Yesterday, Thom was walking to Oxfam to see if Hildur was there as she usually was, volunteering. There on the way he met LIZ who was eating chocolate and thinking about spleens
" Hi" Thom said,
" I was just on my way to see Hildur"
You know what, me too!" said LIZ, so they went to Oxfam together.
-------
"Could you walk a little faster, Elizabeth?" Thom says as he walks across the street, without even looking to his sides to notice the green Toyota on his left. He's wearing poop brown leather loafers.
"My name is LIZ!" she snaps at him just before she notices the small vehicle driving in Thom's direction.
"WATCH OUT"
"Huh!" Thom does exactly what he shouldn't have done. He stops in his steps and looks at Liz with a baffled face.
The car is just a few meters away. It looks like Thom is doomed to be mutilated by the small Toyota when a creature appears from behind a large bush. This must have been someone stalking Thom.
-------
Thom was thrown to the ground by the creature just in time
"JULIAN!! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING??????!!!!!!!!!!"
"You were.......the car................."
"Fucking hell," said Thom and laughed it off
"I'd better get to Oxfam though, I don't want to miss Hildur. Coming julian?"
"Sure, but remember, I'm gay"
"Yes Julian, we know. Just cause you saved my life doesn't mean you can be annoying"
"Sorry anyway, if Beck's mum's there don't tell her about my homosexual practices"
"Sure, whatever."
LIZ had stopped to examine a daisy on the floor
"Thom, this daisy looks like a spleen"
"No it doesn't LIZ it's .........hang on........ AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"
----------
"IT IS A SPLEEN!" Thom yells and starts running frantically in circles, banging his head with his hands.
"Are you sure you worked in the psycho house, Thom?"
Thom doesn't hear Liz's sarcastic comment because then he started singing to himself in strange tounges.
"You know how much he hates meat, Liz. Oh, and that's not a spleen, it's a kidney" Julian says while ripping the stick of Liz that she had just grabbed to poke the organ.
"That's mine!! Oh... it's not a spleen? How disappointing. I don't want to stay here anymore. Let's go!"
Liz pulls on Thom's shirtsleeve. "C'mon loon"
Thom stops and looks at Liz and then Julian while drying the sweat off his forehead.
"Fuck off!! Come along then. I don't want you dragging me down"
He keeps on walking and Liz follows. Julian's still standing there, looking at the kidney.
"I'll catch up with you guys in a minute" he says just before he pulls a traveler's surgery kit out of his pocket.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Astoria spazzing
Ed was lying on his back in his hotel bed. He smiled as he looked down at the slender body lying – or rather sprawled – across him. Jonny's arm was slung around his waist, his leg was entwined with Ed's and his head was resting on his chest. His steady breathing tickled Ed, but he didn't mind it. There was nothing about Jonny that was unpleasant. Ed felt him move and tighten his grip, and he stroked his hair absent-mindedly, gazing at the ceiling and dreaming about their first time together, as he often liked doing.
It was the night of their concert at the Astoria in London. The gig was going well, very well. The band gave all they had on stage. They were happy. They were finally going somewhere with their music. The new songs were much better than the first ones and worked well played live. All was well.
And later, going back to their hotel after a few – no, a lot of celebratory drinks, Jonny was a bit – no, completely drunk. He was stumbling and his bandmates had to help him stand, laughing at how hopeless he was at drinking. Ed, particularly, was more than happy to have Jonny leaning against him. Not that Jonny noticed anything, wasted as he was, even though he was sure Ed had been staring at him with a strange look on his face during the gig.
Jonny never did it on purpose, of course, but he had been acting flirty all night, like always when he was drunk. Ed knew it, but wanted to think Jonny did it a bit for him. Seeing him like that, all hips and eyes and lips, pouting and running his long fingers in his silky hair twice as often as usual, it drove him crazy. And by the time they reached their hotel, Ed was practically bursting out of those rather tight trousers he was wearing for the gig.
The three others had plans on their own, and Ed assumed that for Thom and Colin it probably meant “we're going to get completely pissed and fuck each other's brains out in the corridor if we don't make it to our room” and he chuckled at this thought. He made some excuse about being tired and putting Jonny to bed and headed towards the lift, remembered their rooms were only on the first floor, changed his mind, and dragged Jonny along to the staircase. By this stage Jonny was barely capable of walking in a straight line, let alone making it up the stairs. So Ed scooped him up in his arms and carried him to his room.
On their way to the first floor, Jonny was giggling uncontrollably, throwing back his head and showing the taller man his beautiful neck. “Lucky you've always had someone to look after you, mate,” Ed thought, “you'd get raped or something. Look at yourself, it's like you're begging to be fucked... and you don't even know it.”
Jonny didn't weigh a lot, but he was very uncomfortable and squirmy. He threw his arms around Ed's neck, exhaling a strong smell of alcohol. Ed laughed quietly. Damn him, he was just too cute. It highly amused him that Jonny couldn't drink without systematically collapsing. But as cute as the scene was, it also gave him ideas. After all, Jonny was a lot less inhibited when he was drunk. He would say things he wouldn't dare to think while sober, and lisped more, which seemed to have a knack for making Ed insanely horny.
Halfway up the stairs, Jonny leant his head in towards Ed and asked him if he would mind helping him to shower, since he didn't trust himself when he was drunk not to fall over and hurt himself, but he was still sweaty from the gig and he didn't want to go to bed like that. Ed was speechless. Jonny had to be really intoxicated to ask him such a thing. But how could he refuse? Nobody would, nor could. Even his slut of a brother would probably love to get to have a good look at him.
They reached the hotel room at last – that was certainly the longest walk up a flight of stairs ever – and Ed, after cursing at the key, finally managed to get it in the lock. Jonny half-fell through the door and he caught him promptly by the waist.
Ed felt himself getting hard as he held Jonny tightly against his body. He set him upright and closed the door behind them with his foot. Jonny looked up at Ed with puppy-dog eyes through his fringe, and Ed just knew that he had felt his arousal during the ten seconds he was pressed against him. He tried to read Jonny's mind. He looked like he wanted it – that's what he hoped. And Jonny did. Even though he couldn't think straight.
Ed started removing Jonny's clothes, and he couldn't help but touch him a little as he did so. As Jonny didn't react, he pressed him against the wall and lifted his tee-shirt ever so gently, and his fingers trailed across the expanse of pale abdomen and the little dark trail of hair leading down, down... He had not meant to touch him. That's what he told himself. It was difficult – impossible – not to, though. Especially when Jonny, looking down at Ed's hands, did absolutely nothing to stop him. This tee-shirt was so tiny, Ed thought, his finger lingering on the pale bare skin. How the hell could he wear things like that and not want it? He was doing it on purpose, surely? Maybe he was not so different from Colin, after all. Just more innocent. Or at least less obvious. He wondered if Jonny realised what he was letting himself in for, flirting with him like he did. There would be no going back.
Jonny's tee-shirt was on the floor, and they both kicked their shoes off, staring at one another. There was so much tension in the air it could have been cut with a knife. They both knew by now that they were stalling the inevitable. They couldn't go anywhere else but down and down. Ed began undoing Jonny's belt, fumbling against the stupid piece of leather. He made it slide out of the loops and unzipped the fly. Jonny's jeans slid down easily on the floor. Ed made him step out of them and Jonny, who could hardly stand, sank to the ground. Ed didn't stop him. He preferred Jonny like that, after all. Seeing his pretty bandmate on his knees wearing only black cotton briefs was something he could hardly have dreamed of before. Especially on his knees at Ed's feet.
Jonny looked up at him, and Ed shrugged his own shirt (that Jonny found awful) off, and started to undo his zipper, tooth by tooth, wanting to make this last. Jonny wetted his lips, his eyes widening a little, and reached up. This was really happening, and he was both looking forward to it and a little scared. He helped Ed slide down his – now very tight – trousers and kissed his inner thigh, before curling his fingers inside the waistband of Ed's boxers, his breath hot against his groin.
Ed's breathing got heavier and he grabbed a fistful of Jonny's hair. Jonny tugged on his waistband and his underwear slipped off his hips and down to his ankles. It was more than Ed could handle and he let out a groan, thrusting forward involuntarily. Jonny finally captured his liberated erection between his lips. Ed moaned and bit his own hand, the other still tangled in Jonny's hair. Jonny gave him a wicked little smile as he peered up from between Ed's legs through his curtain of hair, and licked the underside of his shaft. The latter could barely stand to be teased like this, but then he was not surprised. It seemed to be a Greenwood genetic trait.
Holding firmly onto Ed's hips, Jonny eventually opened wide and took him into his mouth. Ed couldn't help but pull Jonny's head towards him. Jonny struggled slightly. He had never done this before. However, in his drunken state, he couldn't fight back for long, and Ed's hand in his hair and his gentle thrusting guided him. So he gave in and closed his lips tightly onto Ed's hot flesh.
Looking down, Ed was harder than ever. The sight of Jonny's cocksucking slut lips around his cock, where they were meant to be, drove him crazy, and he pushed in further. Jonny choked a little, but he quickly adjusted to it, and he allowed Ed deeper and deeper. Ed was impressed. Even Colin wasn't able to do this for long. He was now all the way in Jonny's soft mouth; he stroked his hair and started building up a rhythm. Jonny moaned as he worked his bandmate in earnest, obviously lost in the moment.
Memories of Colin crossed Ed's foggy mind. Jonny was so good at this, he certainly had learnt from his brother. Colin was more than talkative when he was drunk or high, and he could totally picture him telling whoever would listen to him about his many experiences. And he could see Jonny listening to him, eagerly maybe, impressed, probably. And certainly envious of the facilities Colin had when it came to sex. To Ed, it was more than just “facilities”. Colin was no more or less than a whore. Given that it was too much to ask of him to be monogamous, Ed had put an end to their relationship. Their breakup had been messy. Harsh words were spoken and Ed had had to gather all his willpower not to beat Colin up when he had casually told him that he was already with someone else; not only someone else, but with the one and only Thom E. Yorke. Looking back on it now, Ed thought he shouldn't have been surprised. After all, Thom was almost as much of a slut as Colin, so no wonder why they got on so well.
Ed felt more confident with the younger Greenwood. Whereas Colin could be so wild and unpredictable, his brother was sweeter and more sheltered, and genuinely willing to please, he noticed, looking down at Jonny once again. He looked like he'd rather die than let Ed go. But he didn't need to worry, as he couldn't have escaped even if he had tried. Ed was much stronger than him and his hand was pressed too firmly on the back of his head.
Ed could hardly keep control of himself, as his movements were getting faster and faster. Feeling himself close to release, he slipped quickly out of Jonny's mouth, leaving him oddly empty. He took Jonny's hand in his free one and wrapped it around the base of his shaft. Jonny watched Ed's twitching cock as he made him stroke him, disoriented. He had not expected that. He had thought Ed would just come in his mouth. He was ready to swallow. He was...
Jonny's panicked thoughts were interrupted as Ed came across his face without warning, and he somewhat came back to reality, which was a bitch, he found out, as he felt like a cheap whore, on his knees on a hotel room carpet, in his briefs, drunk and covered in his bandmate's come. Ed bent down and lifted him from the floor.
“Well,” he said, “you're definitely going to need a shower now.”
Without waiting for an answer, he carried Jonny in the bathroom, and took off his underwear. Jonny tried to resist, but it didn't last long. He felt pathetic and was half-crying, a thing Ed was not used to seeing. As far as he remembered, he had never been able to overpower Colin like that. Of course, he was bigger than him but Colin was all spitting fury and Ed never dared not to obey. Jonny was so different. Maybe was it the time to try out on him a thing or two. They obviously had both learnt a lot from his brother.
Ed switched on the water in the shower and let it run hot, while Jonny just stood there with one hand pressed to his lips, trying to hold back tears of shame. His head was spinning. Why had he been so eager and why had not he thought about this before it was too late to turn back? He was never going to be able to look at Ed the same way again. And it was his fault.
Ed guided him into the shower and stepped after him, shutting the door behind them. The air was full of steam from the hot water. Jonny lowered his head and his hair fell in front of his face once again. Tears now were running down freely down his cheeks but he didn't care, Ed wouldn't notice with all the water. However, he was terrified that he would notice that, as pathetic as he felt, he was hard. But it was too late, of course. How could he possibly have hidden it? It wasn’t as if the shower was that big.
Ed put one hand under Jonny's chin and lifted his head. He stroked back the hair and let the water fall on Jonny's upturned face. Jesus, he thought, he looked even better when he was wet. He suddenly realised that he had not even kissed him before he sucked him off. So he leant in and placed his lips delicately on Jonny's. He tasted himself on them. The sensation was strange, but not unpleasant.
Jonny had not expected that kiss and the form of affection it provided helped him feel less used, so he reciprocated eagerly, his tongue running against Ed's teeth, begging for entrance. He curled his fist against Ed's chest as he slid his tongue into his mouth. Ed pressed him against the cold tiled wall of the shower as he slid both hands up into his hair and held him still, eating away at his mouth.
Jonny couldn't get enough of the alcohol he tasted on Ed's tongue. At the same time he could feel Ed's cock against his hip, swelling again. Ed pulled away and looked at Jonny. All he wanted at the moment was to turn him around and take him against the shower wall. He knew Jonny wasn't expecting it, but then he didn't really care, overwhelmed with desire. When he grabbed the complimentary bottle of hotel shower gel on the shower rack, Jonny frowned, wondering. Ed uncapped the shower gel and started dripping it on his growing erection, staring all the time in Jonny's eyes, which widened in realisation when he saw what Ed was doing. And before he could say anything, Ed made him face the wall in one swift motion and pushed him against it. Soon there were long, slippery guitarist's fingers against his opening, slick with gel.
Jonny shrieked when he felt Ed's fingers entering him and Ed clasped his other hand immediately over his mouth. He pressed his forehead against the tiles and breathed hard as first one, then two, then three of Ed's fingers entered him and started moving in a slow, agonising rhythm. The initial pain was going away progressively, and although he felt like a whore all over again, when Ed whispered, “Are you ready now?” into his ear he couldn't do anything but breathe, “Yes.” Ed withdrew his fingers which were replaced by the head of his cock, making Jonny gasp. It was like nothing he had ever felt before. Ed decided to tease him a little, and he whispered again.
“Do you want it? Are you sure? Say it, Jonny.”
Jonny moaned incoherently, but Ed wasn't going to do anything more until he uttered the words. And finally, Jonny said it loud. Forgetting the shame he felt, he begged Ed to do it, to stick his cock in him. That was all Ed needed. The sweet, naive, innocent little Jonny lisping something so filthy was the most arousing thing he had ever seen. Without further warning, he plunged into Jonny, and they moaned in unison.
Jonny's feet barely touched the floor, as Ed held him by the hips and forced his way inside. He was almost crushing Jonny against the wall, but the latter didn't care, rolling his hips to find the best angle. His lips were parted in a continuous moan as Ed pounded into him without thinking whether he was hurting him or not. At this point, none of them could think properly, lost as they were in lust and pleasure.
Ed reached around to find Jonny was as hard as he himself was. He started to stroke him in time with his own thrusts. This drove Jonny mad, and he started screaming for good. This time Ed couldn't muffle the sounds escaping his lips, with one hand holding him and the other stroking him. He lowered his mouth to Jonny's desperately arching neck and bit him hard in the hope he would stop making such a noise. Jonny squealed and pushed back against him, his head falling back against Ed's shoulder. He reached back to slide his hand behind Ed's neck and pulled him into a kiss, at the same time putting his other hand on the one that was stroking him, increasing the pace.
He screamed into Ed's mouth as Ed shifted his angle, driving harder and further into him, then started saying the dirtiest things that crossed his mind. He knew Ed would become even rougher, and it was exactly what he wanted. It wasn't as exciting when he was gentle. Jonny had forgotten his previous reluctance. He didn't think anymore of what would be his state of mind the day after. Nothing mattered but the here and now, nothing mattered but Ed taking him violently in this shower. His fingernails were digging into his skin, and he felt he wouldn't be able to hold back much longer.
Ed somehow managed to hold control over himself, and stopped suddenly. Completely still, he held Jonny's hand tightly so that he wouldn't stroke himself and stayed there inside him, not moving at all. Jonny shrieked in frustration, but Ed wanted him to make him beg again. And he knew he would, being that close from release. He ran his fingertips on Jonny's lips, moving down to his throat and chest.
“What do you want, Jonny?” he asked.
Jonny didn't wait for a second; he was almost crying when he begged Ed to carry on.
“Pleeeeeaase, Ed...”
“Please what, Jonny?”
“Please... don't stop!”
“Don't stop what?”
“Don't stop... unnggggghhh don't stop... fucking me... please...”
“What do you want me to do, Jon?”
“Oohh... fuck me... hard... and fast...”
“Why? What are you going to do for me?”
“Ed! I'm so close... you can't... sooo close... I'll... I'll...”
“You'll what?”
“I'll do anything you want!”
“Anything?”
“YES!!”
“You'll be my whore tonight, won't you, Jonny? Let me use you like the cheap slut you are?”
“Anything! Please, just keep fucking me!”
That was good enough for Ed, who thrusted back again, harder than before, and moved his hand back to Jonny's sharp hipbone while the other slid slick and fast over his cock twitching for release in his palm. It didn't last long before Jonny started shaking uncontrollably and came in the hand that was stroking him, tight muscles spasming around Ed's cock, and Ed lost control himself. Grasping Jonny by both hips as he was still coming, he fucked him brutally and came for the second time in the night, screaming Jonny's name.
They collapsed against the shower wall, panting. As soon as they caught their breath they returned to kissing frantically, slick wet bodies entwining. When they finally pulled away Jonny rested his head on Ed's shoulder, exhausted. They remained like this for long minutes. Ed could feel Jonny's fatigue and weakness as he held him in his arms and wondered whether it would be fair to actually use him that night. He felt that there would certainly be other occasions.
Eventually he shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, fetching towels for them. He wrapped Jonny up and took him to bed. Jonny vaguely wondered how he managed not to faint in that shower, with all the alcohol not helping, before falling asleep in a tangle of towels and bedsheets, dark hair scattered across the pillows. Ed sat at the foot of the bed and watched him for a long time, smiling to himself. Partly because watching Jonny sleep was beautiful, partly because fucking him had been the best experience ever. He was somewhat worried that Jonny would forget the night, drunk as he was. And he wanted him to remember; he would perhaps be willing to do it again. But he couldn't do anything except wait and see what would be left of his memories.
And when Jonny woke up the following day in bed beside Ed, with a pounding headache and bruises on his hips, he knew. Ed had to hold him to control his hysteria and Jonny eventually burst into tears, sobbing openly against his shoulder. Ed had leant in and stroked his hair, trying to comfort him. When he reminded Jonny of his promise, Jonny pulled away and met his gaze. The memories of the previous night started to trickle back to him. Smiling sheepishly and blushing slightly, he said he would keep it.
It was the night of their concert at the Astoria in London. The gig was going well, very well. The band gave all they had on stage. They were happy. They were finally going somewhere with their music. The new songs were much better than the first ones and worked well played live. All was well.
And later, going back to their hotel after a few – no, a lot of celebratory drinks, Jonny was a bit – no, completely drunk. He was stumbling and his bandmates had to help him stand, laughing at how hopeless he was at drinking. Ed, particularly, was more than happy to have Jonny leaning against him. Not that Jonny noticed anything, wasted as he was, even though he was sure Ed had been staring at him with a strange look on his face during the gig.
Jonny never did it on purpose, of course, but he had been acting flirty all night, like always when he was drunk. Ed knew it, but wanted to think Jonny did it a bit for him. Seeing him like that, all hips and eyes and lips, pouting and running his long fingers in his silky hair twice as often as usual, it drove him crazy. And by the time they reached their hotel, Ed was practically bursting out of those rather tight trousers he was wearing for the gig.
The three others had plans on their own, and Ed assumed that for Thom and Colin it probably meant “we're going to get completely pissed and fuck each other's brains out in the corridor if we don't make it to our room” and he chuckled at this thought. He made some excuse about being tired and putting Jonny to bed and headed towards the lift, remembered their rooms were only on the first floor, changed his mind, and dragged Jonny along to the staircase. By this stage Jonny was barely capable of walking in a straight line, let alone making it up the stairs. So Ed scooped him up in his arms and carried him to his room.
On their way to the first floor, Jonny was giggling uncontrollably, throwing back his head and showing the taller man his beautiful neck. “Lucky you've always had someone to look after you, mate,” Ed thought, “you'd get raped or something. Look at yourself, it's like you're begging to be fucked... and you don't even know it.”
Jonny didn't weigh a lot, but he was very uncomfortable and squirmy. He threw his arms around Ed's neck, exhaling a strong smell of alcohol. Ed laughed quietly. Damn him, he was just too cute. It highly amused him that Jonny couldn't drink without systematically collapsing. But as cute as the scene was, it also gave him ideas. After all, Jonny was a lot less inhibited when he was drunk. He would say things he wouldn't dare to think while sober, and lisped more, which seemed to have a knack for making Ed insanely horny.
Halfway up the stairs, Jonny leant his head in towards Ed and asked him if he would mind helping him to shower, since he didn't trust himself when he was drunk not to fall over and hurt himself, but he was still sweaty from the gig and he didn't want to go to bed like that. Ed was speechless. Jonny had to be really intoxicated to ask him such a thing. But how could he refuse? Nobody would, nor could. Even his slut of a brother would probably love to get to have a good look at him.
They reached the hotel room at last – that was certainly the longest walk up a flight of stairs ever – and Ed, after cursing at the key, finally managed to get it in the lock. Jonny half-fell through the door and he caught him promptly by the waist.
Ed felt himself getting hard as he held Jonny tightly against his body. He set him upright and closed the door behind them with his foot. Jonny looked up at Ed with puppy-dog eyes through his fringe, and Ed just knew that he had felt his arousal during the ten seconds he was pressed against him. He tried to read Jonny's mind. He looked like he wanted it – that's what he hoped. And Jonny did. Even though he couldn't think straight.
Ed started removing Jonny's clothes, and he couldn't help but touch him a little as he did so. As Jonny didn't react, he pressed him against the wall and lifted his tee-shirt ever so gently, and his fingers trailed across the expanse of pale abdomen and the little dark trail of hair leading down, down... He had not meant to touch him. That's what he told himself. It was difficult – impossible – not to, though. Especially when Jonny, looking down at Ed's hands, did absolutely nothing to stop him. This tee-shirt was so tiny, Ed thought, his finger lingering on the pale bare skin. How the hell could he wear things like that and not want it? He was doing it on purpose, surely? Maybe he was not so different from Colin, after all. Just more innocent. Or at least less obvious. He wondered if Jonny realised what he was letting himself in for, flirting with him like he did. There would be no going back.
Jonny's tee-shirt was on the floor, and they both kicked their shoes off, staring at one another. There was so much tension in the air it could have been cut with a knife. They both knew by now that they were stalling the inevitable. They couldn't go anywhere else but down and down. Ed began undoing Jonny's belt, fumbling against the stupid piece of leather. He made it slide out of the loops and unzipped the fly. Jonny's jeans slid down easily on the floor. Ed made him step out of them and Jonny, who could hardly stand, sank to the ground. Ed didn't stop him. He preferred Jonny like that, after all. Seeing his pretty bandmate on his knees wearing only black cotton briefs was something he could hardly have dreamed of before. Especially on his knees at Ed's feet.
Jonny looked up at him, and Ed shrugged his own shirt (that Jonny found awful) off, and started to undo his zipper, tooth by tooth, wanting to make this last. Jonny wetted his lips, his eyes widening a little, and reached up. This was really happening, and he was both looking forward to it and a little scared. He helped Ed slide down his – now very tight – trousers and kissed his inner thigh, before curling his fingers inside the waistband of Ed's boxers, his breath hot against his groin.
Ed's breathing got heavier and he grabbed a fistful of Jonny's hair. Jonny tugged on his waistband and his underwear slipped off his hips and down to his ankles. It was more than Ed could handle and he let out a groan, thrusting forward involuntarily. Jonny finally captured his liberated erection between his lips. Ed moaned and bit his own hand, the other still tangled in Jonny's hair. Jonny gave him a wicked little smile as he peered up from between Ed's legs through his curtain of hair, and licked the underside of his shaft. The latter could barely stand to be teased like this, but then he was not surprised. It seemed to be a Greenwood genetic trait.
Holding firmly onto Ed's hips, Jonny eventually opened wide and took him into his mouth. Ed couldn't help but pull Jonny's head towards him. Jonny struggled slightly. He had never done this before. However, in his drunken state, he couldn't fight back for long, and Ed's hand in his hair and his gentle thrusting guided him. So he gave in and closed his lips tightly onto Ed's hot flesh.
Looking down, Ed was harder than ever. The sight of Jonny's cocksucking slut lips around his cock, where they were meant to be, drove him crazy, and he pushed in further. Jonny choked a little, but he quickly adjusted to it, and he allowed Ed deeper and deeper. Ed was impressed. Even Colin wasn't able to do this for long. He was now all the way in Jonny's soft mouth; he stroked his hair and started building up a rhythm. Jonny moaned as he worked his bandmate in earnest, obviously lost in the moment.
Memories of Colin crossed Ed's foggy mind. Jonny was so good at this, he certainly had learnt from his brother. Colin was more than talkative when he was drunk or high, and he could totally picture him telling whoever would listen to him about his many experiences. And he could see Jonny listening to him, eagerly maybe, impressed, probably. And certainly envious of the facilities Colin had when it came to sex. To Ed, it was more than just “facilities”. Colin was no more or less than a whore. Given that it was too much to ask of him to be monogamous, Ed had put an end to their relationship. Their breakup had been messy. Harsh words were spoken and Ed had had to gather all his willpower not to beat Colin up when he had casually told him that he was already with someone else; not only someone else, but with the one and only Thom E. Yorke. Looking back on it now, Ed thought he shouldn't have been surprised. After all, Thom was almost as much of a slut as Colin, so no wonder why they got on so well.
Ed felt more confident with the younger Greenwood. Whereas Colin could be so wild and unpredictable, his brother was sweeter and more sheltered, and genuinely willing to please, he noticed, looking down at Jonny once again. He looked like he'd rather die than let Ed go. But he didn't need to worry, as he couldn't have escaped even if he had tried. Ed was much stronger than him and his hand was pressed too firmly on the back of his head.
Ed could hardly keep control of himself, as his movements were getting faster and faster. Feeling himself close to release, he slipped quickly out of Jonny's mouth, leaving him oddly empty. He took Jonny's hand in his free one and wrapped it around the base of his shaft. Jonny watched Ed's twitching cock as he made him stroke him, disoriented. He had not expected that. He had thought Ed would just come in his mouth. He was ready to swallow. He was...
Jonny's panicked thoughts were interrupted as Ed came across his face without warning, and he somewhat came back to reality, which was a bitch, he found out, as he felt like a cheap whore, on his knees on a hotel room carpet, in his briefs, drunk and covered in his bandmate's come. Ed bent down and lifted him from the floor.
“Well,” he said, “you're definitely going to need a shower now.”
Without waiting for an answer, he carried Jonny in the bathroom, and took off his underwear. Jonny tried to resist, but it didn't last long. He felt pathetic and was half-crying, a thing Ed was not used to seeing. As far as he remembered, he had never been able to overpower Colin like that. Of course, he was bigger than him but Colin was all spitting fury and Ed never dared not to obey. Jonny was so different. Maybe was it the time to try out on him a thing or two. They obviously had both learnt a lot from his brother.
Ed switched on the water in the shower and let it run hot, while Jonny just stood there with one hand pressed to his lips, trying to hold back tears of shame. His head was spinning. Why had he been so eager and why had not he thought about this before it was too late to turn back? He was never going to be able to look at Ed the same way again. And it was his fault.
Ed guided him into the shower and stepped after him, shutting the door behind them. The air was full of steam from the hot water. Jonny lowered his head and his hair fell in front of his face once again. Tears now were running down freely down his cheeks but he didn't care, Ed wouldn't notice with all the water. However, he was terrified that he would notice that, as pathetic as he felt, he was hard. But it was too late, of course. How could he possibly have hidden it? It wasn’t as if the shower was that big.
Ed put one hand under Jonny's chin and lifted his head. He stroked back the hair and let the water fall on Jonny's upturned face. Jesus, he thought, he looked even better when he was wet. He suddenly realised that he had not even kissed him before he sucked him off. So he leant in and placed his lips delicately on Jonny's. He tasted himself on them. The sensation was strange, but not unpleasant.
Jonny had not expected that kiss and the form of affection it provided helped him feel less used, so he reciprocated eagerly, his tongue running against Ed's teeth, begging for entrance. He curled his fist against Ed's chest as he slid his tongue into his mouth. Ed pressed him against the cold tiled wall of the shower as he slid both hands up into his hair and held him still, eating away at his mouth.
Jonny couldn't get enough of the alcohol he tasted on Ed's tongue. At the same time he could feel Ed's cock against his hip, swelling again. Ed pulled away and looked at Jonny. All he wanted at the moment was to turn him around and take him against the shower wall. He knew Jonny wasn't expecting it, but then he didn't really care, overwhelmed with desire. When he grabbed the complimentary bottle of hotel shower gel on the shower rack, Jonny frowned, wondering. Ed uncapped the shower gel and started dripping it on his growing erection, staring all the time in Jonny's eyes, which widened in realisation when he saw what Ed was doing. And before he could say anything, Ed made him face the wall in one swift motion and pushed him against it. Soon there were long, slippery guitarist's fingers against his opening, slick with gel.
Jonny shrieked when he felt Ed's fingers entering him and Ed clasped his other hand immediately over his mouth. He pressed his forehead against the tiles and breathed hard as first one, then two, then three of Ed's fingers entered him and started moving in a slow, agonising rhythm. The initial pain was going away progressively, and although he felt like a whore all over again, when Ed whispered, “Are you ready now?” into his ear he couldn't do anything but breathe, “Yes.” Ed withdrew his fingers which were replaced by the head of his cock, making Jonny gasp. It was like nothing he had ever felt before. Ed decided to tease him a little, and he whispered again.
“Do you want it? Are you sure? Say it, Jonny.”
Jonny moaned incoherently, but Ed wasn't going to do anything more until he uttered the words. And finally, Jonny said it loud. Forgetting the shame he felt, he begged Ed to do it, to stick his cock in him. That was all Ed needed. The sweet, naive, innocent little Jonny lisping something so filthy was the most arousing thing he had ever seen. Without further warning, he plunged into Jonny, and they moaned in unison.
Jonny's feet barely touched the floor, as Ed held him by the hips and forced his way inside. He was almost crushing Jonny against the wall, but the latter didn't care, rolling his hips to find the best angle. His lips were parted in a continuous moan as Ed pounded into him without thinking whether he was hurting him or not. At this point, none of them could think properly, lost as they were in lust and pleasure.
Ed reached around to find Jonny was as hard as he himself was. He started to stroke him in time with his own thrusts. This drove Jonny mad, and he started screaming for good. This time Ed couldn't muffle the sounds escaping his lips, with one hand holding him and the other stroking him. He lowered his mouth to Jonny's desperately arching neck and bit him hard in the hope he would stop making such a noise. Jonny squealed and pushed back against him, his head falling back against Ed's shoulder. He reached back to slide his hand behind Ed's neck and pulled him into a kiss, at the same time putting his other hand on the one that was stroking him, increasing the pace.
He screamed into Ed's mouth as Ed shifted his angle, driving harder and further into him, then started saying the dirtiest things that crossed his mind. He knew Ed would become even rougher, and it was exactly what he wanted. It wasn't as exciting when he was gentle. Jonny had forgotten his previous reluctance. He didn't think anymore of what would be his state of mind the day after. Nothing mattered but the here and now, nothing mattered but Ed taking him violently in this shower. His fingernails were digging into his skin, and he felt he wouldn't be able to hold back much longer.
Ed somehow managed to hold control over himself, and stopped suddenly. Completely still, he held Jonny's hand tightly so that he wouldn't stroke himself and stayed there inside him, not moving at all. Jonny shrieked in frustration, but Ed wanted him to make him beg again. And he knew he would, being that close from release. He ran his fingertips on Jonny's lips, moving down to his throat and chest.
“What do you want, Jonny?” he asked.
Jonny didn't wait for a second; he was almost crying when he begged Ed to carry on.
“Pleeeeeaase, Ed...”
“Please what, Jonny?”
“Please... don't stop!”
“Don't stop what?”
“Don't stop... unnggggghhh don't stop... fucking me... please...”
“What do you want me to do, Jon?”
“Oohh... fuck me... hard... and fast...”
“Why? What are you going to do for me?”
“Ed! I'm so close... you can't... sooo close... I'll... I'll...”
“You'll what?”
“I'll do anything you want!”
“Anything?”
“YES!!”
“You'll be my whore tonight, won't you, Jonny? Let me use you like the cheap slut you are?”
“Anything! Please, just keep fucking me!”
That was good enough for Ed, who thrusted back again, harder than before, and moved his hand back to Jonny's sharp hipbone while the other slid slick and fast over his cock twitching for release in his palm. It didn't last long before Jonny started shaking uncontrollably and came in the hand that was stroking him, tight muscles spasming around Ed's cock, and Ed lost control himself. Grasping Jonny by both hips as he was still coming, he fucked him brutally and came for the second time in the night, screaming Jonny's name.
They collapsed against the shower wall, panting. As soon as they caught their breath they returned to kissing frantically, slick wet bodies entwining. When they finally pulled away Jonny rested his head on Ed's shoulder, exhausted. They remained like this for long minutes. Ed could feel Jonny's fatigue and weakness as he held him in his arms and wondered whether it would be fair to actually use him that night. He felt that there would certainly be other occasions.
Eventually he shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, fetching towels for them. He wrapped Jonny up and took him to bed. Jonny vaguely wondered how he managed not to faint in that shower, with all the alcohol not helping, before falling asleep in a tangle of towels and bedsheets, dark hair scattered across the pillows. Ed sat at the foot of the bed and watched him for a long time, smiling to himself. Partly because watching Jonny sleep was beautiful, partly because fucking him had been the best experience ever. He was somewhat worried that Jonny would forget the night, drunk as he was. And he wanted him to remember; he would perhaps be willing to do it again. But he couldn't do anything except wait and see what would be left of his memories.
And when Jonny woke up the following day in bed beside Ed, with a pounding headache and bruises on his hips, he knew. Ed had to hold him to control his hysteria and Jonny eventually burst into tears, sobbing openly against his shoulder. Ed had leant in and stroked his hair, trying to comfort him. When he reminded Jonny of his promise, Jonny pulled away and met his gaze. The memories of the previous night started to trickle back to him. Smiling sheepishly and blushing slightly, he said he would keep it.
Monday, October 22, 2007
In the meadow
It was dark. The meadow still breathed the heat it had absorbed during the day. I was sitting on the old concrete bunker, on the black dot right in the middle. My spot. Since... ages. I couldn’t remember when I had claimed that exact spot as mine. The moon, a thin crescent hanging above the tree, was barely illuminating the scenery. Yes, it was a scenery. More so than reality. At least that’s what it seemed like. You were on your way; I could hear you ploughing through knee-high grass somewhere on my left. When you reached it, you automatically began searching for the branch. The branch we had always used to climb up. You were soon sitting next to me. A little out of breath, but only a little. And you tried to hide even that. I would’ve smiled if I could’ve forgotten why I brought you up here. I would’ve said something about it. You were terrible in aging. You hated it and still couldn’t live with the fact that ‘your thirties’ were reality now instead of dreadful future.
“Hi.”
I turned my head enough to see you in the corner of my eye.
“Hi.”
“A blanket and everything,” you said, smiling.
“Yeah,” I answered, looking at it.
Then you fell silent. You were waiting. Of course you were waiting. I brought you up here. Called you. This afternoon. I had carefully chosen my words. I had said I needed to talk. Not ‘to talk to you’. Just ‘to talk’. That’s what it was going to be. Saying to my best friend what I’d kept hidden for so long. That the best friend happened to be the very subject, was a sad coincidence. But I was convinced I could tell you this with avoiding that.
“I...”
I had no idea how to start.
“I wanted to talk.” Obviously.
“I know,” came your reply. Your voice was soft and had an encouraging tone. You waited again.
“I have to tell you something. I have to tell someone. It’s been driving me mad.” Again, I fell silent.
“This is serious, isn’t it?”
I swallowed and breathed in deeply.
“I... I don’t know. I guess. It is to me. I haven’t told anyone before.”
“Okay.”
Another silence. I was preparing my speech. You could feel it. I could feel you feeling it.
“I have this… I don’t know how to put this into words really. This little... streak? I’m not... I’m not a normal man. Normal men have a wife and children and have a midlife crisis at the age of 40, but are more or less happy the rest of the time. Normal men sometimes feel the need to steer away from the path and start flirting with other women when they think no one’s watching. Just to see if they still got it.
I’m not a normal man. I mean, I do have a wife and children. I too sometimes feel the need to steer away from the path. But... it’s more than sometimes. I can control it, though; I mean, I can control myself, really. But I’m barely thirty. And I don’t go around flirting with other women. That’s the problem.”
I took a deep breath. You used the gap of silence to say something.
“What is the problem? That you’re not a flirter? Do you think you should flirt with other women? Do you think Sharona expects you to, in a way?”
“No, I... I don’t know. Maybe... no, that’s ridiculous. But I do feel the need to...
Look, you know how it goes, it happens to you all the time: people come up to you to talk and within a minute you sense if the real intention was talking or flirting. I...”
You broke off my sentence.
“Do you feel the need to reciprocate? I know it’s easy, people who come to you instead of you having to train your seducing skills. You know I’ve combusted more than once. I always felt bad afterwards, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t feel good at that very moment. Which is mainly the reason why I felt bad, of course.”
The image of you and Michael blatantly making out on the tourbus couch popped into my mind almost automatically, as it regularly did. My stomach twitched and I shook my head.
“But see, that’s the difference. You’re what, thirty-two now, and you...”
“Thirty-three.” There was a faint bitterness in your voice. I rolled my eyes.
“Thirty-three, whatever. You still look eighteen to me. And you...”
“Eighteen? That’s not even a compliment! Do you really think...”
Oh please. I hadn’t come here to discuss your age nor your aging complex. I think I’d been the victim of your whining for longer than anyone should have to bear.
“Thom! I’m trying to explain something very difficult here! Could you please concentrate for more than a minute?”
“You’re right, Jonny. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have... please go on.”
“I can’t even remember what I was saying. It’s just that...”
I uncrossed my legs, bent my knees and wrapped my arms around them.
“The problem is... Look, sometimes men come up to me.”
I heard you smiling when you answered.
“Oh, is that it? Jon-jon, seriously, men come up to me all the time. It’s nothing to worry about. Even Ed gets the regular indecent proposal from boys, and he practically radiates testosteron. It doesn’t say anything, really. I remember...”
I sighed.
“The fact that they come up to me is not what’s bothering me, Thom. It’s what I think of it.”
Great, I just sounded like a homophobe.
“Do you...”
“No please, let me finish. I was fourteen when it first happened. When a boy came to me. He was older, I don’t remember how much. I don’t remember the conversation either, but he told me that he... he was in love with me. He was clearly gay. It hadn’t even occurred to him that I might not have been. That’s when I first started looking at myself. I mean, really looking. I did a lot of thinking too. Too much, maybe. And then you came.”
I realised immediately that I shouldn’t have said that.
“I came?”
I desperately tried to steer away from that discussion.
“Look, the details don’t matter that much. It’s just... one day... one day I made a deal with myself. I decided I wasn’t gay and I wanted a girlfriend as soon as possible. Very childish, but it was the only way to clear my head. Three weeks later I met Sharona.”
I paused. Partly to let you react to this information, partly to regain composure for what else I was going to say. I started biting my thumb nail.
“Jesus, Jonny. I never thought... I mean, it sure didn’t seem like a rational decision. More like an impulsive one. You did take her back to Oxford just like that, you know. But you seemed like a very happy couple...”
I noticed you were already talking in the past tense. Seemed.
“I know. And we were. I mean, we are. I mean... I don’t know. It wasn’t that rational. She was beautiful and things just clicked. Right place, right time, stuff like that, I suppose. It still clicks, you know. But...”
I took a deep breath again and heard it shaking a little. I started fiddling with the zipper of my hoodie.
“I feel empty these days. Something’s missing. Something’s wrong. I was hoping that it was temporary. Like, a wicked form of nostalgy. Or just a very early midlife crisis. But it keeps consuming my mind. Lately I can’t think of anything else anymore. I’m slowly going utterly insane.”
I looked up at the sky to blink away the tears that had been forming in my eyes. The pale crescent had been moving fast and was now hanging more or less in front of us.
“What is it, Jonny? Tell me.”
I looked down again. I had hoped I wouldn’t have to tell you literally.
“Can’t you already guess?”
My voice sounded choked. You kept silent for a moment.
“I think I can, but I need you to tell me.”
You were testing me. You made me say it out loud, more for me than for you. I crossed my legs again. Here goes, I thought.
“I think... Back then... I’m beginning to think I’ve made the wrong decision.”
I blinked as fast as I could, but it was too late. I couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks. I felt your eyes on me. Even though the light was faint, you would see the wet lines glistening. You didn’t react. You let it sink in. You’d never been good at handling a crying Jonny. After a while, you put your hand on my back.
“Jonny. I really don’t know what to say to this. I just hate to see you this... broken. I want you to know that you can count on me, okay? Whatever you do, whatever you decide, I’ll be there for you.”
Hearing you say these words, something broke in me. I turned my back on you and began crying freely. I was overwhelmed by feelings of relief, guilt, love and utter unhappiness. I couldn’t keep doing this to you. You were clearly at a loss. I could feel you shifting and I felt two arms wrapping themselves around my neck and holding me tight. I felt incredibly grateful and guilty at the same time, but I grabbed your arms and pulled you even closer to me. I felt your warmth radiating on my back, through my hoodie. I shivered.
We sat there, like that, for a very long time. I couldn’t stop crying. When you finally brought your head next to mine from behind and gently brushed your cheek past mine, I calmed down. It soothed me incredibly. I took my hand and buried it in your hair for a moment. A clumsy way to say thank you. When I pulled away again, you took it and laid it against your cheek. You got up and without letting go of my hand, turned to sit right in front of me, legs crossed. Our knees were touching. The fact that our knees were touching was stirring things in me that made me feel incredibly childish and I could barely keep myself from shedding more tears.
“Jon?” Your voice was soft.
I didn’t answer. I kept staring at our knees.
“Jonny.” There was pity in your voice. I don’t take pity, I thought, but this was Thom. I take anything from Thom.
I looked up. You were looking at me. I couldn’t read your expression. I had always been bad at that. In fact, I couldn’t believe other people could even do that.
“Jonny, who is it?”
I was speechless. I wasn’t thinking straight from the overdose of emotions and had absolutely and honestly no idea what you were talking about at that moment.
“Who is who?”
“Who is doing this to you? Who is it that makes you feel like this?”
If you thought that in those three seconds I would’ve come up with an answer to that, I would have to disappoint you. I just looked down again, not answering but not refusing to answer either.
You took my hand from your cheek and held it in between your hands. Warming it. I still couldn’t figure out why I was cold. Though it had started cooling down, the air was still warm.
You brought one hand up to my chin and lifted it so your eyes could lock mine again. It wasn’t a demanding gesture. It was a pleading one. Please answer me.
“Are you in love, Jonny? With someone else?”
Though you meant ‘other than Sharona’ I kept thinking ‘no’. Nobody else, Thom. Just you. ‘Just’ you. I couldn’t possibly say this. Not now. Not... ever. From the start, I had promised myself not to. This very answer had been living in my mind for all this time, it felt like I would break it if I said it out loud. Turn it into reality. It wasn’t meant to say out loud. It had to remain part of my fantasy. It had to.
You cupped my cheek in your hand and brushed your fingertips softly over the tear-stained skin.
“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you.”
As soon as I had heard myself saying that sentence out loud, I knew I had made a mistake.
You cocked your head just the slightest, and I knew you had heard it. I hadn’t placed the emphasis on tell. And because I hadn’t, the word I had emphasised, almost unnoticeable, became very apparent all of a sudden. I had, very softly, said that I couldn’t tell you.
You weren’t stupid. Why would I not be able to tell you? I told you everything. You knew more about me than anyone. Of course you didn’t know all this. But I’m sure you could’ve at least sensed some of it. After all this spilled, why wouldn’t I be able to answer that simple question? Most of all, it came out like I would be able to tell anyone but you.
I didn’t have a chance to let the hurricane of thoughts calm down. I looked at you.
Your face softened. You weren’t smiling, but your eyes were talking. Now I was the one having to search for clues, trying to understand what you were saying. But you didn’t say anything.
You dropped your hand, resting it on my thigh. I didn’t flinch. You were coming closer, very slowly. You opened your mouth to say something.
“If you can’t tell me...”
You stopped moving, your face right in front of mine. Your eyes were smiling, but your eyebrows were questioning. I looked down at your mouth. Your lips were slightly parted.
I knew I had to make a decision. Now. There was no time to think the clues over. No time to worry. No time to assure myself, either.
I slowly but deliberately closed the space in between our lips. I hesitated right before they would be touching, but you didn’t move an inch. This had to come from me. When our lips finally met, I closed my eyes and breathed out long and slowly. I felt your lips forming a smile, and before I could even start to feel embarassed, you took your hand from where it was holding mine to bury it in my hair at the back of my head. You pulled me in close and breathed in deeply. You kissed my lower lip and flicked your tongue past it. It was all the reassurance I needed.
We opened our mouths simultaneously and our tongues touched for the first time in many, many years. Soon we were kissing deeply, newfound passion arising quickly. You got up on your knees and gently pushed me down on my back. I automatically pulled my legs apart, stiff from the crossed position they’d been in, and welcomed you.
Hovering over me, you stopped smiling. Concern clouded your face. I looked up questioningly.
“Is it me,” you asked faintly.
Now it was my turn to start smiling. I pulled you down at your collar and right before my mouth would envelop yours again, I answered.
“It’s you.”
“Hi.”
I turned my head enough to see you in the corner of my eye.
“Hi.”
“A blanket and everything,” you said, smiling.
“Yeah,” I answered, looking at it.
Then you fell silent. You were waiting. Of course you were waiting. I brought you up here. Called you. This afternoon. I had carefully chosen my words. I had said I needed to talk. Not ‘to talk to you’. Just ‘to talk’. That’s what it was going to be. Saying to my best friend what I’d kept hidden for so long. That the best friend happened to be the very subject, was a sad coincidence. But I was convinced I could tell you this with avoiding that.
“I...”
I had no idea how to start.
“I wanted to talk.” Obviously.
“I know,” came your reply. Your voice was soft and had an encouraging tone. You waited again.
“I have to tell you something. I have to tell someone. It’s been driving me mad.” Again, I fell silent.
“This is serious, isn’t it?”
I swallowed and breathed in deeply.
“I... I don’t know. I guess. It is to me. I haven’t told anyone before.”
“Okay.”
Another silence. I was preparing my speech. You could feel it. I could feel you feeling it.
“I have this… I don’t know how to put this into words really. This little... streak? I’m not... I’m not a normal man. Normal men have a wife and children and have a midlife crisis at the age of 40, but are more or less happy the rest of the time. Normal men sometimes feel the need to steer away from the path and start flirting with other women when they think no one’s watching. Just to see if they still got it.
I’m not a normal man. I mean, I do have a wife and children. I too sometimes feel the need to steer away from the path. But... it’s more than sometimes. I can control it, though; I mean, I can control myself, really. But I’m barely thirty. And I don’t go around flirting with other women. That’s the problem.”
I took a deep breath. You used the gap of silence to say something.
“What is the problem? That you’re not a flirter? Do you think you should flirt with other women? Do you think Sharona expects you to, in a way?”
“No, I... I don’t know. Maybe... no, that’s ridiculous. But I do feel the need to...
Look, you know how it goes, it happens to you all the time: people come up to you to talk and within a minute you sense if the real intention was talking or flirting. I...”
You broke off my sentence.
“Do you feel the need to reciprocate? I know it’s easy, people who come to you instead of you having to train your seducing skills. You know I’ve combusted more than once. I always felt bad afterwards, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t feel good at that very moment. Which is mainly the reason why I felt bad, of course.”
The image of you and Michael blatantly making out on the tourbus couch popped into my mind almost automatically, as it regularly did. My stomach twitched and I shook my head.
“But see, that’s the difference. You’re what, thirty-two now, and you...”
“Thirty-three.” There was a faint bitterness in your voice. I rolled my eyes.
“Thirty-three, whatever. You still look eighteen to me. And you...”
“Eighteen? That’s not even a compliment! Do you really think...”
Oh please. I hadn’t come here to discuss your age nor your aging complex. I think I’d been the victim of your whining for longer than anyone should have to bear.
“Thom! I’m trying to explain something very difficult here! Could you please concentrate for more than a minute?”
“You’re right, Jonny. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have... please go on.”
“I can’t even remember what I was saying. It’s just that...”
I uncrossed my legs, bent my knees and wrapped my arms around them.
“The problem is... Look, sometimes men come up to me.”
I heard you smiling when you answered.
“Oh, is that it? Jon-jon, seriously, men come up to me all the time. It’s nothing to worry about. Even Ed gets the regular indecent proposal from boys, and he practically radiates testosteron. It doesn’t say anything, really. I remember...”
I sighed.
“The fact that they come up to me is not what’s bothering me, Thom. It’s what I think of it.”
Great, I just sounded like a homophobe.
“Do you...”
“No please, let me finish. I was fourteen when it first happened. When a boy came to me. He was older, I don’t remember how much. I don’t remember the conversation either, but he told me that he... he was in love with me. He was clearly gay. It hadn’t even occurred to him that I might not have been. That’s when I first started looking at myself. I mean, really looking. I did a lot of thinking too. Too much, maybe. And then you came.”
I realised immediately that I shouldn’t have said that.
“I came?”
I desperately tried to steer away from that discussion.
“Look, the details don’t matter that much. It’s just... one day... one day I made a deal with myself. I decided I wasn’t gay and I wanted a girlfriend as soon as possible. Very childish, but it was the only way to clear my head. Three weeks later I met Sharona.”
I paused. Partly to let you react to this information, partly to regain composure for what else I was going to say. I started biting my thumb nail.
“Jesus, Jonny. I never thought... I mean, it sure didn’t seem like a rational decision. More like an impulsive one. You did take her back to Oxford just like that, you know. But you seemed like a very happy couple...”
I noticed you were already talking in the past tense. Seemed.
“I know. And we were. I mean, we are. I mean... I don’t know. It wasn’t that rational. She was beautiful and things just clicked. Right place, right time, stuff like that, I suppose. It still clicks, you know. But...”
I took a deep breath again and heard it shaking a little. I started fiddling with the zipper of my hoodie.
“I feel empty these days. Something’s missing. Something’s wrong. I was hoping that it was temporary. Like, a wicked form of nostalgy. Or just a very early midlife crisis. But it keeps consuming my mind. Lately I can’t think of anything else anymore. I’m slowly going utterly insane.”
I looked up at the sky to blink away the tears that had been forming in my eyes. The pale crescent had been moving fast and was now hanging more or less in front of us.
“What is it, Jonny? Tell me.”
I looked down again. I had hoped I wouldn’t have to tell you literally.
“Can’t you already guess?”
My voice sounded choked. You kept silent for a moment.
“I think I can, but I need you to tell me.”
You were testing me. You made me say it out loud, more for me than for you. I crossed my legs again. Here goes, I thought.
“I think... Back then... I’m beginning to think I’ve made the wrong decision.”
I blinked as fast as I could, but it was too late. I couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks. I felt your eyes on me. Even though the light was faint, you would see the wet lines glistening. You didn’t react. You let it sink in. You’d never been good at handling a crying Jonny. After a while, you put your hand on my back.
“Jonny. I really don’t know what to say to this. I just hate to see you this... broken. I want you to know that you can count on me, okay? Whatever you do, whatever you decide, I’ll be there for you.”
Hearing you say these words, something broke in me. I turned my back on you and began crying freely. I was overwhelmed by feelings of relief, guilt, love and utter unhappiness. I couldn’t keep doing this to you. You were clearly at a loss. I could feel you shifting and I felt two arms wrapping themselves around my neck and holding me tight. I felt incredibly grateful and guilty at the same time, but I grabbed your arms and pulled you even closer to me. I felt your warmth radiating on my back, through my hoodie. I shivered.
We sat there, like that, for a very long time. I couldn’t stop crying. When you finally brought your head next to mine from behind and gently brushed your cheek past mine, I calmed down. It soothed me incredibly. I took my hand and buried it in your hair for a moment. A clumsy way to say thank you. When I pulled away again, you took it and laid it against your cheek. You got up and without letting go of my hand, turned to sit right in front of me, legs crossed. Our knees were touching. The fact that our knees were touching was stirring things in me that made me feel incredibly childish and I could barely keep myself from shedding more tears.
“Jon?” Your voice was soft.
I didn’t answer. I kept staring at our knees.
“Jonny.” There was pity in your voice. I don’t take pity, I thought, but this was Thom. I take anything from Thom.
I looked up. You were looking at me. I couldn’t read your expression. I had always been bad at that. In fact, I couldn’t believe other people could even do that.
“Jonny, who is it?”
I was speechless. I wasn’t thinking straight from the overdose of emotions and had absolutely and honestly no idea what you were talking about at that moment.
“Who is who?”
“Who is doing this to you? Who is it that makes you feel like this?”
If you thought that in those three seconds I would’ve come up with an answer to that, I would have to disappoint you. I just looked down again, not answering but not refusing to answer either.
You took my hand from your cheek and held it in between your hands. Warming it. I still couldn’t figure out why I was cold. Though it had started cooling down, the air was still warm.
You brought one hand up to my chin and lifted it so your eyes could lock mine again. It wasn’t a demanding gesture. It was a pleading one. Please answer me.
“Are you in love, Jonny? With someone else?”
Though you meant ‘other than Sharona’ I kept thinking ‘no’. Nobody else, Thom. Just you. ‘Just’ you. I couldn’t possibly say this. Not now. Not... ever. From the start, I had promised myself not to. This very answer had been living in my mind for all this time, it felt like I would break it if I said it out loud. Turn it into reality. It wasn’t meant to say out loud. It had to remain part of my fantasy. It had to.
You cupped my cheek in your hand and brushed your fingertips softly over the tear-stained skin.
“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you.”
As soon as I had heard myself saying that sentence out loud, I knew I had made a mistake.
You cocked your head just the slightest, and I knew you had heard it. I hadn’t placed the emphasis on tell. And because I hadn’t, the word I had emphasised, almost unnoticeable, became very apparent all of a sudden. I had, very softly, said that I couldn’t tell you.
You weren’t stupid. Why would I not be able to tell you? I told you everything. You knew more about me than anyone. Of course you didn’t know all this. But I’m sure you could’ve at least sensed some of it. After all this spilled, why wouldn’t I be able to answer that simple question? Most of all, it came out like I would be able to tell anyone but you.
I didn’t have a chance to let the hurricane of thoughts calm down. I looked at you.
Your face softened. You weren’t smiling, but your eyes were talking. Now I was the one having to search for clues, trying to understand what you were saying. But you didn’t say anything.
You dropped your hand, resting it on my thigh. I didn’t flinch. You were coming closer, very slowly. You opened your mouth to say something.
“If you can’t tell me...”
You stopped moving, your face right in front of mine. Your eyes were smiling, but your eyebrows were questioning. I looked down at your mouth. Your lips were slightly parted.
I knew I had to make a decision. Now. There was no time to think the clues over. No time to worry. No time to assure myself, either.
I slowly but deliberately closed the space in between our lips. I hesitated right before they would be touching, but you didn’t move an inch. This had to come from me. When our lips finally met, I closed my eyes and breathed out long and slowly. I felt your lips forming a smile, and before I could even start to feel embarassed, you took your hand from where it was holding mine to bury it in my hair at the back of my head. You pulled me in close and breathed in deeply. You kissed my lower lip and flicked your tongue past it. It was all the reassurance I needed.
We opened our mouths simultaneously and our tongues touched for the first time in many, many years. Soon we were kissing deeply, newfound passion arising quickly. You got up on your knees and gently pushed me down on my back. I automatically pulled my legs apart, stiff from the crossed position they’d been in, and welcomed you.
Hovering over me, you stopped smiling. Concern clouded your face. I looked up questioningly.
“Is it me,” you asked faintly.
Now it was my turn to start smiling. I pulled you down at your collar and right before my mouth would envelop yours again, I answered.
“It’s you.”
Counting the Seconds
He eyes me from the corner of the room, pondering whether another a night will make it any worse or if we really need to stop now.
He gets up; he’s made his decision.
He takes my hand, drags me through the door into an empty room and starts kissing me.
His hands lie flat on my black hair, his body is shoving mine into the wall.
I enjoy it, of course I do.
But I’m already thinking about when it will end.
When he’ll button up his shirt and leave the room.
Sometimes he looks back at me with a smile or something on his face that reads “Look what you do to me, look what you make.”
I’ll be on the floor or against the wall still, feeling like a battered housewife.
I should get away before he does. Just once.
But I never do.
He has removes my shirt and is fumbling with my belt. He groans into my neck. His hot breath makes me shiver with anticipation.
He presses into me and we moan. Mine so much softer than his and both together sound so wrong. But I got used to it now and all the nights in bed when I got nothing but the memory of him and the knowledge that he’s sleeping just a few metres away from me, this is exactly the sound I’m thinking of.
I come and I shiver and I’m scared.
Because he’s going to leave now.
And he’s right, too. We shouldn’t be doing this.
He slowly pulls away, steadying his breath. His hands are still on my chest.
“Thom” I says and I’m surprised by the way my voice sounds. It’s firm and not as pleading as I felt the words in my mouth.
He looks surprised but smiles. “Yes?” he asks, leaning in a bit closer.
This new sort of intimacy scares me and excites me at the same time.
“Don’t go.” I stroke through his hair and feel him laugh lightly against my shoulder. This is the worst he could have done. Laughing at me. I feel like a rejected school girl.
But I keep on stroking his hair with one hand and my other on his bare back, caressing him with my thumb.
He straightens up and his face is disgustingly close, studying mine. This is too close for whatever he’s playing. For whatever this is to him. Each time I try to figure it out anew.
If this was just about lust then... Oh, I don’t know. It might as well. The thought makes me sick.
He’s touching my nose with his and breathes into my mouth before putting his dry lips onto mine.
Saying that I’d want it to stay like this forever is too obvious, but not true, still, because through all this I’m counting the seconds until it stops.
“Coz” he says softly.
He pulls away.
Buttons up his shirt,
Smiles at me, that friendly (friendly!) smile
And leaves the room.
I knew this would happen.
And it might as well be the last time, so I stay where I am for a bit longer.
His presence and scent still lingering on me.
I feel bad about this, very bad.
I lean my head against the wall and hope, deeply hope next week or next month or whenever the next time will be, something will snap inside of him and will make him drag me into some room, push me against some wall.
I know it won’t make me feel better but I want it so much.
He gets up; he’s made his decision.
He takes my hand, drags me through the door into an empty room and starts kissing me.
His hands lie flat on my black hair, his body is shoving mine into the wall.
I enjoy it, of course I do.
But I’m already thinking about when it will end.
When he’ll button up his shirt and leave the room.
Sometimes he looks back at me with a smile or something on his face that reads “Look what you do to me, look what you make.”
I’ll be on the floor or against the wall still, feeling like a battered housewife.
I should get away before he does. Just once.
But I never do.
He has removes my shirt and is fumbling with my belt. He groans into my neck. His hot breath makes me shiver with anticipation.
He presses into me and we moan. Mine so much softer than his and both together sound so wrong. But I got used to it now and all the nights in bed when I got nothing but the memory of him and the knowledge that he’s sleeping just a few metres away from me, this is exactly the sound I’m thinking of.
I come and I shiver and I’m scared.
Because he’s going to leave now.
And he’s right, too. We shouldn’t be doing this.
He slowly pulls away, steadying his breath. His hands are still on my chest.
“Thom” I says and I’m surprised by the way my voice sounds. It’s firm and not as pleading as I felt the words in my mouth.
He looks surprised but smiles. “Yes?” he asks, leaning in a bit closer.
This new sort of intimacy scares me and excites me at the same time.
“Don’t go.” I stroke through his hair and feel him laugh lightly against my shoulder. This is the worst he could have done. Laughing at me. I feel like a rejected school girl.
But I keep on stroking his hair with one hand and my other on his bare back, caressing him with my thumb.
He straightens up and his face is disgustingly close, studying mine. This is too close for whatever he’s playing. For whatever this is to him. Each time I try to figure it out anew.
If this was just about lust then... Oh, I don’t know. It might as well. The thought makes me sick.
He’s touching my nose with his and breathes into my mouth before putting his dry lips onto mine.
Saying that I’d want it to stay like this forever is too obvious, but not true, still, because through all this I’m counting the seconds until it stops.
“Coz” he says softly.
He pulls away.
Buttons up his shirt,
Smiles at me, that friendly (friendly!) smile
And leaves the room.
I knew this would happen.
And it might as well be the last time, so I stay where I am for a bit longer.
His presence and scent still lingering on me.
I feel bad about this, very bad.
I lean my head against the wall and hope, deeply hope next week or next month or whenever the next time will be, something will snap inside of him and will make him drag me into some room, push me against some wall.
I know it won’t make me feel better but I want it so much.
Thom and Jonny In Rainbows
A short story based on quotations from In Rainbows :
Thom :
"Jonny, I don't want to be your friend
I just want to be your lover
No matter how it ends
No matter how it starts..."
Jonny :
" Don't get any
big ideas
they're not gonna happen"
After some convincing words from Thom :
Jonny, talking to his penis :
"wakey wakey
rise and shine
it's on again, off again, on again"
After Thom gave him some magic pills :
Jonny, talking to Thom :
"take a bow take a bow take a bow !
I'm trapped in this body and can't get out"
Thom :
" im stuffed, stuffed, stuffed"
Jonny :
"yeah I
I hit the bottom
hit the bottom "
Thom :
"enough, is enough
i love you but enough is enough, enough"
Jonny :
"You used to be alright
What happened?
I do not
understand
what it is
I've done wrong
Now paint yourself white with my sperm !"
Thom :
"Jonny, I don't want to be your friend
I just want to be your lover
No matter how it ends
No matter how it starts..."
Jonny :
" Don't get any
big ideas
they're not gonna happen"
After some convincing words from Thom :
Jonny, talking to his penis :
"wakey wakey
rise and shine
it's on again, off again, on again"
After Thom gave him some magic pills :
Jonny, talking to Thom :
"take a bow take a bow take a bow !
I'm trapped in this body and can't get out"
Thom :
" im stuffed, stuffed, stuffed"
Jonny :
"yeah I
I hit the bottom
hit the bottom "
Thom :
"enough, is enough
i love you but enough is enough, enough"
Jonny :
"You used to be alright
What happened?
I do not
understand
what it is
I've done wrong
Now paint yourself white with my sperm !"
Boundaries
“Massage my tummy! He always massages my tummy when I’m sick.”
“But you’re not sick, you’re just deadly drunk.”
“Shut up, Coz, and massage my tummy!”
Colin sighed. “Alright.” He sat down next to his best friend, shoving his shirt up to his head. With no touch of carefulness he put his hands on his skin. “Well, what now?”
“Just massage.”
“How?”
Thom lifted his head. “How do you mean how? Just do it. Don’t tell me you’ve never given anyone a massage in your life.”
Colin uncharacteristically blushed a bit, but since it was all dark except for the moonlight shining through the window no one would have been able to tell.
“Of course I have,” Colin insisted.
“Well, then go on.”
Thom fell back onto the couch, shoving his shirt further up so it was back in place and Colin could start.
“Just because your digestion can’t cope with all that alcohol.” He sighed resigned and slowly started rubbing his hands over Thom’s skin. His fingers wandered from the middle over to where he could feel Thom’s ribs under his thumbs and then to his sides. “I’m sorry if I got cold hands,” he mumbled.
Thom didn’t reply, totally at ease now he felt a bit better about the night. The fight with Jonny really didn’t matter now, did it? “Thanks for taking me home”, he said huskily before he sighed.
Colin froze.
“Why do you stop? Go on,” Thom demanded.
“Maybe this is inappropriate.”
“Sheesh, Coz. You certainly didn’t get enough booze tonight. Just go on!” When he felt Colin’s hands leave his body he grabbed them and forced them further down his stomach. “Pleaaaase”, he added. “You don’t want me throwing up now, do you?”
“No really, I wouldn’t mind so much...” but he continues massaging anyway. He started losing himself in the act, stroking over his friend’s white skin as if it was some sort of art. If this was a profession, he’d certainly be good at it.
Colin only realized how dangerously close his hands had wandered when he heard a small moan escape Thom’s lips. Thom didn’t seem to care, whether out of drunkenness or for other reasons. His head rolled to one side he had closed his eyes and seemed lost in his own world. Colin felt excitement rushing through him. He rubbed a bit harder and watched Thom’s mouth open slightly. Satisfied with the result he let his flat hand slide under Thom’s waistband. He rested on his lower stomach. “This would be easier if you’d open the button.”
Thom groaned. “You do it. Otherwise I feel like a pervert.”
Thom’s logic didn’t quite get to Colin but he followed anyway. He fumbled with the button for a second before opening the zipper, careful not to touch anything but the jeans fabric.
Suddenly Colin felt Thom’s hands on his.
“You might as well, now.”
“Huh?” His hand was guided into Thom’s pants.
“Seriously, Thom, I’m not going to wank you off!”
He freed his hand and rested it on Thom’s chest.
“You gonna blow me?” Thom asked confused.
“No! I’m not!”
“Then there was really nothing inappropriate about this... hand me the blanket over there, will you?”
Colin fetched the woolen blanket from the end of the couch and turned to give it Thom when he found him sitting up.
“You could have taken it yourself no,” Colin said annoyed.
“But I AM taking it myself. I’m trying to make things more appropriate,” he said, slinging his arm around Colin’s neck and pulling their faces together. “So I’m taking it.”
Colin could make out three different typed of drinks by Thom’s smell and tongue.
It tasted different than three years ago.
When Thom pulled away after some time to breath, Colin chuckled slightly.
“How did this make things more appropriate?”
Thom grinned, kissing him again.
At the end of the night, or the beginning of day. Thom stared at his friend’s bare back in front of him.
He sighed.
“See, this is just what a Saturday night deserves.
And now I’m actually glad your brother’s not here.”
“Me, too”, Colin mumbled, not half as asleep as Thom had thought him to be.
“I swear, me too.”
“But you’re not sick, you’re just deadly drunk.”
“Shut up, Coz, and massage my tummy!”
Colin sighed. “Alright.” He sat down next to his best friend, shoving his shirt up to his head. With no touch of carefulness he put his hands on his skin. “Well, what now?”
“Just massage.”
“How?”
Thom lifted his head. “How do you mean how? Just do it. Don’t tell me you’ve never given anyone a massage in your life.”
Colin uncharacteristically blushed a bit, but since it was all dark except for the moonlight shining through the window no one would have been able to tell.
“Of course I have,” Colin insisted.
“Well, then go on.”
Thom fell back onto the couch, shoving his shirt further up so it was back in place and Colin could start.
“Just because your digestion can’t cope with all that alcohol.” He sighed resigned and slowly started rubbing his hands over Thom’s skin. His fingers wandered from the middle over to where he could feel Thom’s ribs under his thumbs and then to his sides. “I’m sorry if I got cold hands,” he mumbled.
Thom didn’t reply, totally at ease now he felt a bit better about the night. The fight with Jonny really didn’t matter now, did it? “Thanks for taking me home”, he said huskily before he sighed.
Colin froze.
“Why do you stop? Go on,” Thom demanded.
“Maybe this is inappropriate.”
“Sheesh, Coz. You certainly didn’t get enough booze tonight. Just go on!” When he felt Colin’s hands leave his body he grabbed them and forced them further down his stomach. “Pleaaaase”, he added. “You don’t want me throwing up now, do you?”
“No really, I wouldn’t mind so much...” but he continues massaging anyway. He started losing himself in the act, stroking over his friend’s white skin as if it was some sort of art. If this was a profession, he’d certainly be good at it.
Colin only realized how dangerously close his hands had wandered when he heard a small moan escape Thom’s lips. Thom didn’t seem to care, whether out of drunkenness or for other reasons. His head rolled to one side he had closed his eyes and seemed lost in his own world. Colin felt excitement rushing through him. He rubbed a bit harder and watched Thom’s mouth open slightly. Satisfied with the result he let his flat hand slide under Thom’s waistband. He rested on his lower stomach. “This would be easier if you’d open the button.”
Thom groaned. “You do it. Otherwise I feel like a pervert.”
Thom’s logic didn’t quite get to Colin but he followed anyway. He fumbled with the button for a second before opening the zipper, careful not to touch anything but the jeans fabric.
Suddenly Colin felt Thom’s hands on his.
“You might as well, now.”
“Huh?” His hand was guided into Thom’s pants.
“Seriously, Thom, I’m not going to wank you off!”
He freed his hand and rested it on Thom’s chest.
“You gonna blow me?” Thom asked confused.
“No! I’m not!”
“Then there was really nothing inappropriate about this... hand me the blanket over there, will you?”
Colin fetched the woolen blanket from the end of the couch and turned to give it Thom when he found him sitting up.
“You could have taken it yourself no,” Colin said annoyed.
“But I AM taking it myself. I’m trying to make things more appropriate,” he said, slinging his arm around Colin’s neck and pulling their faces together. “So I’m taking it.”
Colin could make out three different typed of drinks by Thom’s smell and tongue.
It tasted different than three years ago.
When Thom pulled away after some time to breath, Colin chuckled slightly.
“How did this make things more appropriate?”
Thom grinned, kissing him again.
At the end of the night, or the beginning of day. Thom stared at his friend’s bare back in front of him.
He sighed.
“See, this is just what a Saturday night deserves.
And now I’m actually glad your brother’s not here.”
“Me, too”, Colin mumbled, not half as asleep as Thom had thought him to be.
“I swear, me too.”
Come on
Phil :
Come on
Come on
You think you drive me crazy, well...
Have ourselves a good time !
Cheap sex
helps me get back to your arms...
We ride tonight !
Colin :
keep your toys in my basement !
Hey, you get too far inside !
Phil :
I will stop at nothing,
when I go forwards, you go backwards,
I am the key to the lock in your house !
I am the pick in the ice !
I'm your superhero !
Colin :
Start again begin again !
Drill holes !
And now we are one
You can try the best you can,
The best you can is good enough
Phil :
I'll give all I can if
It's not enough !
you will be first against the wall
Colin :
Hey man, slow down
Slow down
Sometimes I get overcharged
For a minute there
I lost myself
I lost myself
Phew, for a minute there
I lost myself
Phil :
Breathe, keep breathing
You haven't seen enough
You haven't seen it
This is really happening !
Colin :
Please
Release me
Turn it off!
Phil :
Ok,
I slipped away
Now, Open up and let me in
Shove it in your mouth
Colin :
I love
Howling down the chimney
Scrolling up and down
Phil :
I hope that you choke, that you choke !
Swallow till I burst
Until I burst
Colin :
Come on rain down
On me
In an interstellar burst
Phil :
Juices flowing
flashed before your eyes, you realize
This is what you get
When you mess with me
Colin :
I could have sworn I saw a light coming on
And when it comes its so so disappointing
Come on
Come on
You think you drive me crazy, well...
Have ourselves a good time !
Cheap sex
helps me get back to your arms...
We ride tonight !
Colin :
keep your toys in my basement !
Hey, you get too far inside !
Phil :
I will stop at nothing,
when I go forwards, you go backwards,
I am the key to the lock in your house !
I am the pick in the ice !
I'm your superhero !
Colin :
Start again begin again !
Drill holes !
And now we are one
You can try the best you can,
The best you can is good enough
Phil :
I'll give all I can if
It's not enough !
you will be first against the wall
Colin :
Hey man, slow down
Slow down
Sometimes I get overcharged
For a minute there
I lost myself
I lost myself
Phew, for a minute there
I lost myself
Phil :
Breathe, keep breathing
You haven't seen enough
You haven't seen it
This is really happening !
Colin :
Please
Release me
Turn it off!
Phil :
Ok,
I slipped away
Now, Open up and let me in
Shove it in your mouth
Colin :
I love
Howling down the chimney
Scrolling up and down
Phil :
I hope that you choke, that you choke !
Swallow till I burst
Until I burst
Colin :
Come on rain down
On me
In an interstellar burst
Phil :
Juices flowing
flashed before your eyes, you realize
This is what you get
When you mess with me
Colin :
I could have sworn I saw a light coming on
And when it comes its so so disappointing
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