Martin had never found a week pass so slowly, which was odd because now that he was getting on better at school, things weren't all that bad. It made such a difference that he had people to talk to now, and it brought home to him how lonely he had been. Ross seemed to have taken Jimmy's lesson very much to heart and nor were his cronies much in evidence. In fact if Martin appeared in the vicinity, they would find something interesting on the other side of the playground and sidle off. It was incredible and his gratitude to Jimmy increased by leaps and bounds. After the fight and his public admission that he was gay he'd thought he would be able to handle things on his own, but thanks to Jimmy's intervention, he had no need to handle anything at all.
Ross and his erstwhile gang were so obviously giving him a wide berth, it was an object lesson to anyone else who might have considered having a go at him. There were remarks sometimes and a certain amount of name calling by the more homophobic thugs, but these he either ignored or agreed with, and didn't let it worry him. What did worry him though, was his mother's worsening attitude.
After she had returned from the conference (and discreet questioning proved that he and Jimmy couldhave spent the previous night together) she had been in an extremely good mood and even seemed quite pleased with him after she decided that playground fights did happen after all, and it hadn't been particularly serious anyway. Also his hard work, which had left the house spotless for her home coming had paid off. But the mood hadn't lasted.
He tried hard not to provoke her but his thoughts were so centred on Jimmy, he wasn't very attentive and sometimes appeared to be deliberately ignoring her. His mention of an invitation to go away for a couple of days during half term was rejected, although he had chosen his moment carefully and put it as tactfully as he knew how.
Angry because she gave no reason for her decision but simply told him it was out of the question he managed, with difficulty, not to burst out at her but his sullen demeanour angered her in turn. She had always disliked sulky children and decided that he was to go shopping with her on Saturday, as a reminder of who was in charge.
Her casual mention of this on Friday evening while they were having supper didn't provoke the storm she half expected. Martin was certainly angry but he said quietly, "Then I won't need to go to Mass on Sunday."
"I beg your pardon Martin," she said icily.
"If I'm with you on Saturday, I don't have to go to Church on Sunday," he replied.
"And what gives you that idea young man?"
"That's what we agreed."
Noting his pale face and putting it down to fear, she felt contempt sweep over her.
"You will come to Mass as usual," she said dismissively.
"I'm sorry mother, but I don't have to. If I don't have Saturday free, I, then I don't have to go to Mass. That was the bargain."
The irritation she had been feeling for some time about this so-called bargain came to a head.
"Children do not make bargains with their parents. They do what they are told, and you will do what you are told. Should I decide that you are not to go out on Saturday, you will stay at home on Saturday, and you will attend Mass on Sunday regardless. Is that quite clear to you?"
"That isn't fair," he muttered and pushed his chair back.
She looked at him coldly. "I have not finished my coffee Martin, and you will not leave the table until I give you permission to do so. Your manners are deteriorating young man."
"You said I was a child a minute ago," he said sullenly.
"Sit down!" she shouted, her temper snapping.
He did so, but took his time about it, then stared at her throughout the subsequent tirade without once dropping his eyes. The look on his face eventually penetrated her fog of anger and she broke off her unflattering description of his character, feeling something of a shock. Not so long ago a similar tongue lashing would have had him cowering in the chair, a quivering mass of despicable spinelessness.
His voice shook a little when he broke the silence, but the words were clear enough.
"Please may I leave the table."
It wasn't a question, it was a statement. He wasn't asking for her permission, he was laying out of the lines of battle. Her anger flared again and betrayed her into making a mistake.
"No you may not!" she snapped.
He looked at her for a long moment, then slowly a smile crossed his face as he settled back in the chair and folded his arms. He'd got her. They had finished eating and her coffee cup was now empty, so they were going to have to sit there until she gave way. If she said he could leave the table now she would lose face, and if she made him stay there, she would have to stay with him because he would move as soon as her eye was off him. And each minute she spent at the table would be measured by the loss of a little more of her authority. Instead of making him feel small as she'd intended, she had put him in a no lose situation. His smile grew.
The minute she had spoken, Martha knew that she'd made a tactical error. She recognised the implications even faster than her son had. It was that, that smirk on his face that did it. The speed with which she left her seat and came around the table took him by surprise. Before he realised what she intended and could unfold his arms to protect his face, she had slapped him. Briefly she had the satisfaction of seeing tears of pain and shock fill his eyes before she stepped back, aghast at what she had done.
She had never smacked him, even when he was a small child, her voice had always been sufficient. And now he had provoked her into behaving like any of the lower class parents that she habitually prosecuted for assaulting their children. And this would be just the start. He was going to get more and more difficult to control, and it would be a continual battle to make him behave, just at the time when she needed to concentrate all her efforts on her career. And if the story of what she had just done got out ... but everyone would agree that she had been totally justified. No parent could put up with the sort of defiance he had shown, it would make life intolerable.
It was not a defence that she had accepted when preparing her prosecutions.
Martin stood up, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing him touch the livid mark on his cheek, and without a word, went upstairs to his bedroom, leaving her still standing there. She must have read his thoughts and known how determined he'd been to sit her out. And maybe she thought this would be the last time something like this would happen. If so, she was wrong. She had treated him unfairly just because she thought she could. And he wasn't putting up with it without a fight, not anymore. Not while he had Jimmy to turn to for support.
At the thought of Jimmy's face close to his and his arms around him, he set his alarm clock an hour earlier than usual. After glancing in the mirror and wondering if his face was going to be bruised (again!), in which case he would need to make up a story to account for it, he got into bed, determined to put it out of his mind until the next day, and fell asleep as soon as he had put the light out.
Jimmy, woken out of a sound sleep by the insistent ringing of the doorbell the next morning, staggered downstairs and let him in, muttering about people who woke other people up in the middle of the night. Martin smiled, told him to go back to bed while he made coffee and pushed him towards the bedroom. Seven minutes later he walked into the room carrying two mugs, and stark naked. Jimmy, wondering if he was ever going to be permitted to sleep late again after this precedent, blinked as he took in the state of Martin's penis.
"Coffee or me?" Martin asked in a voice that warned him he'd better make the correct choice.
With a sleepy grin, he said nothing, just pulled the covers open and made room for him. Martin smiled approvingly at Jimmy's own revealed state, put the mugs down and climbed in beside him. Then he handed the grateful boy a mug saying, "Only because you were a good boy and answered correctly. Sit up and drink it."
Muttering about people who expected him to hold a cup of hot coffee and manage to sit up in bed all at the same time, Jimmy did as he was told, and sipped the reviving liquid.
"Why are you here so early Mart?"
"Don't you want me?" Martin asked, raising a convenient eyebrow.
"Of course I do, I'm just surprised that's all. But if you're going to do this often, I'm going to get a set of keys cut for you. Then you can let yourself in and by the time I'm up you will have cleaned the place, vacuumed, done the washing up, done my laundry, ironed it, and cooked my breakfast. You can cook some for yourself at the same time if you like," he added in a kind voice, "After you've watered the garden and weeded the lawn."
"You are kind Jimmy," Martin told him in a grateful voice.
"That's me, kind, generous ... Mart," he said suddenly in a totally different voice, "What happened to your face? Have they started on you again at school? Because if they have ..."
Martin shook his head. "No, it wasn't school. Jimmy hurry up with that coffee, it's rabbit time."
"No way kiddo. You tell me what happened, or no rabbiting."
"Jimmy I will tell you I promise, but I would really like to leave it for a bit otherwise you'll be too angry to want to rabbit me. No," he said, putting a hand on the other boy's mouth, "I really do promise, and it's something that might help our plans but honestly, it's not more important than rabbiting."
"With you, nothing is ever more important than rabbiting."
"I know. Oh Christ Jimmy, please hurry up."
He told Jimmy about it while they were having breakfast. In his hurry to leave the house before his mother woke up he hadn't bothered to eat anything and anyway, it was so much nicer to have it with Jimmy after a satisfying session in bed. Unconsciously echoing Jimmy's earlier thought, he made up his mind he was going to go to bed earlier in future and spend an hour at the flat before going to school. Maybe Jimmy would drive him there and they'd have even more time together.
Jimmy was rather white around the mouth by the time he had described the scene to him but didn't make too much of it to rather to Martin's surprise, he had expected an explosion of rage.
"We're not going to let it spoil our day together Mart, and anyway I want to think about it for a bit and see how we can use it. What would you like to do this morning?"
"It's going to pour with rain any minute so could we stay here, or do we need to go shopping?"
"I did it last night. Mart, you do realise don't you that she is going to be furious with you when you get home. You have disobeyed her you know," Jimmy said in a worried voice.
"I know Jimmy but I can put up with that. And I'll go to Church tomorrow to prove that I can keep my side of the bargain even if she can't keep hers. It will be alright, she'll probably go to visit my aunt after that so I'll be alone most of the day. Do you think we could ... ?"
"We'll take it as it comes. But what I would like to do Mart, is go and see Joe this afternoon. I want to talk this over with him."
"Can't you do it over the phone?"
"I can if you really want me to, but I'm trying to get him completely committed to helping us and the more he sees you, the more likely it is that he will."
Martin thought it over. It made sense, so he nodded.
"Okay, but let's not spend too long there. I'm going to need a lot of rabbiting today to make me brave."
Jimmy's heart twisted but he forced himself to smile. "By the time I'm finished with you bunny boy, you'll be so full of courage you won't be able to contain it."
"Yes," Martin said happily, "But that's not the only thing I want to be full of so you'd better start topping me up now. Come on."
Jimmy grinned. "Where on earth do you get all the energy for this from?"
"Didn't you know?" Martin raised an eyebrow, well aware by now that it made him look cute, "I'm ball powered."
"You mean balls powered."
"Anything you say," he replied agreeably. "Oh hell Jimmy, why are you so slow," he complained, grabbing the older boy's hand and dragging him into the bedroom again.
They went to Joe and Steven's house after a late lunch. Following the urgent session in the bedroom after breakfast, Martin had seated himself at the typewriter and worked hard at his touch typing exercises, then started on a new story as a way of distracting himself. In spite of the brave face he had put on in front of Jimmy, he was dreading his return home that evening and wondered if he should have just given way and stayed at home after all. Telling her that he would be going to Mass the next day wouldn't cut much ice or diminish her anger. All she would see was his disobedience. Briefly he wondered if it would help if he went to confession and communion as well, but decided that it wouldn't. In any case, he doubted if he could bring himself to do it. The triumphant look on the priest's face would be too much to bear.
His new story didn't go particularly well but served it's purpose, and when Jimmy decided to have a shower before lunch, he happily squeezed in with him then mysteriously became totally inept and unable to wash himself. Having been told firmly to keep his hands to himself, he submitted to Jimmy's gentle ministrations, did the same for him and was in the middle of drying himself when he was suddenly picked up, tossed onto the bed still damp, and ravished. He did some ravishing in return which necessitated another shower because Jimmy didn't feel he could ask his father for his hand in marriage while reeking of spunk.
"And stop giggling about it, brat," he told Martin as they dried each other for the second time. "Oh God, look what you've done to me," he said in a dismayed voice looking down.
"Me? It's not my fault if that thing just keeps on growing. I didn't do anything to make it like that."
"Little liar, if you hadn't been drying me excessively down there ... "
"Of course I was drying you, do you think I want you to shrink like clothes washed in water too hot?"
"It doesn't look as if anything in the world could shrink you!" Jimmy said, inspecting him carefully.
"Well I'm younger. You should have more self control."
"I'll control you in a minute if you're not careful. You're getting very out of hand."
"Yes I know, and it's time you did something about it."
Jimmy advanced on him, a determined look on his face and tossed him, squeaking with delight, back onto the bed, rolled him onto his side and took him in hand, remarking that he didn't mind putting sheets into the washing machine but he was damned if he was going to shower for a third time that day. "I know what you're like," he added darkly, "All you're after is my body and if you catch me in the shower all naked and defenceless, you'll deflower me!"
Martin went into a fit of giggles at the remark, which sustained him until the pleasure of Jimmy's knowing ministrations gave his thoughts another direction.
They were so deep in conversation when Jimmy parked outside Joe's house that they didn't notice the car parked across the road. There was no reason why they should. Martha, who had been about to get out of the vehicle, glanced at Jimmy indifferently then saw Martin. The impact was great enough to keep her immobile while wondering what to do next. When the door opened and both Joe and Steven gave them a welcoming hug, the shock that had kept her frozen, turned to rage. As the front door closed behind them, she started the engine, put the car in gear with a hand that was shaking with anger, and accelerated away.
If Martin hadn't got his expected explosion of rage from Jimmy on the state of his face that morning, his father's more than made up for it. Delightedly storing in his mind some extremely descriptive language for use later, he saw Jimmy glaring at him and raised a hand in mute apology. If he ever decided to use any of it in a story he'd better not show it to Jimmy. As he had clear cut orders to show him everything he wrote, it didn't seem as if he would be able to use the choicer phrases. A pity. He'd just thought of a story where they'd fit in beautifully. Maybe he could tone them down a bit? Regretfully he turned his attention back to Joe who was beginning to calm down slightly.
Although the visit did some good, in that it finally ended any doubts Joe still had about what he was getting involved in, none of them could come up with any definite way to use the incident. But Martin had a feeling that Jimmy was holding back and accused him of this when they were in the car again. But Jimmy laughed and refused to be drawn.
Back at the flat Martin insisted that they dig out Jimmy's two man tent and set it up in the garden so that he could see what it was like. He was enchanted, asked questions, got in Jimmy's way continually, and at one point almost collapsed the entire edifice when he walked into one of the guy ropes because he wasn't looking where he was going. Jimmy laughed, called him a pest, then took him into the tent for a kiss and a cuddle, first zipping up the inner and outer sections in case the neighbours were watching. Martin would have kept him there for the rest of the afternoon but Jimmy decided it would look suspicious if anyone was watching.
"We do have to be a bit careful Mart, because if people start to talk about us, we could both be in trouble."
"I know you're right Jimmy, it's just that ... "
"Do you think I don't feel the same? I only have to look at you and I want to drag you off somewhere and have my wicked way with you."
"Your what?" Martin said, starting to laugh. "Oh Jimmy what a lovely phrase. Can I use it in a story please?"
"Provided you don't use any of the words Joe said. Don't try to deny it, I know the look on your face when you're working out a story, and don't you dare write it and not show me either."
"How did you know I was thinking that?"
"So you were, were you?"
"I didn't say that ... "
"You didn't have to. It was written all over your face. You're to show me everything."
"I do. At least ... "
"There's one thing I've written since we met that I haven't shown you and I don't think that I could."
"Why, is it so terrible?"
"Yes it is. But not in the way you're thinking."
"You'd better tell me. A clear conscience in a clear body."
"Don't you mean a clean conscience in a clean body?"
"Of course not. Only an idiot would say something as boring as that."
"What about a clumsy conscience in a clumsy b ... "
"I am not going to get involved in your idiocies," Jimmy told him. "Come into my arms brat and confess. Why can't you show it to me?"
"Because it's about you," Martin told him, creeping into his arms.
"So? You will naturally have described me as handsome, good looking, kind, generous, wonderful, superb, superlative, etcetera, etcetera. I may blush, but I know my duty is to read everything you write in case it's a masterpiece that you want to throw away. But don't worry, I can handle reading about myself and it won't make me in the least bit swollen headed. I will be just the same afterwards, handsome, good looking, kind, etcetera, you name it. Even though you will have said the most wonderful things about me, I won't change. I'll be just as modest and retiring as I always was The pressure won't get to me."
"Oh yes it will," Martin said, giggling, "It will get to you right here!" He touched Jimmy's jeans.
"Martin," Jimmy said in a horrified voice, "You're not writing, pornography are you?"
"No of course not, at least not all the time. Only about you!" he got out between chokes of laughter.
"You little toad! You deserve to be spanked. And don't take that as an invitation either," he added when Martin rolled onto his stomach obligingly. "Where is this famous story?"
"At home. Hidden."
"For Christ's sake Mart, you'd better bring it here. If your mother was ever to find it ... I won't look at it if you don't want me to."
"I think I'll let you, but not just yet. I'll have to get used to the idea first. I, I was needing you very badly when I wrote it Jimmy. It was before we did anything you see."
Jimmy thought he could see very well, and if the writing was as descriptive as it usually was, he couldn't wait. He pulled Martin against him in spite of the heat in the airless tent and kissed him. "Show it to me when you're ready. I'd love to read it."
They were quiet as they dismantled and re-packed the tent, wondering if they would ever be able to sleep in it, took it inside and had a cup of coffee before Jimmy drove him home. They always said their goodbyes before leaving the flat, but this time, Martin pulled his face down and kissed him before getting out of the car. Jimmy didn't object and held him for a minute before letting him go.
His mother wasn't home and she hadn't left him a note telling him where she had gone or when she would be back. He didn't feel like eating, so he tidied the house, not that there was much to do, then got out the vacuum cleaner and did all the carpets including the stairs, a job he usually hated. Then he watched television for an hour but the early evening programmes were as uninteresting as they usually were on Saturdays, so he went upstairs and finished his homework before going to bed, wondering what was going to happen the next day.
His mother got home just before midnight and had he been awake, she would have torn into him without a moment's delay. It was a pity he was asleep because hers was the type of anger that fed on itself, and when she woke late the next morning, she was even more angry than she had been when she went to bed. Having forgotten to set her alarm clock she had to rush to get to Mass on time, which didn't help matters.
Martin knew that she was in a foul mood, but didn’t realise how dangerous it was because he was going over in his mind the details of a dream he'd had just before he woke up. He was wondering if it was his subconscious telling him something, and had just decided that it was, when they left for church. His thoughts about it got him through the boredom of Mass though his lack of attention, although not unusual, was duly noted by his smouldering parent.
As soon as the final prayers were said he left the pew, genuflected in a half hearted fashion and walked out to the car without waiting for her. He did it simply to avoid speaking to Father Jarrell, but she saw it as yet another act of defiance that he didn't escort her out of the building as he was supposed to. She greeted the priest and exchange a few words in an outwardly calm manner, but it took considerable self control. In the car she told Martin grimly that she had a few things to say to him as soon as they got home.
Still thinking deeply about his dream, Martin forgot the company he was in, and raised an eyebrow at her as he so often did with Jimmy. Martha saw it as an outstanding piece of insolence. It was the final straw. She knew an instant of blind rage and if she hadn't been driving, would have exploded with anger right then and there, and probably slapped his face again.
When they arrived home he automatically headed for his room to change his clothes, but was stopped in his tracks.
"Don't you turn your back on me Martin Jackson, come in here at once," she shouted from the sitting room doorway.
Bewildered, he turned and said, "I didn't turn my back on you. I was going up to my bedroom to change as I'm supposed to."
"Don't argue!" she snapped, going into the room.
For an instant he contemplated disobeying her, but years of ingrained obedience took over and he followed her into the room and sat on the uncomfortable upright chair she indicated.
Standing in front of him with her arms crossed she looked him up and down. He couldn't interpret the look. There was anger, but also something else, something that he couldn't identify.
She wasted no time. "Where were you last weekend while I was away? And don't try to tell me that you were here because I know you were not."
A little pale, he hadn't expected this, Martin forced himself to reply calmly. "I was out a lot."
"You were out all the time so don't lie to me. I know that you weren't here. I met that interfering Mrs Crossgrave yesterday and she asked me where the two of us had gone for the weekend. 'I was surprised you left the house empty all that time and didn't ask me to keep an eye on it'," Martha repeated, in an unkind parody of the woman's affected voice. "And I had to tell her that I had been meaning to ask her to, but had forgotten. I, I, had to lie to her so that she wouldn't spread the story around the neighbourhood that my son, a fifteen year old child, stayed out all night not just once, which would have been bad enough, but two nights in a row!"
"Would it have mattered if you'd told her the truth?" Martin asked, keeping his voice steady, "It's none of her business anyway."
"Do you think I want the entire street to know I have a son who stays out all night getting up to God knows what with God knows who? What were you doing? Stealing cars?"
"You know I can't drive," Martin answered literally, then realised it had been a mistake. It was like a red rag to a bull.
"Don't you dare be cheeky to me. I have had more than enough of you, your insolence and the way you talk to me. Do you think I'm going to put up with it forever? If so, you're going to find out before you're very much older that I'm not. Where were you?"
She went on and on, her voice rising steadily, then sinking suddenly down to a vicious murmur, unconsciously using the techniques she had learnt in court when she wanted to bully and humiliate a witness. And she was succeeding, though at the same time, his determination not to tell her where he had been was getting stronger. She could say what she liked about him, do what she liked to him, but he was not going to get Jimmy involved in this. Instinctively he knew that if he did, they were both going to be in real trouble.
But in spite of this determination his, new-found and still fragile confidence, was beginning to ebb away. She had been angry with him on innumerable occasions, but seldom like this. Forcing himself to stand his ground and look at her, when every instinct was telling him to look down, look away, look anywhere but at that enraged face, he identified one by one the components of the look she was casting at him. Rage, anger, contempt, and mixed up with them, something he'd seen before but hadn't been able to identify. It was some time before he was able to put his finger on what it was.
Dislike, or even something stronger. For her own son. For him.
It almost deprived him of thought. He knew that she had never loved him, but this? Surely parents were supposed to like their children, even if they didn't love them? But a part of his brain told him, as he began to revert to his old habits of thought, why should they like a person if the person wasn't likeable?
The stress of the thought suddenly took him back into the past. and he felt exactly the same as he had that day when he was ten years old, and his long suppressed memory of the events after Steven left the room came flooding back into his mind. The memory was so clear it was as if he was still on his bed, sobbing, desperate, lonely, and terrified of her. He saw her as he'd seen her then, and knew now that not only had she disliked him then, she had actually loathed him. His mind reeling, trying deperately to shut out the memories, he snapped back to the present and his eyes focussed on her. And saw it again. Saw the identical expression on her face and knew that she felt the same way about him now. She loathed him. She always had!
Without thinking, impelled by some force inside himself, he interrupted her.
"You're my mother, and you never even liked me."
Martha took a swift step towards him and hit him hard across the face. The force of the blow rocked him back in the chair and he felt tears come to his eyes from the pain of it. This time he couldn't prevent himself from cupping his swelling face, knowing somehow in the back of his mind that he had expected it to happen. That he deserved it.
"And you're deceitful," Martha shouted, not affected this time by her violent reaction. "I saw you yesterday, going behind my back and seeing your father. Is that where you were when I trusted you to look after the house while I was away? Anyone could have broken in but did you care about that? Did you care that we might have lost everything we own? No. No you did not. All you cared about was going out visiting your father." The amount of scorn with which she imbued the word turned it into a major insult.
"He is my father," Martin said in a shaking voice, "And I have the right to see him if I want to."
"You have no rights at all. I decide who you can see and who you can't see."
"If I went to court they would say I could."
Martha stood absolutely still, her face menacing. There was just enough truth in his statement to make her pause. If it came to court, the chances were fairly good under the circumstances that his father would be denied the right to see him, at least at present. But once he turned sixteen anything could happen. She glared at him and decided to play her trump card. It would bring him to heel, and solve all her problems at the same time.
"I'm going to settle your nonsense once and for all. As you don't appreciate the home I've made for you, you needn't stay here!"
For a moment this heart leaped. Was she going to say that he could go and live with Joe? The hope was short lived and her next words made his blood run cold.
"Father Jarrell has recommended a Catholic boarding school in Yorkshire to me. They are used to handling boys like you and that's where I'm sending you. You will remain there until you have learnt how to behave."
His first thought was that he wouldn't be able to see Jimmy except during the main holidays. He had no illusions about the type of regime he would face if she carried out her threat, and she would probably leave him in the school for the half term holidays as well.
"The school organises trips which will keep you busy during the holidays as well and teach you to stand on your own feet. You spend far too much time indoors," she went on in a hateful voice, confirming his worst fears.
The thought of not seeing Jimmy except for the odd furtive meeting for three months or longer at a time impelled him to speak. "I won't go," he said with as much determination as he could muster, which was not a great deal.
"Oh yes you will. You will do exactly as you're told while you're in my house and the school will make sure you do exactly as you're told while you're there. I am expecting to see a great improvement in your attitude and behaviour after you've been with them for a few terms. Father Jarrell tells me that the Catholic Brothers are experts at handle deceitful boys like you. They've had years of experience and never had a failure so far. I don't think you're the stuff that heroes are made of my lad, and I don't see you holding out for very long. You'll get the discipline you need, a good education, learn respect for the priesthood, and they'll put a stop to that writing rubbish or yours too, something I should have done years ago. They will make sure you are kept far too busy for anything except your school work. By the time they are finished with you, you will be a credit to the Church, and a credit to me as well. Going behind my back to see your father," she said venomously. "Well that won't happen again because only when the school tell me you have acquired some manners will you come home. You've never appreciated the home I have given you, so you can see how you like being somewhere else."
Martin got to his feet. She was looming over him and he hated getting even closer as he stood. Martha observed his white face with satisfaction. She had not seriously considered such a drastic step originally, but the more she thought about it, the more the plan appealed to her. He would be controlled, out of the way, and she would be able to get on with the really important business of her career. The school was incredibly expensive, but her salary would be going up substantially and there was no reason why his father shouldn't be forced to make a large contribution as well.
Martin seeing himself losing the two most important things in his life, Jimmy and his writing, stood there numbly, unable to think.
"Think it over, young man. I'm going out to lunch and I won't be back until later. I forbid you to leave the house today, do you understand. You can spend the time tidying your bedroom which is in a disgusting state, and then you will do the rest of the house. You are the one who makes it untidy, so you will clean it. Now go upstairs and start."
He left the room without a word and went upstairs to his bedroom. Of all the things his mother had said, her remark his bedroom was the most untrue. It wasn't quite as neat as he usually kept it, Jimmy's casual ways were rubbing off on him, but it certainly wasn't the mess that she had implied. Nor in fact, was the remainder of the house. He had done it thoroughly the previous evening. Numbly he wondered why he'd bothered. Mechanically, he picked up some odds and ends and straightened up the books on his desk.
His mother's sudden appearance to check that he was doing as he was told, was a bad omen for the future. It looked as if he wasn't ever going to get any peace and if she kept it up, he wasn't going to see much Jimmy before she sent him away either.
"When I get back I expect the house to be spotless," she told him as she left. He watched discreetly from behind the curtains for a few moments to make sure she had actually driven off, then went downstairs to phone Jimmy. He'll tell me what to do, he thought confidently, as he dialled the number.
There was no reply.
Nor was there after he had forced himself to wait an hour before trying again.
He didn't feel like eating, so didn't bother to make lunch but listlessly set about cleaning the almost immaculate house all over again. Normally doing something, anything, however boring, would have made him feel better, but it didn't this time. When he had done every thing he could think of, he tried to work on an uncompleted story, but he found that after thirty minutes, he had only written a dozen words and they didn't make much sense anyway. During the next three hours he sat by the telephone and dialled Jimmy's number every few minutes. A little more of his confidence and self control leached away with each failed attempt. After a time he became convinced that something had happened to Jimmy. Maybe he'd had an accident in the mini. Perhaps he was in hospital and dying. Or dead. He would never find out because no-one would know to tell him. And even if he wasn't dead, he would never see him again. She would make sure of it by sending him to that school of Father Jarrell's.
He couldn't do anything to stop her sending him there, he'd never been able to stop her doing what she liked to him. She hated him and always had. She would do anything to make him feel nasty, to make him feel bad, just because she could ... as he probably deserved. Because he must be a hateful person to make her hate him like that. He couldn't do anything about himself, because you can't change yourself, and he couldn't do anything about her either, because he couldn't change her. He couldn't force her like him, he couldn't force anyone like him. The only person who had ever liked him was Jimmy. But he wasn't here now, maybe he'd never see him again, and no-one else could help him, or would even want to. Why should they? He wasn't likeable. He never had been and it was true because he had seen it in her face when he was little, and he'd seen it in her face again today. So there was nothing left to do, nothing at all, except to keep on trying the number, becoming less and less sure as the time passed why he was doing it, but mechanically dialling over and over again, listening to the ringing tone until it was cut off automatically by the system, then trying again.
When Jimmy finally picked up the phone Martin was so far gone, it didn't register at first and he almost put the receiver down to dial the number again. But finally Jimmy's voice penetrated his brain, though for long moment he couldn't speak. When he did, all that came out was a whisper, as if he was afraid of being overheard even though the house was empty.
"Please come. Now. You've got to come now. Now. Please Jimmy. Please."
Hearing the panic in his voice, Jimmy said quickly, hoping to calm him, "Of course I will love, I'll come right away. Where's your mother?"
"Out," Martin said in that same, desperate whisper. "Come quickly, please Jimmy. I, I don't think I can hold on ... "
"Martin, I'm coming. I'm coming straight away. Now do this. Close you eyes and say, Jimmy loves me and he's coming straight away. Do you understand me? Say Jimmy loves me and he's coming straight away. Now say it back to me."
Martin repeated it in a shaking voice.
"Good boy," Jimmy said. "Now, put the phone down, sit there and wait for me. When you hear the door bell ring four times that will be me so come and let me in. Don't answer unless you hear four rings. Okay?"
"Four rings," Martin said obediently.
"That's right. I love you Martin, and I'm coming now. Put the phone down and wait for me."
He waited until Martin replaced the receiver then raced down to the mini and drove rapidly through the familiar streets. Fortunately being a Sunday, they were comparatively quiet. As he drove he tried to work out what Martin's mother had done to put him in such a state. He had no doubt that it was all her doing. When he'd dropped him off the previous evening he had been worried about him, though he had done his best to hide it, but he certainly hadn't been expecting anything as bad as this. Neither of them had. What she had done to reduce Martin to this state he had no idea, but of one thing he was utterly determined, she would never do it again. He parked, gave the prearranged signal, and Martin opened the door.
He got a brief glimpse of large, staring eyes in a chalk white face on which another bruise was already beginning to come out, and some dried blood where a cut he had received in the fight with Ross had re-opened. Then the boy threw himself into his arms, clutching him so tightly it felt as if Martin was trying to force himself into his very body. Very, very gently, Jimmy moved him backwards so that he could close the door, then simply held the small, trembling body comfortingly until Martin's grip relaxed slightly. Only then did he speak, saying quietly, "Take me to your bedroom, love."
Martin shook his head slightly. "Hold me. Don't let me go."
"I'm going to hold you all the time, but I want you upstairs," Jimmy said gently but firmly.
After a moment, Martin turned obediently and walked like an automaton to the stairs. True to his promise, Jimmy kept his hands on the boy's shoulders until he started up the stairs then let them slide down until he was gripping the small waist. In Martin's bedroom, he made him sit on the bed and lean against the headboard, then in spite of his appeal not to leave him, went into the bathroom. He smiled wryly as he noticed that though the remainder of the house was antiseptically tidy, the bathroom had been missed.
It wouldn't have worried him in the least that the towels were thrown over the rail any old how, the soap sitting on the side of the bath instead of in the soap dish and a bottle of Paracetamol headache tablets standing on the basin instead of in the medicine cupboard. But he could imagine the effect this would have on Martin's mother and made a mental note to remind him to tidy it up before she got home, or even do it himself. He moistened a face flannel with warm water and went back into the bedroom.
Martin was sitting exactly as he had left him and he debated, as he gently cleaned his face, if he should simply put him into the mini and take him to Tim. But once he was sure that there wasn't much wrong with him physically, apart from another bruise, he abandoned the idea. He was the person Martin needed, not Tim or anybody else. What really worried him was the glazed look in Martin's eyes, almost as if he was on the point of fainting. He wondered if the boy was in shock but said nothing, dropped the flannel carelessly onto the carpet and took him into his arms.
Martin was stiff and unresponsive at first as Jimmy pulled his head against his shoulder and gently stroked the thick dark hair. Some five minutes later he felt rather than heard Martin give a convulsive sob then another and then to his relief, they came faster and faster until he was crying in earnest, his body shaking from the force of them. He cried quite openly as a child does, without either shame or self-consciousness and while he wept, Jimmy held him and caressed him, and told him over and over again that he loved him.
It took a long time before Martin was to be able to tell him what had happened. Jimmy let him talk, putting in the occasional word to keep him going, and in the next hour learnt a great deal that Martin hadn't told him before, including the fact of his mother's imminent elevation to the bench. This fitted into his plans like the keystone which links two unstable pillars and forms them into a strong, solid arch. With that fact in his possession everything fell into place, and the moment for which he had waited so long, had arrived. He was ready. Ready to confront Martha Jackson. On his terms, rather than hers.
But first he had to reassure Martin and start to rebuild the confidence and self esteem that she had demolished so thoroughly and efficiently.
It was no easy task. Each time Martin had dialled his number and got no reply he had felt as if another portion of his very being had been chipped away, and had it gone on for very much longer, Jimmy might have found it difficult to bring him back at all. He had been very close to breaking point. Jimmy promised himself, as he listened to Martin's uncharacteristically disjointed speech, that it was never going to happen again.
Things that had puzzled him became clear as Martin described his long suppressed memories of what his mother had said on that traumatic day. No wonder he'd had so many complexes about sex, and gay sex in particular. Jimmy's cold anger against Martha grew stronger with every stumbling word that Martin uttered.
"She was horrible Jimmy, vicious," Martin sobbed, "Vicious and spiteful. And I, I must be really stupid because I only realised today that she didn't even like me. She never liked me. Why didn't I see it before?"
"Because you see the best in people love, and it wasn't in you to think that any parent might dislike one of their children."
"I thought maybe she doesn't like me because I'm not a, a likeable person. That perhaps it was me all along. My fault. I mean, look how they didn't like me at school ... "
"No," Jimmy interrupted him firmly, "Don't you ever say that again or even think it, because it's not true and it never was true. That day, it was your mother who made you think like that, and because she was your mother, you believed her. But it wasn't true then, and it isn't true now. I like you as well as love you Martin, and I wouldn't do either either if you weren't a likeable and loveable person. You are the nicest and best person I've ever met, and that's one of the reasons I love you, and would do anything in the world for you."
He stopped speaking for minute to arrange his thoughts, then went on, "About school, I think what happened was this. After your father left, and especially after you wrote that family story that she read, you didn't like yourself. It wasn't your fault that you felt like that and I understand now why you did. But it started a sort of vicious circle as far as the kids at school were concerned. You didn't like yourself, so you thought they wouldn't like you because of it, and that made you act in a way that did make them not like you. Then because you knew they didn't like you, you disliked yourself even more, so they didn't like you even more, and so it went on, getting worse all the time. A vicious circle, like I said."
"You mean it was, self perpetuating?"
"I mean exactly that, and as always, you've used the perfect word to describe it."
"But how did it start? Or was it a chicken and egg thing?"
"I'm pretty sure it started because your mother didn't like you even before you were born. Joe has told me a bit about it and it seems that she was just about to take her Law degree when you arrived. She had been working towards it for years, but had to give it up because of you, and she was furious about it. Babies can sense things much more than people think they can, and I'm sure you knew unconsciously how much she resented and disliked you. Then years later during the big bust between her and Joe, it all came out. You heard enough that day to make you think that you were to blame, and that coupled with her dislike of you is how it all started. And you were in big trouble."
"You make me feel so much better, darling Jimmy. I think I'm going to cry again."
"Well that's a fine way to feel better," Jimmy told him with a smile, "But I'm going to remind you again, so you listen carefully. None of this has been your fault. Your mother and father separating had nothing to do with you as you know. It happened because she found out about Joe and Steven, and she has never forgiven Joe for it. You were caught in the middle and happened to be handy, so I think she made you the scapegoat because first, you were there, and second, she wouldn't take any of the blame herself. I can understand that for any woman to catch her husband having an affair with a man is an awful shock, but I'm willing to bet that she gave Joe such a hard time that she literally drove him into Steven's arms. Given the choice between Steven who loved him, and your mother who didn't, of course he chose Stevie. And deep down, I think she knew why he'd done so. But she couldn't accept that she was as much to blame as he was, so she looked for someone else to blame, and there you were. She had never forgiven you for arriving and upsetting her plans, and you were too young to understand what she was doing. You were the perfect scapegoat.
"Something else Mart. You didn't ask to be born but when you were, it was up to both your parents to look after you, to love you, and to do their best for you. I think they both failed you. But of the two of them, it seems to me that she failed you more."
He paused for a moment then added, "But even if she'd wanted you in the first place, I don't think she would ever have loved you, because I don't think that she's capable of loving anyone. She's just not made that way. That's why you shouldn't feel badly about it and why you should forget about it, and forget about her."
"But how can I forget about her? She can separate us and she can send me to that school, and, and she wants to Jimmy. You didn't see her face but I did, and I could see her thinking how much better it would be if I wasn't here. Until I'm eighteen she can do exactly what she likes to me. The law's on her side, not mine, and she knows it."
Jimmy gave him a gentle shake to calm him. He had finished on a slightly hysterical note.
"No Mart, she can't do that. Joe does have some say in the matter and to a certain extent you do as well. But much more important, I'm taking a hand now. I want you to trust me, love. I think I can see my way clear though it may take a little time. But I'm definitely not going to let her send you away from me, so forget about that school. Trust me love, she is not going to send you there." He held Martin away from him slightly, looked into his eyes and said seriously. "Trust me, darling Martin. It's going to be all right very soon, I promise. You're not going to escape from me so easily, you know."
Martin looked back at him, heaved a sigh of relief and nodded. "Okay, Jimmy. I trust you."
Jimmy smiled, drew him close and kissed him. Martin's lips parted and he made a tiny questioning sound. Gradually he slipped down onto the bed, pulling Jimmy with him until he was lying on his back, with Jimmy half on top of him already starting to undo his zip.
When Jimmy raised his mouth from his so that he could remove his trainers and trousers Martin said softly but with desperate need in his voice, "Jimmy, I need you so much. Please hurry."
Jimmy admired his stiff, strong penis for a minute, then bent and kissed it. Then he sat on the bed and undid the buttons of Martin's shirt while the boy impatiently did the same for him. He lifted him, slipped off his shirt and dropped it on the floor, then stood to let Martin undo his own zip and slide his jeans and underwear down in one swift movement. Martin slid a finger into the springy, curly blonde hairs and tickled them as Jimmy dragged his trainers off without bothering to undo the laces.
"It's so beautiful," Martin whispered, awed as always by Jimmy's maleness. "I could look at it forever."
"I hope you're going to do more than look," Jimmy told him as he stepped out of his jeans and removed his shirt.
"I'm going to do much more than look," Martin assured him. He sat up and putting his arms around Jimmy's buttocks, pulled him close and rubbed his ear against the thick organ. "Sit here," he said, patting the bed.
"Jimmy," Martin said shyly and going very pink, but looking into his eyes. "I've been thinking about this for a long time and now I've decided. Please will you," he hesitated over the word then went on bravely, "Please will you, fuck me? If you still want to, I'm ready now."
Jimmy looked at him steadily, though his heart rate was beginning to race "Are you really sure that you want to Mart? For yourself I mean, not because you think I want it."
Martin nodded positively. "Yes, I'm sure for me. I dreamt about us doing it last night and I thought about it all morning before ... Yes," he said firmly and decisively. "I want you to do it. For me. For you too, but specially for me."
"Cross your heart and hope to live?"
Martin smiled. "Cross my heart and hope to live. Do you still want to?"
"Mart, I've wanted to ever since I followed you into this house that day and saw your lovely little bum under those awful jeans you were wearing. And I don't know how I stopped myself the day I put the lotion on it."
"Cross my heart and hope to live," Jimmy said solemnly then added with a reminiscent smile. "I don't know how I stopped myself from throwing you down and raping you the first time I saw you out of your trousers. Your cute little bum was even more beautiful than I'd imagined. Shall I rape you now, little love?"
"Yes please," Martin said shyly. "Actually," he went on softly, "You have a lovely, bum too. I only really noticed it day you went after Ross. Now I like to look at it as much as I like to look at the rest of you."
"That's good. I like yours and you like mine. We're finding what's natural for us, like I told you, remember? I don't say that this would be natural for everyone, but it is for us, and that's what counts."
As spoke he was running his fingers over Martin's leg, enjoying the feel of the smooth hairless skin and the firm muscle and bone underneath. Martin was delicately touching his ears.
"I'm a bit scared," Martin said nervously, now that he was committed. "You're so big compared to me. I really want it, I want to feel you inside me, but... but I am scared, Jimmy."
"If it hurts, even a little, tell me and I'll stop. Promise?"
Martin nodded, "Promise."
Jimmy stretched out an arm, picked up his anorak and removed a small tube from the inside pocket, then dropped it back on the floor.
"Lubrication. It will make it easier for both of us. When you're ready, I'm going to put it inside you, and you're going to put it on me."
"Shall I lie on my tummy?" Martin asked.
"No," Jimmy told him lying down on the bed beside him again. "If I'm on top of you, you won't be able to move away from me if you want to, so when we do it, you're going to lie on your side and I'll be behind you. There are other ways, but that will be best for your first time."
"I'm ready now," Martin told him.
"Well not quite love but by the time I'm finished with you, you will be," Jimmy told him beginning to run his hand over the beautifully shaped chest with it's tiny rosebud breasts.
"I'm glad you know what you're doing," Martin said, imitating his movements, "You won't mind if I'm a bit stupid because I've never done it before, will you?"
"Sweetheart, the idea of showing you, and doing it with you, especially because it's your first time, is turning me on so much if I even thinkabout it, I'm going to come all over you. This is the best and sexiest thing that has ever happened to me."
Martin went pink from pleasure and began to trace the outlines of Jimmy's face. Each knew where the other was particularly sensitive, but there was always something new to discover. As they felt, touched, caressed and kissed, Jimmy was careful not to touch Martin's cock or let the impatient boy touch his, for fear that they would both explode prematurely.
Just when Martin felt that he couldn't stand any more of Jimmy's teasing fingers, Jimmy turned on his side and urged him over to face him. Martin kissed his chin, that being the only part of his face he could reach comfortably, and Jimmy used his free hand to trace the planes of his back, testing the quality of his shoulder blades, feeling the tension of his muscles and outlining the bones of his spine. Martin, who hadn't known that his back was an erogenous zone arched involuntarily. His entire body felt warm and tingly as Jimmy's exploring hand gradually moved lower. Then it was feeling the muscles of his buttocks, his fingers tracing the beautiful, complicated curves, as if trying to memorise their perfection by endless repetition.
Martin wanted to touch Jimmy as erotically but was finding it so hard to concentrate he abandoned the idea and lay still, firm but pliable and gave himself up to sensation.
It was a feeling of total surrender, this giving of himself to Jimmy completely and without reserve. He wriggled an arm under Jimmy's waist and put the other on top of it so that he could pull their bodies tightly together. As Jimmy's gentle fingers gradually slid between his buttocks, he was unable to decide which was more exciting, Jimmy's fingers or the feel of their cocks touching. And when the questing fingers finally reached their goal, he felt his head begin to swim. "Oh Jimmy," he moaned softly.
"It's all right my darling," Jimmy replied, and turned him round until he was facing the other way, "Just relax and enjoy it."
With one hand he pushed the firm muscles apart so that he could stroke the small tight opening with the other. Each time he touched it, Martin squirmed. He reached for the tube and squeezed a little of the clear, jelly like lubricant onto his finger and continued stroking, slowly and delicately increasing the pressure until it slipped in a little way. Martin gasped, but didn't pull away, so he withdrew it and using more lubrication, began to work it in, taking it out to add more of the lubricant, then gradually pushing it deeper and deeper. As he touched the boy's prostate, he asked Martin how it felt.
The boy groaned. "It feels so good, I think I'm going to come," he gasped.
"No, not yet," Jimmy told him, pulling his finger out very slowly, so as not to trigger anything. "Turn around."
Reluctantly, Martin turned to face him, hoping that he hadn't changed his mind. The feel of Jimmy's finger deep inside him had been new, exciting and incredibly sexy. And he didn't want it to stop.
"Don't you want to carry on?" he asked anxiously.
Jimmy kissed him. "You were enjoying it, more than you ever thought you would, weren't you."
"I just wanted to be sure, love, because I don't think I can wait any more."
Martin looked at him. "Do you really want me so much? That way?"
Jimmy had wanted to give him a final chance to change his mind but found himself answering, "More than anything else in the world."
"That's good, because I want it the same. Can we do it now, please?"
Jimmy reached for the tube again and applied a long line to his dripping cock. He wouldn't let Martin spread it. "If you so much as touch me, I'll come," he told him. When he was ready, he put a finger under Martin's chin and said quietly, "Mart."
Martin dragged his fascinated gaze away from the red tipped organ that looked ready to burst.
"Remember, your promise, okay? I'll go very slowly, but if I hurt you, tell me straight away."
Martin kissed him lovingly and turned away from him again. "Let's not waste any more time"
Jimmy took a deep breath and holding the boy's cheeks apart, positioned himself and pushed very slightly. It took all of his considerable self control not to thrust himself madly into Martin, his need for him was overpowering. As he felt the resistance, he said softly, "Relax, my darling, let go and accept it. Want it. Need it."
Using his hand, he rubbed the head between Martin's cheeks then making sure it was well lubricated, started to apply gentle pressure again. Already, before he was even inside Martin, the feeling was incredible and as he pushed again, he felt himself begin to slide past the source of the resistance.
Martin didn't know what he was feeling. It was sexy, hugely, enormously, incredibly sexy and it was turning him on in a way that had never happened before. But at the same time, Jimmy was large, and so hard as to be inflexible. He felt himself being stretched more than he thought he could take, and it was starting to hurt.
Sensing this, Jimmy withdrew and used his fingers again for a minute or two. Then he applied more lubricant to them both and started again. This time, it was easier and although it still felt huge, Jimmy managed to get it in a tiny amount, relishing the feel of the strong muscles enclosing him. He was very close to coming but forced himself to think of other things until the sensation eased. When he asked, Martin told him it was all right, so he pushed again and with a suddenness that surprised them both, the tight ring of muscle gave up the unequal struggle and the head of his cock slipped right in to be followed slowly by the slightly smaller shaft.
Martin drew in a breath of pure lust as Jimmy entered him completely and wondered if he was going to faint. The feeling of Jimmy's cock deep inside him, owning him, belonging to him made the blood rush from his head straight into his own cock, filling it to bursting. It felt as big as Jimmy's. Jimmy gave him a few minutes to get used to the feel of it and to prolong his own pleasure, then began to move his hips. He realised it wasn't going to take long and brought his free hand to rest on the boy's taught stomach and pull him even closer.
"All right?" he whispered.
Martin managed to nod, too overwhelmed with his own feelings even to speak. As Jimmy's strokes deepened and his cock massaged his prostate, he could feel his own climax building, even though his cock wasn't being handled by either of them. He tried to push back but couldn't get into the correct rhythm, so he relaxed and left it to Jimmy.
The thrusts began to get faster and more urgent and Martin knew that he must be close. Jimmy's hand moved from his stomach onto his cock but Martin held it still, only allowing it to grip. He had no need of movement, Jimmy's plunging cock was enough to bring him closer and closer to the ultimate agonising ecstasy. Jimmy snaked his lower arm under Martin's waist and held him tightly against his chest, his other hand was still clasping Martin's swollen, throbbing organ.
Jimmy gasped slightly as he pushed himself in as deeply as he could and said, "I love you beautiful Martin, love you, love you, love ... oh," and Martin, feeling the raw power of his maleness as his climax started, released Jimmy's hand which moved convulsively and triggered his own rising ecstasy, tentatively at first, then taking firm hold of his cock and growing, growing, growing, leaving him unable to think except to know that it was Jimmy doing this, to him and for him, the glorious feeling coming to a peak as he sensed Jimmy's sperm jetting into him, filling him, becoming part of him, and his own sperm gushed out as it had never done before, squirting onto the bed cover, beautiful, satisfying male spasms, as he came, and came, and came.
When he came down from the heights, he felt Jimmy's hands and body shaking and wetness where his face was pressed tightly against his hair. He's crying he thought, and was so unbearably touched, that he had to clench his own teeth.
"Why, Jimmy?" he whispered when he could speak, sure that the trembling older boy would know exactly what he meant.
"Because I love you so much," Jimmy said into his hair.
After a long while, Jimmy although still very hard, withdrew gently. Even that was sexy, and provoked another tiny ejection of sperm from the younger boy. When Martin turned to face him, Jimmy's eyes were still wet. He reached up and wiped them with his hand. As Jimmy put his arm around him and held him close, it came to both of them that they had never been so satisfied, or so happy.
Not even his very first, astonishing time when it was new and incredible had felt like this, Jimmy thought, nor all those times with Jon. This was something so special he would remember for as long as he lived, and he went over it in his mind, to fix it forever in his memory.
For long, precious minutes, they lay pressed together revelling in the aftermath, then Jimmy whispered softly, "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"
Martin shook his head. "It did hurt when you first came into me. But I got used to it, and then ... Oh Jimmy, it was wonderful. I felt that you were really and truly part of me, that you had given me the most precious part of you. No-one will ever give me a gift like that again. I loved it, and I would have liked you to stay inside me, but I need a rest before we do it again, please."
Jimmy looked at him, "You are really something, you know that? Here am I worrying that I might have hurt you, and already you're talking about doing it again."
"You don't think I'm some sort of sex maniac do you?" Martin asked anxiously.
"I think you're the loveliest and most sexy boy I've ever known. And if you're a sex maniac I'm so pleased about it I could, I don't know, run up a mountain or something?"
Martin snuggled against him. "Well in that case, you'd better be a sex maniac too so we're equal. But no mountains," he said firmly. "You have to keep all your energy for me."
They talked desultorily for a while then fell into a light sleep as their bodies recovered, hardly losing their youthful erections.
When Jimmy woke he was immediately filled with desire for the body clasped firmly in his arms. He moved his hand down to caress the mounds, between which he had found such incredible pleasure.
His movements woke Martin, who responded with some exploratory investigations of his own, before feeling a matching amount of desire and equally unable to wait, reached for the tube and carefully applied it to Jimmy. Using what was left on his fingers on himself, he kissed Jimmy on the nose and turned around, saying over his shoulder, "I think I've turned into something worse than a toad, will you do something about it please darling Jimmy?"
Jimmy held his hips, wanting desperately to penetrate him again, but worried that he hadn't prepared him. "Wouldn't you like me touch you a first, like I did before?" he asked dubiously.
"No, not this time. I just want you to do it. Now," he commanded, "Only start slowly like you did before so that I get used to you."
"Okay, my love. But tell me straight away if you want me to stop."
It was easier. Martin's muscles were already stretched and far more relaxed and knowing now what to expect, he didn't automatically tighten up at Jimmy's insistent pressure. As he felt Jimmy enter him again, felt Jimmy's hand on his stomach pulling him close, Jimmy's other hand gently caressing a nipple which firmed and tingled under his touch, he knew a delight that had nothing to do with the sexual feelings being generated in him.
I love him and I'm being loved by him, he thought blissfully. This is what I've always wanted. I don't care what anyone thinks, this is natural for me, natural for him, and natural for us. To hell with everyone, if they don't like it, they can go and get stuffed. Like I'm being, his mind added saucily, if not very grammatically. He felt Jimmy nuzzling the back of his neck and his last thought, before Jimmy's hand moved downwards, took hold of him and began to move, was that next time he wanted to face Jimmy, if it was possible, so that he could look up into his face, kiss him, caress him and hold him, two halves of a whole, joined like Siamese twins into one.
Jimmy's movements became more urgent and frantic as his desire and love for the boy started to take over his conscious mind. Martin met him with an equal need, just as demanding and with a craving as powerful as Jimmy's own, and just as they both entered the stage in which neither had any control over themselves and their mutual orgasms started, Martin's mother stalked into the room.
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