Sex Swing Satisfaction

Ricky elbows Dan to the side, so he can kiss his... Boyfriend? Ex? Mate? "Man, that was bare... I swear down... So good, fagfriend!" Ricky's pleased, grinning. Jay's surprised wee blush clarifies that this gibberish Ricky's intoning is actually a valued compliment.

Fagfriend. I like that. Not that I know for sure what it means, anywhere from a friend with benefits to a much-loved boyfriend, but I guess some level of commitment, given Jay's reaction.

"Oh, my days!" Jay stretches out, just like me after a good going-over. Not that I go about sounding like an elderly aunt. But I'm used to people swearing my speech is incomprehensible, even after thirty years over the water. I don't judge these lads for playing with words in their own way, using language to bond with each other and to tell the rest of the world to fuck off if they can't figure it out.

"You alright?" Jay asks me.

"Aye," I tell him. "Quare craic, an' all."

"He means it was great fun," Dan translates. "Sheesh, and you wonder why BBC English became a thing."

"Don't listen to my fella," I tell the boys. "What does he know about good English? He's from fuckin' Birmingham!"

"Beerm-in-gem?" Ricky takes the piss.

Dan flips him a V-sign and squawks, "Ow yam yow?"

"Shut your gob before I shut it for ya," I tell my man lazily. "You ain't a yam-yam. Thank fuck."

"Nearly was," Dan says in his normal voice. "Dad's mom was from Dudley. So I can do the Black Country talk, when I want to totally confuse anyone from like ten miles away." He doesn't need to add, 'like you, talking all roadman,' to Ricky. Only it's really age that separates our language from theirs, not the ten miles down the A23.

Ricky scritches Jay's head through the silken scarf. It's falling off. "How ya doing? Sleep? Home?"

"Mm," Jay doesn't argue. He remembers. "Hey, bossman?" He's talking to me, respectfully. "You said there was another bedroom?" Dan nods, gets up to show them. "Ricks, it'll be fine! Not trekkin' down our ends at" -- he checks the clock -- "three a.m. if we don't has to! Swear down, bruv, I've got ya safe! Safe, blood, safe ting."

Ricky eventually agrees. "OK, fam." I guess he's worried about a screaming nightmare.

"The room's pretty soundproof," I assure him. "I tell a lie -- it's as soundproof as you can get, for a flat. You get to bed, look after your sleep cycle, see ya in the morning. Sure you can find yourselves breakfast. If I ain't stirred by ten, mine's a mug of strong tea, milk-no-sugar."

Dan starts to tell me I'm a cheeky bastard. No shit, but Ricky just nods. "Sure thing, bossman."

Dan's gonna be calling me 'bossman' for weeks, now. Could be worse. It's not 'daddy'. Ricky let on that I'm the same age as Jay's mum; he never knew his dad...

In the morning, it's Dan who brings me tea. "Happy Valentine's Day, love."

"Hm? And to you, and to you."

Dan and I have a moment. We're still all quietly happy when Ricky and Jay pop into the room. They're holding hands like they did at the end of yesterday. I guess they talked. And that Ricky didn't have nightmares. I was telling porkies about the sound insulation, actually -- while it's good between apartments, within the flat, there's none at all!

"Cheers, bruv," Jay tells me. "You're right. I don't have to be everything for him..."

"Just by his side," Dan confirms.

"Yeah. Well. Thanks for the advice, bossman. Appreciate it."

Ricky's grinning at him. "Told ya. Listen to the old guys. They know what's what."

I practically piss myself, seeing Dan's outrage at being called 'old'!

Ricky, oblivious, goes on, "We're gonna make a go of it again. I'm much better, got support with the job. He understands much more than he did. See how it goes. Gotta run -- my shift starts at six." He pecks Jay on the cheek, and they leave together. Hand in hand, at least until they exit the building.

Ricky texts me later. 'I get a valentine after all. Thanks so much, both of you.'

"Just call me Cupid," I mutter.

"He grew up, into Eros. Much more you," Dan responds to my sarcasm. "And what they've got."

Our ensuing argument, with me trying to surreptitiously look up Eros vs Cupid on my phone, is interrupted by Ricky texting again.

'can me an J come lie in yr swing sometime?' The emoji at the end is probably meant to be pleading, but looks constipated.

I'm really glad they're getting back together. That experience was too much for anyone to cope with well. As for his question:

'Sweet. And of course. Question is, do you want Jay, me, or Dan when you're in it? Or all three?'

'No promises. Jay comes first, yeah? He's my man. I'm not gonna waste that. Be bare shoobs, no matter what. Safe, bossman.'

I shake my head. Dan tells me to look words up on Urban Dictionary, but take any definition with a pile of salt. It's educational. I text back, 'Safe, wee fella. Have banging craic with Jay. Happy Valentine's Day.' He can figure that out!

Young love. Not so young, really, but if they're not young, then I'm blatantly getting old. Which, at their age, I thought I never would.

Dan reads our messages. "Bless them. I think they'll be all right. But we'd better have them over, sometime, to make sure. Let them get more relationship advice from Uncle Ade! I mean, 'bossman', that's practically 'daddy'..."

"Fuck off. I'm not old enough to have kids old enough to fuck." Except, given half my age is twenty-four, I am.

Dan retorts, "And how old's Will's Jack?" I've been my best mate's kid's uncle figure since he was born.

"Sixteen in a couple months," I mutter. "Aye, and my actual niece is thirteen, I know."

My sister's five years younger than me, so all arguments I couldn't have adult offspring are defunct. Point is, I don't. "You can give them the sage advice. I'm hardly a model for late teens and twenties, am I?"

It was a rhetorical question, but Dan's reply is thoughtful. "I don't know. You had to learn how to survive. If you hadn't been through all that shit, you wouldn't be able to assure anyone else convincingly that they can get through it. Just being an example of someone helped by therapy -- that's so powerful."

"You're a powerful soppy thing," I tell him. "Happy Valentine's Day. There's a card on your desk. Now, shut up and let me suck your sweet cock. Role model, my arse! Being a cocksucker, that's all I'm being a role model for."

"Nah. Your arse is a mighty fine role model too. Young Jayden was admiring it no end..."

"Oh, shut it." I'll never tell anyone, but I'm getting a real kick from knowing I've helped ensure another fine pair of queer boys are enjoying Valentine's Day too. "Mm, tasty as ever..."

"Steak later, then?" Dan gasps. For us, Steak and a Blow Job Day and Valentine's Day are the same thing.

Twelve years on, it still works for us.

___

Liked this story? Please vote and leave a comment. Authors thrive on your feedback!

For info on other stories with Adrian and Dan, see my Profile.