Absolution

The day I met my girlfriend's family, Desmond was home for the weekend. According to Bridget, he had just finished university in London, where he had just found a job. The Reilly house was a semi at the edge of the city where I lived, in a quiet cul-de-sac with a huge, sprawling garden overcrowded with flowers and gnomes. My palms were sweaty and my mouth was dry at the thought of meeting the family, but the minute I saw Annie my nerves evaporated.

"Antoin... welcome, welcome!" she cried, throwing her arms around me and pulling me inside the house, which like the garden was filled with clutter: flowers, ornaments and family photos everywhere. "Come and meet the brood! My son's upstairs so we'll start with the girls, and there's plenty of them! This is wee Annie, the baby..." she waved her hand towards a skinny, spotty teenager with flaming red curly hair, who smiled shyly through her train track braces, "Siobhan and Adele, they're twins," ...two identical girls, a year or two older than the youngest, both with the same black hair as Bridget... "Bronagh, the oldest, and this here's her husband Martin, and this is Cathleen."

So many smiles and nods, so many black haired girls, except for Annie jnr... the only one whose name I did not instantly forget. Martin looked bashful and in desperate need of male company so I was ushered round to sit beside him as Annie and Bronagh bustled around the table, filling glasses, scooping creamed potato and chips onto plates, straightening cutlery and tugging at the wrinkles in the faded tablecloth which had seen its fair share of family dinners. Martin said a perfunctory grace, and the dinner began with an empty seat opposite me for Desmond.

"He's always dithering around in the bathroom, making himself beautiful!" Annie jnr giggled. "He spends more time in there than Bridget!"

Bridget laughed and threw a chip at her. "I'm not the one in there trying to iron my hair". I smiled behind my hand as Annie flushed and pursed her lips. Soon, all seven women were talking at once about bathroom usage. Martin seemed disappointed that I didn't know anything about football or rugby, and looked as if he was about to try a new topic when the door opened and Desmond came in.

If my mouth hadn't been full of potato and sausage, my jaw would have hit the table. He was tall, well built and with the same black hair as most of his sisters. He wore a ribbed black t-shirt which showed off his perfectly muscled chest and arms. His smile was wicked, just like Bridget's, and like her, he had piercing blue eyes, which flashed in my direction as introductions were made. A faint flush rose in his cheeks as he sat opposite me, avoiding my eyes as he tucked in to his dinner. I had to force myself to stop staring at that beautiful face, and concentrate on what Bridget was saying.

"...Desmond works in an art gallery" she was saying. "Mum wants him to come home, don't you mum, but he says he's settled there for the moment."

"I think he has a girlfriend over there" Annie said, winking at me. " But he's keeping it all secret! Never one for talking much, our Desmond!"

I almost laughed aloud but instead stuffed some more peas into my mouth as I watched Desmond turn beetroot before my eyes. It was so obvious to me that he was gay, I couldn't believe they couldn't see it too. Then I saw the way their eyes shone adoringly as they looked at him, and I sympathized, knowing all too well the pressures of being the only son.

My knee started to twinge and I stretched my leg out, trying to avoid all the feet and legs. As the pain passed, my ankle brushed against Desmond's, and he nearly jumped out of his chair. I groaned inwardly, hoping he wouldn't think I was playing footsie with him.

"Sorry" I muttered. "It gets stiff sometimes."

Desmond's eyes widened, and a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. "What gets stiff?"

It was my turn to flush, and I stared down at my plate, suddenly struck dumb.

"Is your knee playing up again?" Bridget looked at me with a small smile, giving my hand a squeeze, rescuing me.

"Oh, what happened?" Annie asked with her mouth full, showering the plate with specks of potato.

"Oh nothing exciting, I just fell off a chair in the kitchen and landed badly. Ruptured cruciate ligament, I was on crutches for a few months. But it's all better now, apart from the odd twinge. Probably just getting old."

Annie laughed. "Old he says! Sure you have your whole life ahead of you." She cast a meaningful look in Bridget's direction, which I chose to ignore.

Martin shook his head. "Same as that injury Gazza had, that's a damn nasty one. Lucky you aren't a professional footballer, Antoin. He was never right after that FA cup final." Bronagh rolled her eyes. I had no idea who or what Martin was talking about, but it seemed irrelevant, when I glanced at Desmond and for a second, our eyes met. They were bright and dancing with amusement, and...had he winked at me? I felt a worm of excitement slither through my stomach. The conversation fragmented, the twins were giggling and texting under the table, the other women were discussing a plot line on Eastenders. I tried to pay attention to Martin's description of the ankle injury that had seen his football "career" cut short at the age of 13. He seemed to think he had found a kindred spirit, a shared trauma. But his words washed over me as I watched, open mouthed, as Desmond slowly speared a sausage with his fork and dipped it into the creamed potato, which he then licked off, his eyes catching mine once again. I looked away, wriggling in my seat, trying to block out the obscene thoughts that were suddenly creeping into my head. When Martin had finished talking, I glanced back at Desmond. He had finished eating and was sipping his wine, chatting to Bridget, the model son and brother, apple of the family eye.

The evening seemed to go well, because as I was leaving, Bridget pulled me in for a kiss and whispered, "They like you". I was glad, because I had desperately wanted to come across as someone with a personality, as I was often struck down by crippling shyness. As I was walking to my car, I thought about Desmond. What was he really like? Was I as obvious to him as he was to me? The last thought was a bit worrying. Having grown up with such a religious, conservative background, I knew there was really no way I could ever come out of the closet without doing as Desmond had done, leaving the country. And I didn't want to leave my family and friends, I couldn't. They were so tied up in who I was, and the things that made me happy, the things I knew would make me happy in the future. I had figured that everyone had to sacrifice something in life, so I had reasoned that my sacrifice would be sexual happiness. Still, after meeting Desmond and feeling the raw pull of sexual attraction so strongly, I began to wonder if I had just been naïve.

As I was fumbling in my pockets for my keys, a soft voice said behind me, "Looking for something?"

I spun round. It was Desmond, holding my keys in his hand. He was breathless after running after me. The Reilly house was just round the corner, just out of sight.

"Thanks" I said, suddenly tongue tied.

There was a pause. He blushed again, scuffed his shoe against the kerb. "Fancy a drink sometime?"

"I thought you were only here for the weekend." I replied, as my heart began to pound treacherously against my ribs.

"Yeah," he said, "but I'll be home next weekend. Don't tell Bridget. I'm meeting a...friend."

Something clicked at that moment when I looked again into his beautiful eyes and became his accomplice. Of course I would never tell Bridget. There was no point trying to hide from the truth, that I wanted to fuck Desmond's brains out and next week, when he came back again, it was likely to happen. Suddenly, a week seemed like such a long time.

* * * * *

The week passed slowly, and yet, when it was Friday night, I was pacing the hallway, waiting for him to call me, wondering where the time had gone. I had told Bridget that I was staying in to work on my Masters' project, knowing that I had already finished the first module so I could "prove" it if necessary. Up and down I paced, smoking one after the other. My nerves were jangling.

Would he call? Would he call? I kept asking myself, catching a glimpse of my flushed and excited face now and again in the mirror and having a pang of conscience. What are you doing? I thought, stopping my march and staring into my own eyes for a second, but I couldn't rationalize anything, couldn't feel any guilt, couldn't think about the consequences. All I could think about was the way he walked, the way he smiled, the soft voice and that beautiful, sensuous mouth.

The phone rang suddenly and I nearly leapt out of my skin. My hand shook as I picked up the receiver. It was him. "I'm coming round to yours" he said, and I could hear the roar of traffic in the background. "I'm knackered, is it OK is we stay in for a bit? I've got a video and some fish and chips."

My heart leapt. "Sounds perfect" I said, and gave him directions about how exactly to find my apartment. The minute I hung up I started buzzing around, tidying, hoovering and almost dancing for joy. Desmond was coming round! I didn't even care that I had never even kissed a man before, or that my entire sexual experience was limited to snogging and a few fumbles with Bridget. She was a good catholic after all, and I wasn't complaining. I had always considered my sex drive to be non existent. Now it was running rampant, about to wreak havoc in my boring, perfectly ordered, bookish life and I was tingling all over with nervous excitement. When Desmond arrived, my cock was already starting to stiffen, and I was mortified. I pushed it around in my pants, trying to make it look less obvious, and only exciting it more.

If I could have paused reality to stand and stare, it would have been then, when I opened the front door. He was leaning against the wall, a black leather jacket slung over his shoulder, a plain white t-shirt clinging to his perfect chest. I could see his dark little nipples ghosting through the material and I sighed with longing. His eyes were twinkling as he looked me up and down, a smile spreading across his face like a sunrise.

"You going to invite me in?" he asked, winking, and I stood aside, inhaling the aroma of his aftershave and the fish and chips as he walked past. Awkwardly, I closed the door and almost tripped going after him.

"Kitchen's to the left" I called, and followed him in.

"Nice pad" he said, looking all around as he put his takeaway on the table. "Is it yours?"

"Yeah" I said, opening the cupboard and pulling out a couple of plates. "My dad died a couple of years ago and left me some money. Otherwise I'd still be living with my mum and sisters."

"How many sisters have you got?" he said, grinning.

"Only three." I laughed. "I'm the youngest. After I was born, my mum had the son she wanted and got her tubes tied."

"I think mum was going for a hockey team" he said, tucking in to his chips. "Then dad died and that put a stop to her ambitions." Silently, I ate while he talked, about his family, his job, his plans for the future. He didn't mention Bridget, or my relationship with her. He had a chatty, casual manner and I felt like I had known him all my life when he stood up.

"Nothing like a good grease attack" he announced, patting his stomach fondly and stretching. "I can feel my arteries hardening as I speak." That's not the only thing that's hardening, I thought, fidgeting in my seat as his t-shirt pulled free and exposed a flat, tanned stripe of stomach, lightly dusted with black hair which got thicker as my eyes travelled south. He yawned hugely and relaxed. "Sorry about that" he said. "I'm still a bit tired after last night. Dan and I, Dan's my flatmate, we went out to a new club that's opened near our place. Didn't get to bed until 5am."

With Dan or someone else, I wondered, feeling a stab of irrational jealousy. We went into the living room where he promptly flopped onto the sofa and began to peruse my CD collection. "Radiohead, Leonard Cohen, Coldplay...The Verve...oh my god, ...the Cranberries, NO! You're a bit mournful, aren't you! Got anything a bit lighter?"

"I have Kylie" I confessed, and he beamed.

"Stick her on then!" he cried, and patted the seat beside him. Sitting down beside him, I was almost struck dumb with nerves. Now he was here, beside me, I had no idea what to do. He didn't seem to notice my anxiety because he just kept chatting in that relaxed manner.

"So where do you usually go out then" he asked, and I had to clear my throat before I could speak.

"Nowhere really" I said, glumly. "I'm not very exciting."

"Och, come on, you must go somewhere sometimes" he said, laughing. "What about the Parliament?"

It was said in such a casual way, but I knew what he was asking. The Parliament was about the only decent gay bar there was in the city. The other one was full of sailors with huge moustaches. At least, that's what I had heard.

"I've been to the Parliament once" I said, and I could feel my face start to burn. "I'm not good in crowds though. As I said, I don't go out much."

"You managed a Reilly family dinner" he said, edging closer to me and smiling. "I would say that was a crowd, wouldn't you?"

I watched, frozen like a statue, as he put out his hand and lightly stroked the back of mine. His touch was like an electric shock, but I couldn't move. "Desmond-" I started, but he silenced me with a light touch of his fingertip on my lips.

"It's Des" he whispered, getting closer and closer so I could feel his breath on my face. "I'm Desmond to my family, but Des to the people who really know me."

"Des...I've never..." I began again as his arm snaked round me and turned me to him.

"It doesn't matter" he muttered, stroking my cheek, looking at me as if I was some kind of treasure. "I knew from the minute I saw you..." Suddenly, we were kissing, and all my fears melted away. His lips were so soft, his tongue like a little fish exploring my mouth. Tentatively, I slid my arms around him, savouring the hot wetness of the kiss, pushing my fingers through his hair as if in a dream, as the kiss grew more urgent. His hand found my hard on and rubbed it through the rough material of my jeans, making me groan. He broke the kiss and looked at me, his face flushed.

"God!" he said, and the hoarse desire in his voice made me even hornier. He smiled and looked down to where I was pitching a pretty enormous tent. I felt dizzy, as if most of my blood had gone south to fire up my rod, leaving me brainless and weak, only able to feel the incredible sensations my body was racked with, feelings I had never felt before. He pulled my flies apart and delved into my pants. I didn't know how close I was to the end until the touch of his hand, enveloping my bare cock had me seeing stars as I spewed out a load of cum.

When I could see straight again, I gasped "Sorry about that!" as he started to lick my cum off his fist.

"No problem" he smiled, and pulled my trousers and pants off. Burying his face in my groin, he sighed. "You are so beautiful" he whispered, inhaling the scent of my sweat as he slid off the sofa to kneel before me. The feeling of his warm breath on my cock and balls was divine. Slowly and gently, he began to lick me there, up and down, little light butterfly licks, teasing the sensitive flesh until I was rock hard again.

"Oh God" I groaned, almost unable to stand it. In one fluid movement he engulfed my cock in the soft wetness of his mouth, his tongue still flicking away, then his throat muscles constricting to torture me even more as my cock slid in, slowly, slowly...then it was all in and his hand found my balls, tickling and stroking behind the sack as he began to bob his head up and down as I gasped and moaned. He kept me in a state of heady arousal for a good ten minutes, bringing me to the brink then squeezing me gently to put off the inevitable. Having just cum I hoped I could save face and last longer than a few seconds, but it was clear Desmond knew exactly what he was doing. I was babbling incoherently, begging for release when he slid a finger into my asshole and that was it. I stifled a roar as my hips jerked forward and I came so hard I thought my eardrums would burst.

As the orgasm faded, my tingling body began to glow, alive for the first time. Dazed, I lay there like a rag doll, as my breathing slowed. He sat up and licked his lips. "There's more...if you want it" he said, smiling wickedly, stripping off his clothes until he was standing before me in all his perfection. His cock was pointing upwards, rock hard and glistening. Like the rest of him, it was beautiful. At least, I thought so, not having had much to compare it with except my own.

I watched as he rummaged in his jacket pocket and brought out some condoms and a tube of something. "I've been thinking about you all week" he whispered, kneeling down before me again and pushing my legs up to my chest, exposing me completely. Anxious, I sat up, but his smile was reassuring.

"I won't hurt you" he said, and went back to licking my balls, tickling the inside of my thighs with his fingernails...soon, I was hard again and I couldn't believe it. Pushing my legs up even further, his tongue trailed away from my balls, torturing me slowly as it flicked over my asshole, making me jump and shiver. I groaned as he slid a slippy finger inside me, opening me up... then brushing against a spot inside that made me gasp and sag back against the cushions, breathless.

"Fuck!". My eyes began to glaze as he found it again and again, he added another finger then another and as my muscles relaxed, I could feel another orgasm start to build...but then he took out his fingers and sat back on his heels. Almost drunk with pleasure, I watched as he rolled on a condom, and applied liberal amounts of the gel he had brought to my hole and his cock.

"Sit up" he grunted, his face red and his eyes dark. Obediently, I obeyed as he positioned me in front of him, on my knees with my ass in the air, face pressed into the sofa. He nudged my knees apart and positioned himself between them, and I felt his cock come to rest between my arse cheeks. I held my breath as he began to push slowly inside me. Despite the lubrication, it was a struggle, and I wasn't quite prepared for the pain...I grunted and he stopped, allowing my arse to get used to the intrusion. As the pain subsided, he pushed in further and further until I could feel the whole of him inside me, his hairy balls resting against my cheeks.

"Are you OK?" he whispered, and I nodded, feeling beads of sweat spring out on my brow. Slowly, he pulled out and pushed in, hitting the spot his fingers had so deliciously tortured...I felt my cock, which had drooped a bit with the shock of the pain, starting to stiffen again as his assault began. The sound of his breathing, the slap of his flesh against mine, the smell of sweat and cum and the unbelievable sensations coming from my insides...I seized my cock and began to flog it rapidly as he started to slam me, emitting small whimpers and gasps. He didn't last long: suddenly he cried out as he began to cum, emptying his load in rapid bursts. I felt his cock twitch and then my own orgasm hit and this time I couldn't hold back my cries, spraying the sofa with watery cum, feeling him buried deep inside me, wishing the moment would never end. We collapsed together onto the floor, and he pulled the condom off and wrapped me in his arms, stroking my hair.

"Jesus, that was amazing" he muttered, and I could hardly speak as I nuzzled into his neck. I felt as if we had been lovers forever, I felt complete, I never wanted to leave his arms. Later, when we had regained our senses, we had a shower together. My arse was still a bit tender, and I was exhausted, so I contented myself with soaping his amazing body, and kissing him deeply. Still damp, we flopped into bed together. He curled up behind me and we made spoons, his cock nestling against my ass, the tickle of his hairy thighs against mine. Perfect, I thought. I had never imagined that I could feel so completely comfortable with another person. Even though we had only met twice I knew he was The One, if I had any kind of choice. Guiltily, I thought about Bridget and realised that I was condemning myself and her to a life lacking in physical love, all because I was a coward. As Desmond began to snore gently in my ear, I made a silent prayer, now I had met someone so totally special, to have the courage to keep him.