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Chris and Nigel

Chapter 12 - Outed?

By It's Only Me from Across the Sea

This story contains explicit descriptions of sexual acts between the characters in it. Although the characters are teenagers who may be below the age of consent in the country or state where this is read, nothing written here should be taken as approval of, or encouragement for, sexual liaisons between people where such liaisons are either illegal, or objectionable for moral reasons. Although this story does not include safe sex practices, it is everyone's own responsibility to themselves and to each other to engage only in PROTECTED SEX. It is a story. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Nothing represented here is based on any fact known to the author.

The story is copyright 1999 by "It's Only Me from Across the Sea". If you copy the story, please leave the credits, and the web address of present, and also the email address of I'd love to receive feedback.

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Do you know that feeling? Elated and sad at the same time?

I was so sure. At last, and for the first time in my life I was truly certain of what I wanted to do. And Nigel was in my arms, holding me, kissing me, and I was kissing him back. And we were both so happy we were crying again. But tears of happiness this time.

But I was sad, too.

Sad for the things I had lost. Sad for Carol. Sad because she had given up everything so that I could be happy.

I didn't know if I was sad because I was finding more and more that I loved that intense love from Nigel instead of the softer, less fierce love, that constant love that I hadn't even realised she had given me.

I needed time to come to terms with myself, I supposed. Not that you get time when you're fourteen.

"Has Carol gone?" Oh shit! Nigel's Mum! She was in the room. And we hadn't heard her arrive. "Er, Nigel? Chris? What's going on?" She was sounding, well, like anyone's mother would sound if she found her son with his arms wrapped around another boy.

"Chris and Carol broke up, Mum." Well, it wasn't a lie. I had to give him full marks for quick thinking!

"And?" She didn't seem convinced.

"And Chris isn't feeling very good about it."

"Which, of course, means that you are crying too?"

"Well, it sort of got to me, yeah. And he seemed to need a hug... "

"Hmm," she said, in a tone of voice which seemed to give a lingering 'we'll talk more about this later young man' feel to the conversation. "I suppose it's because you weren't feeling too well earlier."

I was wondering where to put myself. I mean, I wanted to say 'Please stop. I love him.' But I couldn't. I wanted to say 'I want to be with Nigel for ever.' But I couldn't. And I had no idea whether she had seen us kissing, or just holding each other.

I half wanted her to have seen us. Half because I almost wanted her to know everything. At some point she'd have to know. Now was as good a time as any. And yet something told me that it was just not the right time to tell her. She was Nigel's mother, and it was his decision about when and what to tell her. And she'd left the room anyway.

"Nigel?" I wanted to distract us all from the possible problems. Obviously he had let go of me and we were standing apart,


"If you're feeling better?" I had an idea.


"Why don't we go back to my place and finish the afternoon there?"

"I think I'd like that. But it isn't really afternoon anymore."

"No. But would you come and sleep over, maybe?"

"I'll ask Mum. Wait a tick." He was back, but his expression didn't look good. "No. She says we can run you home, but since I wasn't 'well', I can't sleep over. 'Just in case,' she says."

"Yeah. Mums are like that I suppose. But..."

"Yeah. I know. 'But'."

"Nigel, I need to talk to Carol, too. I mean she didn't need to, er didn't really want to... Oh I don't know what to do. I feel old!"

"At fourteen?"

"I feel at least twenty! That's old."

"And do you still love me now that you're twenty?" And Nigel had hurled himself on top of me and was tickling me madly, each side of my ribs, making me panic with laughter.

"Stop! Yes!!"

"Good. I think I like you as an older guy!"

At which point his Mum came in, and found us in a heap on the floor, Nigel sitting astride my waist, and the two of us breathless and laughing. I started to go crimson. I mean brightest crimson. And Nigel froze.

"Boys," she said, not seeming to notice us. "I've had an idea, especially since you get on so well." I was going more crimson. "If, Chris, if your parents agree, you can sleep the night here. It's a choice of the spare room, or the spare bed in with Nigel. Will you phone your parents, Chris? I'd like to meet them anyway."

"I'd like that, yes. I can't get in touch with either of them until about seven, though." Privately I was worried. She wanted to meet my parents. Why? She seemed to know everything and yet nothing.

"It's getting that way now," she said. You've got to get home somehow, to get your stuff if they agree.

"Well, yes.."

"So, let's go and get in the car, and I'll run you over. You can pick up what you need, and we can meet when one or the other gets home. OK?" She was so matter of fact about it. "Nigel, are you up to coming for the ride? You must be. You're sitting on Chris."

"Yes, Mum. I'm OK, now. Honest!"

I was suddenly desperate to talk to Nigel in private. I had this very odd feeling. Only you don't get private conversations with your lover sitting on you at waist level and his mother looking at you both and hurrying you towards the car. Well, hurrying you towards being hurried towards the car.

And I was frightened. She knew. I knew she knew. I don't know how she knew, but she knew. She hadn't said anything. But she knew. And I felt cold.

Not because she knew, but because of where she was about to drive us. And whom we were going to meet..

If she knew.

And I was sure she knew. Somehow. And half sure that she didn't.

Cold. Inside.

The car trip was a bit of a problem. I mean I knew where I lived, but I didn't know where I was. So I had no idea of the directions to give her as she drove. Somehow we go there. I was desperate for my parents not to be there, so that I could just let myself in and grab my things and be gone before they could meet.. Before they could meet.

Before they could... our car was on the drive, waiting there... meet.

"Your parents are back then, Chris," Nigel's Mum said.

"Looks like it. Well certainly Mum, anyway....."

"Did they know you were going out?"

"No." Oh. Mum would be worried. She was expecting me and Nigel to be there, not out. And there were pizza boxes everywhere. She'd kill me.....

"She will have been worrying. I should have got you to call on the carphone while we were driving over. To tell her that you were safe and with us."


"Yes. 'Oh.' Now get in and see her to tell her that you're safe, and then introduce me to her."

But it wasn't necessary, the front door flew open. Mum's face looked incandescent, but with Nigel and his mother there she didn't say anything. I didn't need to introduce them. Nigel's Mum was already walking forward with her hand outstretched. "Claire," she said. "You must be Chris's mother."

"Er, yes," said Mum. "Sorry, I'm forgetting myself. I'm Jean. I was worried about Chris. Stupid, really. But I wasn't expecting him to have gone out." And she shook Claire's hand.

When two mothers get together loads of things seem to get talked about. Except words aren't the way they communicate. I wanted to get out of there with my stuff. Fast. I didn't know what they were going to talk about, or I was frightened of what they might talk about. And I didn't want them to have a chance. I turned to Nigel. "I'm sure your mother knows."

"She can't?" He looked shocked. "How?"

"Never mind 'can't' and 'how'. We need to get them apart."


"Because I don't know what your Mum knows. I'm just so sure that she knows. Or thinks she knows. And I don't want her to tell mine what she thinks instead of what she knows."


"Look, you distract her somehow. I'm going to grab some overnight stuff, and we'll try to get out!" This in a fierce whisper.


"Shit, Nigel, I don't know how! I just don't want them talking too long. If anyone tells my mother, it's going to be me, us. In our way." And I rushed upstairs before he could answer, and grabbed some things, and rushed downstairs again, all in a mad scramble. I knew I'd taken no time at all. No time at all. So how come our two mothers were drinking tea? And were deep in conversation.

"Nigel?" He came over. "I thought you were going to distract her."

"I tried. Ten seconds after you went upstairs the teacups arrived. I couldn't get a word in edgewise."

"Come upstairs for a minute. I need time to think."

Think? Time to think? With my brain freewheeling down a one in five hill on a bike with no brakes? Heading for a cliff edge? Think?

"Chris, hold on," Nigel said as we went up the stairs. "Even if she knows, she's going to talk to me first."


"But nothing. We'll work something out tonight. Quietly."


"You have to calm down. This doesn't just affect you. It's us it affects. You and me. Me. You. Us."

"I suppose. Well I know. Sorry."

"I love you, you idiot. We'll work out how to cope."

"I'm scared, Nigel. So much so fast, and I thought I'd lost you, and..."

"Yeah. Well." And he ruffled my hair. "You didn't."

"But I'm not sure I want people to know. Not yet. Maybe not ever."

"Let's just get my Mum to take us to our house. We can work it out from there, OK?"


"Look, just come back in, ask your Mum if you can come back with us for the night, and we'll work it out as we go."

"Yeah. OK"

"And act normal, idiot!"

Every time something went wrong, Nigel was always able to take charge. And make me feel good about everything. I suppose I let him, but it felt so good having someone sort of powerful watching over me. Special. It made me feel special.

We went back into the living room. I tried to act normal. "Mum?"

She looked up "Yes, Chris?"

"We were hoping I could spend the night at Nigel's?"

"Yes, Claire said so." She gave no sign of agreeing, though.

"May I?"

"Well, I think there's a load of mess to be cleared up first."

"There is?"

"I think you had better go into the kitchen. No, Nigel, he can do it by himself. You stay here."

I went into the kitchen. Oh shit. Pizza boxes. One with a pizza in it. And all the other stuff that they always deliver. And the mess where the grease had leaked through the cardboard. I did my best. I threw out the empty boxes, and came back into the living room. "Mum, what do you want me to do with the cold pizza?"

Nigel's mother answered. "If your mother agrees that you are coming back with us, we'll reheat it for supper. Well for you and Nigel." She turned to mine. "Is that OK, Jean?"

"Seems like a fair deal to me." I could tell that Mum was trying to be stern. She almost succeeded. Well I could tell, anyway.

"So I can go, then?"

"Yes, Chris, you may go. BUT behave!"

"Thanks Mum!"

"Go and sort out the spare pizza so that it isn't greasy to carry, clean the table off, and come back in here when you're finished."

"OK Mum"

I put the boxes in a bin liner in the end. It was easiest. And took it out to the car, plus my small collection of overnight stuff. And we all three headed back to Nigels place. I sat in the back, in silence. Nigel in the front next to his Mum. I was excited, sure. But nervous, too. Nervous in case I was right.

As we went in through their front door she said "Pop upstairs. And drop your stuff. I'll heat the pizza. Don't be long, because I want to talk to you both." It wasn't a 'special' tone of voice, but it scared me again. My brain was racing down the 'She knows' track again.

Downstairs, in the kitchen, she sat us down. "Look," she said, "I have no idea what was going on this afternoon." My brain fled to the time she must have seen us in each other's arms. "Nigel came back here in tears, Chris. And you looked much the same when you turned up with that nice girl."

"Carol," I reminded her.

"Yes, Carol." She wasn't to be distracted. "It looked very much as though you two had fallen out in a big way."

"We're fine, Mum," Nigel interrupted.

"Yes, it's OK," I added, not to be outdone.

"Anyway," she continued, ignoring us completely, "no rows are going to happen here. None. Understood?"

"Yes Mum. No rows. It was just a huge misunderstanding before, that was all." Nigel smiled at me. "That's right, isn't it, Chris?"

"Yes. Definitely." I felt huge relief. She didn't know. She didn't know.

"Right. I'll leave you two to attack the pizza. It'll be ready in ten minutes. Take it out of the oven when the timer goes off Nigel."

"Yes Mum."

"And eat it in here! I am not having pizza dropped all over your room, Nigel!"

"Yes, Mum, no Mum..."

She was smiling at him. I could see that she loved him. "Just don't be too cheeky! And, oh I don't know, just relax and enjoy yourselves, OK?"

"Thanks, Mum, we will. Oh, what can we have to drink?"

"Look in the fridge," she laughed at him. "I can see that you're over this afternoon. Oh, not the beer. Not today, anyway. It's peace and quiet I want tonight, not two giggling morons! And Chris?"

"Yes?" I jumped, almost. I was still feeling very awkward. I had no reason to, but I felt it anyway.

"Welcome. It's nice to have you here."

I blushed. Yeah, I know, but I couldn't help it. I was lost for words. An unusual state, but I was lost for words. "Thanks," I managed to spit the word out at last. It needed more. I was being a fool, but my brain still wasn't working. Finally "It's really nice of you to ask me."

At which point she left us in the kitchen with the oven and the timer counting the minutes down until pizza.

"Are you OK?" Nigel was staring at me as he spoke, a very serious, no concerned, expression on his beautiful face. Oh that hair!

"I am now. You Mum made me nervous. She knows, Nigel. She knows."

"Just now I couldn't care if the world knows. I have you. I love you. I was dead stupid earlier. Never again. If she knows, Chris, even if she just suspects, I don't care! And even if she does know, then I think it'll be all right.

"It will? How?"

"I don't know. I just feel it. But it isn't important right now. You are. Come and kiss me. Please. Now.""

"But your Mum might come in and..."

"And if she does, then we'll know that she knows. Now please come and kiss me."

That face, those eyes, so blue. And his smile. I brushed his lips, so lightly, with mine. And as I did he flicked his tongue out, like a snake, and touched me almost as I passed. And I felt his hands touch me, stroke the back of my hair, pull me closer to him, smothering me, tongues tangled, breathing hard through, well through our ears, it seemed. Oh to feel him again, to smell him, so soft, so close, so warm. My ears were ringing with it.

"Pizza's ready!" Nigel was extracting himself from me, and telling me about supper. The ringing was still going on. The timer! Of course. That was the ringing. "Grab some fizz from the fridge while I get the pizza out of the oven."

"Sprite or tango?" As far as I could see there were only two bottles in there. Mind you, each was at least two litres.

"What flavour tango is it?"


"Hmm. Hard choice. Which one do you want? You're the guest after all!" Oh heck, he was smiling at me again. And I was melting again. "Stop looking so goofy and choose one"

So I did. Well grabbed one. His back was turned as I put it on the table. I heard him ask me "Which one did you get?"

"Er, I dunno! I'll look. Ahh Tango."

"You don't know?" His back wasn't turned anymore, and he was looking at me with his mouth hanging open. "How would you not know?"

"I got distracted."


"You, you idiot. You smiled at me."

He had the grace to look nonplussed for a moment. And then he hugged me so tight I thought all the blood would burst out through the top of my head. "I love you, Chris. Damn, I'll never get tired of saying that! I want to shout it out for all to hear. But it feels like showing off. Well, a bit."

"Yeah, and a bit stupid, too. I mean, Carol's OK, but the rest of the school?"

"There is that. Yeah. Scary. Listen if I don't eat the pizza, I'm going to eat you."

"I don't think you could explain that to your Mum if she walked in!" I was getting the giggles.

"Just some sausage with our pizza, Mum!" He was giggling, too.

"I need to drink this through a straw!" I tried to top his joke.

"Yeah, thicker than a McShake, so I have to suck really hard!" He was having trouble getting the words out.

"Help, how do you blow up these McHappyMeal balloons? They take quite some blowing!"

And suddenly I felt tears streaming down my face while I was in mid-giggle. And I held tight to Nigel. "I thought I'd lost you. I was so helpless, and so scared. Nigel I thought I'd lost you." I wasn't sobbing, my voice was still laughing, but my face was as wet as if it was raining indoors. "I don't ever want to feel like that again. I love you. I can't even bear to be away from you for a night."

"Shh, my love. Oh wow that sounds soppy! I mean it, though. Shh. It's fine, now. Shh." And he kept hold of me until my tears had finished. And kissed them away, licking them like a cat. And then splashed my face with water from the tap, and dried me on the kitchen towel. Yeah, and it smelt of onions! "Shh. Let's sit down and eat. Just quietly." As we ate he carried on, between mouthfuls. "I've spent for ever watching you, Chris, staring at you, scared to talk to you." I tried to interrupt him. "No, let me tell you. Please."

"OK, sorry."

"Doesn't matter. Interrupt me if you like, but let me finish, too. I'm not making a speech. I've been scared of myself, I suppose. I started looking at you ages ago. The first time I saw you I was sure that I wanted to get to know you. It wasn't love then, I don't think. Well, I don't know, really. I mean it was so long ago. I know it wasn't sex then, either. But something drew me to want to be with you. And I was scared to be."

"You didn't need to be. I didn't even know you liked me."

"Well, I got into all the things you don't do. And it was difficult. You're in different groups for most of the subjects from me. You're brighter, better at school, stuff. And I'm in better sides for games than you are. So we don't really get to meet. And in the breaktimes I can't shake off the gang that kicks tennis balls around, or plays yard cricket. And you don't join in."

"Well, I'm no good at it. I'm a dork when it comes to games."

"Thinking back to the time I first saw you, I didn't even meet you. I just saw you. And I felt I wanted to be with you. But I couldn't talk to you."

"Why not?"

"I'm shy, Chris. Well I was with you, anyway."

"You weren't shy in France."

"You have no idea how scared I was."

"I think I have, a little."

"You don't know how I worked to make sure that we shared a room.

"I thought the rooms were allocated by the teachers?"

"They were."

"But how?"

"Never mind how. I just managed it by not wanting to share with shedloads of other people. When they asked who I would share with, I said that you 'seemed OK', so I supposed I could share with you. It sounds a bit as though I tricked you, I suppose."

"I'm glad you did." We were about halfway through the pizza. Not eating hungrily any more, but eating thoughtfully, not tasting the food, which was probably just as well, but going through the motions of biting, chewing and swallowing.

"I'm glad I did, too. But I did manipulate you. I don't ever want you to hold that against me, so I'm apologising for it now. OK?"

"How could I hold it against you?"

"Chris, I've cost you your girlfriend. I may only be fourteen, but I've looked ahead in, my life. Being another guy's lover isn't the easiest life. We don't get invited to many places as a couple. It'll always be 'And do bring your girlfriend.' It won't be easy."

"Yeah, I think I know that.""

"I've had a long time to think about it, Chris. A long time. About watching myself fall in love with you. About moving from wanting to be your friend, to finding you attractive. From finding you attractive to thinking about you each time I'm in bed alone. From thinking about you to pretending that the hand on my cock was yours, that the fingers between my legs were yours. From wanting to touch you so badly that I thought I would burst from the strain. And about wondering if you would ever, ever even just look my way.

"I never knew."

"I made sure you never knew. I didn't dare tell you. Couldn't tell you."

"Then why..."

"I was sick and tired of being scared. And I knew I had to know. And I spend some time on the net talking to people on gay teens advice places."

"I don't know they existed."

"If you'd been a lonely confused teen who wondered if he was gay, was afraid in case he was gay, you would have known. All sorts of places exist online. Anyway, I was talking by email to someone who gave advice on a messageboard. An older guy. Oddly he's married."

"Married? On a gay teen site?"

"Married. To a woman, yes. Nice guy. He was in love. But he never dared to tell his, well I can't call him a boyfriend, can I, because he never dared tell him, so he never knew. But he loved this boy for nearly thirty five years. But he only knew him for four of those years. And, he said, it hurt."

"I bet it did. Poor guy."

"I said that to him, but he disagreed with me. I'll introduce you, you can talk about that with him sometime. What he said to me was 'If you don't tell him, then you'll never know. And you'll be like me. Obsessed with a boy who stays young as you grow older. I was lucky and found love, but it took a long while to lose my obsession. And I risked losing the girl I married because of it. Tell him. Tell him well, and tell him thinking of him.' Well I didn't do it as well as I should have done."


"No, I didn't. I seduced you. I didn't tell you. I almost raped you. I was thinking, I suppose, 'I need to know, but I need to find out in my own way'. Or something. So I tricked you into kissing me. Then I knew. I felt it. Somehow. Something told me that you wanted me, too.

"You knew that before I did, I think."

"I felt your body against me, Chris. And you relaxed. And it felt as though you wanted to be kissing me."

"It scared me at the time."

"Me, too. Especially when we stopped. And went to bed."

"Yeah. I didn't want to stop, but I was worried what you'd think of me! I wish I'd known that first night..." I was gazing into his eyes. Nigel had not broken eye contact with me since he'd started talking. It was almost as though I could see his next words each time before he spoke them. Like reading his mind.

"I couldn't sleep. Not for ages. And I heard you trying not to make a sound under the covers." He smiled at me and stroked my hand. "I wondered if your were thinking of me, or of Carol."

"I tried to think of Carol."


"But I couldn't. It was you, Nigel. It was you."

"Aww! I hoped it was. Especially when I heard your breathing change!"

"Bastard!" I had a huge grin on my face. "Oh bastard! I do love you, Nigel."

"I keep pinching myself," he said. "This is a dream. I'm going to wake up. We'll be in France on that school trip. I'll be in my bed, and you'll be in yours. And I won't have told you anything. Or kissed you. Or been held by you. or anything at all. It's a dream."

"If you do wake up, then wake me up with you."

"Yeah." He was sighing. Looking completely relaxed. Not worried. Just happy.

"It can't be a dream, anyway."

"No? It feels like one sometimes."

"No, it can't. It hurt too much to be a dream this afternoon. And it's gone on too long. And I'm dreaming it as well. And I have no idea why I'd be dreaming about you, coz you didn't exist in my life before this."

"So, it's real then?"

"I reckon it's real." There's a sort of comfy feeling you get when everything is right. I was getting that, then. Just sitting there with him. Chatting to him about nothing. Well about us. Yeah about nothing. Until then everything had been, well, hugely about sex and lust and discovering myself, or maybe undiscovering myself. We hadn't had the time to talk before, not really talk. I suppose we'd each kind of assumed everything about each other. I loved him, sure. But I didn't really know who he was. Still didn't. But it didn't matter, either.

I thought back over the holiday as we were talking. We'd finished the pizza ages ago. Heck we'd even cleared away and washed the glasses and taken the boxes out to the bin. I mean I don't do things like that! As I thought back I saw each thing that happened, and wondered quietly about it. Before then I barely knew Nigel. No really. I knew his name, and I'd seen him. I hadn't cared whether he was good looking or not, but I'd seen the way all the girls looked at him. I hadn't cared whether they had looked at me the same way or not, I'd just been content to have Carol as my girlfriend. But I remembered that sometimes I'd seen his eyes turn away when I looked at him. And I'd thought that he didn't like me. Not that I'd cared much then. And now I knew that it was because he didn't dare look too long. In case I'd called him queer, and persecuted him.

I remember wondering if it was wrong to love a boy. I mean not just love, but to make love to one. If it was 'dirty' like all the others seemed to say. And I didn't see how it could be wrong, be dirty. Not with the tenderness, the emotion between us. I thought about not the times that we'd made love, but the times between. The brief, snatched times in France where we had been able to be two people together, not part of a crowd. And I went over the things that Nigel had done to help me to have time to come to understand at least that he loved me, and I could see what he risked every time he pushed me towards Carol. It must have been agony for him. And that night when she had stolen into our room, and been there, hidden, while we made love. And how he tried, so hard, to be able to include her, too. And couldn't.

"You're miles away." Nigel's voice was breaking into my thoughts.

"Yeah. I was remembering."


"The trip. Actually meeting you. And everything you did. And how it was all for me. Even if it could have gone wrong for you."

"It wasn't just for you, you know!"

"There were huge bits that were."

"Perhaps. And I didn't notice that it was that huge!"

"Idiot! Yours isn't so enormous either!"

I was just about to swat him when his mother came in. "You're both very quiet," she said. I just came to ask you to wash the glasses before.... Oh, you have! Thank you. Now, it's about bedtime. There are two beds in Nigel's room, or there's the spare room. I don't mind which you choose, but it's time to go to bed."

"Wow!", Nigel looked at his watch. "How did it get to be nearly midnight?"

"That's what I mean," she said. "And how did it get to be nearly midnight so quietly?"

I was still scared of her. Well not of her. But of whether she knew. And if she knew, what she was going to do, or say. But I was finding that I liked her. A lot. And it didn't seem to matter, somehow. But I didn't know which bed to choose. I knew I wanted to be in his room, but I didn't want to be the one to say so.

Nigel saved me. Nigel always saved me. "We'll share my room, Mum."

"That's settled, then," she said. "Now don't take all the hot water, coz I want a bath."

"G'night Mum."

"Goodnight Mrs Cropper."

"Goodnight Nigel, Chris. See you in the morning."

"Thanks, Mum," I heard Nigel almost whisper to her as we headed upstairs.

I liked his bedroom. It wasn't that it was special or anything. It was far too crowded with two beds in it, and it was chock full of stuff. You know, his ghetto blaster, a TV, his computer, a desk for homework, all full of scruffy papers shoved all anyhow. A huge collection of stuffed toys. It was lovely. It was home. It wasn't like mine. He was as messy as I was tidy.

I followed him to the bathroom and we each cleaned our teeth, and washed and stuff. And headed back across the landing to his room. To our room. I was so shy, suddenly. Not about my body or anything, but shy to be with my boyfriend, in his home, in his room, with his parents in the room across the landing.

"Kiss me, Nigel."

"I thought you'd never ask!"

It was a soft kiss. Romantic, not erotic. Our hands gently stroking the other's back. Somehow it wasn't a sexual kiss at all. We didn't grind into each other, didn't get aroused. Just felt perfect in each other's arms. Contented.

"Do you mind, Chris, if I just cuddle you and hold you?"

"Oh yes, please. How did you know I was going to ask you that too?" And he led me to one of the beds, and we got under the duvet. I felt his soft breath on my face, and smelt the light minty toothpaste on it. And we lay entwined, his head on my chest, my hands in his hair, legs all mixed together, all relaxed, arms tight round each other. I breathed in the scent of his hair, slightly musty, and just enjoyed being with him, holding him, feeling his soft, smooth skin, touching the soft down of hair on his arms, stroking his hair. Feeling safe. It was a wonderful feeling, especially listening to his breathing, becoming regular, feeling him relax, imperceptibly at first, and then soften, and hearing little 'almost snores' as he drifted to sleep. Or were they my snores?

I didn't know I was asleep. I was certain I spent the night awake. What I didn't understand is how, if I was awake, I dreamt of the beach in France, and of walking on it, hand in hand with my boyfriend. How the water was warm as we went in swimming, fully clothed, and how we played like dolphins in the waves and the shallows. And I dreamt of the beach afterwards, soft, warm and deserted, and feeling like silk, and being dried all over by a tiger's tongue licking me softly, purring as it did so. And I dreamt of the tiger purring and licking me all over, yes all over, and taking me so softly in his lips, and sucking sweetly on my cock. I didn't want the dream to end, me and my tiger, and he sucked and I felt myself surfacing, and it wasn't a tiger, and it wasn't a dream, and in the half light of summer dawn Nigel was sucking and licking me, and moving his head and tongue so gently on my cock that it felt as though I was in heaven. And he was purring! I didn't know a boy could purr, but Nigel was purring.

I could see his hair, all tousled, and his shoulders, and all down his lovely spine to where his bum arched upwards, and then where his legs were raised from the knee, feet in the air, as he lay on his front and as he worked slowly, so slowly on me. And I tried to stay asleep, and I half saw my tiger and half my lover as he purred and licked and sucked. And I woke as the feeling gathered in me, and whispered "Turn round!" in a stage whisper to him. Which he did, without taking his mouth off me, and without slowing down or speeding up, and he turned around to straddle me, his knees on each side of me, his cock straining to be free of his wonderful foreskin, the pink head almost peeping out, and a little leak of precum starting to hang like a drip from a stalactite. But I didn't lick that drip. Instead I touched it with my finger and placed it on his pucker, and worked my finger gently, so gently around the rim, pausing only to get two more drips in quick succession.

Then, only then, did I take his boyhood and pull it back with my left hand towards my mouth, unveiling his gorgeous cockhead as I did so, and covering my teeth with my lips clamped down on him as I pushed my right index finger deep into his hole, and pressed forward onto his special place, the fiery centre of his being. Oh I knew when I'd hit the spot, because he bucked and forced his cock further into my mouth than ever before, almost choking me, and deluging my throat with precum. And he began to make love to my cock with his mouth so hard I thought I would scream with pleasure. I would have if I hadn't been dealing with the sweetest part of him, and that smell of musk at the base of his cock. I felt him ease my cheeks apart and felt his finger probe me until he was in, and we raced, almost stroke for stroke, to that place where reality doesn't matter anymore. His cock in my mouth, mine in his, and one, no two fingers deep inside each other, probing, pushing teasing away. I couldn't see his beautiful balls anymore as they retracted all the way into his sack, and I felt his cock swell, and I made him pull back so that I could taste every drop as he filled my mouth with his wonderful liquor. I didn't care about me, or about anything else, just about him. And then my tiger hit the spot once more for me, and I felt my body tighten on his hand, crushing his poor fingers between my buttocks and I arched upwards and delivered myself into his mouth.

And we had to breathe. Had to. Urgent to get oxygen. I felt his fingers leave me as I pulled back and out of him, too, and I spun round to hold him tight and close, all sweaty, and smelling of sex and of himself. And I kissed him then, and found again that I tasted different from him, and yet it was good.

No words. Just breathless, sweaty, urgent no more. At peace in that wonderful sleepy glow that comes after even bad sex. And this was by no means bad! To be awakened by my lover's tongue; to see him there just giving love to me; to be able to return it.

Somehow we made the pillow and found the duvet and wrapped ourselves together again. Two heads on the same pillow, two smiles. In the dawn light I looked into his eyes, into is wonderful eyes, and I smiled, was at once lost, and fell asleep. 'Tigers don't have blue eyes' I was thinking as I stroked his tiger skin, and heard him purr again as my eyes shut.

And then my eyes were jolted open.

"Good morning boys. Oh!" And I woke to see Mrs Cropper, with a tea tray in her hands and a very strange expression on her face. And she was framed in the doorway, and I couldn't move or speak because Nigel's head was on my chest.

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