The scent of you

Ed woke up after a wild night with Colin. He turned around; wanting to kiss him, but the other half of the bed was empty. Ed touched the wrinkled sheet and sighed. He rose, and laid his head on his hands.

He couldn’t understand him. Colin was sometimes so passionate it hurt, and at times like now, he couldn’t stay near to Ed after a night spent together.

Nothing happened for a long time but Ed could scent someone right behind the door.

It was him.

“I’m ready for more,” he said when he entered and fell into Ed’s arms.

“Colin, the scent of you turns me on,” he replied and pulled him into a tight hug.

I know you didn't puke

They heard familiar footsteps. Phil's footsteps. Thom just barely had the time to haphazardly pull his trousers back up. Three seconds later, Phil was confronted with the sight of two very flustered-looking men, their faces a couple of shades redder than usual, their clothes looking all frumpled and disorderly, their demeanour jumpy and awkward.

"It's time to go on, boys", Phil said matter-of-factly.

"Okay, just give us a minute", Thom stammered, his twitchy gaze avoiding Phil's kind eyes.

"What's that on your shirt, Jonny? You're going to have to change that if you don't want to look like a slob on stage."

"I...I think I ate something bad. I had to vomit just now..."

Phil tutted.

"I know you didn't puke, Jonathan."

He smiled broadly at both men.

"I have a feeling that tonight's show will be a very good one, indeed."

Why I Ran

God, you're so blunt sometimes. When we're hammering out a song together and I do something you didn't want me to do and you're disproportionately disappointed with me and you start chastising me in that patronising tone of yours. When you make me feel like you're doubting whether we're still compatible as musicians. This time it was too much for me. I snapped. Just this one time I was absolutely done taking shit from you. Your high demands are insufferable to me sometimes - I'm insecure enough as it is. I called you a bastard, a jerk, a pathetic little tyrant. My tirade came to an abrupt stop when I saw tears welling up in your eyes. And for a moment I felt like punching you in the face for taking this one moment of righteous anger and triumphant insubordination away from me.

But that's not why I ran, Thom. I ran because if I'd stayed in that room with you and saw those tears making their way down your cheeks, I would've smothered you in kisses just to forget that I made you cry.

"You're wrong"

Ed picked Thom up by the shoulders and, with one impressively virile gesture of his thick strong arms, threw him down on the table. Violently thrusting their crotches together, they began devouring each other's lips, finally giving in to the primitive lust that had been consuming them all this time. Thom was surprised at how rough Ed’s stubble felt brushing up against his cheeks and chin. He hadn’t experienced that sensation before - when more androgynous men were his lovers of choice.

A door opened. And little seconds later, a dumbfounded Colin could be seen looming at the threshold.

“What the...Thom? Ed!? You two are a terribly unlikely pairing!!”, he exclaimed in utter shock.

Thom’s answer was as succinct as it was appropriate for the situation. “It would appear, my dear Colin, that you are wrong.”

A Silly Story

Part 1

“Bugger!” swore Thom as his hip knocked into the landing table and he watched the vase teeter back and forth. He scrambled to catch it but came up with air several times before connecting with the cool ceramic and knocking it decisively to the floor. The vase split into three neat pieces. “Fuck!” he swore. He stared blankly at the broken vase before continuing down the hall to the bathroom. Thom had woken from a dead drunk sleep desperate for a pee, his jeans tangled around his ankles as if he had passed out in the middle of taking them off. Still drunk, he had kicked them off sloppily and careened into the hall still very much pissed, and knocked into the table. Now in the bathroom, he relieved himself and considered his options for the vase. “Only three pieces” he thought, “I can fix that. Stanley must have glue in his room.” Grabbing the nearest towel off the rack, he giggled to himself as he noticed it was Jonny’s towel with the tigers on it. Thom wrapped the tiger towel around his waist and retraced his path back to the broken vase. Bending down to retrieve the pieces, Thom fell onto his knees with a thud, harder than he anticipated. The floor was closer than he thought. Steadying himself, he picked up the pieces and staggered upright. Stanley’s room was just down the hall. “I can do this” thought Thom, “I'm Indiana Thom returning the ancient vase of Janeeesea Seymourasee to its rightful place of worship.” He giggled again to himself.

Reaching Stanley’s room he eased open the door with the stealth of a drunken man wrapped in a tiger towel holding an armful of pottery shards. “No Stanley, that's a bit of luck” Thom thought. He spotted Stanley’s supplies spread out across the shelves of the bookcase across the room and he made his way over. Spying the distinctive crazy glue label on the pot on the top shelf, Thom gently placed the vase pieces on the rug and stretched up on his toes to get the glue.

Unfortunately, without his sneakers with the two inch soles (that he told everyone he wore because they were made by a fair trade company) he was too short to reach the glue on the top shelf. “Bugger!” Thom swore again “What would Tarzan do?” he asked himself … “Aha he'd use a tool! Brilliant!” Thom thought, his eyes spotting a ruler on the bottom shelf. With the ruler in hand, he once again reached up to slide the glue pot closer to the edge. Not quite there. He stood on his tiptoes again, his improvised loincloth loosening and falling to the floor. The pot edged closer finally tipping over the side of the shelf. For the second time that evening, Thom scrambled to catch a falling object, again feeling the smooth surface brush his fingertips which knocked the pot against his bare chest. In an instant the glue had spilled down his front.

Instinctively, Thom grabbed his crotch and was met with a sticky mess not of his own doing. He pulled but not soon enough as he realized his hand was stuck.

He pulled again in horror and hopped in pain as the glue pulled on the loose skin of his cock.

“Fuck!” he whimpered. There was a rustling at the open door and dark fringe and dark eyes barely peered around the door. “Stanley you alright?” Jonny asked trepidatiously. “It’s me, Jonny.” Thom replied resignedly. “What are you doing in Stanley’s room, Thom?” Oh!”Jonny gasped as he took in the sight of Thom leaning naked against the bookshelf, one hand on his cock and covered in a white substance. “I heard …. I’ll see you tomorrow” Jonny squeaked and turned to leave.

“Jonny, wait! I’m stuck!” Thom whispered urgently.

“Stuck? Oh!” Jonny looked more closely, his eyes widening as he looked more carefully at Thom’s hand, "Oh!"


Part 2

"You're stuck" Jonny repeated again with disbelief, "but how? ... why? ...I mmmean were you ... you know! I mean I've never gotten. Stuck."

"Was I what, Jonny?" asked Thom in mild annoyance with Jonny's failure to appreciate immediately his predicament.

"Wnkng" Jonny said quickly.

"What?"

"Wanking" Jonny said, studying the state of Stanley's laundry pile intently.

"For fucks sake! Do I look like I've been wanking?"

"Sortof."

"It's glue! I was getting the glue and it spilled and now my hand is stuck!" Thom rolled his eyes at Jonny and noticing that the room rolled too.

"Oh" said Jonny focusing his gaze sway from Stanley's dirty socks and back to Thom, not meeting his eyes. Jonny took in the white mess that began on Thom's chest and continued downward onto the floor at his feet. Comprehension dawned as Jonny recognized stanleys glue jar.

"That's Stanley's super glue. That sticks forever!"

"I've noticed" said Thom, sinking to sit on the floor.

His eyes involuntarily closing as he fought off sleep. His hand slid to the right and he reawoke with a gasp "Ow! Fuck. get me unstuck, Jonny."

"I'll go get Colin and Stanley", Jonny said, "maybe they'll know what to do."

"No" Thom said urgently, "It's bad enough you seen me like this ... you know Colin will tell Ed and I'll never hear the end of it! Then Phil will hear and he'll make me pay for the bloody vase." Thom nodded towards the three, no four, pieces, fuck!, of the vase, "just help me stand up and get back to the bathroom."
"Ok but I really think..."

"Jonny, just help me!"

Jonny approached Thom and took hold of his elbow. Unfortunately it was the arm attached to his cock.

"Ow! Don't pull on me, Jonny! It hurts like a sonofabitch!"

"Sorry sorry" he murmured and stepped to Thom's other side to take his free arm and help Thom to his feet.

"Hey is that my towel? What's it doing here?" Jonny exclaimed scooping it up.

"I borrowed it."

"What were you going to do with it?" Jonny asked with misgiving.

"I was Indiana Thom." Thom giggled.

Reaching the bathroom, Jonny inquired "what are we going to do now?"

"No idea. Maybe we can soak it away with really hot water."

Thom stepped carefully into the tub. "Start the water for me, Jonjon."

As the water filled the tub, Jonny studied the problem carefully. "Maybe if you shaved it would help" he suggested.

Thom regarded his tangle of sticky gnger pubic hair clumped together and stuck to his hand.
"S'pose it couldn't hurt" he replied "is there a razor in the medicine cabinet?"

Jonny investigated and came up with the razor he had seen Ed using on several occasions.
"Here" he said handing it to Thom and turning off the water. The back of Thoms hand just broke the surface of the water, his knuckles little islands.

"Thanks I need some soap."

Jonny handed him the bar which immediately slipped out of Thom's fingers into the water. He scrambled after it ineffectively. Jonny reached in and trapped the bar with both hands against Thom's shin.

"Well you're going to have to soap me, Jonny. I can't hold onto it with one hand" Thom whined.

"I can't!"

"C'mon Jonny!!!" Thom whined.

"Fine." Jonny declared flatly. He sudsed the bar between his hands and plunged his hands in the water vaguely in the direction of Thom's crotch, "but I'm not looking."

"Whatever." Thom whined again.

Jonny's fingertips made contact with Thom's thigh and he followed the downward slope until he made with contact with a hairy mat.

"Jonny! Will you pay attention? That's my knee."

Jonny looked down to see he was massaging the clump of curly hair right above Thom's right knee. "Sorry." With determination and flushed cheeks he reached between Thom's legs and
gently rubbed his fingers over Thom's bush. Intent on the problem neither noticed that Thom's hand was now breaching the water at an odd angle.

"Ok, here goes" said Thom.


Part 3

Thom angled the razor toward his crotch and swiped along the left side of his pubes. He was nowhere close to reaching the hair stuck to his right hand. He swiped again, stretching his left arm as far right as he could. No luck.

“Jonny, I can't reach. I can't do it with my left hand. Can you do it?” Thom pleaded.

“Me? No!” Jonny responded in alarm.

“Please, Jonny.” Thom said, looking unaccustomedly humbled.

“Ok” Jonny sighed, “NEVER tell Colin ok?!”

“Like I want to tell anyone ever” Thom scoffed and handed him the razor, “I need more soap.”

Jonny sighed and ran the bar of soap over Thom’s crotch. He studied the situation and gently rolled Thom’s right hand as far away from Thom’s body as it would go. Reaching in, he carefully stroked the razor over Thom’s pelvis. In a rhythymic pattern, leaning forward over the tub, he shaved Thom with the same intensity he usually applied to his Telecaster. Thom began to relax. The shaving was a pleasant feeling and it felt good to be ministered to. Jonny lost in concentration continued to shave until Thom’s right side was smooth and bare.

Soon loose reddish hairs began to float to the surface. Thom’s hand, while still stuck to his cock, was no longer stuck to his torso. Jonny ran his hand over the now smooth surface appreciating his handiwork. “How's that?” he asked.

“Better” Thom responded sleepily, “but I'm still stuck and my wrist hurts.”

“Huh?” Jonny looked into the tub and flushed cherry red. Thom’s hand was now perpendicular to the bottom of the tub.

The Mole

Chapter 1
Part 1

Ed was the first one to step out of the car. His face screwed up as he stretched his back, and he let out a tired sigh. A few limbs and bones snapped into place. When he started walking towards the house, a broad smile appeared. He whistled between his teeth.

“Alriiight. Good choice, Coz!” he yelled over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off the building. In the backseat, Thom was clutching the last straws of his patience.

“Come on you two, get out, get out! I can’t fucking breathe anymore. Phil, wake the fuck up. Jon-nyy, stop teasing me and get your arse out of this fucking tin. I-”

“Need to take a piss, we know, Thom. You’ve been informing us every five miles for the last hour - stop shoving me!”

When Thom finally managed to climb out of the vehicle, he fell dramatically to the ground, audibly gulping air.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Thom, quit being such a drama queen,” Ed laughed at him from the porch.

“Easy for you to say; giants always get the passenger seat,” Thom retorted, reproachful.

“And midgets the middle seat,” Colin added matter-of-factly as he walked towards the door with the key ready in his hand.

“Shut up, Yorke, I had your guitar case pressed into my leg for three hours,” said Jonny, limping a bit. Phil, still sleepy-eyed and with a red spot on his head from leaning against the window pane, had already started unloading the boot of Colin’s station wagon. Soon backpacks and boxes of food and, more importantly, alcohol, were sprawled out over the drive.

The weather was nice in Haulmé, one of the most northern villages in France, and quite possibly the tiniest. Nice meaning that it wasn’t raining nor freezing, although the wind was blowing quite chilly at this altitude, even for November.

It had been Ed’s idea, actually, to spend a few days abroad to rekindle the band spirits. Since, however, Ed wasn’t the most practical of the bunch, Colin had accepted the task of looking for a place to stay. And booking it. And letting the others know where, when and how. And driving there.

“What the hell, Thom, did you really have to bring your entire wardrobe?” Jonny muttered as he threw Thom’s backpack over his shoulder along with his own. Thom, just back from the toilet and now struggling with two beer crates, rolled his eyes.

“Just take them inside, boy, and you might get a penny,” he replied in a low, commanding voice. He ignored the ‘tsk’ and dragged the tower of crates inside, leaving a trail behind in the crushed red bricks of the driveway.

Once inside, the five of them took their time to examine the place. Enthusiastic exclaims were heard throughout the entire house. Colin’s word of choice, ‘chalet’ was quickly replaced by ‘villa’, not in the least because it was more pronounceable. Despite six bedrooms, two bathrooms, a fully equipped kitchen, a fireplace and a sauna, the house lacked any form of communication with the outside world. No internet, no phone, no mobile range in the area, not even public transport within a mile.

“Not even a phone, Colin?” Thom asked, ready to go upstairs and claim a bedroom. “Is this your first attempt to sabotage the trip?”

Colin laughed.

“If you say so, Thom,” he responded mysteriously.

That had been Jonny’s idea. The whole sabotaging thing. He had heard of an American TV series (“Actually, I think the concept was Belgian”) called The Mole, where the contestants have to fulfil tasks together to earn as much money as possible. However, one of them is the mole and secretly tries to prevent the rest of the team from winning. At first, not everyone was down with it, claiming it would have the opposite effect on the group.

“That’s not how you rekindle a bond, Jonny, that’s how you break it apart,” Ed had snorted.

“Oh, come on,” Jonny had pleaded, “it’s just a bit of fun. I’m so tired of playing Assassin.”

And, agreeing that it’d be just for fun, they had decided to join in, dropping the money prize, obviously, and on a windy October night two weeks earlier they had drawn names. Instead of confessions in front of a camera, Phil had had the idea of making a box in which everyone would have to put a piece of paper with the name of the person they would accuse of being the mole, and what their clues were. The Confession Box, an old cookie jar with the lid firmly taped to the glass and a small opening in the cork, was reverently put next to the fireplace in the lounge.

The rest of the morning was spent in rather good spirits, some putting away the groceries they had brought along, others, like Jonny, taking a nap, despite Thom blasting M.I.A. through the house. Jonny wasn’t quite the morning person, so no one seemed to mind him not helping. After all, they had left Oxfordshire at four AM, piling into Colin’s car, and taken the ferry across the North Sea, car included.

By the time Jonny arrived downstairs again, his hair standing up at the back of his head and the tip of a sleeve rubbing against his eye, there was an impressive fire warming the living room, and the others were each occupying a couch, softer and louder voices blending into each other.

“Jonny!” Ed looked up, relieved. “Tell me, doesn’t it sound like a great idea to go climbing tomorrow?”

“In the sodding rain, absolutely brilliant idea,” Colin added snarkily, letting his back fall against the couch and crossing his arms. “Or did it seem like a good idea to –whoops- make people slip off rocks?”

“That’s right, try and get your way by making me sound suspicious,” Ed rolled his eyes and took a sip from his beer bottle.

“It’s going to rain for the rest of the week, I told you,” Phil jumped in, mumbling with a mouth full of crisps. “The warmest day will in fact be tomorrow.”

Jonny joined Thom on the two-seater and tried to avoid drawing attention to himself by mimicking Thom’s I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude, wishing he had a book himself, but he should’ve known only Thom can get away with that. Everyone was looking at him expectantly.

“Er,” Jonny said, then shook his head.

“No no, I’m not deciding. You know I’m rubbish at deciding.”

An uncomfortable silence filled the room. All eyes were still glued on Jonny.

“Fine! Let’s get this over with and go tomorrow,” he sighed, letting his head fall onto his propped-up knees.

Ed grabbed an invisible notebook and pretended to take notes, mumbling “Day one - Jonny – decides on climbing on Wednesday – tries not to raise suspicion by picking the majority’s side – is visibly planning mischief behind big innocent ey-“

The rest of the sentence was muffled by a pillow hitting Ed square in the face. Jonny couldn’t help but smile as the others burst out in laughter.

“You watch out, O’Brien,” he said darkly from behind his fringe.

It was the first time in fifteen minutes that Thom actually looked up.

Jonny, balloons and burthday cake

He slowly pushed the door open.

At first sight, it didn’t even look like he was there at all. The window partly open, curtains moving slightly in the autumn breeze. The garden behind it grey and misty.
The bed a pile of sheets, rumpled and pushed to the feet end.

But he could feel his presence, so he tentatively took a step forward on the carpet to further inspect the sheets. Even before he saw black hair poking out from the side, he heard a soft, steady breathing.

A mental smirk.

“Jonny.”

He was saying it so silently that his voice didn’t even bother. He cleared his throat and tried again, with sound this time.

“Jonny.”

“Mm.”

“You’re awake.”

Not a sound for a few moments.

“Mmno.”

He bent one knee and sat down sideways on the bed.

“Yes you are.”

A muffled sigh from somewhere, the shift of an arm.

“Prove it.”

Thom actually snorted at that. He thought for a moment.

“I… can’t.” He sounded surprised himself.

“But I can assure you you’ll feel very much awake once I give the sign for the others to come up and pounce on you,” he added smugly.

This time the pile of blankets actually moved, and a sleepy head with bed hair that didn’t even look like bed hair at all appeared from under them.

“You’re kidding.”

“Why don’t you ever have bed hair? I can’t go out the door if I haven’t showered in the morning, and you just look like you’ve had three people blowdry and spray your hair, for fuck’s sake.”

Jonny yawned, and despite Thom’s feigned distress his eyes crumpled at the corners. Jonny yawning was cuter than a kitten yawning.

“You promised you’d let me sleep first,” Jonny pouted, reproachful.

“I promised we’d let you sleep until noon. It’s two in the afternoon.”

“I have a valid excuse,” he retorted.
“Fucking six AM,” he mumbled, and fell back on the bed.

Thom laughed and blindly put his hands under the blankets, planning on tickling the birthday boy to death.

It was only when he felt Jonny start, eyes flying open, that he stopped.

“What? What was I –“ Thom lifted up the sheets to see what he was doing, and hastily let them drop again, a caught expression on his face.

“Since when do you sleep naked?”

Jonny rolled his eyes.

“The last thing I can remember from yesterday was Ed spilling an entire pint over my lap, so excuse me if I felt the need to shower before going to bed,” he said, exasperated.
“Since when do you tickle people on their inner thigh anyway? Wait, since when do you peek under people’s sheets, actually?”

“Er,” said Thom. Damn it, he was usually so quick with retorts. And why did he have to blush now?

Jonny sat up, his hands steadying himself behind him. The blanket fell off his chest.

“Er,” said Thom again. This wasn’t helping.

“What?” said Jonny, nudging Thom’s knee and smiling mischievously.

Thom flinched.

“What what?”

“You’re looking awfully uncomfortable, that’s what.”

“Well, you are naked under there.”

Jonny kept smiling.

“Then I guess you’ll have to let me change first,” he said, and looked Thom in the eye.

Thom looked back.

“I… guess.”

It didn’t really matter who started it, but Thom liked to believe Jonny did. The point was that suddenly there were lips on his, and a hand on the back of his neck pulling him close. It wasn’t extraordinarily great or anything, just exactly what he didn’t know he wanted. Thom kissed back with fire, not being able to decide whether to let out the moan he was holding back, but when Jonny let out the tiniest of whimpers, he couldn’t stop himself.

They drew apart, puffed lips and red faces and eyes wide, looking at each other. When Thom finally did something else than just stare and curled his lips into a smile, Jonny growled and lunged forward.

Thom was pushed onto his back on the mattress by Jonny’s weight, part of the blanket trapped in between them. They were kissing again, and this time Thom thought he probably was allowed to touch Jonny’s bare shoulders. Jonny’s own hands were meanwhile messing up his hair, one travelling down to his neck, and Thom felt a thumb trailing along his jawbone. It gave him the confidence to slide his hands lower.

It soon became apparent that Jonny had not only trapped the blanket in between their bodies, he had also managed to push off every other part of it.

Shit, Thom thought. What the hell am I doing?

Despite his moment of clarity, Thom’s hands did wander lower and traced the entire length of Jonny’s spine, any further movements made impossible by the bunch of sheets in between them. Jonny must’ve noticed, because in one movement he hunched himself forward and suddenly Thom’s hands were cupping firm ass cheeks.

Shit, Thom thought again. This is gay, right?

“This is gay, right?” he said again, this time out loud.

Jonny’s nose was buried into his neck, and the warm breath was giving him goosebumps.

“Do you care?” he panted. “Wait, don’t even answer that. Just stop thinking, Thom, come on,” he added, and kissed the skin behind Thom’s ear.

That actually wasn’t a bad idea.

“Alright,” he answered, and didn’t try to stop Jonny when he started pulling up Thom’s sweater.

Thom was becoming annoyed with the blanket in between them and tried to push it down so the skin of their chests could meet. Jonny took the hint and lifted himself up on one arm, pulling it away and over him.

“Cold,“ he apologised, whilst pressing his entire length down on Thom. They both gasped, and Thom became all too aware of what all this was doing to the both of them. Strangely enough, it wasn’t as appalling as he had thought it would’ve been. Sure, he had fantasised about men before. Alright, about Jonny. But he always thought that the real deal would be too weird. But it just felt… right. Everything about it. Everything about Jonny felt right, actually. So he did what the boy on top of him told him to do, and tried to shut out every further thought.

And just when he did, he remembered something.

He didn’t have a birthday gift yet.

In one movement, he pushed Jonny onto his back and crawled over him, knees in between his spread legs. Jonny was looking at him in surprise and anticipation, biting his lip, and when Thom seized him with his hand, his breath hitched. Thom, meanwhile, tried not to show his lack of experience and focused on the noises the boy under him was making. Not knowing where to start, he just closed his eyes and bowed his head.

A tentative lick earned a gasp, and lips enveloping the tip a squirm. When Thom started sucking lightly, the most beautiful, desperate moan escaped Jonny's throat, and Thom couldn't help but look up. Jonny's face was screwed up in concentration, his lips forming a pout. He might as well have been playing music, thought Thom. Encouraged, he went on and soon he had to hold Jonny's bony hips down, stroking an inner thigh lightly with one hand as he kept working. Thom realised that Jonny wasn't the only one enjoying this, actually. This felt great. Having him here, coming undone under his own hands, was better than he'd ever dared dreaming.
When he felt Jonny was ready to come, he made an extra effort and swallowed him whole, sucking hard. Jonny was now biting two lips and had one hand in Thom's hair, guiding him faster. With one last buck of his hips, Jonny climaxed.

Panting heavily, his head fell back to the mattress. He blindingly searched for Thom's hands and pulled him up on top of him. Limbs falling into place, Thom let his head rest under Jonny's chin.

"Well. Happy birthday, Jonjon," he murmured.
"Hope you liked your gift."

Jonny chuckled.

"I hope you mean this," and put his arms around Thom.

"You could put it like that," Thom smiled. "Next time I promise I'll wear balloons and jump out of a birthday cake."

"It's still my birthday for at least nine hours, so I suggest you start baking."