Seamus Ch. 08

With a laboured breath, Neill mumbled into his pillow, "I love you too, Seamus... Fuck, that feels good... Lick my arse... Yessss..."

I gripped his arse with my fingers, peeling his cheeks apart so that my hot tongue could slip between. I traced the line of golden hair to the puckered inlet surrounding his hole, gently circling with my tongue-tip. His anus quivered at my contact, sending a corresponding rush of pleasure through my body. I hungrily watched it flash from greyish brown to the pink beneath. When he started to groan for more, I leant in and pressed my lips tightly against the delicate skin surrounding his tender spot. Gently, I slurped and sucked, flicking my tongue against the soft, elastic flesh. He suddenly pressed back, forcing my tongue into his musky, tight hole. It made my own cock leap to realise that the flavour of my semen had indeed mixed with his body. He was definitely still loose from the earlier fucking so my wet muscle slid in and out easily. As I slowly fucked his arse with my tongue I fondled his balls, which seemed to rapidly tighten in my fingers.

With a smile that he couldn't see, I climbed over his body and lay my chest against his back. My lips gently tugged on the skin beneath his ear. He gave a startled yelp and shook against me. A low whine escaped his lips as my fingertips dappled down his back and explored the cleft of his arse. I slowly pressed two fingers into his tight ring.

Neill jumped again. "Shit... please..." he whimpered as I twisted those digits around, feeling the scorching, wet velvet of his rectum close around me. I thought he was looser than usual. I pulled my fingers out and replaced them with the head of my cock.

With a sudden, frantic convulsion, Neill let out a rippling, pained scream. "No- God, stop!Stop!" His hands clawed over the sheets as he arched his back to push me out.

In shock, I pulled out and got off the bed immediately. "Oh, my god- I'm sorry!"

Neill rolled onto his back and stared at me, visibly shaking. When I glanced at his eyes, I thought I saw something strange, haunting. His fearful stare was quickly hidden as one of those invisible masks that protect the soul slipped into place. "It's okay," he whispered. "I'm okay, it's nothing."

The way he had screamed, it couldn't have been nothing. Nobody screams like their guts are being ripped out over nothing. I won't ever forget that horrible, blood-curdling sound. I won't ever forgive myself for letting him convince me it was over nothing. "I hurt you!" I gasped. Tears rushed to my eyes. "I'm so sorry. Oh god, I'm so sorry... I didn't think you would need lube- I'm so sorry!"

He rose unsteadily to his feet and pulled me into his arms. His cock was not as hard as it had been. "Don't cry! I just got a fright. It's okay. You didn't really hurt me."

Neill walked me back to the bed. "I'm fine, you didn't hurt me," he kept saying. I felt his fingers brush my face, then slip down my chest. My cock jerked a little when his thumb slid over the hot, weeping fissure of my piss-slit. "I really want you to make love to me," he whispered as he nuzzled my ear.

I was worried. "Are you sure you're alright?"

He lay back, tugging on his shaft until it regained its previous tumescence. My eyes flickered from the long shaft with its large, bulbous head, over his writhing body, to the grin on his face. "I'm fine. Come and join me. I want you to fuck me silly!" Against my better judgement, I did just that.

This time I made sure I was gentle. I went and got the tube of KY I made Neill use on me, believing that the massage oil probably wouldn't be slippery or soothing enough. My first finger penetrated the clasping bands of his anus slowly. I inched it into the velvet tightness of his rectum. The entire time, my eyes intently watched his face. He didn't flinch. There seemed to be no pain. I twisted that finger carefully, flicking the soft pad of my fingertip over every surface, expecting perhaps to find something torn and bleeding. I found nothing like that. I pressed in further, gently massaging the ridge of his prostate. Neill gave a low whine and told me to hurry up and fuck him. I didn't.

I repeated the process with two, then three fingers. Thrusting slowly in and around, flexing my fingers, stroking those hot, wet walls at a frustratingly slow pace. It got to the point that he was so sensitive to my touch, I only had to move a finger a millimetre to generate a moan from his throat.

I nestled my head between his thighs. My lips plucked a row of kisses from his balls to the reddened head of his cock. That aroused, vascular skin quivered at the touch of my mouth, leaking a steady stream of salty pleasure against my tongue. Neill's gentle fingers combed through my hair, guiding me but not pressuring me with his usual urgency to get off. Knowing how tight his balls were in my palm, I was careful not to let him trip, purposely stopping and kissing his thigh or licking the precum that I had missed from his abdomen as often as I thought necessary.

He was shaking, begging me to let him cum or at least fuck him, but I managed to keep up the teasing and fingering for twenty minutes or so. By that stage, the head of his cock was glowing a bright red colour that flushed along the network of veins in his shaft. There was a large ridge travelling up the underside of his cock. His cockhead was a swollen bulb, his shaft thick and turgid and half an inch longer than usual.

We lay against each other, chest to chest, cock to cock, kissing and whispering how much we loved each other until we were both shaking with need. Neill gently rubbed the cool gel of the lubricant into my burning member. I'm sure I heard a hiss as hot met cold. He rolled his hips upward, exposing his thoroughly loved, glistening hole to the shining purple head of my cock. I inched into his sweltering, sucking depths slowly. We both moaned in contentment when my balls brushed against the crease of his arse. He was smiling as his lips murmured 'I love you' into my mouth. His thighs gripped the alcove above my hips to draw me deeper. This was different to what we had done before, more gentle and sensual. I moved slowly, stroking his insides with the whole length of my cock. We didn't build as fast and experienced all those strange, tingling electrical sensations as if in slow motion. My name was on his lips as his cock burst all over my chest, just as his was on mine when I spurted inside him. It was minutes before we stopped convulsing. I stayed in him until my cock went limp and his muscles pushed me out, followed by a stream of my semen. I cleaned his body with my mouth, wiped my dick on a tissue, then lay back against him as we drifted into sleep. I thought everything was going to be alright.

*

The next morning we had breakfast in the floor kitchen with Harry and a few others. Nathan had suddenly lost popularity. Even gentle Harry remarked about what a wanker he had been. It was obvious that nobody really believed a word he had said; his drunken outbursts were far from new. I was glad to see Neill looking relaxed and happy. I couldn't believe I had hurt him the night before and when I apologised again in our room, he got cranky and told me he was late for work. It wasn't like he was lying about being late, but it still felt like he was avoiding something. I was late for a lecture. I hated parting company when we had just fought, so I made the effort of a kiss and a smile, promising that I would see him at around eight that night (Neill worked until five, while I had rugby practise at five-thirty. He wouldn't be home before I left).

I wasn't surprised when Nate didn't show up for our ECON232 lecture, or the COMM221 lecture that followed it. Though he seldom attended either lecture, I guessed that he was probably too hung-over to bother. It was no skin off my nose; he could go fuck himself for all I cared.

I got back to the room by midday and set about tidying up the place. It was a mess. The clothing Neill and I had discarded the night before was scattered around the carpet in little puddles of fabric. I picked up his jeans and shirt and gave them a sniff. They didn't smell too bad, so I folded them and left them on his desk so that he could decide whether to launder them or not.

My green polo-shirt from the night before had a few spots of blood from the lip that Nathan had split. It went straight in the laundry hamper, joined with Neill's oil and cum-stained sheets. There were about three or four different sets of sheets in that basket, so I decided we'd better start washing them before we ran out. I didn't think anybody would wonder why we went through so many sheets, but in case they did, I only took two sets and the rest of the dirty clothing up to the laundry. Once I had set two machines going (not only was there a lot to wash, but I had to separate darks and lights too), I returned to the room.

The scent of sex and sweat hung heavily in the thick, warm air. The hall staff hadn't turned the heating on; the warmth was probably just the build up of body heat and carbon dioxide, kind of like the greenhouse effect. Hoping to alleviate some of the odour, I found a coat hanger so that I could jump up on my bed and unlatch the high windows. Then I hauled the fan out of the wardrobe and set that blowing the chilly autumn breeze about the room. As a finishing touch, I flitted some air-freshener around. I didn't actually mind the aroma of our lust, but I doubted anybody else who dropped in would be as enthusiastic. Plus there'd be some of those uncomfortable questions to answer.

I tossed the KY back in my top drawer and Neill's oil back in his. My eyes lingered on the family photograph beside his bed. It looked to be about ten years old. Neill had shorter hair, a bowl-cut actually; I was always giving him shit about that. Standing behind him was his father, a tall, blonde man with an aggressive looking jaw. He was anaemically pale, as if he never went out in the sun. Maybe I was influenced by what Neill had told me about him, but to me Mr. Simmons looked like one of those Aryan, Nazi guys. Beside Mr. Simmons stood the willowy, ebony haired, Mrs. Simmons. She had a 'my-shit-don't-stink' look on her face. Only Neill and his pretty older sister were smiling.

I could hardly imagine what it would be like to grow up in a family like that. On one irrational level I was jealous. Neill's family was rich. He actually had a mother and a sister. My Mum was dead, and there was no chance of Dad having more kids with anyone else. On the more reality-grounded level, I knew that Neill's childhood had not exactly been wonderful. His parents hardly ever spoke to him. His father wouldn't pay for any of his education because he wasn't following in the 'family profession' of law/accounting/auditing/whatever it was (Neill was always vague). Whatever Neill did was never, ever good enough, even though he had an A+ average over his zoology papers. At least my father treated me like a human being.

Just as I started to make Neill's bed, a knock came at the door. "Come in!" I called out. The door was unlocked, so I didn't bother to turn around.

The handle slowly turned and I heard somebody shuffle uneasily inside. "Seam-" he said in a groggy voice. "I- I- really fucked up last night-"

"No shit," I snapped angrily. I flung the folded flannelette topsheet I had been handling down on Neill's bed. I turned to see Nathan standing in the doorway. Though he had changed his clothing to a black adidas hoodie and faded jeans, he looked disgustingly unkempt. Thebad-boy-five-o'clock-shadow-look had turned intothe-crazed-drunk- who-hasn't-bothered- to-shave-in-days-look. His black hair stuck out in greasy tufts from his skull. Grey pockets supported his dark eyes. The sad, bewildered expression on his face made me want to punch him until his bones turned to mush. How dare he feel unhappy, after what he did to me? "Get the fuck out, Nate! I don't want to talk to you!"

Nate clenched the muscles of his face like it hurt to hear loud noises. "No, please- Come on, Seam- I'm really sorry-"

I picked up the closest, heaviest thing I could find – a dust-covered novel that I'd hassled Neill about buying – and threw it. I mentally thanked Diana Gabaldon for writing such a thick book as'A Breath of Snow and Ashes' struck Nate in the chest and thundered to the ground. My eyes flashed with anger. "Fuck off! Get it into your thick skull that I don't ever want to talk to you again!"

"Please don't be like this- I'm sorry, Seam! I'm so sorry-"

"You're sorry?" I snarled. "You'resorry? Well, I'm glad you're fucking sorry, but it's not like making an apology is gonna fix anything is it? I can't believe this! I trusted you with a big secret and not only did you turn it into some sort of bigoted insult, but in the same fucking breath you accused me of trying to steal your girlfriend! How could you think that about me? How could you do that to me? After all the times that I kept YOUR secrets, even lied for you, and I tell you something in confidence and you turn around and tell everyone!

"When we were twelve, you made a sparkler bomb and blew a hole in your parents' fence – I told them I saw the kids next door do it! When we fourteen and you lost your virginity to your barely legal cousin, I told no-one, even though that's fucking incest and statutory rape! When we sixteen and you kept landing yourself in hospital to get your stomach pumped, I told everybody at school that you had bad asthma! Yeah, you got stick for it, but it was better than everyone knowing what a disgrace you really were! When we seventeen and your girlfriend noticed those scars on your thighs and arms, I told her it was from running through a sliding glass door as a child! When you were eighteen and you got drunk and mixed up reverse with first gear and drove your Dad's car into the wall of the parking garage, I made sure he thought someone had backed into it! I did all those fucking things because you were my friend! Why couldn't you keep one little secret for me?"

"Seam, please-" Nathan whimpered. "I wasn't thinking- I was drunk-"

"Well, why the fuck were you drunk? You know you can't handle more than four beers at a time!" I was too angry to watch his face. That primal urge to strike and punch and kick and bite until he either collapsed in a pile of shattered bones or left me alone over-rode my brain. I rushed forward and slammed him against the door, hearing a heavy clonk as his head rocked back into the wood. "Fuck you, Nate! I don't want to talk to you! Just get the fuck out before I fucking hurt you!"

Before he could talk, I yanked him forward by his right forearm, causing a yelp of pain. I turned him and wrenched that fleece-covered wrist behind his back, before ramming his body into the door again. I was further angered when I breathed in a nauseating mixture of smoke, vomit and stale beer from the air fouled by his person. "Get out!"

Suddenly, I felt resistance. Nate's body visibly stiffened beneath the snug fabric of his clothing. His left elbow jagged fiercely into my abdomen. "Don't you fucking touch me like that, you fucking poof!" He turned and shoved me backwards. A hellish glare spread over his red, shining face. "You know what your fucking problem is, Seam? You think you're so fucking perfect!"

I leapt forth again as furor boiled in my veins and clouded my vision. "So what'syour fucking problem, Nathan? You jealous of me?"

He was crying as he pushed me away. "Yeah, that's it!" he sneered. "I'm jealous of you! I'm jealous of your smart-arse friends! I'm jealous of your fucking marks! I'm jealous of how the girls always talk to you first! I'm jealous of the way that you score more tries than me on the field! I'm jealous of your god-damned body! I'm jealous of your arse-grinding boyfriend! I'm jealous that you ARE perfect! Everything comes so fucking easily to you! You never do anything wrong! You never make a fucking mistake! You think you're better than me! You think I'm not good enough to hang around with you! You have ignored me the whole fucking year, you know that? You're such a fucking arsehole, Seamus!"

I was too angry to take it all in. "I don't fucking ignore you! I spend most of my day with you when you bother to turn up to our lectures! Almost every day we eat lunch together! How dare you accuse me of ignoring you? And how dare you be jealous of me?" I asked, incensed.

"My life has been far from easy! Everything that I am has come from hard work! I struggled through school and the only reason my marks are okay now is because I sit down and read everything twice over after lectures! I run nearly every day just to keep in shape and keep my head free of clutter! I pay my own way - I don't rely on student loans or my father's money. Everything I earn goes into my education and my hall fees! I've been working at various jobs since I was thirteen! You don't even have a fucking job! If you'd just pull your life together and actually apply yourself, you'd be passing your fucking papers! If you bothered to turn up sober to practice, you might play rugby a bit better!"

I ignored the strange hiccupping noise that came from Nate when I stopped to catch my breath. Instead, I continued, "How dare you be jealous of me! You're the one with the father and the mother and the brothers and sisters, the uncles and aunts. You have grandparents that live locally and you can visit them whenever you want! I've only got my Dad, and I haven't even seen him in two fucking years! Your family can actually afford to fly you back home for the holidays or fly themselves down to see you, mine can't! Until you fucking betrayed my trust, you were like a fucking brother to me, you know that? How dare you say you're jealous! You've got a fucking warped sense of reality! You are the one with better looks than me, you are the one who always ended up with dates at high school, you know that! Fucking hell, Nate! What's your fucking problem?"

I didn't care that there were tears streaming in great rivers down Nate's face, carving his features into a tragic mask. His skin was flushed red, a colour echoed in the whites of his eyes and I didn't care at all. Nate screamed, "I hate you! That's my fucking problem! You've got your head so far up your arse that only shit will come out your mouth! I don't know why I even bothered to talk to you! You only think about yourself! I don't care what you say, you're a selfish prick! I hate you!I HATE YOU!"

"Well, I HATE you too!" I screamed at my former friend. "Go to hell!"

Nate launched himself on me, slamming me into the floor with the full force of his heavily muscled body. His hands madly scratched over my clothing as he tried to keep me underneath him. I felt his hot breath hit my face and breathed in the sickening scent of stale alcohol and vomit. He was still crying as he stuttered out, "You don't mean that- You don't mean it, Seam- I didn't mean it! Please, god- I'm so sorry- I'm sorry- I fuck things up! I always fuck things up! You don't need to say it- I'm not good enough! Not good enough- for- for Jill- not good enough for you! You don't hate me! Please say you don't hate me!"

Something in his frantic behaviour finally knocked some sense into me. Perhaps it was the way he was jolting me by my shoulders so that my head kept dropping against the carpet. I stared into his deep brown eyes. If it wasn't for a thin band of coffee separating the two, his irises would have blended almost seamlessly with his pupils. I used to call them vampire eyes when we were kids. Now those vampire eyes were drowning my face with a hot monsoon of tears. "I don't hate you!" I gasped. "Okay? I don't hate you! You're right though, I don't understand you! Why did you do that to me? Why would you start shouting at me and accusing me of all that crazy stuff? I was only trying to help you sober up last night."