweaty t-shirt and pulled down a black, sleeveless vest from the overhead cabin, wriggling into it as Rayne admired the illustrations on his chest and back. His torso sported a snarling lion's head and across his back was emblazoned an ornate crucifix wrapped about with thorns and backed with a pair of huge black wings.

"You like?" Jesus enquired, flexing his biceps to show off his tattooed muscles to better effect.

"Cool," the young Englishman nodded at once. "They're amazing."

"Is not all," Jesus grinned at him and unzipped his jeans. He shucked off the heavy denims and sprawled behind the wheel in a black posing pouch that revealed the twin dragons etched up and down his legs from crotch to ankles.

"Fuckin' hell!" Rayne exhaled incredulously, his own sorry situation temporarily forgotten. "You're like... the illustrated man, right? Is there anywhere you're 'not' tattooed?"

"No-where," his companion declared proudly. "I have tattoo all over my body. Except for my face. My wife no like on my face."

"What... even...?" Rayne glanced down at the bulky black pouch between his thighs.

"You want to see?" Jesus slid a finger into the waistband and tugged it forward and down before Rayne could shake his head. His genitals tumbled out, on full display. He had plenty to be proud of!