Dedication

For Anna, who helped me carry this story to term and bring it, red-faced and howling, into the
world; and for Shelley, who taught it its first
words and smacked its bottom when it was naughty.

Chapter One

I know it‟s just fucking, Larry and me. That‟s what all his mates at college say, only they say it
fancy, like “Well, quite clearly it‟s not his

brains

Lawrence goes for,” and “God, when is he going to tire of slumming it with this moron?” I just
smile at them, ‟cause they‟re his mates, and it‟s all
right. It doesn‟t matter what they say about me, just as long as they‟re nice to Larry.
Larry never says nothing like that. He‟s got class, Larry has. He‟s clever and all. He works at the
University, teaching people about paintings.
I like paintings. Art was the only thing I could do at school, that and cookery. Domestic Science,
they called it. Steve Hunter used to have a
laugh about that, saying I‟d make someone a lovely wife one day, until I got fed up with it and hit
him, and after that he never said nothing about
me no more.
That‟s the other thing I‟m good at. Hitting. My PE teacher, Mr. Sanders, said I should get into
boxing. He wanted to give me private lessons
and not charge for them or nothing, but my mum wouldn‟t let me. She said from what she‟d
heard, boxing wouldn‟t be the only thing he‟d be
teaching me, but she never said what she meant, even when I asked her. I was dead surprised
when he got sacked for being a kiddie-fiddler.
So I started going to a gym instead and sparring around with the lads, but I never took it serious
or nothing. Larry says that‟s just as well, ‟cause
I‟m scary enough already.
People always ask how me and Larry met, and Larry tells this really complicated story how he
thought he was going to be mugged or raped
or somet

hing, and then I came along, and everyone always laughs, but it wasn‟t like that, really.

See, I‟d just been to the pub with Daz and Phil
and a couple of other lads. We was supposed to be cheering Phil up ‟cause he‟d broken up with
his girlfriend, Leanne, who works on the
checkout at Lidl, but some of them were pissing me off going on about poofs, so I left early. I got
caught short on the way home, so I stopped to
have a wazz in the street. I mean, I checked to make sure there wasn‟t no one there before I got
my cock out. I didn‟t want to shock no one.
But it took a while, ‟cause I‟d had a few pints, so by the time I was almost finished, this bloke had
turned into the street. I could hear his
footsteps, so I looked up, ‟cause I didn‟t want no one sneaking up on me when I had my cock
out, and there he was. I mean, it was Larry, but I
didn‟t know that then. I just saw this really pretty guy in a posh suit. He had browny-blond hair,
like straw that‟s been left out in the rain—I don‟t
mean it was messy or nothin

g, it was just that mix of colours, like it couldn‟t make its mind up if it

wanted to be yellow or brown.

And his face was kind of delicate, and he was really little. Way shorter than me. Skinny too. I like
them skinny. And he was looking at my cock. So I smiled at
him, ‟cause he was pretty, and then I zipped up and headed his way. Which was my way home, I
mean. I wasn‟t planning to make a pass or nothing, ‟cause I could tell he was too posh for me.
“Shit,” he said, and he started backing up like he was scared or something. “Ah, sorry. I didn‟t
mean to

—”

I wasn‟t sure what he was on about, so I smiled again. He looked like he was about to piss
himself, and I didn‟t like it, you know?

It‟s not right, people being scared like that. “You look like you‟re about to piss yourself,” I told

him when I got close.
“Shit,” he said again, and he sort of leaned against the wall and closed his eyes like he wasn‟t
feeling well, so I stopped and leaned over
him.
“You should let me take you home,” I said, ‟cause I was worried he might not make it on his own.
“Nice-looking bloke like you, stuff could
happen. You meet all sorts on these streets. I saw a bloke getting the crap beat out of him last
week just a couple of streets from here.”
“You want money?” he said, and he was shaking a bit. “I‟ve got money.”
I didn‟t say nothing for a bit, ‟cause he was confusing me, and I don‟t like making a prick of
myself. See, you keep your mouth shut, most
times people don‟t realise you don‟t know what they‟re on about. So I just took his arm and set
off down the alley, ‟cause that was the way he‟d
been going. He came along with me all right, but he was still shaking. “You live near here?”
“No! Er, yes—please don‟t hurt me!”
I didn‟t say nothing for a bit, ‟cause I didn‟t understand why he thought I‟d do that. I thought he
must have had a lot to drink.
“Your mates shouldn‟t of let you go home on your own,” I told him. See, he‟s just a little thing;
you‟d need about three of him to make one of
me. “You‟re such a little thing.”
“Oh God,” he said, and his voice was all thin and shaky, like the rest of him. “Look, take my
wallet, please?”
So I stopped while he got his wallet out, and he had his driving licence in there, so I read his
name

—Lawrence Morton—and his address.

“Fifteen Bewdsley Close, Cambridge. That‟s that posh bit near the river,” I said to prove I‟d read
it. I tried to give him his wallet back, but he had
his eyes shut again, so I put it in my pocket. I think he needed to get to bed. “I‟m going to get you
home and in bed,” I told him.
H

e wasn‟t walking too good, so I put my arm round his skinny little waist. I could have snapped

him in half. “I could snap you in half,” I said,
and I smiled so he‟d know it was a joke, but he still had his eyes shut.
We went down the back ways ‟cause it‟s quicker and I wasn‟t sure how long he was going to be
able to stand up. I mean, I could have
carried him easy, but I thought he might have thrown up on me, and I didn‟t fancy that, no matter
how pretty he was. He was all pale and shaky
still. “This it?” I asked when we got to number fifteen. It was a nice place—one of those terraced
houses, all tall and thin with no front garden and
a skylight into the basement. Pretty windows.
“Yes—please, you‟ve been really kind helping me home, but I‟ll be fine now,” he said, but he
looked funny when he said it, so I didn‟t think I
ought to leave him till he was safe inside. His hands were shaking, and the key skidded on the
lock, so I took it from him and opened the door.

“You didn‟t ought to drink so much,” I told him as I went in. I thought I‟d better make sure he had
a glass of water or something, or he‟d be
feeling like crap in the morning. He looked funny, like he was going to run away or something,
which would have been a bit weird as there I was
in his house and him still standing on the doorstep. I grabbed his arm and pulled him in after me,
in case he was so drunk he‟d forgotten this
was where he lived. “You got a kitchen?”
“Yes—this way,” he said, like he‟d just woken up, and he darted through a door. I was surprised
he could move so quick, him being drunk
and all, so I let go of his arm and just followed him into the kitchen.
He was standing by a knife block with this big knife in one hand and a phone in the other. I
thought, he‟s going to have trouble trying to dial
one-

handed. “I‟m calling the police,” he said in this funny high voice.

I didn‟t get why he wanted the police, but the knife in his hand was shaking all over the shop, so
I went and took it off him before he could hurt
himself. Then he sort of collaps

ed down on the floor and said, “Please don‟t hurt me” again.

“Okay,” I said, and I took the knives over to the other side of the kitchen and got the biggest mug
I could find and filled it with water. I held it
out to him, but he had his eyes shut again and

didn‟t take it. “You should drink this. Then you

won‟t feel so bad in the morning.”
He looked up, and his brown eyes were all wild-

looking. “No drugs!”

“Good,” I said, ‟cause drugs and stuff are really bad for you. I put the mug down where he could
reach it and sat cross-legged on the floor so I
could keep an eye on him, ‟cause he was freaking me out a bit. It wasn‟t very comfortable. I got
big thighs.
“Please go,” he said. “Just take my money—take anything—and go.”
I didn‟t get why he wanted me to take something, but he seemed really worried about it. So I
looked around, and he had a bowl of fruit on the
side, so I grabbed an apple, ‟cause I always get hungry after I‟ve been drinking. “I‟ll take this,
okay?” Then I left him there, but I took the knives
and I hid them in the hall cupboard, just in case.
When I got out in the street, I could see there was a light on in the next-door house, so I knocked
on the door. It opened on the security chain,
and I could see a thin slice of a woman in a dressing gown the colour of marshmallows. I
thought, good, she‟ll take care of him. “Sorry to bother
you, but I just brung your neighbour home and he‟s not looking too good. I‟d of stayed with him,
but he told me to go.”
Her eye went all big as she looked at me through the

gap. “And you are?”

“Al Fletcher. I work down Scudamore‟s. I pull the punts in when the tourists have finished with
them.” I don‟t do the guided tours, ‟cause my
boss Harry says I‟d scare off the customers and sink the bloody punt. Plus I‟m no good at
rem

embering stuff, like which bridge is s‟posed to be

mathematical and why.
She nodded. “I‟ll get my husband to go round.” And she shut the door.
I wasn‟t sure if I should wait or not, but then I remembered I still had Lawrence‟s wallet, so I
stood there by the front door, eating my apple. I
was wondering what to do with the core when a bloke came out, nearly as tall as me but not so
built. “You still here, are you?”
I didn‟t say anything, ‟cause he could see I was. I don‟t think he meant it as a question.
“What happened? You two have a fight?”
That made me laugh. If I‟d tried to fight Lawrence, I‟d have probably killed him.

I don‟t think he liked me laughing. “Try anything with me and you‟ll be sorry, mate,” he said as he
pushed Lawrence‟s door open. “Bigger they
come, harder they fall, you remember that.”
He was all talk, though. I could‟ve had him easy. Knockout in the first round. But I didn‟t say
nothing, ‟cause if you say stuff like that, some
blokes think you‟re asking for a fight, and I didn‟t want to knock him down. I wanted him to look
after Lawrence. “I can‟t go in,” I told him.
“You what?”
“He told me to go away. I think he‟s a bit pissed. Can you give him this? It‟s his wallet.”
“I can see it‟s his bleeding wallet. Why‟ve you got it, then?”
“He said to take it, but I think he‟s just drunk. I don‟t think he really wants me to have it.”
“You don‟t bloody say. All right, give it here.”
I gave it to him, and he went into Lawrence‟s house, so I went home.
Next day, I‟d hauled in a punt and was mopping out the water from the bottom, ‟cause they‟d
been playing silly buggers with the punt pole,
and I heard this sort of cough behind me. So I looked round and it was Lawrence. I checked, but
he didn‟t have a knife in his hand.
He was still looking like he was goi

ng to piss himself, though. “Er, Al?” he said. “That is your

name?”
I smiled and nodded.
“I appear to have made the most awful fool of myself last night,” he said, his face all red.
I thought he must mean the stuff with the knives. “You just had a few, that was all,” I said, ‟cause
I didn‟t like to see him looking so unhappy.
“Wasn‟t your fault. But you ought to get one of your mates to walk you home next time.”
He wasn‟t looking as posh as he had last night. He was wearing a sort of crumpled blue jacket.
Linen, I think it was. Or cotton, maybe. No
tie. He had his hands balled up in his pockets and his shoulders hunched, and he looked so
sweet standing there, his dirty-blond hair all over
his collar. Made me want to push it back and kiss his neck. I wondered

what he‟d say if I told him

that. He‟d probably freak out again, I thought.
He coughed again. “Thank you for giving back my wallet. And for taking the trouble to make sure
I was all right. That was kind of you,
although I‟m not sure I‟ll be able to face my neighbours for a while.” He laughed, so I guess he
didn‟t mean it, really.
“‟S all right,” I said.
He was drawing patterns in the dust with his feet. It was making his nice shoes all dirty, but he
didn‟t seem to mind. “Can I, ah, buy you a
drink after yo

u finish work?” he asked, giving me a quick look, then staring down at the dirt

again. “To make up for being such an awful bother?”
I wanted to tell him he wasn‟t a bother, but I wanted him to go for a drink with me more, so I just
nodded. “Six. ‟S when I finish.”
I hadn‟t seen him smile before. It was lovely, like my sister in her wedding photos or her kids at
Christmas. So I smiled back, and then I got
on with my work.
He wasn‟t there when I finished, and I thought maybe he‟d changed his mind, but he came
running up looking worried after I‟d hung about for
ten minutes or so. “Al, I am so sorry. Got grabbed by the Praelector just as I was leaving
college.”
I laughed, ‟cause it sounded funny. He smiled back at me. He‟d changed into a pale cream shirt
that made his hair look blonder and a navy

jacket. He looked really posh again. I looked down at my work clothes, which was a
Scudamore‟s T-shirt and jogging bottoms, ‟cause they dry
faster than jeans when you get them wet. “Do I need to get changed first?”
“No! No, you look great.” He blushed a bit. “And we‟re only going to the pub.”
“I‟m all sweaty,” I said, ‟cause it‟d been a warm day.
He went even redder. “It‟s all right—we can sit outside if you feel uncomfortable.”
We went to this place down the river. Punte

rs, it‟s called. Used to be the Red Lion, but it‟s gone

all trendy. We sat outside and looked at the
river, except I kept looking at Lawrence, and half the time, he was looking back at me. “Um,” he
said, holding a glass of wine in his little hand.
His nail

s were really clean. “Tell me about yourself?”

I just shrugged and had a swig of my pint, because I never know what people want to hear when
they say that stuff. And it‟s not like anything
about me is interesting or nothing.
“Have you always lived in Cambridge?”
I nodded.
“Do you live alone?”
I nodded again.
So then he gave up on twenty questions and started telling me about himself. I liked hearing him
talk. I thought he had a lovely voice. He
talked with his hands, too, waving them about like he was doing sign language. He told me
about teaching History of Art, about how the
students didn‟t get stuff, like making Jesus bigger than the saints in the pictures because he was
more important.
“I used to think that was funny too,” I said. “But my art teacher explained it to me. It‟s like this
modern art stuff, innit? You‟re showing what
stuff‟s like inside, not on the outside like a photo.”
“Yes! Yes, that‟s it!” He smiled at me and leaned over the table, and I felt a bit funny, so I had
another swig of my pint.
“Did you know you have the most incredibly sinister smile?” Lawrence said after a bit. He put his
elbows on the table and leaned over
toward me again. “It‟s that scar by your mouth—sort of twists. I think that‟s what really scared the
shit out of me last night

—your smile.”

I frowned, because why would anyone be scared of a smile? “You got a lovely smile,” I said,
because I knew that was true. He went all pink.
I frowned, because why would anyone be scared of a smile? “You got a lovely smile,” I said,
because I knew that was true. He went all pink.
“Are you a poof?” I asked. I didn‟t think he‟d mind. And even if he did, there wasn‟t nothing a little
bloke like him could do to me, so that was all
right.
“Er, yes. I hope that‟s not a problem?” His ears went so red it was like they was sunburnt, and he
leaned back a bit.
“Nah. I‟m a poof and all.”
Lawrence laughed. “You know, you‟re really rather refreshingly direct.” He didn‟t say nothing for
a minute, just put his elbows on the table
again and played with the b

eer mats. “So, have you, er, got a partner?”

“Nah. I had this bloke, Ryan, but we split up.”
“Oh. What was he like?”
I had to think about it. See, I could have drawn him a picture easy, but I didn‟t have a pencil.
“Little,” I said. “And pretty.” I smiled,
remembering, ‟cause I‟d thought Ryan was really pretty, but Lawrence was much prettier.

“Oh,” said Lawrence. His shoulders went a bit stiff. “That‟s the sort of men you find attractive?”
I didn‟t say nothing, because there Lawrence was sitting in front of me and he was perfect, but I
knew I couldn‟t say that, because it‟d get
awkward. I knew he wouldn‟t fancy me or nothing.
He was building card houses with the beer mats. I couldn‟t do nothing like that. My hands are too
big and clumsy, ‟cept when I‟ve got a pencil
or a brush in them. ‟Course, Lawrence couldn‟t bench press the table we were sitting at, neither.
“Would you… Would you consider going out
with someone like me?” he asked without looking at me.
Someone like him? That was all right, because then we

weren‟t talking about him. “Yeah, but

someone like you wouldn‟t go for a bloke like
me.” He looked up then. “Why not?”
“Someone like you‟d want someone he could talk to. Not someone thick as pigshit.”
He looked at me like I‟d told him he was a wanker or something. “We‟ve been talking just fine.”
I had to think about that. ‟Cause it was true, we‟d been talking for ages, and he didn‟t look like he
was bored. I smiled. Then I remembered
what he‟d said and wondered if I should stop smiling, but I thought, what the hell.
“The last thing I want on a date is intellectual conversation,” Lawrence carried on. “I get

quite

enough of that at work

—bloody Hardwicke with

his

well, of course, if you want to take the simplistic view of the Renaissance

.” Lawrence put

on a funny voice for that bit. I thought he probably
didn‟t like that Hardwicke bloke much. Then he downed his drink in one. I probably should have
told him to slow down, ‟cause of how he‟d been
last night, but I didn‟t want to make him not like me so much, so I didn‟t. “Come back to my
place. We‟ll get a takeaway—you like Chinese?” I
nodded. I love Chinese. He laughed. “You‟ll probably need to order the banquet for four, the size
you are.” He got up, and so did I, and then he
said, “And while we‟re there, maybe you can tell me what happened to my kitchen knives? I
haven‟t been able to find them since last night!”
So we went back to his place, and we had a Chinese takeaway, and we watched old Charlie
Chaplin films. I like them ‟cause you don‟t have
to be clever to get the jokes. I never thought someone smart like Lawrence would like them too.
And it got a bit late, and I thought, well, Larry‟s a poof—see, he said I could call him Larry,
‟cause nobody else did—and he keeps smiling at
me, so maybe I should make a move? So I put my arm round him and pulled him close, but he
sort of shivered, so I let go again. I didn‟t want
him to start shaking like last night.
“No, come back,” Larry said, and he snuggled into my side. I liked that. Then he reached up and
kissed me, and I liked that more, so I put my
arm round him again and pulled him onto my lap. He laughed. “If we tried this the other way
round, you‟d flatten me,” he said, and then he kissed
me again. So I didn‟t have to try and think of nothing to say. I liked the way his kisses tasted—all
sweet-and-sour sauce and white wine

—and

the way his lips were so soft, but his chin was rough with stubble.
“Where did you get this scar from?” he asked, rubbing his thumb along it. It tickled when he got
to my lip.
“Beer glass.”
“Were you attempting to drink from it at the time?”
“Nah. Some wanker in the pub din‟t like my face.”
Larry‟s eyes went wide. “So he shoved a glass in it? Christ!”
“‟S all right. I broke his jaw.”

“God, I bet you did.” He laughed. “You know, you‟re really not the sort of person I‟d want to meet
down a dark alleyway.” I didn‟t say nothing,
‟cause where we‟d met last night had been down a dark alley. Maybe he wished we‟d never
met? “Joke, Al, joke,” he said, stroking my face,
and I felt better.
We kissed again, a

nd I shoved my hand up his shirt so I could feel his chest. Larry hasn‟t got

any chest hair, and his skin felt so smooth and
soft I was worried I was going to scratch it with my rough hands. “Oh, that feels good,” he said,
like he could read my mind.
Somet

imes I wonder, if people get really clever, can they read minds? But I don‟t think Larry can

read mine. Not really.
I put my other hand on his arse and pulled him in tight, but it wasn‟t so good with stuff in the way.
“Get your clothes off,” I said, and it probably
sounded a bit rough, but there wasn‟t nothing I could do about that, I was so turned on.
Larry sort of shivered again, and scrambled off my lap. It felt cold and empty without him. I pulled
off my shirt while he was unbuttoning his,
and Larry‟s eyes went really wide. I guess he‟d seen my tats. I got them all over my chest, plus
the spider‟s web on my neck that he‟d seen
already. I got more on my back too, but he couldn‟t see those.
Larry got his trousers and underpants off really quick, and climbed back on my lap, his cock
bobbing. It was a nice cock, thicker than you‟d
expect but not so long you‟d gag on it. He didn‟t kiss me, just ran his hands all over my
shoulders and chest. “God, you‟re a work of art all by
yourself,” Larry said. “I mean, even without the tattoos you‟d be amazing, but with them—where
did you get them? I‟ve never seen designs like
these. They‟re reminiscent of Australian aboriginal art, but there‟s a subtle difference—it‟s
intriguing.”
I liked that he liked them. “There‟s this bloke on Orwell Street. I told him what I wanted, and he
done them for me.”
“You designed them?”
“Nah, I just drew a picture on some paper and told him what colours I wanted and stuff. It was
him what done the tattoos.”
Larry smiled. “That means you designed them.” He started to kiss me all over, which felt really
nice. I grabbed hold of his arse with both
hands, squeezing it and pulling his arse cheeks apart. I think he liked that, ‟cause he sort of
moaned and started kissing me harder.
I still had my joggi

ng bottoms on, but they were stretchy enough I didn‟t need to take them off to

get my cock out. I wanted him to ride me, but
I didn‟t think he‟d want to do that on a first date, so I didn‟t say nothing. So I rubbed our cocks
together, and he wrapped one of his little hands
around us both, and then I forgot all about doing anything else, ‟cause it felt so good. I used my
hands on his arse to move him up and down,
rubbing up against me, and he made those little moaning sounds and threw his head back. I
wanted

to bite his neck, mark it, but I didn‟t think

he‟d like that, so I bit and sucked at his chest instead where no one would see it. His skin tasted
sweet, like white chocolate and fortune
cookies.
“Oh!” he gasped, and I felt his hot spunk hitting my chest. It was so good, watching him come.
He didn‟t look like a teacher no more. He
looked wild and happy. I could have watched him all night.

When he‟d finished, he put his arms round my neck. “Oh God, that was… You didn‟t come?” He
looked worried.
“‟S okay, I‟m close,” I said, and I started jacking myself off.
“No, let me.” He slid off my lap onto the floor and put his mouth on my cock, and it felt like
heaven. I think I grunted a bit. He started bobbing
his head up and down, moving his tongue over the head of my cock every now and then.
Watching his pretty little face, his lips stretched round
my cock, was better than the best porno I‟d ever seen.
“Going to come,” I told him, but he didn‟t lift off. I tried to move his head, but my hands weren‟t
working so good, and I shot in his mouth. He
swallowed me down, except for a little bit that dripped from the corner of his mouth.
When my breathing had steadied, I said, “You should of made me wear a condom.”
“Statistically, unless I had an open cut in my mouth—which I don‟t—the chance of transmission
this way is very low,” Larry said. He sounded
like a teacher again. Then he looked a bit worried. “Um, are you positive, then?”
“Nah, my mum makes me get tested regular, but I always use a condom anyhow.”
“Thank God for that,” he said with a little laugh. “I‟m not normally this reckless, believe me.”
I pulled him back up into my lap so we could kiss, ‟cause I liked kissing him, but then we
remembered at the same time that I was still
covered in spunk, so we didn‟t get that far. “Would you like a shower?” Larry asked, still half on
my lap and half off.
“‟S all right. I can have one at home,” I said, ‟cause I didn‟t want to be a bother.
“Actually, I was rather hoping you might stay the night? I have to get up for work, and I‟m sure
you do, but, well…”
I hope I wasn‟t scaring him, ‟cause I think I had a big grin on my face. “All right,” I said. I got up,
lifting Larry up too. “Let‟s shower.” Larry
laughed and told me to put him down, but I could tell he didn‟t mind, really. So I carried him
upstairs to the bathroom, and then I put him down on
his feet on the bathmat. He was still laughing when he put his arms round me and kissed me.
He‟s good at kissing, Larry is, even when he‟s
laughing.
There wasn‟t a lot of room for both of us in the shower, so we had to stand really close together.
Larry said he wanted to wash me, so he
soaped me up with about half a bottle of this expensive shower gel that smelled like wood and
leather. By the time he‟d rinsed me off, we were
both hard again, so we jerked each other off in the shower, and I got spunk all over me again. It
was magic.
We felt really sleepy after that, so we went to bed. Larry‟s got this really big bed. Emperor size,
they call it. It takes up most of the space in
his bedroom. I had to laugh at the thought of little Larry sleeping in there all on his own

—but

when I thought about it more, it didn‟t seem so
funny. I didn‟t like to think of Larry being alone. “You must‟ve been waiting for someone like me
to come along,” I said. I meant, because of the
big bed.
But Larry looked at me all funny and said, “Yes, I think I was.”

Chapter Two

So after that we kept on seeing each other, and Larry started asking me to these University
dinners and stuff. He said he‟d buy me a suit,
but I told him

I had one already from when I used to work as a bouncer. “Why did you give that

up?” he asked. “I‟d have thought that kind of thing
would be perfect for you.”
“Din‟t like the hours. It‟s nice, working outside in the day and hearing the birds and stuff.”
“You‟re just a big softy inside, aren‟t you?” Larry smiled at me.
I shrugged. If anyone else called me a softy, I‟d deck them. But I didn‟t mind Larry saying it.
The night of the first dinner, Larry was all keyed up like I used to be before a fight. I didn‟t get
why he was nervous, ‟cause he must have been
to loads of them, so I thought about it, and I thought it must be ‟cause of me. “Are you worried
about your mates seeing you with me?” I asked
him.
“No! No, Al, of course not!” He smiled at me and gave me a kiss. “I‟m looking forward to it.”
So I kissed him back, and we ended up on the floor and had to really rush to get changed in time
after.
When we walked into this big hall with the fancy woodwork, everyone stared at me and Larry. I
wasn‟t sure if it was ‟cause of me or ‟cause
we were two poofs, but there was loads of other blokes without girlfriends, so maybe they were
used to poofs.
We walked past this tall bloke going bald on top, and he looked at Larry and me and said, “My
God! Since when have gorillas been allowed
into Hall?”
Larry sort of huffed. “Really,

Doctor

Hardwicke, one would have hoped that an English don

would have been able to come up with something
a little more original and pithy.”
I know he said pithy, not pissy. I asked him afterward.
La

rry carried on. “May I introduce you? This is Alan, a very close friend of mine. Al, this is Clive

Hardwicke, one of the English fellows.”
He meant one of the University English teachers. Not that Clive was an English bloke, although
he was that too.
“Pleased to meet you,” I said, and I smiled at him. He looked a bit worried.
“Ah, likewise, I‟m sure. Don‟t let me keep you from your seats.”
So we sat down, and they said grace, but it was in Latin, so I don‟t know how we was meant to
understand it. It seems daft, praying
something when you don‟t know what you‟re saying. But maybe they were all clever and
understood it, and it was just me. So I just said my own
grace in my head, which was much shorter.
“Do you know which cutlery to use?” Larry whispered to me.
I thought maybe he hadn‟t been to one of these dinners before after all. No wonder he‟d been
nervous. I mean, no one expects anything
much from me, but a clever bloke like him wouldn‟t want to look stupid. “You just work from the
outside in,” I whispered back. “My mum taught
me that. I‟ll tell you if you get it wrong.”
Larry laughed, but I guess I must have missed the joke. That happens a lot, so it didn‟t bother
me or nothing. I just gave him a big grin.
After dinner we had tiny little drinks of port in tiny little glasses. I was worried I was going to
crush mine with my fingers, so I just held it and

didn‟t drink it or nothing. I met some more of Larry‟s mates, and they all asked me what I did and
where I‟d studied, which didn‟t seem very
clever as I don‟t think I look like I‟ve got a degree or nothing.
Larry was in a good mood when we left. “God, did you see their faces? The entire evening?
Especially Hardwicke. I don‟t think he‟s been so
shocked since the college started admitting women!”
“Yeah, I‟ve had other blokes who went out with me so they could shock their mates or their
folks,” I said, ‟cause it was true.
Larry stopped dead in the street, and I wondered if he‟d had too much of that port to drink. And
then I thought, nah, no way, the glasses were
so

tiny you‟d need about a hundred to get pissed. Though he is kind of little and he gets pissed

easy. “Al,” he said, “you know that‟s not why I‟m
with you, don‟t you?”
“I don‟t know why you‟re with me,” I said, ‟cause I didn‟t.
He looked hurt. “Why are you with me?”
That was easy. “Because you‟re pretty and you‟re clever and you know about paintings and you
like Charlie Chaplin.”
Larry gave me a big smile. He grabbed my arm and we carried on walking. “Well, then. I‟m with
you because you‟re gorgeous and kind and
we have the same taste in comedy.”
“Okay.” I was pleased. Usually people can‟t think of more than one reason why they‟re with me. I
know he didn‟t mean it about me being
gorgeous, ‟cause I got a face like a squashed potato, and I know he likes cleverer stuff than
Charlie Chaplin, but it was sweet of him to say it.
We did sixty-

nine that night. Larry went on top so he didn‟t get squished. He‟s really good at

sucking dick. I wondered if he‟d got exams in
that too, and I had to stop sucking him ‟cause I was laughing.
“What‟s funny?” he asked with a smile like he was getting ready for the joke.
I told him, and he laughed too. I like it when he laughs, so I tickled him, and he tried to get away,
but I grabbed him round the waist and lifted
him off the floor,

and then he couldn‟t stop laughing. So we gave up on sixty-nine and just

rubbed off on each other, nice and slow, and then we
cuddled up in Larry‟s bed and went to sleep.
In the end, I spent so much time round at Larry‟s house that he said why don‟t I move in? So the
next Sunday, I got all my stuff together and I
borrowed a van from my boss and drove it round. We hung my punch bag up in the basement,
and Larry had a go at it, but he can‟t punch for
shit. I told him that‟s okay, ‟cause he‟d got me to look after him now. And then we ended up
kissing and stuff, and I had him over the boxes my
weights were in and was late taking the van back. I didn‟t get into trouble, though. The boss just
said I‟d better get my lazy arse in to work on
time tomorrow, and I did

, so that was all right. I didn‟t tell him I‟d been late because I‟d been

fucking Larry. I thought he might be more cross if I‟d
said that.
Larry‟s got this loft conversion. It‟s a big, open room with these huge skylights and the walls
painted blue like the sky in winter the morning
after it‟s snowed. First time I went up there, I just stood in the middle and turned round, looking
at it. I guess I probably looked a bit stupid. Larry
came up and hugged me and laughed. “You like it?”
“It‟s amazing,” I said. “It‟d be perfect for doing painting and stuff in.”

“Really? Why don‟t you do that, then? Use it as a studio. I‟d love to see some more of your art.”
Larry had his hands on my chest, so I
guessed he was talking about my tats.
I shrugged. “Haven‟t got any stuff. I mean, apart from my sketchbook and that. Didn‟t have room
for it, my old place.”
“We‟ll get you some. There‟s an art shop on King Street. They should have most of the things
you need there.”
“‟S expensive.”
“So? We‟ll call it your moving-in present.”
I felt a bit bad. “I haven‟t got you nothing.”
“Oh?” Larry looked up at me with big eyes. I started getting hard, ‟cause he‟d put his hand on my
cock. “You haven‟t got anything for me?
Anything at all?” He gave me a little squeeze. “I think you‟re wrong about that,” he said. “I think
you‟ve got something for me right here.” Then he
stopped talking, ‟cause I grabbed his arse and pulled him against me hard and kissed him.
So we never got to the art shop that day. But we went soon after, and I got all kinds of stuff

—a

proper easel and brushes and paints and
canvases and all that crap. I didn‟t let Larry pay for it all. I think he was relieved.
I got Larry to pose for me first off. It took awhile before I got any sketches done, though, ‟cause
every time he got his kit off, we ended up
fucking. Then Larry had a good idea. He said we should fuck first and do pictures after, and that
worked pretty good. I love looking at Larry
when he‟s just been fucked. He gets this smile on his face that doesn‟t go away even when he‟s
nearly asleep, and his whole body gets kind of
softer.
I knew he‟d get hacked off if I asked him to stand up for me, so I got him to pose lying down like
he was asleep. I got the outline drawn, and I
was filling in the detail of his face when he started making these snuffly noises, and I realised he
was asleep. That was good, ‟cause I didn‟t
have to worry about him getting bored no more. Larry slept for ages. I guess he‟d been working
too hard. I got sketches of him done from all
different angles, and when my hand started to cramp, I went and kissed him to wake him up just
like Sleeping Beauty. Although I guess with me
it was more like Beauty and the Beast.
I thought Larry might want to fuck again when he woke up, but he was dead keen to see my
sketche

s. He seemed to really like them. “These

are fantastic!” he said. “Very reminiscent of early Lucian Freud—it‟s a damned shame you
weren‟t able to study at the Slade. Although come to
think of it, maybe it‟s just as well—you seem to have such an instinctive grasp of perspective
and composition, I‟d hate to see that
homogenised out of you. Look

—like this one—why did you put the book there?”

I shrugged. I‟d just thought it would look nice. Like, there was a gap there that was book-
shaped? But I didn‟t say that, ‟cause it would‟ve
sounded silly.
“And this one—such economy!” Larry looked at me, and I guess I must‟ve looked kind of blank.
“I mean, you haven‟t used many pencil
strokes, but you‟ve nevertheless created a strong image out of them.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “My arm was getting kind of tired.”
Larry smiled at me. I wanted to kiss him, but I stared at him instead, ‟cause I wanted to
remember that smile, it was so perfect. Like he was
looking at something really beautiful. Even though it was just my ugly mug.

The

n he frowned and looked at his watch, except it wasn‟t there ‟cause he still wasn‟t wearing

anything. “What time is it?”
I got my watch out of my pocket. I don‟t wear it while I‟m painting ‟cause my mum gave it to me
when she won on the bingo and I don‟t want to
ruin it. So I take it off when I‟m sketching too, so I won‟t forget when I get my paints out. “It‟s
quarter to eight.”
“Bugger, bugger, bugger!” Larry hurried over to where he‟d left his clothes. His cock was jiggling
about, and it made me smile. “Department
meeting at eight, dammit! Need to get a bloody shift on.”
“But we haven‟t had dinner or nothing,” I said. I didn‟t want him to go. I wanted to pick him up
and kiss him and do other stuff too.
“I‟ll have to skip it,” Larry said. “Damn, damn, damn. Where the hell are my socks?” Larry was
out of the house by ten to eight. He works too
hard.
I cooked up a big pan of pasta so he could eat some when he got home, ‟cause he doesn‟t eat
enough. It‟s no wonder he‟s so little.
The next day, I didn‟t have work and Larry didn‟t neither, so we had a lie in. We got a big window
in our bedroom that faces east or west,
whichever side the sun gets up on. I can never remember stuff like that. But it‟s great, when it
comes through the curtains and falls on us, all
war

m ‟cause we got red curtains. Larry and me picked them out together.

Larry‟s really sweet when he first wakes up. Not when it‟s a work day, ‟cause he gets a bit
grumpy then ‟cause he has to hurry. But when we
got a day off, he wakes up really slow and happy.
I always wake up horny, and that morning I was hornier than ever, ‟cause we hadn‟t done
nothing the night before, ‟cause Larry had been too
tired after his meeting. So when he snuggled up to me, I pulled him on top of me so he could feel
how hard I was. I like the way Larry smells in
the morning, all warm and a bit sweaty, but clean too. Larry always has a bath before bed. He
uses posh soap too, stuff you have to go to a
special shop for ‟cause they don‟t have it in Sainsbury‟s. It smells sort of woody. Larry says it‟s
sandalwood, and it‟s called that ‟cause of the
Latin name. They don‟t make sandals out of it or nothing.
“Mmm,” Larry said. “Someone‟s up bright and early.” He pressed his hips down so his cock was
rubbing against mine. Then he started
kissing all round my neck. I liked that a lot. I liked it even more when he moved down to my
chest. He was being a cock-tease, kissing
everywhere but my nipples, but I didn‟t mind, ‟cause I knew he‟d get there in the end.
Then he surprised me by going straight

down to my cock, but I wasn‟t going to complain about

that. Larry‟s got a great little mouth. He can‟t
get all my cock in it, but that don‟t matter, ‟cause he does great stuff with what he can manage.
Larry had his hand on my balls, rolling them about. I love it when he does that. He pulled off a bit
and swirled his tongue around the head of
my cock, looking up at me while he did it, ‟cause he knows that drives me crazy. It was great, but
I wanted to touch Larry. I wanted to make him
feel good too.
“Turn around,” I said. “Put your arse in my face.”
Larry scrambled round on the bed till he had his knees either side of my chest. Then he bent
down and put his mouth on my cock again. It
was magic, him sucking me off with his pretty little arse in my face. I could feel the muscles
flexing as I grabbed hold of his arse cheeks, and

when I shoved my tongue in his crack, his hand tightened on the base of my cock so hard I
nearly came right then.
I knew I was getting to him, ‟cause when I started rimming Larry, he pulled off my cock again
and went, “Oh God!” really breathy. I kept licking
him, and he kept panting, and he was working away at my cock with his hand, but all jerky, like
he couldn‟t control what he was doing.
I felt really close, and I wasn‟t sure if he‟d mind if I came all over his face, so I said, “Jerk
yourself off while I rim you,” and he took his hand off
my cock and put it on his, and then he was coming straight away, his whole body shaking. I had
to hold his hips really tight so I could keep my
tongue on him.
When he‟d finished he said, “Oh God!” again, and then he sort of flopped down on me and put
his mouth on my cock again, and he only had
to suck three times before I came.
We had bacon and eggs for breakfast. Mum reckons it‟s not healthy, but we only have it on days
off, so I guess it‟s okay. And it makes the
kitchen smell great. I made sure the yolks were all runny ‟cause Larry likes to dip his toast in.
“You know what we haven‟t done?” Larry asked
when we‟d nearly finished.
when we‟d nearly finished.
I didn‟t say nothing ‟cause there was lots of stuff we hadn‟t done. I hoped Larry didn‟t want to get
into weird shit like PVC, ‟cause that stuff
gives me a rash.
“We‟ve never gone punting!” Larry said, and he smiled at me.
I smiled back, ‟cause I was kind of relieved.
“We should get a picnic together and go—it‟s a glorious day out there,” Larry said. Then he
frowned. “Unless it‟s a bit too much like a
busman‟s holiday for you?”
“Nah,” I said, ‟cause we can walk down to the river easy from Larry‟s house. We don‟t need to
take a bus.
“Excellent! Tell you what, I‟ll go to Marks and Spencer‟s and get in some supplies. Got to do
things properly!”
I wasn‟t sure what he meant by doing things properly. When my mum used to take me and my
sister on picnics, she just used to make ham
sandwiches and bung them in a bag. She used the square pink ham you get from Sainsbury‟s,
not the posh stuff Larry buys that tastes like real
meat. So I thought it was probably good he didn‟t want me to do the shopping.
When Larry came

back from Marks and Spencer‟s, he had four bags of stuff. Some of them was

clinking. “I got some champagne, to go with
the strawberries,” he said. He looked really happy about it, so I didn‟t tell him I don‟t like fizzy
wine much. There was so much stuff that in the end
we decided just to take the champagne and strawberries and have a picnic on the Backs after
we‟d taken the punt back, ‟cause you‟re not
supposed to moor punts up or nothing.
When we went down to Scudamore‟s, my boss said, “Bleedin‟ ‟ell, I thought we were getting a
break from your ugly mug today.” I laughed,
but Larry didn‟t. My boss let us jump the queue for punts, though, so Larry cheered up a bit then.
I thought Larry‟d want me to do the punting, but he grabbed the pole and got up on the back of
the punt. “Haven‟t done this in years,” he said.
He was smiling like he was all excited to be doing it again. “Wonder if I‟ve still got the knack?”

I had to smile too, ‟cause he looked even littler with a great big pole in his hands. Then I thought
about that some more and I started to get a
stiffie, so I grabbed the bags and asked Larry if he wanted me to open the wine and the
strawberries.
“Wait until we get out along the Backs,” Larry said. “Actually, no—you might as well get it open
now.” So I got out the champagne and
popped the cork off. It went in the river and started bobbing about. I was worried about littering,
but Larry said it was okay ‟cause corks come
from trees and are natural and stuff. Only he used longer words than that.
Larry wasn‟t doing too bad at punting, but it‟s a good thing he‟s little, ‟cause he forgot to duck
when we was going under Silver Street bridge.
I think it‟s ‟cause we‟d started heading for the side, and he was worried we‟d get stuck. But I
gave a shove off the side, and we was all right. I
warned Larry before I did it. I didn‟t want him to fall in or nothing.
The next bridge is made of wood. I always thought maybe it was a temporary one and they‟d
build a proper one when they got round to it, but
Larry said no, it‟s a mathematical bridge. That‟s the one I can never remember about. I thought
maybe if Larry explained it I might be able to
remember this time. I looked, but it didn‟t have any sums on it or nothing.
“It‟s the design,” Larry said, “Popular legend has it that when it was built, no nuts and bolts were
used in the construction, because of the
precise mathematical design. As you can see, it‟s got them now, but they‟re supposed to have
been a later addition.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I wouldn‟t trust a wooden bridge built by a mathematician neither. You want to
get a proper carpenter in to do that kind of
stuff.”
Larry laughed. I did too, ‟cause I like seeing him laugh.
When we got out at the back of King‟s College, I poured out the champagne. I like King‟s
College. It‟s the one with the really posh chapel that
looks more like a cathedral. I always thought chapels were supposed to be really small, but you
could fit a whole row of houses from Larry‟s
street into King‟s College chapel. There‟s this huge patch of grass next to it, going down to the
river. I don‟t do landscapes, but if I did, I‟d do this
one. Even the bridges are really pretty down the Backs.
“Al, you‟re woolgathering! How about passing me that champagne?”
I was wondering how Larry was going to manage to drink wine while he was punting. He had the
glass in one hand and the punt pole in the
other, which was okay to start with, but when you pull the pole back, you need to move your
hand on it. Larry shifted his hand down by sort of
jerks, and he ended up spilling most of his champagne, but he seemed happy enough about it.
“Like riding a bike!” he said with a big grin on
his face. “Oops—bugger! Ah. Top-up?”
So I didn‟t have to drink much fizzy wine after all, ‟cause Larry kept spilling his, so that was
good. But he drank enough that he got a bit
wobbly, so I said, “All right if I have a go?” and we swapped over. I didn‟t want him falling in.
When I got up, I was a bit worried, ‟cause I‟m a bit
big to stand up in a boat, but punts are really flat, so it was okay.
Punti

ng‟s dead easy, ‟cause you use the pole to push off with, and when you‟ve done that, you

can use it to steer with. So you don‟t have to
think about two things at once. I didn‟t try and hold a glass while I was doing it, though. Larry got
a bit giggly, and he got me to open my mouth

so he could throw strawberries at me. But we had to stop ‟cause Larry can‟t throw for shit, and
people in other punts were complaining about
being hit by strawberries. Even though they was Marks and Spencer‟s strawberries.
Up pas

t King‟s is this stone bridge with big stone balls on it. Larry said it was Clare Bridge. I said

I hoped they‟d stuck those balls down
properly, ‟cause I didn‟t fancy one of them coming down on us when we went underneath. Larry
thought that was really funn

y, but I don‟t think

he‟d have been laughing if half a ton of stone dropped through the bottom of the punt.
We got up as far as the Bridge of Sighs before we thought we ought to turn back. Larry said the
bridge was named after a famous one in
Venice, and t

hat he‟d take me to see it one day. The one in Venice, he meant. But I know people

often say they‟re going to do stuff for you when
they don‟t really mean it, so I didn‟t get my hopes up or nothing.
After we took the punt back, we had our picnic up by Trin

ity College. It‟s really pretty there, with

trees leaning down into the water like they‟re
having a drink. Larry had a bit of a headache, so we sat in the shade of one of them. There was
lots of students around, reading books and
eating sandwiches. Lots of

them had their bikes with them, just lying on the ground ‟cause there

was nothing to stand them up against. “It must
be great, being clever,” I said, ‟cause I‟ve often thought that.
Larry smiled, though he had his eyes closed. He‟d finished eating and was lying down, with his
jacket rolled up as a pillow, getting all
crumpled. “It‟s all relative, you know. And being clever academically doesn‟t mean you‟re any
good at other things.”
I don‟t know about that. I think you need to be clever for most things. Except maybe seeing that
it‟s good to be clever. I think maybe that‟s
easier if you‟re not clever. “Like what?” I asked.
“Oh, you know. Life. People. The important stuff.”
I thought about that for a bit. I wanted to ask Larry what he meant by the important stuff, but his
breathing sounded like it was getting slower,
and his nose sort of twitched like he was about to make one of those snuffly noises he makes
while he‟s asleep. So I kept quiet and leaned
back on my elbows, looking at the trees and the river and Larry, and I thought about how glad I
was I‟d walked him home that night we met.

Chapter Three

Once I‟d sketched Larry, I wanted to do a proper painting of him. It was kind of difficult to choose
what pose, but I went for the one where
he‟s all sprawled out on the rug. You can see his cock just resting on his thigh, like a little animal
that‟s gone to sleep. I like seeing him like that,
‟cause I know I‟m the one that‟s going to wake him up.
I like waking Larry up with a kiss. Only, you know, it‟s not always his mouth I kiss him on.
I think Larry likes that too.
I didn‟t let Larry see the painting of him until it was finished. And then I pretended it wasn‟t
finished for a while longer, ‟cause I was worried he

mightn‟t like it. But then I thought, this is crazy, I got to get this over with, so when he came
home from work one day, I dragged him straight up
the stairs to look at it.
Larry was laughing and saying, “Al, could I at least put my briefcase down? Maybe change my
shoes?” And then he saw my picture of him,
and he didn‟t say nothing for a really long time. I was shitting myself. I thought he hated it. I
thought he‟d never let me paint him again, and if I
couldn‟t do that, I didn‟t want to paint nothing ever again.
But then he just grabbed me and held me with his face in my chest, and when he looked up
again his eyes were all shiny. “How did you…?
No, don‟t try and tell me—words would just cheapen it.” I was glad he said that, ‟cause I‟m not
that good with words. I thought he was going to
cry, but he was smi

ling too, so I guessed he didn‟t hate it too much. “Is this really how you see

me?”
“‟S what you look like,” I said, only I guess I kind of mumbled it.
“You have to do more of these,” Larry said. It sounded like he wanted me to do them right now.
“Not of me, though.” He smiled sort of funny.
“Will you hate me if I ask you not to show this one?” I thought that was a daft question. I couldn‟t
never hate Larry even if I tried. “I almost hate
myself,” he said, “But it‟s just too…too private. It‟s wonderful, Al—really wonderful. You need to
do more paintings like this, with

—with other

models, and I guarantee you they‟ll be a huge success.”
My stomach felt a bit funny, ‟cause I‟d never really thought of showing other people my paintings
anyway. But I didn‟t want to disappoint Larry.
“Okay,” I said. “But I don‟t know where I‟ll get guys to model for me.”
“Oh, students,” Larry said, like it was obvious. Which it probably was, to him, ‟cause he‟s clever.
“Offer them a few pounds an hour just to sit
around with their c

lothes off, and they‟ll be on you like flies. I‟ll put a notice up in the Porter‟s

Lodge tomorrow.” He smiled at me. “After I see
someone about having this framed. You have signed it, haven‟t you?”
“I never thought of it,” I said, ‟cause I hadn‟t.
“What? You‟ve got to sign it! Do it now!”
So I got my brush and I signed it, Alan Fletcher. I did it small, ‟cause I didn‟t want to ruin the
picture or nothing.
Larry kissed me. “We‟ll hang it in the bedroom.”
No one‟s ever hung one of my pictures in their house before, ‟cept my mum. I felt so proud, it
was like when I brought home my first pay
packet.
We had Larry‟s family round for dinner a few weeks after I moved into his flat. I didn‟t think they
liked me at first, but then Larry‟s mum said
she could see I‟d concentrated on my physical education, which I thought was nice of her,
though Larry didn‟t smile or nothing. Larry‟s mum
looks just like him, all little and pretty, except she‟s older, of course, and she doesn‟t smile as
much. Least, not when she‟s looking at me. His
dad‟s kind of little too, but his hair‟s getting thin, and he‟s got a face like he‟s been pissed off
about stuff for so long it‟s stuck that way. I‟m glad
Larry doesn‟t look like him, ‟cause how would I tell if he was really pissed off about stuff or if it
was just his face?
Larry‟s sister Alicia came too. She‟s younger than him and even littler, but she‟s not as pretty,
which must be kind of tough, her being a girl.

She looks more like Larry‟s dad, except she‟s not been pissed off about stuff for long enough for
it to stick yet. And she‟s a girl, so she‟s got all
her own hair. She‟s a lawyer. I like lawyers. I told Alicia I had a great lawyer when I got stitched
up on this assault charge when I was working as
a bouncer. He got me off all right. Alicia said she did mostly road traffic and family law, and
anyway she didn‟t do special rates for family and
friends.
We were sitting round the table eating pasta bolognaise and salad, and they started having this
conversation about people I didn‟t know, so
I stopped listening. I started trying to work out if I could bench-

press the whole of Larry‟s little

family, or just him and his mum and his sister, or
maybe him and his dad and his sister, and it made me smile. Then I realised everyone was
looking at me.
“I just asked you, Alan, what was your opinion about the trend towards modernisation in the
performance of the classics?” Larry‟s dad said,
with his lip curled up all funny.
I think he thought I wouldn‟t know what he meant, but I did, ‟cause Larry and me had gone to
see this weird Greek play only the last week
where this guy pokes his eyes out ‟cause he found out his wife was really his mum, and they did
it in all jeans and stuff. So I just said, “I think it‟s
okay. I don‟t think you should diss actors just ‟cause they can‟t afford proper costumes.”
Then Larry laughed, but his family all looked at me like I had sauce all over my face or
something. So I wiped my mouth, but it was clean
anyhow. But I made sure I was extra careful eating after that, just in case.
Larry‟s mum and dad went home straight after dinner, but his sister stayed so she could have a
row with Larry. They did it in the kitchen, and
I was in the living room, so I couldn‟t hear much. They weren‟t shouting like my mum and
stepdad used to, but sometimes I heard bits. I heard a
couple of words like “taking advantage” and “just using” and I worried she‟d make Larry think he
couldn‟t trust me, but he argued back, so I
guess he didn‟t agree with her.
Then she said, “You can‟t possibly

love

him,” and I didn‟t want to hear no more, so I turned on

the TV and watched some program. I don‟t
remember what it was about.
When they came out of the kitchen, Larry and his sister weren‟t talking anymore. She had this
sort of tight look on her face, and Larry looked
all sad. After she left, I put my arms round him and just held him. I knew he‟d tell me about it if
he wanted to.
He sniffed. “I just wish they‟d accept that we‟re

happy

. You‟re happy with me, aren‟t you?”

I said “Yeah,” ‟cause although I wasn‟t feeling happy right then, most of the time he makes me
happier than I‟ve ever been in my life.
“I don‟t see what the hell our living arrangements have to do with them,” Larry said.
“I could move out if it‟d make it easier,” I said, but I didn‟t want to. I just didn‟t like seeing Larry
sad.
“No! No, you‟re staying here,” Larry said. I got that. He‟s a grown man; he don‟t want his family
to push him around and run his life.
Sometimes you got to make a stand on something, even when the thing itself isn‟t that
impor

tant. It‟s like the difference between paintings and

photos

—it‟s what you don‟t see in the photo that matters.

But I kind of wished it was the photo that was real this time.

We went to bed, and I fucked him extra gentle, and afterward, he cuddled up and sa

id, “You

know why I‟m with you, don‟t you, Al?”
‟Cause my head was still full of the paintings and the photos and which one was the truth, I didn‟t
really think before I answered. “You like the
way I fuck you,” I said. I mean, I didn‟t say it nasty or nothing; it just came out.
I knew I‟d said something wrong straight away when he sat up in bed and looked at me like he
did the night we met. “Is that what you really
think?” he asked.
I didn‟t say nothing, ‟cause I was worried I‟d make it worse.
“Al? Is that all it is for you? You just like the way we…fuck?” I was going to say, he said “fuck”
like it‟s a dirty word, but I guess it is, isn‟t it?
But he said it like that anyhow.
But the question was okay; I could answer that. “I like everything about you, Larry. I like the way
you look and how you‟re so clever, and I like it
when we laugh together and watch TV together. I like going to art galleries with you and hearing
you get all bitchy about some of the artists. I like
watching you when you‟re doing marking, ‟cause you get these funny looks on your face. I like
watching you sleep and hearing that snuffly noise
you make. I like waking up with you at weekends and spending the day together, just doing stuff
like walking round town and shopping and
cooking and stuf

f.” I kind of ran out of breath after that.

For a moment, I thought he was going to cry. “Is there anything you don‟t like about me?”
I had to think. “Well, it pisses me off a bit when you finish up the milk and don‟t say nothing.”
Then he was laughing, bu

t he still looked a bit weepy. “Al. Listen to me. I love you, okay?”

“Okay,” I said, and I put my arms around him and pulled him back down against me.

Chapter Four

Larry came back from work one day and told me he‟d been teaching his students about tempera,
and had I ever tried painting with it? And I
said no, so he said we should mix some up and I could give it a try. He had a recipe and
everything.
Tempera‟s what they used to do paintings with in the old days, back before they invented proper
paints and paint shops. You make it with
eggs, but the paintings don‟t smell bad or nothing. So we got some eggs and some pigments,
and on my day off we had a go at making
tempera. It was kind of like cooking. We had to separate the yolks from the eggs, ‟cause you
don‟t use the whites, and then squeeze them out
into a bowl. You dry them off with kitchen towels first so they don‟t slip out of your fingers. I
laughed a bit when I did that, ‟cause they felt a lot like
bollocks. I told Larry, and he thought it was funny too.
Then we had to prick them with a pin and squeeze out the insides, and it didn‟t seem so funny
no more.
We added a couple of teaspoons of water and the pigment. It was dead easy, really. I mean, we
had to wear masks and stuff while we was
grinding the pig

ments, ‟cause that stuff‟s nasty if you breathe it in, and measure it all out careful,

but there wasn‟t nothing to it, really. It‟s funny

what they make the pigments out of. Some of them are made out of bugs and snails and stuff,
which is a bit gross, but

most of it‟s just posh

mud.
I had to get the panels ready to paint on first, but I did that a couple of weeks earlier while Larry
was at work, ‟cause it takes a few days and
Larry gets bored easy. I used hardwood panels, little ones, ‟cause I wanted to paint miniatures of
Larry. I thought that would be funny, me
painting little Larry in miniature. I didn‟t say that to Larry, though. I thought he might not have got
the joke.
I used rabbit-

skin glue to size the panels. I got it from the art shop. I don‟t know if they use real

rabbits in it. It seems kind of a shame if they
do, but then it‟s not like there‟s a rabbit shortage, is it? And maybe they only used rabbits that
would‟ve died anyhow. I had to boil the glue up in
a pan, and it stunk worse than my sister

‟s kids‟ nappies. Even when they was ill. So I was glad

Larry was out all day. I had all the windows open,
but it still whiffed a bit, so in the evening I cooked up a curry really slow in the oven so Larry
wouldn‟t notice nothing.
I primed the panels with

chalk gesso, just like they would‟ve done in the old days. I had to sand

them down after. It made them really smooth.
Like Larry‟s skin. I thought about what that‟d be like, painting on Larry‟s skin, and I got so hard I
had to jerk off ‟cause I couldn‟t concentrate on
nothing. Then I looked stuff up on Larry‟s computer. You can get all sorts of body paints. Some
of them even have flavours. So I put in an order.
I didn‟t wait to ask Larry first. I was pretty sure he wouldn‟t mind.
When we finally got down to making the paints, Larry got kind of uptight when we was
measuring out the water and stuff, ‟cause he thought
we had to do it exactly how the recipe said, but I knew the texture wasn‟t right for what I wanted
to do with it. So I just put in what I thought was
right, and it worked a treat, and afterward Larry came and put his arms around me while I was
painting with it.
“You know,” he said, “you never cease to amaze me.”
I didn‟t say nothing. I thought he‟d tell me what he was on about if I waited.
“Here you are, a damning indictment of our education system, only one GCSE to your name,
and you‟re mixing up tempera like a modernday
Michelangelo.”
I felt kind of hot and prickly when he said that, sort of half in a good way and half not. “I‟m not
Michelangelo,” I said, ‟cause I know my
paintings are okay, but they ain‟t nothing special.
“Mmm,” Larry said in my ear. “Michelangelo wasn‟t anything like as sexy as you. Are you nearly
finished there?” He put his hand inside my Tshirt
and started feeling up my pecs. I

wasn‟t finished with the layer, but I figured it could wait a bit,

‟specially when he started squeezing on my
nipples.
I put down my brushes, and I got hold of Larry and pulled him toward me. My cock was hard
already, so I grabbed his hips and pressed him
against it. “Oh yes!” he said, all breathy, and he shoved his hands back up my T-shirt. I yanked it
off, ‟cause I wanted him to suck my nipples.
He‟s really good at that.
I think Larry knew what I wanted, but he made me wait. He bent his head down and kissed all
round my chest, and then he nuzzled into my

armpit. I thought it probably smelled a bit strong, but he didn‟t seem to mind. He kissed me there
too, and then he licked me, right where the
hair was. It felt way better than you‟d think it would, but I still wanted him to suck my tit. Just as I
was about to say something, Larry started to
circle my nipple with his tongue. It jumped up almost as hard as my cock, and I ground up
against him. He started sucking on my nipple, and it
felt great, but it still

wasn‟t enough. “Want to fuck you,” I said.

Larry pulled his mouth off my tit, sucking all the way so it got even bigger. His hair was all
mussed up, and his lips were shining red. “How do
you want me?” he asked. “From behind? Bent over the workbench?”
“No, I want to see your face,” I said, ‟cause I had a plan. I hadn‟t had a plan before we started
this, but it just came to me sudden. I wanted to
paint Larry how he looks when he comes, so I wanted a good view of his face so it‟d be fresh in
my mind, though

I don‟t think I could ever forget

that, really.
So I let Larry go, and he took his clothes off as quick as he could. I pulled off my jogging
bottoms, and that‟s when I remembered we didn‟t
have any stuff for fucking up here. “We got to go down to the bedroom,” I said. “Get the lube.”
We weren‟t using condoms no more ‟cause we‟d
both had tests and come back negative.
Larry had all his kit off by then. “Isn‟t there anything round here we could use? Aren‟t oil paints,
well, slippery?”
I know Larry‟s way cleverer than me, but that didn‟t seem like such a good idea. “Uh, yeah, but I
really don‟t think you‟d want them up there.
They‟re kind of toxic.”
Larry shuddered. “Fair enough. Just use spit, then. It‟ll be okay.”
I wasn‟t sure, ‟cause he‟s such a little guy, and my dick ain‟t small. Then I remembered the
boiled linseed oil I got for when I‟m using oil
paints. You get different effects if you mix it in. “I got this,” I said, grabbing the bottle. “This‟ll be
okay.”
“See?” Larry grinned at me. “I knew you‟d come up with something.” He put his arms round me
and kissed me while our cocks rubbed
together. Then he lay back on the floor, all sprawled out and waiting for me. I nearly dropped the
bottle, I was so keen to get down there on top
of him. He pulled up his legs so I could slick him up and stretch him out a bit, and my dick was
aching, I needed him so much. “Put it in,” Larry
said, so I used some more of the oil getting myself ready, and then I lined up with his hole and
pushed.
Larry always looks so little, fol

ded up beneath me. It makes me kind of scared I‟m going to hurt

him. I pushed in really slow and gentle, so he
could stop me if he needed to. “Yes, yes—don‟t stop!” he said, and I thought it was probably
okay. He was still hard, so I guess it couldn‟t have
hurt that much.
When I was all the way in, I stopped for a minute, just so I could feel him around me. I felt like
the luckiest guy in the world. But then Larry said,
“Move! Now, for God‟s sake!” so I started thrusting in and out of him, and when I do that, I
always get carried away, going faster even if I don‟t
mean to, and soon I was slamming into him like my dick was a fist and Larry was a punch bag.
“Yes! God, just like—yes!”
Larry‟s face was all pink, and his hair was dark with sweat. He looked beautiful. I told him to
wank himself off, and when his hand wrapped

round his dick, it felt like it was around mine too, and I couldn‟t help, I started coming ‟cause it
was all so fucking amazing. And then Larry went
“Oh God!” and he was coming too, shooting his load up between us.
I just kept looking at his face, and it was the most beautiful thing I‟d ever seen.
I got the egg tempera pictures finished in the end. I did one miniature of Larry all normal, just
smiling, and one of his face when he comes.
Larry really liked the normal one, and he put it up on the mantelpiece so everyone could see it.
He made me promise never to show anyone the other one.
Ever since I moved in with Larry, my mum had been on at me ‟cause she hadn‟t met him yet. So
I was going to ask her round, but Larry said
we should take her out somewhere. Somewhere proper. So we took her for afternoon tea at the
University Arms hotel. Larry thought it would be
a nice place to go. I thought my mum would probably rather have us round for tea in her front
room, but Larry said he wanted to take her out
proper.
I liked that idea because it was like he thought we was proper, you know? Like, not just fucking.
So I told Mum where we was going, and she
said “Bleedin‟ hell, that‟s posh! Do I have to buy a bloody hat?” but I asked Larry, and he said we
wouldn‟t need hats or nothing for afternoon
tea.
So that afternoon, Mum got them to let her work a split shift at Sainsbury‟s, and I went and got
her, and we met up with Larry at the University
Arms. Mum was a bit nervous about what she was wearing, even though she bought it special
from her catalogue. “Are you sure I don‟t look
cheap, love?” she asked me when I picked her up.
“I think you look really pretty, Mum,” I told her, ‟cause she did. “I like you in pink. It looks nice
with your hair.”
“You think so, love? You can say what you like about that girl at the salon, her with the piercings
in her God-knows-where

—and don‟t think I

don‟t know what I‟m on about, ‟cause she goes to the swimming pool same as me and I‟ve seen
them

—but she knows her way around a bottle

of bleach. You don‟t think these heels are too tarty?”
“Anyone calls my mum a tart, I‟ll deck them,” I said.
Mum gave me a hug. “That‟s nice, love, but we don‟t want ‟em thinking it neither. And we
definit

ely don‟t want you up on another assault

charge. Sod it, I‟m wearing ‟em. Take me as I come, that‟s what I always say.”
Larry was waiting for us in the entrance of the hotel so we‟d be able to find him okay. I was really
proud of him, ‟cause he‟d dressed up all
nice for my mum. He had on a creamy shirt that toned in with his hair and made him look really
pretty, but no tie or nothing, ‟cause he knew I
wouldn‟t be wearing one. I don‟t like wearing a collar and tie if I don‟t have to. They don‟t really
make them for guys with necks as thick as mine.
Larry was looking at a picture hanging on the wall and he didn‟t see us come in. “Larry,” I said,
and he sort of jumped and twisted round at the
same time, and I worried he‟d get a crick in his neck. “This is my mum,” I told him.
“So you‟re my Alan‟s fancy man, are you?” Mum asked Larry. “I must say, it‟s the first time he‟s
ever introduced me to one of his boyfriends.
Not that I haven‟t

met

them, mind, but it‟s the first time he ever done it proper. I always knew he

was that way, though. Do your parents know
you‟re that way, Larry?”

Larry‟s eyes went big, so I gave his hand a squeeze. I don‟t think he knew which question to
answer first. He smiled at her. I smiled too.
Everyone likes my mum. “It‟s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Fletcher,” Larry said in his posh
voice. He held out his hand for Mum to shake.
“Oh, it‟s Mrs. Jones now, but call me Lizzie, love, everyone does. I wasn‟t never a

Mrs.

Fletcher

anyhow, though I won‟t tell if you don‟t! You
don‟t mind if I call you Larry, do you? That‟s what my Alan calls you. He talks about you all the
time when he comes round these days

—not that

it‟s as often as he used to, mind, but I know what it‟s like when you‟ve got a new bloke!” Mum
laughed. “Alan tells me you work at the University,
Larry. Teaching. My granddad was a teacher

—‟course, it was all different in them days.

Teachers got a bit of respect, or the kids knew what
was coming to them.” Mum‟s eyes narrowed. “Do your students give you respect, Larry?”
“Er, yes, I suppose so. Well, you know.” Larry looked a bit nervous.
“I‟m glad to hear it, love. Now, are we going to go have a cup of tea, or are we going to stand
around nattering all afternoon? Don‟t know
about you, but I‟m spitting feathers, as my old Nan used to say!”
We had tea in the lounge bar. We had to walk through this circular room with the biggest
chandelier I ever seen. “I‟m glad I‟m not having to sit
underneath that thing!” Mum said. “I‟ve seen

Phantom of the Opera

—I know them things aren‟t

safe!” She jabbed Larry in the ribs with her
elbow, and he stumbled and nearly fell over a table. I probably should‟ve warned him she does
that. “Oops! Sorry, love! Don‟t know my own
strength sometimes!”
Larry laughed, though, so it was all right. “Well, I think I know where Al gets his impressive
physique from, at any rate,” he said in his smooth
voice, the one he uses when he wants people to like him. He was rubbing his stomach a bit, but
I don‟t think he was really hurt or nothing.
“You reckon? There‟s nothing of me in that boy. Not a bleedin‟ thing. When the midwife give him
to me, I said „Take him back, I asked for a
small one!‟ And she goes „Sorry, love, round here all sales are final!‟ and hands me a flippin‟
elephant! Bleedin‟ massive, he was. If it‟d been up
to me, I

‟d still‟ve been on the gas and air three weeks later. He‟s the spit of his father, though,

bless him.”
“Al never really talks about his father,” Larry said, looking at Mum all interested.
“He was a boxer. He‟d just got out the nick for GBH when I met him down the pub. I was a
barmaid back in them days. He‟d broke some
copper‟s nose—well, I ask you! Should of known, shouldn‟t I? Bloke who goes round beating up
coppers ain‟t the sort you want to be settling
down with. Poor sod didn‟t have two brain cells to rub together, neither.”
“Mum,” I said, ‟cause I didn‟t like her talking about my dad like that.
She gave me a hug, and I felt better. “His heart was in the right place, that‟s what I always say.
He always came round on your birthdays if he
remembered, din‟t he, love? And give me money and stuff, when he had it, which wasn‟t often,
but not for want of trying, was it? Now, where do
we sit? You two lovebirds go on the sofa. Cuddle up a bit, don‟t mind me!”
“Mum,” I said, ‟cause I felt a bit funny cuddling up with Larry in public. It‟s daft, ‟cause I‟m dead
proud of him

—I mean, he‟s the one who ought

not to want to be seen with me. I guess I‟m just a bit shy. So we sat on the sofa but a bit apart,
and Mum had the chair on the other side of the
table.

“So where is he now?” Larry asked. “Al?” I‟d been looking at the windows, which had stained
glass in them like a church, except just in little
round panels in the middle, not the whole window, and was wondering how they stained the
glass and whether I could have a go at it. I had to
think about what Larry meant.
Mum knew, though. “Alan‟s dad? Gawd knows. Ain‟t seen him in years.”
“Oh? But what about Al‟s nieces and nephews? Doesn‟t he want to be involved with his
grandchildren?”
“Oh, Lauren‟s kids ain‟t nothing to do with him. I met her dad when Alan was a toddler, we got
married and everything. He lives down in
London these days

—reckons the money‟s better. He‟s a plumber. Gave my pipes a good seeing

to, didn‟t he?” Mum laughed, and so did
Larry. “Lazy bugger, but at least he always sent the Child Support regular. Now, are we having
the works, or just tea and a slice of cake?”
“Oh, I thought we‟d go for the full afternoon tea, if that‟s all right with you?” Larry said all polite
like. “I‟m sure Al can help us out if we have
trouble finishing it all.”
“Too bloody right! Et me out of house and home, this one did, didn‟t you, love? I swear, the day
he moved out, the Tesco‟s down our way had
to lay off half their staff!”
We had sandwiches cut in fingers and posh cakes and scones with jam and cream. Mum said
she wouldn‟t be able to eat for a week
afterwards, but I was still a bit hungry. I don‟t know what they did with all the crusts from the
sandwiches. Maybe they put them out for the birds
after everyone had gone home. I hop

ed so. It‟d be a shame to waste them.

Afterwards, Mum and Larry and me went for a walk down on Midsummer Common. It‟s really
pretty down there, with the trees and the river
and everything. There were kids playing football and Frisbee with their dads.
“You‟re quiet,” Larry said to me. “That means you‟re thinking of something.”
I think I‟m quiet lots of times, but it doesn‟t mean I‟m thinking about nothing. But I was that time.
“My dad brought me down here sometimes
when he came to visit,” I said. “We used to kick a football around a bit while Mum was looking
after Lauren.”
“She took a lot of looking after, the little madam,” Mum said. “I was glad enough to get one of
you off my hands for an afternoon!” She gave
me a dig in the ribs with her elbow, but I‟m used to it, so it didn‟t hurt or nothing. “Oh, but you
were no bother, love. Always happy with your
pencils and your paints, weren‟t you? Some of them pictures weren‟t bad.”
“I‟ve seen some of Al‟s pictures, and I think they‟re very good,” Larry said. “In fact, I‟ve got a
friend who owns a gallery not far from here, and
I‟m thinking of asking him to take a look at them.”
“You‟re never!” Mum stopped walking, she was so surprised. “Get away!”
Larry smiled at her. “Oh, Al‟s not just a pretty face.” Then he stopped smiling, ‟cause Mum had
dug her elbow in his ribs again.
“

Not just a pretty face?

Gawd, you crack me up, Larry, you really do!” Mum was laughing like it

was the best joke ever. “Bloody hell, I think I
wet myself. Not just a pretty face! Sweetheart, you k

now I love you, but Gawd! I‟ll never forget

the time Lauren‟s Chloe asked if you was an ogre
like Shrek!”
I laughed too, ‟cause I remembered that. Larry didn‟t laugh. He was rubbing his side. He
muttered something, but I didn‟t hear it.

Larry didn‟t seem to want to talk to my mum much after that. When we said goodbye to her, she
said, “Now, Larry, you seem like a nice
bloke and all, so I‟ll give you fair warning: mess my boy around, and you‟d better stop shopping
at Sainsbury‟s. Unless you fancy a bit of rat
poison in your fruit and veg.”
I was worried Larry would be pissed off with Mum, but he seemed to cheer up after that.
That night, we were cuddled up in bed, and Larry asked me, “Do you miss your dad?”
I nodded. Then I remembered it was dark, so Larry wo

uldn‟t be able to see me. I mean, he

probably felt my head move ‟cause he had his
head on my chest, but he probably couldn‟t tell if it was a yes or a no. So I said, “Yes.”
“When was the last time you saw him?” His voice made the hairs on my chest tickle.
“When I was thirteen. I showed him my paintings and stuff, and he was dead proud of me. He
taught me some boxing moves and said he‟d
see me next birthday, but he never turned up. Mum reckoned he must‟ve been back in the nick.”
Larry kissed my chest. “My poor darling.”
“I kept hoping, but he never came again. Not on any of my birthdays. He‟s probably dead or
something.” My chest felt all tight when I said it.
“You don‟t know that,” Larry said, and he scrambled up the bed a bit and looked at me, but he
didn‟t turn the light on, so I don‟t think he
could‟ve seen much. He kissed me on the lips that time, so I pulled him on top of me, and we
kissed some more. I got hard like I always do
when Larry‟s on top of me, so we rubbed off on each other, really gentle at first, then harder and
faster. I never met anyone who made me feel
like Larry does. I don‟t mean just the fucking. He makes me feel special, like I‟m not just a set of
muscles and a big cock. Larry ground down
against me, and it was fantastic, so I grabbed hold of his arse with both hands and pressed him
into me again. “God, I‟m not going to last long,”
he said.
I thought that was good, ‟cause I wasn‟t going to last long either. I didn‟t get to say it, ‟cause
Larry kissed me, pressing his lips into me like
he wanted to eat me up, and I pushed up against him again and again, our cocks bruising each
other, and then I was coming, and I groaned
into his mouth, ‟cause it felt like heaven. Larry rubbed against me till it was almost too much,
almost painful, and the

n he said, “Oh God!” and he

spurted hot come between us, mixing it with mine on my belly.

Chapter Five

I wanted to practise faces a bit, and seeing as it was just practice, I thought I might as well just
draw my own face. I mean, it‟s got eyes and a
mouth

and a nose just like everyone else‟s, even if it is a bit squished. I thought it wouldn‟t

matter that I‟m not good-looking or nothing.
So I got out a mirror and started drawing. It was weird at first, but when I got into it, it wasn‟t like I
was drawing me, if you know what I mean. It
was like it was just another face. So I did a sketch, but I wasn‟t happy with it ‟cause I thought I‟d
made my scar too big. I mean, it ain‟t small, but
it ain‟t that big neither. So I had another go.

After a while, Larry came up to see what I was doing. I told him it was just practice stuff, but he
still wanted to look at it. So I showed him my
sketches. “These are great,” he said. “Are you planning to do anything with them?”
“Nah,” I said. “I was just going to bin them. They‟re just practice.”
“You can‟t do that!” he said like I‟d told him I was going to go to one of his posh college dinners
with no tie on.
I shrugged. “‟S not like anyone‟s going to want to see them.”
“I want to see them!” Larry handed me back the first one I did. “I‟m keeping this one,” he said,
looking at my second sketch with this funny
smile on his face.
“You don‟t want that,” I said. “‟S bad enough you got to look at the real thing.”
“What? Al, what on earth are you talking about?”
I didn‟t say nothing. I mean, Larry‟s really clever, and we‟d been together for months. He must‟ve
noticed what an ugly mug I got by now.
Larry stepped closer. He still had that funny smile on his face, but he looked a bit sad too. “You
know what I like about this sketch? I like all of
it, but the eyes are particularly good. You‟ve got wonderfully expressive eyes, and you‟ve
captured them beautifully here. There‟s the tiny furrow
between your brows you always get when you‟re concentrating—just a suspicion of it, really. I
don‟t suppose everyone would notice it… And
here, at the corner of your mouth

—that bit that quirks up when you‟re pleased about something.

A sort of embryonic smile.”
I shrugged. “Don‟t like my smile.”
Then I wished I hadn‟t said it, ‟cause Larry stopped smiling. “Let me guess—some

idiot

once

told you it was sinister?”
I didn‟t say nothing, ‟cause it was him what had said it. I think he remembered he‟d said it.
Sometimes Larry says stuff like it‟s a question
when it‟s not really. I don‟t think he does it to be confusing on purpose. It‟s just the way clever
people talk.
“Al, listen to me. You have a wonderful smile. No one who knows you could think anything but
that.” Larry reached up and ran his fingers over
my face. Even my scar, and my nose where it‟s all squashed. “Don‟t ever think I don‟t like the
way you look. I love the way you look.”
My chest felt all funny, like it needed Larry against it, so I put my arms round him and hugged
him tight.
Larry was right about the students wanting to model for me. Larry‟s always right. We had so
many, I got to choose the ones I wanted, which
was good, ‟cause a lot of those students really aren‟t that fit. I think they don‟t get enough fresh
air and exercise with all that studying and all. But
Larry knew which ones were into rowing and stuff, so I knew which ones to choose. Larry always
says he likes to look at fit bodies, so I thought if
I did those, he‟d like them even if no one else did.
One of them was this Japanese guy, Ren. He was short like Larry, but he had lots of muscles.
You could have made two of Larry out of Ren,
easy. It‟s not the kind of thing I go for, but I thought he‟d be interesting to paint ‟cause he was so
different to Larry.
His skin colour was really tricky to get right. It was really nice, ‟cause he‟d been out in the sun
with his shirt off and got a tan, but it was a
different shade from when I get a tan. More warmer. So I had to play around with the colours a
bit, ‟cause I didn‟t want to make him look like

he‟d got jaundice. My nephew Jayden, that‟s my sister Lauren‟s second baby, he had jaundice
when he was born. They had to shine a special
lamp on him to make him get better, but it wasn‟t to give him a sun tan or nothing, ‟cause that‟s
bad for babies. I know ‟cause I asked the nurse.
I got Ren to pose standing up for me, so he could show off his muscles. When he flexed, he
looked kind of mean, and I didn‟t want to paint
mean, so I got him to pose with his back to me. He was really good at keeping the pose and
everything. I got him to come again ‟cause it was
working out so well.
I think it was the third or fourth time Ren posed for me that it all went wrong. Larry said later he
called out, “Al, I‟m home! Are you upstairs?”
But I didn‟t hear him, ‟cause it was two stories down, and I guess I was concentrating. I was
finding Ren‟s arse really tricky to get right, so I was
crouching down behind him looking at it really close.
I guess Larry came up to look for me, ‟cause all of a sudden I saw his head as he got to the top
of the steps. So I smiled at him, but he d

idn‟t

smile at me. He was looking at Ren, ‟cause he was in front of him. I mean, Ren was between me
and Larry, with his back to me and his front to
Larry. Larry went a bit red, and Ren said, “Oh, hello, Dr. Morton.” His hands wobbled a bit, like
he wanted

to cover himself up, but he didn‟t want

to get out of the pose.
“I‟ll—I‟ll come back later,” Larry said.
I didn‟t want to see him go when he‟d only just got in. “Hang on, I‟m nearly finished. I just got to
finish his arse.” I was looking at it carefully,
‟cause the light was kind of tricky on the curves of it and I wanted to get it right. So I didn‟t see
Larry go, but I heard him walking down the stairs.
He was walking really slow, like he was tired or something.
I wanted to go after him, but I didn‟t think Ren would want to wait around. So I worked on Ren‟s
arse till I‟d got the lines just right, then I put
down my pencil. “Thanks, Ren.”
“Anytime!”
I gave him the money for modeling, and he gave me a kiss, which I wasn‟t expecting. ‟Specially
as he hadn‟t got his kit back on. “I, uh, I gotta
talk to Larry,” I said.
Ren said, “Okay, same time on Friday?” I nodded. He smiled and said, “Give me a call if you
need me back here sooner. For anything.” His
voice went all funny, like he had a sore throat, and then he gave me another kiss.
I was going to ask him not to do that again, ‟cause I‟m with Larry, and anyway if he‟d got a sore
throat he shouldn‟t go passing his germs
around, but then I saw Larry had come back up the stairs. I gave him a big smile. “Hey, Larry,” I
said. “I‟m all done. Ren‟s just leaving.”
Larry had this pissed-

off look on his face, so I thought maybe he‟d been talking to Dr. Hardwicke

again today. “Good. Dinner‟s ready.” After
he said it, he pressed his lips tight together and watched while Ren got his kit back on. Ren
didn‟t try and kiss me again.
We went downstairs and ate. Larry made risotto, but it was a bit burnt. Usually he‟s a better cook
than that. I guess he just had a really bad
day at work. “You should‟ve let me cook,” I said.
Larry ga

ve me this tight little smile. “I didn‟t want to interrupt you. From what I could see, Ren

was keeping you

quite

busy.”

“Yeah,” I said. “His arse was kind of interesting.”

He didn‟t say much after that.
After we had our tea, we went and watched TV. There was some boxing on one of the satellite
channels. Usually we cuddle up on the sofa,
but that night Larry didn‟t seem to want to. So we sat at opposite ends. I didn‟t like it so much,
but I know some guys like their space, so I didn‟t
say nothing. Even thoug

h Larry doesn‟t usually like space. When the adverts came on, Larry sort

of huffed and said, “I‟m going to bed.”
I got the remote, and I was going to switch the TV off, but he said, “No, no, you stay down here
and watch the rest of the fight.”
So I did, bu

t I didn‟t enjoy it like I usually do.

When I got to bed, Larry looked like he was asleep, so I didn‟t try to cuddle him or nothing. I
knew he‟d had a hard day. So I just got into bed,
but I couldn‟t get to sleep, and I didn‟t want to wake him up by moving about when my legs got
restless, so I went back downstairs and put the
TV back on. That just made me more restless, so I went down to the basement and I punched
the shit out of my punch bag, and after that I came
back up and fell asleep on the sofa.
When I woke up next morning, I was still on the sofa. Larry was already dressed. He was
rushing around and muttering like he was late for
work, and the kitchen smelled of burnt toast.
I tried to grab him and give him a kiss, but he wouldn‟t let me. “Sofa comfortable, was it?” he
asked. His voice sounded a bit like it does
when he talks about Dr. Hardwicke.
“Not really,” I said. “I got a stiff neck.” I yawned and rubbed it a bit. Usually when I get a stiff
neck, Larry gives it a rub, but I guess he didn‟t
have time.
“I‟ll see you tonight,” he said, and then he was out the door. I felt sad, ‟cause it was like we
hadn‟t really spoken or touched or fucked or
nothing since he‟d been at work yesterday. But I know he‟s got a really important job, and he has
to work hard.
I hoped he‟d have a better day and be back to normal when he came home, but he was still
really quiet when he got back for dinner. I
cooked pasta, but he didn‟t eat much. Then he said he had a meeting to go to, and I shouldn‟t
wait up.
I waited up anyway

, but it‟d been a really busy day on the punts, so I fell asleep on the sofa. I

don‟t know when Larry came home, ‟cause he
didn‟t wake me. I woke up at six a.m. and went to bed, but Larry was fast asleep, so I didn‟t like
to wake him.
When he was still rea

lly quiet and wouldn‟t let me touch him or nothing on Thursday, I knew

something was really wrong. Something bad. I
tried to think what it was, but I guess I‟m not very good at thinking. I was going to ask Larry, but
his mum rang. She always rings on Thursdays,
‟cause that‟s my night with Phil and Daz at the pub, but this Thursday I didn‟t feel like going out
or nothing.
I don‟t know what they spoke about, ‟cause he went into the kitchen and shut the door, but I
don‟t think she cheered him up or nothing. He
was even quieter when he came out. I wanted to say something to make it better, but I‟m no
good at that. I can never think of what to say. So I
tried to cuddle him, but he wouldn‟t let me.
I couldn‟t stand it, so I went out to the pub anyway. Phil was there with Leanne from Lidl, but
they had a big fight and split up again. Daz said

he found out she was cheating on him. I don‟t know how people can do that. Either you want to
be with someone or you don‟t.
Then I thought, what if they don‟t want to be with you?
I probably drank a bit too much after that, ‟cause I felt a bit pissed when I got home. I knew
Larry‟d be asleep, so I just slept on the sofa
again. I think I made a bit of noise when I got home, ‟cause I think Larry came out in his dressing
gown. But

maybe I only dreamt that, ‟cause if

he‟d really come out, he‟d have asked me to go to bed, wouldn‟t he? And he didn‟t, he just
frowned, so I think it was just a dream.
Friday morning Larry was gone before I woke up. I felt really bad. Not just hung over. I felt like I
wanted to smash something, and it scared
me, ‟cause I never feel like that. Work helped a bit, ‟cause I had stuff to do, but my boss kept
telling me not to look so bloody scary ‟cause it was
bad for business.
When I got back home, I remembered

Ren was due. I didn‟t feel much like painting or sketching

or nothing, but then I thought, maybe if I
painted something really good, Larry would like me again. So I worked really hard on it. I was
just putting away my stuff when Ren came over to
me. I‟d thought he was getting his kit back on, but he hadn‟t. He was still in the nude.
“Can I see?” he asked.
“Nah,” I said. “I don‟t want no one to see it till it‟s finished.”
Ren smiled. “I could make it worth your while.”
I was thinking about that, ‟cause I thought he meant he‟d pay me to see it, and that was really
weird ‟cause I was paying him to pose for me,
and I thought the sums were going to get really difficult, and then he kissed me again.
I hadn‟t realised till then how much I‟d missed being kissed. Larry and me used to kiss all the
time, but just lately we hadn‟t kissed hardly at
all. It was nice, the kiss was, and I guess I started kissing him back.
And then I thought about Phil, all upset because Leanne from Lidl was cheating on him, and I
thought about Larry being all upset, and I
wanted to smash things again. I pushed Ren away. I did it gently, though, ‟cause I didn‟t want to
hurt him.
That was when I saw Larry was there, at the top of the stairs. I don‟t think he must‟ve called out
or nothing when he came home this time. He
had this look on his face that made my throat feel all tight.
“Let me guess,” he said really quietly. It sounded like his throat was hurting too. “It‟s not what it
looks like.”
I thought about that. What it must‟ve looked like was me kissing Ren without his kit on. So I
didn‟t say nothing, ‟cause that was what it was.
“I‟m… I‟ve got to go,” Larry said, and then I heard him running down the stairs.
“Oops,” Ren said.
Something went

snap

in my head, and I took a step forward.

Ren‟s eyes went really big, and he walked backwards a bit. “Hey, calm down, all right? Look, I‟m
going.” He grabbed his clothes and started
putting them on. I don‟t think he noticed his T-shirt was inside out. “No need to pay me, okay?
On the house. I‟ll see myself out.”
He grabbed his shoes and ran down the stairs with them. I heard the front door go so quick he
must‟ve still not got his shoes on when he
went outside.
I sat on the floor and looked at my picture of Ren. For a moment, I wanted to throw it out the
window, but I thought Larry might be cross. So I

just went downstairs and waited for Larry to come home.
I waited a long time. It got way later than Larry normally comes home. I‟m not sure how late it
got, ‟cause in the end I fell asleep on the sofa,
but Larry still never came home.
I didn‟t feel like going in to work next day. I called my boss and told him I was sick. I thought
maybe if I waited around the house, Larry would
come back. I didn‟t know what to do, so I called my mum, but she was working.
I did

n‟t know where Larry could‟ve been. I thought maybe he‟d had an accident or something

and was in hospital or dead, and that was why
he never came home. I didn‟t know how you found out about stuff like that. I thought maybe I
should ring the hospital or the police or something,
but Larry and me, we‟re not family or nothing. I thought they probably wouldn‟t tell me.
I thought maybe I should ring Larry‟s family, because if something bad had happened to him, the
police would have told them. So I looked up
the n

umber and called them, but it just went to Larry‟s mum‟s voice on the answerphone. I didn‟t

know what to say, so I didn‟t leave a message. I
thought if I left a message asking if Larry was okay, and he‟d just stayed out at a mate‟s or
something, he‟d be really mad at me for making his
mum get all worried. I didn‟t want him to have something else to be mad at me for.
So I just stayed in the house all day. I didn‟t really feel like eating nothing, but I thought maybe I
should, ‟cause Mum always says it‟s really
important to get three meals a day, even though she‟s always on a diet. But when I looked in the
cupboard, we was all out of bread and stuff, so
I didn‟t bother.
I didn‟t know what to do. I watched TV for a bit, but I kept forgetting what I was watching. Then I
put on a Charlie Chaplin DVD, but it just
made me sad. I didn‟t feel much like painting or nothing, even, but I thought maybe if I drew
Larry from memory it‟d make me feel better, so I
went up to the studio to get my stuff, but I forgot Ren‟s picture would be there.
There was all kinds of stuff going round in my head. It wasn‟t nice stuff. It made my chest hurt
and my eyes go all funny. I think if Ren had been
there, I‟d have hit him. I don‟t know what I‟d have done if Larry had been there. I think I‟d have
wanted him to hit me, because it would have hurt
less. When it got dark I didn‟t want to stay in the house on my own no more, so I called up Phil to
ask if he‟d go for a drink with me. Then I
remembered it was Saturday night, so he‟d be out anyway. I went up to the pub on my own, and
he was there with Daz and some other blokes. I
think I had a lot of beers. I don‟t remember everything that happened, but there was this bloke
what kept getting in my face, and I think we went
outside, and then his mates were everywhere, and there was three of them on top of me, and I
think I passed out.
When I woke up I was in A&E, and Phil was sitting by my bed. My head hurt. So did lots of other
bits.
“Bloody hell, Al,” Phil said. “You look like shit.”
I thought tha

t was fair enough, ‟cause I felt like shit. “Am I in trouble?”

“Not sure. I swore blind to the fuzz it was them what started it. Think you might get a Drunk and
Disorderly. Least nobody glassed no one.
You hardly hit no one, anyway. It was like you couldn‟t be arsed. If I get my hands on that posh
tosser boyfriend of yours

—bleedin‟ hell, Al! Lie

the fuck down!”

“You shouldn‟t ought to say stuff about Larry,” I said, but it came out a bit funny ‟cause my head
felt like someone hit it with a sledgehammer,
and I was trying not to be sick. I lay back down.
“All right, keep your hair on,” Phil said. “If you ask me, though, he‟s being a—all right, all right,
I‟m not saying nothing more, right?”
The doctor said I didn‟t have to stay in no more, so Phil took me home, back to Larry‟s house. I
thought maybe Larry might be there by then,
but he wasn‟t. “You want me to take you round your mum‟s?” Phil asked.
I didn‟t want my mum to know I‟d been in a fight, so I said no. Phil hung around a bit and did
some shopping. Then he made us beans on
toast ‟cause that‟s all he can cook. He had to go shopping first. “You going to be all right if I
leave you?” he asked afterwards. “‟Cause I‟m
s‟posed to be over at Leanne‟s.”
“Yeah, I‟ll be fine,” I said. I didn‟t want him to get in trouble with Leanne from Lidl, ‟cause they‟d
only just got back together last night. So he
went, and I thought I‟d be okay, but the house felt really empty with only me in it. Which is weird,
‟cause Larry doesn‟t take up a lot of space.
Then the doorbell ra

ng. I went to answer it, and it was Larry‟s sister Alicia. “Larry‟s not here,” I

said.
Her eyes went really big. “God, what happened to you?”
I shrugged. “Had a fight. Too many beers.”
She gave me a funny look. “Friday night?”
“Nah. Saturday. I waited in Friday night and all Saturday, ‟cause I thought Larry might come
back, and I didn‟t want to miss him.”
She sort of pressed her lips together. “It was you I wanted to talk to, anyway. Going to let me
in?”
I was wondering what Alicia would want to talk to me

about. I didn‟t think it was anything I‟d want

to hear. But she was Larry‟s sister, so I let
her in. “Can I get you a cup of tea?” I asked.
“No, I‟m fine.” She took her coat off and slung it over the back of the sofa. “Are you cheating on
my brother?”
That

made sense that she‟d want to talk to me about it. “No,” I said.

Alicia stuck her chin out. She‟s got quite a big chin for such a little woman. “He thinks you are.
He told Mum, and Mum told me.”
“I‟m not,” I said. “I wouldn‟t cheat on Larry. Even if he never kisses me again. Not unless he tells
me it‟s all over.”
“Do you love him?”
I smiled, ‟cause thinking about how much I love Larry always makes me smile. Even when it
hurts my chest too. “Yeah. I love him more than
anything. Maybe not more than my mum, ‟cause she‟s great and she‟s my mum, but the same.
Only different.”
Alicia had a funny look on her face. Maybe she thought my smile was sinister too. “So what‟s the
story about this student, then?”
After she said that, I didn‟t have to worry about my smile upsetting her no more. “You mean
Ren?”
“Probably.”
“He kept trying to kiss me. And then he did kiss me. And that was when Larry saw us.”
“That‟s all it was? Just a kiss?”
I sort of shrugged. “Yeah. But Ren still had his kit off from modeling.”
“But it was just him kissing you? You didn‟t want to kiss him back?” Alicia was looking at me in
this scary way like she could see right

through me. I think maybe they teach them that in lawyer school.
I looked down at my feet. “I was kissing Ren. But only for a moment, ‟cause Larry hadn‟t kissed
me for days, and I missed him. Then I
pushed him away, and that‟s when I saw Larry was there, and he said he had to go. I don‟t know
where he went. Then I told Ren to piss off,
‟cause I‟m with Larry.”
She sighed. “I think you two need to talk to one another. Come on, I‟ll take you to him. My car‟s
outside

—I think you‟ll just about fit in.”

We got in Alicia‟s car. It was a Volkswagen Golf. I fitted in easy, once I‟d put the seat back a bit.
It took a while to get out of Cambridge,
‟cause of the one-way system, and then we went down towards Trumpington.
“Don‟t talk much, do you?” Alicia said.
“Nah. I leave that to Larry. He‟s better at it than I am.”
She just smiled then and didn‟t say nothing. I got thinking again. I wasn‟t sure what she wanted
to happen, ‟cause she was being nice, but I
knew she didn‟t like me. “You don‟t like me, do you?” I said.
“What? Excuse me, but here I am, driving you up to my parents‟ to meet him. You think I‟d do
this for someone I didn‟t like?”
That con

fused me. “I thought you wanted us to split up. You said I was taking advantage of

Larry.” I forgot she didn‟t know I‟d heard her when
she was talking to Larry in our kitchen.
“What? Wait a minute.” She didn‟t say nothing for a bit while she went round a roundabout. “I
think you‟ve misunderstood me.”
“What? Wait a minute.” She didn‟t say nothing for a bit while she went round a roundabout. “I
think you‟ve misunderstood me.”
I nodded, ‟cause I do that all the time with people.
“I admit, I didn‟t think it was a good idea at first, you and Lawrence. But… Look, I think you make
him happy. And he‟s certainly not happy
now. And I don‟t think you are either.”
I frowned, ‟cause did that mean she thought we‟d split up? And if we had, how come I didn‟t
know? Then I thought, I better wait until I see
Larry. He‟s good at explaining stuff. And he‟d definitely know if we‟d split up.
Alicia pulled in at this big posh house with a gravel driveway that crunched under the tyres. We
got out of the car, and she rang the bell. I
wondered why she didn‟t have a key if this was her mum and dad‟s house, but I didn‟t want to
ask. It was an old-fashioned bell that you had to
pull on a chain. A bit like an old-fashioned toilet. It had a nice chime, though.
We waited, and then Larry‟s mum opened the door. Her face went all sour when she saw us.
“Alicia, in heaven‟s name, what are you doing
here with

that

?”

Alicia stuck her chin out again. “We‟ve come to see Larry,” she said, and I smiled ‟cause she‟d
called him Larry.
I thought for a momen

t Larry‟s mum was going to close the door, so I put my foot in it like my

mum taught me. She did a Betterware
catalogue for a bit when she was out of work, so she learned all this stuff. Larry‟s mum looked at
my foot, and then she sniffed and let us in.
“This way,” Alicia said. She grabbed my arm and took me across the hall to a sitting room. It was
really nice, with a big old fireplace and
huge windows looking onto the garden.
Larry was sitting on the sofa looking sad. He was wearing these clothes I‟d never seen before
that didn‟t suit him. I guess he must‟ve left

them round his mum‟s when he moved out. He looked up when we went in. Then he looked
again and his eyes got really big. “Christ, Al, what
the hell happened to you?”
I shrugged. “‟S nothing. Just had a bit of a fight.”
Larry‟s dad was reading a paper. He looked up once, and then he rustled the paper really loud
and went back to reading it.
“Right,” Alicia said. “Lawrence, I think you owe Al an apology.”
Larry went bright red. “What?

Me

?”

“Did it never even occur to you to

ask

what was going on?”

I was a bit confused, so I said, “What was going on?”
Alicia smiled at me. “Nothing, Al. That‟s the point.”
Larry got off the sofa. “So… You and Ren… That‟s nothing?” His face was all tense.
I wanted to hold

his hands or hug him or something, but I wasn‟t sure he‟d let me, and I didn‟t

want to find out for sure. “I was just painting him.
He tried it on, but I told him I was with you.”
“I saw you… You looked like you were…” Larry looked at his dad and didn‟t finish, even though
his dad didn‟t look up from his paper or
nothing. I was frowning, ‟cause I was trying to work out what he thought I was doing with Ren,
but then he said, “And then you were kissing him.”
His face was all tight, like he might cry, and I fe

lt really bad ‟cause it was my fault.

“I told him to piss off. You missed that bit. I didn‟t want kisses from Ren.” I wanted Larry. “I‟m
sorry I kissed him,” I said, and my voice went a
bit funny.
“So…you never…” Larry looked over at his dad, but he was still reading his paper. I don‟t think
he‟d turned the page for a long time, though.
Maybe it was a really interesting article. “You never did…anything else with Ren?”
I knew he wasn‟t talking about me painting him and stuff. “Why would I want him when I got
you?” And then I got worried, ‟cause I wasn‟t sure
if I still had Larry or not.
“Why?” Larry‟s eyebrows went really high. Then he looked around at his sister and his dad with
his paper and his mum standing there
looking sour at us. “I think… I think we should go home.”
I smiled again, ‟cause that was all I‟d ever wanted, Larry home with me.
“Lawrence?” his mum said, all sharp. “Surely you‟re not going to just take his word for it?”
Larry stuck his chin out. It made him look a lot more like his sister. “Yes, because I trust Al not to
lie to me.”
She made this funny tutting sound.
Larry looked at me. “Al, have you ever lied to me?”
I thought about it. “There was this one time you cooked a curry with all fresh spices and stuff,
and you asked if I liked it, and I said yeah. But
you know about that one, ‟cause you said, „You‟re lying, aren‟t you? It‟s crap, isn‟t it?‟ Then you
tried some and said, „Oh God, that‟s awful!‟ and
we went and got a takeaway instead.”
Larry was smiling by the time I finished speaking, a

nd he turned to his mum. “See? I always

know when Al‟s telling me the truth.”
His mum sort of sniffed. “Nigel? Aren‟t

you

going to say anything?”

Larry‟s dad put down his newspaper. “It‟s his own grave. Let him dig it.” Then he picked up his
paper again.
I

didn‟t think that was very nice, but Larry just gave this tight little smile and said, “Fine. You‟ll be

very welcome to the funeral.” Then he took
my arm and said, “Let‟s go home.”

When he was putting his shoes on out in the hall, he looked up at me, not smiling or nothing,
and said, “Al, I‟m so sorry I doubted you. Did
you get badly hurt?”
I shrugged. “Nah. I been beat up much worse than this before,” I said, ‟cause I had. “I think I
might be up on a Drunk and Disorderly, though.”
“Don‟t worry,” Alicia said. “You‟ve got a good lawyer.”
So Larry drove us home, and I put my hand on his leg all the way, and he didn‟t push it off or
nothing, and when we were on the straight bits
where he didn‟t need to change gear and stuff, he put his hand on mine. When we got back
home, I couldn‟t wait to get close to him, so as soon
as we got in the front door, I pushed him to the wall and shoved my hands up his shirt and
kissed him. Larry didn‟t try and pull away; he just
kissed me back. It wasn‟t just nice, it was fucking fantastic.
We kissed until we had to stop to breathe, and then I rested my head on the wall above Larry‟s
head while he nuzzled into my chest. Then he
looked up. “I‟ve been an idiot.”
“That‟s okay,” I said. “You‟re still way cleverer than me.”
Then Larry laughed, and we kissed again, and I got his trousers undone, and he pushed my
jogging bottoms down and said, “Oh God, I‟ve
missed this.” Then he went all serious and stroked my face where it was bruised. “Are you sure
you‟re up for this?”
“Take more than a few bruises to stop me,” I said, and he smiled. I wanted to fuck him and suck
him and do everything all at once, but I
couldn‟t wait that long, so I grabbed hold of both our cocks and rubbed them together.
Larry gasped, and then he said, “Not here!” and he grabbed my hand and took me into the sitting
room. “Have you any idea just how much
I‟ve grown to loathe this sofa while you‟ve been sleeping on it?”
“No,” I said, ‟cause I thought if anyone should hate the sofa it should be me. I was the one who
kept getting a stiff neck.
“Well, I‟m reclaiming it.” He lay down on the sofa with his trousers undone and his cock sticking
out, and he looked so fucking gorgeous I
wished I could‟ve painted him like that. But I thought Larry would probably rather I did something
else. So I knelt down by the sofa, and I took him
in my mouth, and he moaned and bucked up like he couldn‟t control himself. I love it when Larry
can‟t control himself. I moved my lips up his
cock, sucking all the way, until I came off him with a pop. Then I licked all the way up and down
his shaft, teasing that little spot under the head
that always makes him go mad. He was gasping and moaning and saying stuff like, “Oh God, oh
God, oh

God

!” so I figured he was enjoying it.

But then he grabbed my head and pushed, so I knew he wanted me off him. I looked up, and his
face was just beautiful, all pink and shiny. “I
want more of you,” he said, so I lay down on top of him, careful to keep my weight on my elbows
so I wouldn‟t squash him, and I pressed my
cock ag

ainst his. “Oh Christ, yes!” he said. “God, don‟t stop!”

I could‟ve told him I wasn‟t planning to stop. But it felt so good I don‟t think I could‟ve said the
words. I kept rubbing against him, feeling the
heat of his body and breathing in the scent of him

that I‟d thought I‟d never smell again, not like

this, and then I felt him shudder underneath me,
and I rubbed harder, and then I was coming all over him, my spunk spurting out like I was
marking him, making him mine again.

We were all covered in sweat and

spunk, but I thought I‟d never want to wash again. “Let‟s go to

bed,” I said, and Larry smiled at me, and we
went upstairs to our bed, and he kissed all my bruises, and then we cuddled until we fell asleep.

Chapter Six

Larry got his mate to come and look at my pictures, the one with the gallery up by Midsummer
Common. His name‟s Toby, like the jugs my
great-

grandma used to collect. My mum‟s got them now. They‟re a bit funny-looking. They‟re

painted to look like people, and they‟re shaped like
that too, but

they‟re all really fat guys with old-fashioned hats on, a bit like Captain Jack Sparrow

in

Pirates of the Caribbean

. I like those films. I

think Will Turner looks a bit like Larry, though when I told Larry that, he burst out laughing and
said something about love being blind.
Toby‟s a bit funny-looking too, but in a different way to the jugs. He‟s got the biggest nose I ever
saw. I kept staring at it without meaning to,
but I don‟t think he noticed. Toby said he reckoned he could put some of my pictures in his
gallery and people would pay money for them, which
seemed daft, ‟cos it‟s not like they‟re art or nothing. He said he was really into postmodern
primitivism. I said I was glad he liked my stuff as well
as that. Toby laughed and winked at Larry, but I

don‟t think he was making a pass or nothing.

Toby‟s got a bloke already.
Toby was right about people buying my stuff. He had this posh evening do, with fizzy white wine
in little plastic glasses, and Larry and me
went. Larry bought me a new shirt ‟cause he said I ought to look posh. It was a nice shirt, but I
think I‟d need more than that to look posh. I didn‟t
tell Larry that though, ‟cause he looked so pleased when I wore it.
I asked my mates Daz and Phil if they wanted to come to the do. Daz said he wasn

‟t into art, but

Phil said there‟d be free booze and art‟s
just a load of pictures of women with their tits out, so Daz changed his mind. I told them there
weren‟t any women in my pictures, but they said
that was okay ‟cause there was bound to be other stuff in the gallery.
When we got there, I kept watching Toby to see how he‟d manage with those little wineglasses
and his big nose, but I never managed to
catch him drinking. We saw my pictures up on the wall right next to all the art. Some of my
pictures ha

d stickers on them saying “sold”, even

though some of the ones by other people didn‟t. My mates were well impressed.
My mum came too. She wore that pink top she got for when we went out for tea at the hotel. Her
eyes went really big when she saw my
picture

s, and I was worried she might think they was a bit rude. “Bleedin‟ ‟ell, love, have you

seen the prices he‟s put on some of your
paintings?” She gave me a jab with her elbow. “If I‟d known you was selling for this much, I‟d of
brought some of them pictures you drew me
when you was a kid so he could flog them and all! I‟ll tell you what, I‟ll be expecting a bloody nice
Christmas present this year!”
I like buying my mum stuff. I said, “What do you want me to get you?”
“Oh, love! I was joking! Don‟t you bleedin‟

dare

! This is your money, and I‟m dead proud of you!

That‟s all I want.” Then she saw the table with

the food and stuff. “‟Course, I wouldn‟t say no to a glass of that shampoo and a couple of horses‟
doovers.”
“Of course, Lizzie,” Larry said, and he took her arm and took her over to the table and got her a
drink and some olives and some really tiny
pizzas. I felt all warm inside.
“Gawd, in‟t he a gentleman?” Mum said when she came back. “You‟d better watch out, love, or
I‟ll be nabbing him for meself!” Then she
laughed and went to dig Larry in the ribs with her elbow, but he smiled and dodged out of the
way. “Bloody ‟ell, he‟s a quick learner, ain‟t he?”
Mum laughed so much she spilt her wine. It‟s a good thing it was white wine so it didn‟t stain the
carpet or nothing.
There was this posh bloke who came to the show who was spending ages looking at one of my
pictures. “That‟s my picture,” I told him. “I
painted that.”
The posh bloke gave me a funny look, and then he said, “I suppose you must be one of these

savants

,” and then he laughed.

I laughed too, to be polite, but Larry heard too, and he got really huffy, so I had to take him away
and get him another drink and some little
bits of toast with fish paste on. I asked Larry what the word meant, and he said it means genius,
which confused me, ‟cause I know I‟m not that
bright, and even if I was, why was Larry all pissed off? But then Toby came round and gave us
some champagne and said how marvelous my
pictures were doing, and Larry was all right again, so I

didn‟t bother asking what it was all about.

Daz found lots of pictures of women to look at and a lot of glasses of wine, and I had to take him
outside after a bit and sit him down with a
glass of water. He‟s not big like Phil and me, Daz isn‟t. He‟s little like Larry, so he gets pissed
easy. But he‟s not as pretty as Larry. When I
came back in, Phil was looking at one of my pictures with a funny look on his face. It was the
one of Ren, with just the back of him showing. The
one I‟d worked really hard on to get his arse right. I don‟t like that painting much anymore, but
Toby said it ought to be in the show and Larry
said, “Well, at least the bloody thing will be out of the house.”
“Mate of yours?” Phil asked. He had to clear his throat before he said it.
“No,” I said. “He‟s a student at Larry‟s college. I just paid him to model. He kept trying to get off
with me, though, so I didn‟t do no more
paintings of him after this one.”
“Oh, right… He‟s the one what caused all the trouble? But you never…?”
“Nah. I got Larry,” I said.
“Oh. Right.” I thought he‟d go off and look at some more pictures of women, but he just stood
there. “Even with him being all…?” he said after
a bit.
I wasn‟t sure what he was on about. “All what?”
Phil went a bit red. “Well. You know.”
I

grinned. “‟S me, remember? You got to spell it out.”

Then Phil went really red. “Um…”
“You think I should of got off with him?” I asked, ‟cause I couldn‟t think what else he could have
meant. I was a bit angry with Phil for
suggesting that.
Then Daz clappe

d us both on the back. “Got off with who?”

“No one,” Phil said. “You feeling better now? Come on, then, let‟s go look at some more girls.”

I think maybe Phil had had too much fizzy wine too. Or something. I asked Larry about it later,
and he said it was definitely

something

. Then

he took his shirt off, and I forgot to ask him what he meant.
Toby gave me a cheque for my paintings that sold at the do. It was more than I make in six
months pulling in punts. I didn‟t know what to
spend it on, ‟cause my mum said she didn‟t want me to buy her nothing. So I was going to buy
Larry something, but he said I should spend it on
something I always wanted. So I bought a cat. I asked Larry first, because it‟s his house and all.
The cat didn‟t cost much, because it was from
the Cats Protection League and they don‟t have posh cats there, only ordinary ones. I didn‟t
want a posh cat. I got Larry for when I want posh. I
bought a litter tray for the cat, and some food bowls and a scratching post, and then put the rest
of the money in the bank. I thought maybe I
could buy Larry something later when he wasn‟t looking.
We went together to the cat place, and there were all these cages and the cats were yowling like
someone was stepping on all their tails at
once. It was kind of cute, but Larry started frowning like he was getting a headache. I asked him
what cat we should get, and he said it was my
choice, so I got this little black one called Minnie. I think the cat place must not have known
Minnie‟s a mouse‟s name. I thought maybe we
should change it, but then I thought, if Minnie doesn‟t know, either, then it‟s probably okay. I got
her a pretty pink collar and a little tag with her
name on and our phone number in case she gets lost.
Minnie‟s really cute. She‟s little and she‟s dainty, and she likes to curl up on my lap when I‟m
watching the telly.
I guess I like her ‟cause she reminds me of Larry.

Chapter Seven

One night when I got in from work a bit late, ‟cause it was really nice weather and everyone
wants to take the punts out whe

n it‟s sunny, I

found Larry just sitting on the sofa staring at a blank TV screen. At first I thought maybe he‟d
forgotten to turn it on, but then I thought, no, Larry‟s
not stupid. He‟d have noticed. So instead of going for a shower like I usually do when I get
home, I sat on the sofa next to him, sweaty shirt and
all, and I asked him what was wrong.
“Sometimes I hate this place,” he said, still looking at the TV. It was still switched off. I hadn‟t
switched it on or nothing.
I looked around. I didn‟t think the house looked so bad. It wasn‟t messy or nothing, and the walls
were a nice colour. White with a touch of
apple, they called it in the shop. “I think it‟s kind of nice, but we can move if you want, Larry.”
He laughed a bit at that, but he still didn‟t sound happy. “No, the house is fine. I mean
Cambridge. The University, not the town.”
I was glad he‟d said that, ‟cause that would‟ve been my next guess. “You want to tell me about
it? Not that I‟ll understand or nothing, but I‟d
like to hear you tell me.

”

“There‟s not much to understand, really.” He sighed, and I put my arm round him. That usually
makes him feel better. “You know what we do

to students here?”
“Teach them stuff?”
Larry laughed again. I didn‟t like the way it sounded. “What we do is take the brightest kids, the
ones that were always top of all their classes
back in school

—kids who, all their lives, have had people telling them they‟re brilliant. And we

shove them all together in the hissing, spitting
cauldron that is Cambridge, and we say to

them, so you think you‟re one of the clever ones?

Well, you‟re in Cambridge University now. You‟re
not one of the clever ones any more. If you‟re

lucky

, you‟re one of the average ones. A simple

application of the law of averages will tell you that
now, in fact, half of you are the

stupid

ones.” I stroked his hair. He was shaking a bit; I didn‟t get

why. “And then we give them a lecture timetable
and a book list and say, off you go, get on with it. Oh, and by the way, everyone at home is
expecting you to get a First because

they

still think

you‟re one of the clever ones. And if anyone complains about the way we do things, well, we‟ve
done it that way for centuries, and anyway, you
can‟t make an omelet without breaking eggs.” He didn‟t say nothing for a moment, and then he
spoke again. “Nobody ever warns the eggs
they‟re going to get broken. They say, „We‟re making the finest omelet in the world, come and be
a part of it.‟ And then they take the eggs, and
they break them and use them up, and then they throw aw

ay the shells.”

Larry‟s face was in my neck, and it felt kind of damp. So I thought maybe there was more to it
than he‟d said, and despite what he‟d said, I
didn‟t think it had nothing to do with eggs and omelets. ‟Cause nobody gets that upset about
omelets. Or eggs, even. Maybe someone had
said Larry wasn‟t clever or something? But that didn‟t seem right, because Larry‟s really smart.
My head was starting to hurt, so I just asked
him. “Larry, did something happen today?”
Larry sniffed. I gave him my handke

rchief. It was mostly clean, and he always says he doesn‟t

mind a bit of my sweat anyhow. You get hot
pulling in punts, so I sweat a lot at work. “A boy in college tried to kill himself today. A maths
student. He‟s in Addenbrookes now.”
Addenbrookes is the hospital in Cambridge. I got my face stitched up there after that bastard
glassed it. I had to stay in for a few days
‟cause they were worried about infections. The nurses were really nice. They called me Big Al.
“Is he going to be okay?”
Larry nodded. “Physically, yes. They caught him in time. Thank God for text messages.” He
laughed. It wasn‟t a nice laugh. “Suicide note in
text-speak

—can you imagine?” He sort of hiccupped. “I‟m going to see him in hospital tomorrow.

I wanted… I mean, he‟s not one of my
students but I just thought…”
“You want me to come with you?” I asked, ‟cause he looked really upset. “I can get the day off.
My boss knows I don‟t ask unless it‟s
something important.”
“Would you?” Larry asked. He looked like he needed to be kissed, so I kissed him, and then I
kissed him some more, and we ended up with
our hands down each others‟ trousers. I thought Larry needed more than that, though, so I
pushed down his pants, and I knelt down and took him
in my mouth. “God yes!” Larry said, as I swirled my tongue around the head of his prick. His
taste went even saltier, ‟cause his prick was

leaking, so I took all of him into my mouth and sucked. He made a funny noise, sort of like a dog
when it‟s startled, and shoved into my throat.
“Sorry!”
I was okay

, though, so I didn‟t pull off or nothing. I just kept sucking, and then I used my tongue

again, and then Larry was saying, “Stop! Al,
stop.”
I stopped ‟cause he‟d asked me to but kept my mouth around his cock. I was a bit hurt, ‟cause
I‟d thought I was doing okay.
“C-can‟t talk, when you‟re doing that,” Larry said, his voice sounding all strangled. He breathed
hard a couple of times, then he said, “I want
to see you jerk that fat cock of yours off while you‟re sucking me.”
I like it when Larry talks dirty. I pushed down my jogging bottoms, and I got my cock out. It felt
hot in my hand as I got my mouth back round
Larry‟s cock and started to wank off.
“God, you‟re amazing,” Larry said. “So big and beautiful and strong… Oh yes!” Then I did that
thing with my tongue that he likes, and he
didn‟t talk no more, just kept gasping and moaning. I had to concentrate to keep my hand
moving on my cock, ‟cause all I wanted to think about
was the way Larry‟s cock felt in my mouth, all smooth and hard with the veins standing out.
When I moved up to tease that little spot under the
head, I felt it jerk and throb, and then Larry moaned really loud, and my mouth filled with spunk.
I swallowed it all down. I love the feeling of a bit of Larry being inside me. Then Larry sank to his
knees, and I held him tight. “But you haven‟t
come,” he said after a moment. And then he put his hand over mine on my cock so we could
wank me off together, and it only took a couple of
strokes before I was coming all over his hand.
Then Larry grabbed the box of tissues and cleaned us both off, and I held him while he kissed
me.
Later, we were all cuddled up on the sofa with the TV on this time and the table all scattered with
takeaway boxes, and Larry suddenly said,
“Can I turn this off?”
I said yeah,

of course, ‟cause it was only some comedy repeat on Dave. I like watching the

repeats ‟cause it‟s easier to get the jokes the
second time, but I didn‟t mind missing this one. So we sat looking at the blank TV screen again,
and I was kind of hoping this wa

sn‟t going to

be some new thing of Larry‟s, ‟cause it wasn‟t very interesting, when he started speaking again.
“Did you ever think of killing yourself, when you were younger? I did.”
I didn‟t like Larry saying that. “Don‟t say that,” I told him. I put down the special fried rice, and I
grabbed his arms.
“It‟s true. I—I tried it once. When I was eighteen.”
It hurt, hearing him say that. It really hurt. Deep in my chest, like I‟d taken a punch to the heart.
“Larry, promise me you won‟t never try nothing
like

that again,” I said, and my voice sounded all funny.

Larry looked up at me. His eyes were really big, like cups of coffee. “No—I mean, God, no, I‟m
not going to do anything like that! Al, listen to
me, that was years ago. I swear I wouldn‟t do that now.”
I sniffed, and he gave me back the handkerchief I lent him earlier, but it was kind of soggy, so I
wiped my eyes on my sleeve and blew my
nose on a paper napkin. “Why did you do it, then?”
“Oh…pretty much for the same reason Matthew did, I suppose. The student, I mean. I was
stressing out over exams, everyone else was

taller and better-

looking and more confident than I was and, well, the gay thing really didn‟t help.”

He looked at me. “Al, I promise you, it‟s not
going to happen now. I‟m fine with who I am. If I wasn‟t me, well, I wouldn‟t have you, now would
I? And I love being with you.”
So I thought it was probably okay, but just in case, I hid the kitchen knives again.
I put them in the airing cupboard this time. Under a pile of towels.
I thought Larry would probably remember to look in the hall cupboard.
So I got my boss to give me the day off, and we went to the hospital next day. Larry drove,
‟cause it‟s a bit outside town.
The kid was in a private room. I had a private room when I was in Addenbrookes with my face.
One of the nurses said it was so I wouldn‟t
scare the other patients, but she said it like it was a joke, so I laughed and split two stitches.
His mum and dad were there. His mum was smiling, but it didn‟t look right, and her eyes were all
red. I think it must be awful to have your kid
in hospital ‟cause he tried to kill himself. I know my mum was upset when I was in with my face.
She always tried to hide it when she came to
visit, but I heard her talking about it with one of the nurses, and she was saying stuff like
“another three inches further up and he‟d have been
blinded, and what the bleedin‟ hell would he have done then?” So after that I stopped being a
bouncer, and I started working on the punts. The
pay‟s not so good, but I don‟t like it when my mum gets upset.
The kid didn‟t look too ill. Just really, really sad. He was lying in bed, and he had a drip in his
arm, and his other arm was all bandaged up. I
guess he tried to cut himself. Or maybe took an overdose with a really blunt needle. I had a mate
who shot up heroin with a blunt needle, and he
ended up with blood poisoning and nearly died. But after that he stopped taking drugs, so it was
all right in the end. Which is funny, ‟cause
you‟d never think blood poisoning was a good thing, would you?
Larry smiled at them all. It was the same smile he uses for Dr. Hardwicke, not the one he gives
me. “Hello, Matthew. And you must be Mr.
and Mrs. Cartwright? I‟m Dr. Morton from Matthew‟s college. I lecture in History of Art.” He held
out his han

d, and Matthew‟s dad shook it. “And

this is Al Fletcher.”
“Nice to meet you,” Matthew‟s mum said, but she was looking at me like it wasn‟t really all that
nice. “Is, er, your friend a member of college
staff?”
“No, Al‟s an artist. And, ah, he‟s my partner,” Larry said. I like it when he calls me that.
I don‟t think Matthew‟s mum liked it. “How…lovely. Is that how you met? Through…art?”
Larry said “Yes” just as I said, “No, we met when I was having a piss in an alley.”
I felt a bit awkward about having said

that, but then I saw that Matthew wasn‟t looking so sad

anymore, so I didn‟t feel so bad.
Larry sort of coughed. “Mrs. Cartwright? Maybe you and your husband would like to go and get a
cup of coffee, or something? I‟m sure you
could do with a break while I

have a chat with Matthew.”

Matthew‟s mum gave me a look, but his dad said, “Yes, why don‟t we, Helen? I‟m sure
Matthew‟s fed up with us moping around his bedside
by now.” So they went, and Larry sat on a chair by the bed, but I stayed standing by the window,
‟cause I didn‟t know the kid.
“I just came to see how you‟re getting along,” Larry said.
“Oh,” Matthew said. He had a nice voice, sort of posh but not too posh. Like Larry‟s. “Okay.”

I was looking out the window. It didn‟t have much of a view. Just hospital buildings. But I could
see blackbirds flying in the sky and pigeons
perching on TV aerials. I wondered if they made the picture go fuzzy.
Larry took a deep breath. “And I wanted to tell you, it gets better. I know right now it feels like
exams are the most important things in the
world, but they‟re not, trust me. Ask Al.”
I looked round then, ‟cause I heard my name. Larry sort of jerked his head at me like he wanted
me to say something, but I wasn‟t sure what
he wanted me to say. But I thought I‟d better say something, ‟cause they were both looking at
me. “I got zero on a maths test once,” I said. “The
teacher said he‟d wanted to give me a minus number, but the computer wouldn‟t let him.”
Larry smiled, and even Matthew did a bit, so I guess I hadn‟t said anything too stupid. “But
you‟re still happy, aren‟t you, Al? It didn‟t ruin your
life, did it?”
“Nah. Don‟t need maths in my line of work, do I?” I smiled, and the kid‟s eyes went wide.
“Al, would you mind waiting outside?” Larry said. So I went out in the corridor. There were lots of
nurses walking past, and they all looked at
me, and one of them asked if I was looking for the Oral and Maxillofacial Surgery department.
And I said, no, thanks, I‟d already been. Then one
of them said “Big Al! What are you doing back here?” and I saw it was Cheryl, one of the nurses
from when I had my face done.
“I‟m just visiting,” I said.
“Glad to hear it. Oh, is it that poor student you‟ve come to see?”
“Yeah,” I said. “My partner‟s in with him now. He knows him from college.”
She sort of tilted her head and looked up at me. “You? With someone from the University?”
“Yeah,” I said. “You‟d never of thought it, would you? His name‟s Larry, and he‟s really clever.
He‟s a professor. History of Art. He likes
Charlie Chaplin.”
“I bet he does! How on earth did you two meet?”
I thought of what Larry said when Mrs. Cartwright asked, so I said, “Through art.”
Cheryl laughed. “Oh yes? Got an exhibition coming up, have you? Art by Al?”
“No,” I said. “That was a few months ago. At Midsummer Fine Arts, up by the common. But they
still got some of my pictures in the shop. You
got to look for Alan Fletcher, ‟cause that‟s what I sign them as.”
“You know, I might just do that,” Cheryl said. She was still looking at me with her head sort of on
one side. I was just about to ask her if she‟d
hurt her neck when Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright came back, and then Larry came out of Matthew‟s
room. He looked really tired. He smiled at Mr.
and Mrs. Cartwright, but I could see it was hard work.
“Did it go all right?” I asked when we were walking down the stairs after we‟d said goodbye.
“Oh… I think so. I hope so. You just never really know, do you? If you‟re reaching someone or
just talking at them.” Larry rubbed his eyes like
they were tired. “God, that was exhausting. I need a drink.”
So after we drove back into town, I took him to Punters, and we sat outside the pub and looked
at the river, just like we did the day after we
met. Except Larry didn‟t feel much like talking this time, so I talked instead. I know now I don‟t
have to worry about sounding stupid in front of
Larry, ‟cause he already knows me. So I talked about the tourists who went out in a punt last
week and got their pole nicked by students when
they went under Clare Bridge and had to paddle back, and the ones who came back all soaking
wet ‟cause they‟d fallen in the water. Which

they went under Clare Bridge and had to paddle back, and the ones who came back all soaking
wet ‟cause they‟d fallen in the water. Which
isn‟t as easy as you‟d think, as punts are about as stable as you can get, for a boat. But that
thing they show on comedy programmes, where
the guy gets the punt pole stuck in the mud and doesn‟t let go and the boat goes on without him,
that actually happens. I‟ve seen that lots of
times. I told Larry about that too.
My voice was getting a bit croaky after all that talking, and I‟d finished my pint, so I asked Larry if
he‟d like another glass of wine.
“Oh…no.” Larry sighed and tried to smile at me. Then he finished up his drink. “Let‟s just go
home and eat.”
So we went home and I cooked us a fry-

up, ‟cause I could do that quick and it didn‟t need any

fancy ingredients or nothing. But I didn‟t do
any eggs, ‟cause I thought Larry might not want to think about them getting broken right now.
After that we watched some Laurel and Hardy DVDs I got Larry one time when I went to the
shops and I saw they was going cheap. I was a
bit worried when the film we were watching turned out to be a scary one, ‟cause I didn‟t think
Laurel and Hardy did scary, but Larry cuddled up
to me on the sofa, and I put my arms round him. He felt more fragile than usual, so I was careful
not to squeeze him too tight.
When the DVD finished, I said, “Do you want to watch another one? A non-scary one?”
Larry kissed my neck, right on the spider-

web tat. “No. Let‟s not.”

So we switched off the TV, and Larry climbed on my lap with his knees either side of me and
kissed me some more. His lips were soft and
smooth and a bit greasy from the fry-up, and he kissed me really deep. I put my arms round his
waist and held him tight, like I wasn‟t planning
ever to let go. I wish I could do that

—hold on to Larry all the time and keep him safe.

I wasn‟t sure if he‟d want to fuck, ‟cause he‟d been so down earlier, but pretty soon I could feel
his hard cock pressing into my stomach. I love
the feel of Larry‟s cock. The rest of him is kind of little and delicate, but his cock‟s big and strong.
It always gets me going when I feel his hard
cock jabbing into my belly. I‟ve got to see it, touch it.
It

wasn‟t easy undoing his trousers with him on my lap, but I‟d had a lot of practice. His cock

jumped up, all salty and musky-smelling, the tip
of it moist. I wanted to taste it, so I slid down underneath him until I could reach it with my mouth.
I sucked him for a few minutes, and the flavour got better all the time.
Larry kept panting and moaning, but then he put his hand on my jaw so I knew he wanted me to
pull off for a moment. “Not…not like this,” he
said. “I want to come with you inside me. How do you want me?”
“Sit on me,” I said, ‟cause I love it when Larry‟s on top and I don‟t have to worry about hurting
him or nothing.
There‟s a little box on the mantelpiece where we keep some lube, ‟cause we got fed up having
to go up to the bedroom all the time. So
Larry went and got it and slicked himself and me up, and then he climbed back onto my lap. He
lowered himself down onto my cock, and it felt
so right, like that was where he belonged. His hole was clenching, pulling me in, like he knew it
too.
“God, that‟s good!” Larry said. He started to move, riding my cock with slow, easy strokes like we
had all the time in the world. I liked that
feeling. I could have stayed like that all night, just feeling close to him and watching his face, but
my dick had other ideas. It wanted to come.

Larry had his hands on my shoulders, so I reached in and made a fist round his cock for him to
thrust up into. “God yes!” he said. “Al!”
He looked so close, I figured it was okay for me to stop trying to hold it off, so I let myself feel it
all, the way his arse tightened around me, all
hot and slick inside, and pretty soon I was bucking up into him and filling him up with my come.
“Al!” Larry said again, and his voice cracked a bit, and then he was shooting his load all over my
chest in hot little spatters.
I wanted to paint him all over again, to catch that moment so I could keep it forever, and it made
me sad to think I‟d never get it exactly right.
Then I thought, what the hell.
We‟d just have to keep on doing it.

Chapter Eight

We were having breakfast one morning, when Larry said, in a funny voice like he was trying to
be casual, “Do you know, Al, we‟ve been together a year today?”
And I grinned, ‟cause I may not have loads of letters after my name like Larry‟s got, but I can
remember dates okay, as long as I write them down.

“Yeah, I knew that. You want to go out to celebrate or something?” I got up and went and put

my arms around him from behind, and I kissed his neck in the place that always makes him
shiver. In a good way, not

like he‟s scared or nothing.

“Or we could, you know, stay in and celebrate?”
Larry kissed my arm, ‟cause he couldn‟t reach nothing else. “I think we should go out.”
So we went out for a meal at this Japanese restaurant Larry likes, and we had sushi and sake
and all that shit. It was really nice, though the
food‟s really tiny, so you got to order lots of it. On the way home, Larry kept saying we had to go
this particular way. I didn‟t know what he was up
to till we got to this dirty street behind the shops, and I realised it was the one on the way home
from the pub to my old place. The one where I‟d
stopped to have a wazz the first night we met. It was kind of weird being back there, because it
was a happy place because we‟d met there, but
it was sad because Larry had been all scared. So I gave him a cuddle, but he pushed me away.
I was wondering what was going on, but then
he went down on one knee right in the middle of the street, in his posh suit and everything. His
voice went all funny, like he was scared again.
“Al, you‟re the most wonderful man I‟ve ever been terrified by down a dark alleyway. Will you
marry me?”
I must‟ve had this big grin on my face as I picked him up out of the dirt and I held him tight and I
said fuck, yeah, only was he sure that was
what he really wanted? ‟Cause I know he could do way better than me if he tried.
He said, “Al, that‟s the stupidest question you‟ve ever asked in your life,” but I don‟t reckon it
was. I bet I ask way stupider questions than that
every day, but as long as

Larry don‟t mind, I guess that‟s okay.

It was just perfect, with the streetlamp flickering and the rain making the place look all shiny, and
when we got to the end of the street, there
was this bloke having a wazz, just like I‟d done a whole year ago, and Larry and me saw him
and burst out laughing. Then the bloke got really

mad and we had to run away, because I didn‟t want to have to punch anyone out when it was
our anniversary and we‟d just got engaged and all.
And when we got home, I got Larry up against the wall, and I kissed him and kissed him, and
then I jerked him off and got jizz all over the
carpet, and he wouldn‟t let me clean it up until after he‟d blown me. So there‟s still this little
rough patch by the wall, but I don‟t think you‟d know it
was jizz if no one told you.
Larry said all along if we just stuck together his family would have to come around. I thought
maybe they wouldn‟t, but he was right, like he
always is, ‟cause when we sent them the invites to our civil partnership ceremony, they
accepted. And I think they must have been talking to
Larry before the day, because they didn‟t buy us toasters and crap like that; they gave us art
stuff and tickets for the opera. Larry‟s teaching me
to like opera. He says by the time we celebrate our twenty-fifth anniversary, I might even be
ready for Wagner.
His sister heard him say that. She said that‟s a surefire way of making sure we don‟t reach
twenty-

six, but I think she was joking, ‟cause

Larry just laughed. I get along okay with his sister now. She got me off that Drunk and Disorderly
charge no problem. She calls me Al, and I call
her Ali, which always makes me smile, ‟cause it sounds like alley and reminds me of when me
and Larry first met.
The ceremony was really special. We had it in this big old

room in Larry‟s college with shields on

the walls and stained glass windows, so it
was just like getting married in a church, really. We got dressed up all fancy like we was going to
a college dinner, only even posher, with
matching crimson waistcoats, ‟cause that‟s Larry‟s college colours. My mum wore pink, ‟cause
she knows I like her in that, and the biggest
heels I ever seen her in. She still only came up to my shoulder, though.
Larry‟s mum was wearing a really dark suit. It was navy, but it looked black, like she was going
to a funeral. I told Larry that, and he gave her
a look and said, “That‟s my mother. Never misses a chance to make a point.”
But just then, Mum came over, so I never got a chance to ask him what he meant. “Look who‟s
here, love,” Mum said, and I looked over by
the door and there was my dad. He looked just like I remembered him, except lots older, and it
was weird, ‟cause I was taller than him now. He
walked over to me and Larry, but he couldn‟t seem to pick his feet up very high, and he walked
really slow. He was leaning on the arm of a lady
who was nearly as tall as him, which seemed strange ‟cause he‟d been with my mum, and she‟s
tiny.
“Hello, Alan,” the lady said. “I‟m your Auntie Sarah—Bill here‟s my brother. You could have
knocked me over with a feather when I found out
he had a grown-up son!
“‟Ullo, Al,” Dad said. He smiled. It was just like I remembered, when he used to take me down
the park to play football sometimes when he
came to visit. “Oo‟d ‟ave thought it, eh? You getting married. To a bloke an‟ all. I fort Sarah was
‟aving me on when she tole me.” His voice
sounded thick, like he‟d just been to the dentist, and when he lifted a hand to put it on my
shoulder, it was all shaky.
“Bill‟s got Parkinson‟s,” Auntie Sarah said. “He lives with me now. Keeps him out of trouble,
doesn‟t it, love?”
“‟S right,” Dad said.

“Let‟s get you to a seat, love,” Auntie Sarah said, and she took Dad off to sit down. He looked
tired. My chest felt all tight. I was so happy, I
could‟ve cried.
Larry was holding on to my arm really tight, and he looked a bit like he needed a handkerchief
too. “He looks a lot like you, doesn‟t he?”
Then he gave me a funny crooked smile. “You‟ve even got the same nose.”
I grinned. “If I‟d‟ve stayed being a bouncer a few more years, I might‟ve had the ears to match
too.”
Larry made a face. “Just one more reason I‟m glad you gave it up. Did he have the spider-web
tattoo when you knew him?”
I touched my neck. “Yeah.”
Larry put his arms round me and hugged me. “Did I ever tell you, you‟re a real softy at heart?”
I smiled. “Yeah. But it‟s all right as long as you don‟t tell no one else.”
We had to start the service then. I think the registrar was getting impatient.
My sister Lauren‟s little girl Chloe was the ring bearer. She looked really sweet in her pink satin
dress. When we were halfway through the
service, she pulled on my sleeve and asked me, “Uncle Al, why are you marrying a daddy and
not a mummy?”
I said, “‟Cause I couldn‟t find a mummy as pretty as you,” and Larry gave me a big smile. Then
he put his finger to his lips and went “Shhh!”
so we could get on with getting married.
When we turned round to face everyone after we‟d said our vows, Mum shouted out, “Give him a
kiss!” So I bent down and Larry stood up on
tiptoe and

we kissed, but it was just a little peck, ‟cause everyone was watching and I felt kind of

shy.
Then Larry said, “Oh, come on, we‟re married now!” and he grabbed hold of me and gave me a
proper kiss. Mum and Lauren cheered, and
so did Ali, but Larry‟s mum and dad looked a bit pissed off. Maybe they never got to do that at
their wedding.
Mum turned round and gave Dad a kiss. He looked gobsmacked but really pleased.
I don‟t think she‟s planning on getting back together with him, though.
After the service, we h

ad a reception in another room at the college. It wasn‟t nothing fancy, just

drinks and a buffet. Some students from the
college dressed up smart and played violin and stuff.
My mates Phil and Daz came to the reception. Phil asked if he could bring a guest, so I thought
maybe he‟d got back together with Leanne
from Lidl, but when he turned up, he was with Ren. I don‟t think Larry was very pleased to see
Ren, but he just pretended he was, so that was all
right. I don‟t think Daz knew about Phil and Ren, either. He looked a bit gobsmacked and kept
saying stuff like, “What is this, a bloody
epidemic?”
I didn‟t ask him what he meant, ‟cause I thought I knew. I‟m getting better at working out stuff like
that. I think Larry‟s rubbing off on me.
Larry introduced my

mum and dad to his parents. He said, “I‟d like you to meet my new parents-

in-law. Mum, Dad, this is Bill Allaway. He
used to be a boxer. And this is Lizzie Jones. She works in Sainsbury‟s.”
Larry‟s dad got that pissed-off look on his face, but he shook hands with them anyhow. Dad‟s
hand was shaking a lot, but he was smiling
like anything. Mum gave Larry a funny look, but I don‟t know what it was about. Then she gave
Larry‟s dad a kiss and his mum a hug, which I

could tell they wasn‟t expecting. “We‟ll have to meet up for a drink some time, now we‟re related
and all!” Mum said.
Larry‟s mum looked like she‟d just eaten a lemon, and she said “I‟m afraid we‟re

very

busy these

days.”
Mum gave her a dig in the ribs. “Oh, I‟m sure you‟ll find the time. Family‟s family, innit? Now,

if

you‟ll excuse me a mo, I‟ve got to go stop my
grandson eating the flowers.” Mum said something as she went past me, and I didn‟t catch what
she said, but it sounded a lot like “Snooty
cow!”
Larry‟s mum was rubbing her side and giving my mum a really dirty look. I think her hearing‟s
probably better than mine.
Lauren said Ali and her got on really well. They swapped phone numbers and everything. Ali
didn‟t even get upset when Lauren‟s youngest
kid wiped his nose on her posh skirt. That‟s Jayden. He‟s a good kid. When he‟s older, I‟ll take
him playing football.
I asked Larry if I should call his dad “Dad” now, but he said that probably wasn‟t a good idea. I
nearly asked, should I call him Nigel, ‟cause
that‟s his name, but then I thought, maybe I just won‟t talk to him unless I have to, ‟cause that
pissed-off look of his still creeps me out.
My boss from Scudamore‟s didn‟t come to the wedding, but he gave us a present. It was a
toaster. But it was a really nice one.
When we got home, I wasn

‟t sure what to do. See, it was our wedding night and all, so it was

supposed to be special, but we‟d already done
pretty much everything. Except one thing. So I asked Larry if he wanted to fuck me. He just
looked at me for a moment. “Is that what you want?”
he asked me.
I had to think about that. Because I wanted it to be special for him, but I‟ve never much liked
getting fucked. So it was yes and no, and I
wasn‟t sure which one to say.
“Al?” Larry said, and I realised I‟d been thinking about it too long.
“I want to do it if you want to do it,” I said. “I want tonight to be special for you.”
Larry kissed me. “I just got married to the kindest, most honest and selfless man in the world.
How could it not be special?”
So we did it the way we like it best, with him on top of me, riding my cock, and Larry was right, it
couldn‟t have been any more fucking
special. I had my hands on his hips, lifting him up and down, and he jerked himself off until
spunk spurted all over my chest, and I thrust my cock
up inside him like I was trying to go all the way through, and when I came, I knew it was the most
special thing in the whole fucking world.
We started our honeymoon in Florence, which is this really pretty town in Italy. That‟s in Europe.
They‟ve got loads of art galleries there. They
don‟t open on Mondays, so we spent that day in bed and ordering room service. On Tuesday we
were both a bit sore, so we went to the gallery
with Michelangelo‟s David in. He looks a lot like Larry, but for a seventeen foot tall guy, he‟s got
a really tiny cock. Larry‟s cock is a lot bigger
than that. Larry said that Michelangelo was a poof, so I wondered why he‟d sculpted a guy with a
really tiny cock. But I know when you go to old
houses, the doorways are much smaller, ‟cause people were shorter then, so maybe cocks were
smaller too. It makes me glad I wasn‟t born a
few centuries ago.

After we‟d had a week in Florence, we went to Venice, and I got to see the Bridge of Sighs there.
I didn‟t think it was as pretty as the one in
Cambridge, but

Larry was dead pleased he‟d taken me to see it, so I didn‟t say nothing. I was

dead pleased he‟d brought me there too.
We went on a trip in a gondola, which is like a punt only posher, and you‟re not allowed to punt it
yourself. You have to get a guy in a stripey
sweater to do it for you. That was all right, ‟cause I got to cuddle up with Larry in the back. The
gondolier didn‟t seem to mind or nothing, and
after we got off the gondola, he told us about a club we could go to, and he pinched Larry‟s bum.
But

we never went there, ‟cause we had

tickets for the opera. I was glad, ‟cause I don‟t want no one pinching Larry‟s bum but me.
The opera we saw was

The Magic Flute.

We only just got there in time, ‟cause while we was

changing to go out, Larry made this joke about
how he liked to play on my magic flute, and we got a bit distracted. But we got to our box just
before the curtain went up, so that was okay.
It was weird, ‟cause there we were in Italy listening to people singing in German. The music was
nice, though, and there was this guy
dressed up like a parrot. If you‟d asked me a year ago to guess what opera was like, I‟d never
have guessed it had guys dressed as parrots. I
might‟ve wanted to go and see some sooner if I‟d known. It was a sweet story, ‟cause he met
this girl who was dressed as a parrot too, and
they got off together.
And there was this big snake in there too, but I didn‟t quite get that bit. Larry said it was probably
Freudian, but I don‟t know how he knew,
‟cause it didn‟t look much like a real snake to me. Maybe he could tell from the zigzags on its
back.
When the opera was finished, we walked round and round Venice, ‟cause it was a really nice
night, but also ‟cause we kept getting lost. It
was a bit like one of those mazes you get in posh gardens, only with buildings instead of
hedges. It was weird, walking through a city with no
cars. In the bits with no people, all you could hear was the water in the canals lapping against
the buildings, and it was so dark that when you
looked up you could see all the stars. It made me think of the river in Cambridge, and I felt a bit
funny.
“You‟re quiet, Al,” Larry said. “What are you thinking?”
I didn‟t say nothing for a moment ‟cause I wanted to sort it all out in my head. “I was thinking of
Cambridge, and then I got a bit homesick for
a minute, ‟cause I never been this far away from home before. But then I remembered you‟re
here, and now I‟m not homesick no more.”
I thought Larry would have something really clever to say about that, but instead he just stopped
walking and grabbed hold of my face with
both his hands, and he kissed me under the stars. I put my arms round his little waist, and we
stood there, just kissing.
We stayed there for a long time, until this group of lads came round the corner and started wolf-
whistling and calling out stuff. I don‟t know
what they was saying, ‟cause I don‟t speak Italian. I asked Larry, but he just smiled and said,
“Probably best you don‟t know. I shouldn‟t like to
spend the rest of my honeymoon visiting you in jail.

”

So we stopped kissing and started walking again, and it turned out we was only round the corner
from out hotel. I was glad about that,
‟cause it‟s not very comfortable walking ‟round with a hard-on.

That was awhile ago now. A bit after we got back home, Minnie had kittens, which was kind of a
surprise, ‟cause they‟re supposed to take
care of all that at the cat place. They were a bit funny-

looking, with bits of ginger. There‟s a big

ginger cat two doors down we think must have
been the father. It was weird, thinking of dainty little Minnie with that big ginger tom twice her
size. But I guess she must have liked it, ‟cause
when he comes down the street, she doesn‟t spit at him or nothing.
There were five kittens, and we kept one and gave the rest away. We gave one of them to
Larry‟s mum and dad, and guess what? Larry‟s
dad doesn‟t look half so pissed off all the time now.
I still don‟t call him Dad or Nigel, though.
So anyway, I guess it‟s not just fucking after all, Larry and me.
Although, you know, the fuc

king‟s pretty good too.

About the Author

JL Merrow is that rare beast, an English person who refuses to drink tea. She read Natural
Sciences at Cambridge, where she learned
many things, chief amongst which was that she never wanted to see the inside of a lab ever
again. Her one regret is that she never mastered
the ability of punting one-handed whilst holding a glass of champagne.
She has had over thirty short stories and novellas published, and her first novel,

Camwolf

, is

now available from Samhain Publishing. She is
currently plotting murder and mayhem on the Isle of Wight for the purposes of her second novel.
Find JL Merrow online at: www.jlmerrow.com


Look for these titles by JL Merrow

Now Available:

Pricks and Pragmatism
Camwolf

Coming Soon:

Wight Mischief

Easy come, easy go…until the heart gets involved.

Pricks and Pragmatism

© 2010 J.L. Merrow

English student and aspiring journalist Luke Corbin should be studying. Instead he‟s facing
homelessness, thanks to the lover who‟s just
kicking him out of the

ir posh digs. It‟s not his first rejection—his father tossed him out at age

sixteen

—but Luke has no problem trading his

favors for a home and security. Especially with rich, powerful, handsome men.
Except now, with finals bearing down, there‟s no time to be choosy. He needs a roof over his
head and he needs it now. Even if it means
settling temporarily for a geeky, less-than-well-off chemical engineer called Russell.
Luke's fully prepared to put out for the guy

—because after all, in this world no one gets

s

omething for nothing. But Russell isn‟t just a nerd;

he‟s an honourable nerd who wants to save himself for someone special.

At first Luke is annoyed, but the more time he spends with Russell, the closer he comes to a
devastating realization. He wants to

be

that

someone special. Except he‟s fallen for the one man he can‟t seem to charm…

Enjoy the following excerpt for Pricks and Pragmatism:

I clocked Russell the minute I walked in the door of the café. He was sitting on his own at a table
in the corner playing with his mug, short
stubby fingers moving nervously over the china. I was almost worried to say hello in case I made
him spill his drink. Tom had been right. Russell

really

wasn‟t my usual type. He was… Well, he was a bit of a geek. Actually, he was a lot of a

geek. Round face and too-long mousy brown hair,
although at least he‟d washed it. An actual beard to match; and we‟re not talking a neatly
trimmed goatee, either. He wore a shapeless sweater
over a shirt his mum must have bought him, and glasses fr

om Nerds‟R‟Us. No spots, thank God.

He looked around thirty, although from what
Tom had said he ought to be a lot nearer my age. Still, it wouldn‟t be the first time Tom had
given the truth the odd nip and tuck.
Three weeks to Finals, I reminded myself. An

d beggars can‟t be choosers. So I plastered on my

best cheeky smile, pulled out the chair
opposite him with a scrape and sat down. He looked up, startled, and just managed not to
drench me in coffee. “Hi, I‟m Luke. You‟re Russell?”
“Er, yes,” he said, like he wasn‟t really sure. “Nice to meet you.” He didn‟t say anything else, just
stared into his coffee cup as if helpful
suggestions were going to spell themselves out on the foam on top. His fingers linked around
the sides of the mug like he was giving it a
cuddle. I wondered who‟d taken away his security blanket. Maybe it was in the wash.
“Coffee any good here?” I asked. Actually I‟d been here a few times before and I knew it was
shite. But they were really good about letting
you hang around all day when it was cold outside, and one waitress in particular was always
good for a free refill if you flashed her a smile.
Russell looked worried, like he thought it was some kind of test.
“Not that I‟m fussy, mind,” I added to put him at his ease. Never a truer word, and all that.
“It‟s—it‟s all right, I suppose.” His eyes darted up to me briefly, and then returned to the safety of
the coffee cup. “Their tea‟s better,” he
ventured.
I shrugged. “Like I said, I‟m not fussy. As long as it‟s hot and wet, it‟ll do me.” I leaned forward,
resting my elbows on the table, and made my
tone low and suggestive. Habit, really, more than an urgent desire to get into Russell‟s C&A
slacks.
Russell blushed. Ye gods. Well, at least his innuendo detectors were working just fine. “Tom
sa

id…he said you needed somewhere to stay

for a bit,” he said, looking up briefly from under his hair and then ducking back down for cover
again.
“Yeah,” I said. “I know it‟s a pain, but I need somewhere by the weekend. Tom reckoned you
might be able to help

me.” He still wasn‟t

looking at me, which wasn‟t helping at all, so I made my voice as warm and seductive as
possible and reached across the table to place a

hand on one of his.
He jumped a bloody mile and this time he did spill the coffee. “Shit! Oh, God, sorry!”
“Hey, don‟t sweat it,” I told him easily, seeing as about one drop had gone on my sleeve and the
rest was soaking into his sweater. Shame it
hadn‟t gone in his lap, but I made the best of it. I must have used half the paper napkins in the
place t

o mop him up, even the bits that didn‟t

strictly need it. He appreciated it. Believe me, I could tell. “Come on, we‟d better get you home
and into some dry clothes,” I said, taking his
arm.
Russell lived in a development near the docks. Not the posh end, by Ocean Village where
Sebastian lived so he could go and wank over his
yacht any time he wanted, but it wasn‟t totally downmarket. His flat was on the second floor, up
four flights of stairs. It was all right, I suppose.
Nothing like Sebastian‟s, of course, but I‟d known I wouldn‟t get that lucky again. There was a
tiny hall that led into a smallish lounge/diner, with
other doors off that must be to bed and other rooms. “Great place you‟ve got here,” I said,
slinging my rucksack on the floor.
Russell looked

pleased. “You like it? I know it‟s a bit bare—I haven‟t had time to do it up much

yet.”
“No, it‟s great,” I told him, walking past the squashy, lived-in sofa to the window. “That view is
amazing,” I added, with a lot more sincerity this
time. The flat looked out over Southampton Water, and you could see the lights of ships passing
by underneath in the twilight. Farther up to one
side was a bridge over the river with tiny little cars driving over it, visible only by their headlamps.
Somehow it made me feel like we were right
in the heart of things, but in our own little world; part of the city, but above it too.
“It‟s great, isn‟t it?” Russell said, coming up behind me. “It‟s why I bought the place. Just fell in
love with that view. You look at that and you
feel you can go anywhere, do anything.” It was more words than he‟d strung together the whole
time in the café.
“Yeah? You always lived here alone?”
Russell nodded once, clamming up again. “I‟ll just get changed.”
He disappeared into what must be his bedroom, and I looked around a bit, checking out the
bookshelves and the DVD collection like you
always do, although hopefully I‟d have plenty of time to do that later. There were the engineering
books like you‟d expect, and the complete
works of Terry Pratchett snuggled up to

Gormenghast

and

The Lord of the Rings

, but there

was also a whole shelf full of books in French,
mostly crime stories, which made sense. You don‟t need half as big a vocabulary to read thrillers
in a foreign language as you do for science
fiction. There were a couple of Arsène Lupin paperbacks that looked familiar from my teenage
years, and a solitary Maigret. It made me
nostalgic for childhood holidays in Brittany. Back when my dad had still been speaking to me.
“Do you speak French?”
Russ

ell‟s voice had startled me, and I spun ‟round. He‟d changed into jeans and a baggy red T-

shirt that made him look like his own kid
brother. “Haven‟t done in years,” I said, shrugging.
He gave a shy smile. “You‟d probably pick it up again all right if you tried. Um. Have you eaten?”
“Not yet, no,” I told him with a smile, sitting on the well-stuffed sofa and putting my arm along the
back. I casually rested my right ankle on my

left knee, giving him a good look at my package. Laying my cards out on the table, so to speak.
“What do you fancy?”
I watched him perch awkwardly on the edge of an armchair and tried not to sigh. He was like a
tortoise, I decided. Retreating into his shell
every time I tried to get close.
Was he even actually gay?
Still, as long as he let me stay here until the end of Finals, what did I care? I sat forward again.
“If you‟ve got some food in, I‟m not bad at
cooking. Or we could get a takeaway? If you‟ve got the money, that is,” I added, as it was
probably time we got the business details out of the
way. “Tom told you I‟m skint, right? So I can‟t afford any rent, but I‟m happy to pay my way in
other ways. You know

—you scratch my back, I‟ll

scratch yours. Or, you know, any other bits you want scratching…” I left it hanging, but I didn‟t
li

ck my lips. I‟ve got some class. And he‟d

probably have run off screaming.
I could see Russell‟s Adam‟s apple bob up and down as he swallowed. “Tom said…he said you
didn‟t have any money.” He frowned. “But
you don‟t need to…you know.” He stopped, looking like he‟d rather be at the salon getting a
back, sack and crack.
Shit. He wasn‟t gay. I was going to

kill

Tom.

Speak now, or forever lose your love…

The Last Supper

© 2011 Scarlet Blackwell

Table for Two, Book 3

Luc Tessier finally has all the ingredients of a perfect future assembled. His beautiful English
fiancé, Daniel, on his arm, five hundred
wedding guests on the way, and the honeymoon suite reserved.
Now if only he can get Daniel to stop obsessing over last-minute details. So what if the date is
set f

or Friday the thirteenth? After all they‟ve

been through to get to this point, what else is left to go wrong?
Plenty, starting with Daniel‟s sudden determination to “save” himself for marriage. How does a
healthy, hot-blooded Frenchman fend off a
bachelor party stripper with one arm while trying to beckon his lover closer with the other

—and

not go insane?
Daniel wishes he had it as easy as Luc, who‟s already finished preparing the extravagant menu.
Between contending with a jealous best
man, a spiteful mother-in-

law, a bad haircut and Luc‟s frustrated libido, Daniel‟s ready to have a

nervous breakdown of failed-pressure-cooker
proportions.
Forget making it to the church on time. If they make it through the thirteenth without someone
ending up face-first in t

he wedding cake, it‟ll be

a miracle…

Warning: Contains more food-related hotness, men in leather thongs and much more Luc
and Daniel.

Enjoy the following excerpt for The Last Supper:

“I don‟t give a shit if you carry a bouquet of shallots up the aisle. Come over here and suck my
cock.” Luc Tessier lounged naked on the bed,
stroking his erection with his best seductive expression on his haughty face. He was rewarded
by his lover Daniel Sheridan turning around from
where he sat writing at the dressing table, eyes narrowed in irritation.
Luc loved winding Daniel up. He liked watching the change in his violet eyes. How they
darkened to the colour of stormy seas or twilight
skies. Daniel was hot, hot,

hot

when he was mad.

“I‟m not carrying a fucking bouquet,” Daniel snapped, “or perhaps you‟d like me in a dress too?”
“

Oui

,” Luc replied lazily. “With stockings and no panties.” They‟d already done that variation one

wild night. Daniel in stilettos and mini-skirt
—what great legs he had—Luc pretending he was a paying customer before bending Daniel
over the arm of the couch and pushing his skirt up
to reveal the hidden delights beneath.
“Arsehole,” Daniel muttered and went back to his work. He had a thick, black book in which he
constantly wrote annotated wedding plans.
He had changed the order for the flowers five times and had suggested to Luc just now that he
was going to change them again. Luc didn‟t give
a flying fuck. He cared only about the catering, which he was doing himself, and the large
number of prominent c

hefs he‟d invited to rub their

noses in his culinary skill. There‟d be a lot of guests experiencing orgasms that day, not just Luc
and Daniel on their wedding night. They had
already sold the wedding to

Hello

magazine for a cool million. Daniel could have the rarest

South American orchids or baskets of dandelions
for all Luc cared.
The wedding was taking place in the extensive grounds of Luc‟s Paris restaurant in one week,
the thirteenth of July. Work was already
taking place on the vast marquee, the tables, the stage for the numerous bands Daniel had
picked, the fairy lights strung through the trees and
the fairground rides to entertain the obligatory little brats.
Of course, “wedding” wasn‟t the correct term in France, seeing as it wasn‟t legal. The correct
term was civil union. Luc abhorred this. He
wanted to be

married

to Daniel. He had suggested skipping across the border to Belgium to be

properly married, but then his home country
wouldn‟t have recognised it regardless, so it hardly mattered. What mattered was they called it a
wedding and the press called it a wedding. It

was

a wedding, as far as Luc was concerned.

Luc and Daniel were at Luc‟s penthouse arguing, as they had been doing for the last few weeks.
The plans were boring Luc. All he knew
right now was that the madder he made Daniel, the harder Luc got for him.
“Come and sit on my face.”
“I‟m not going to sit on your face, Luc. We‟re getting married in a week and we have no flowers
and one of the string quartet has such severe
vertigo that he‟s crawling along the floor. Can you play cello lying down?”
“

Je m’en fou

,” Luc retorted and stroked himself, watching Daniel‟s reaction carefully in the

mirror.
Daniel got to his feet, clearly intent on stalking away as only he could do. If ever there were a
demand for a guide book on stalking etiquette,
Daniel could write it. He could bang doors, he could flounce, he could sulk and he could throw
looks to freeze a person at a hundred yards. And

Luc had the perfect antidote to them all.
He climbed off the bed a

nd gripped his lover firmly by the arm. A grip that suggested he wasn‟t

playing. “Hey, I came home early because
I‟ve been thinking about you all day. I wanted to show my appreciation for you. Perhaps you
could put the book down for just an hour and come
t

o bed with me?”

It almost worked. Words like this were more effective with Daniel than “sit on my face”. Daniel
looked torn and then said reluctantly, “I can‟t.
I‟ve got to meet a man about serviettes.”
“What? Going to have each guest‟s name monogrammed on the edge?”
Daniel looked thoughtful. “There‟s an idea.”
“Christ.”
Daniel glared before he slipped free of his grip, leaving Luc to deal with his own erection.
The serviette man was gay and clearly used his fresh-faced boyish appeal to sell his wares.
Obviously he knew Daniel was gay, seeing as
the only people who

didn’t

were the bonga-bonga tribe who lived in darkest Borneo, thanks to

an embarrassing incident in the press that Luc
had virtually predicted the very same week it happened.
Daniel slouched in his chair, the drone of hammers and power tools coming from the marquee
threatening to give him a blinding headache,
and daydreamed. He had once been a successful food critic and had once hated Luc‟s guts.
That was until a dinner invitation had led to him
b

eing facedown over Luc‟s workbench and addicted to the man‟s cock for the rest of his life. Not

that sex was all they shared together, even if
Luc‟s appetite was larger than life. Luc might have been arrogant, conceited, stubborn, sarcastic
and all-around

impossible, but that didn‟t stop

Daniel from loving him. Even the battle between Luc and Daniel‟s mother six months ago hadn‟t
managed to tear them apart, nor Daniel‟s
subsequent outing in the press after a rather unfortunate public sexual encounter. Danie

l‟s

mother hadn‟t spoken to him since, apart from a curt
text message to inform him he was out of her will. Which was a particularly nice touch from the
Ice Queen.
Daniel had stopped working after the outing. He had fled to Paris with Luc to lick his wounds and
had been looked after by his lover with a
tenderness that astounded him. Luc had hidden depths which most people weren‟t party to. But
even Daniel saw these qualities only
sporadically. Usually it was enough, but sometimes the tension between them erupted in a fight
that would culminate in separate beds,
separate houses or separate countries. Right now, the wedding preparations, which had been
going on for two months, after Daniel had finally
accepted Luc‟s proposal some four months after the event, were pushing them to breaking point.
But it wasn‟t like they hadn‟t been there
before.
What Daniel knew was that Luc loved him, despite his deep disinterest in the wedding
preparations. At least, those preparations that didn‟t
involve food, because Luc had firmly taken control of that and seemed to be effortlessly and
methodically working his way through it with no
outward signs of stress at all. It was only Daniel who was having the nervous breakdown.
“So, what do you think?” The salesman, blond and tanned, almost fluttered his eyelashes.
“About what?” Daniel sat up a bit straighter and tried not to notice the worked-out body in the
expensive Italian suit. God, how much did

serviette salesmen make, anyway?
“About the monograms on the corner of each?”
“No, I don‟t think so. They‟re only going to end up in the bin, aren‟t they?”
“The

bin

?” The man was French and heavily accented.

“Being thrown away,” Daniel rephrased it.
“

D’accord

. So, the ivory linen, then? Or perhaps the soft pink?”

“I‟m not going to have pink serviettes at my wedding,” Daniel warned, a touch irritably. Was the
salesman mocking him? Had he seen the
incriminating photos on the Internet? Daniel sat on Luc‟s lap riding him in a restaurant while a
hundred guests stared at them through the
window.
“

Bien

. What date again?”

“The thirteenth.”
The salesman winced. “Are you sure?”
“What do you mean?”
“The thirteenth. Not

Friday

the thirteenth?”

A cold sweat drenched Daniel‟s back suddenly. “Shit.”
“You‟ve gone very pale.”
Daniel scrambled up so fast he a

lmost overturned his chair. “I have to go.”

“But let me give you my card. I‟ll write my personal number on it.” The man smiled flirtatiously.
Daniel didn‟t notice. He was off across the lawn toward the restaurant.

Muscling Through

JL Merrow

The bigger they come, the harder they fall... in love.
Cambridge art professor Larry Morton takes one, alcohol-glazed look at the huge, tattooed man
looming in a dark alley, and assumes he‟s
done for. Moments later he finds himself disarmed

—literally and figuratively. And, the next

morning, he can‟t rest until he offers an apology to the
man who turned out to be more gentle than giant.
Larry's intrigued to find there's more to Al Fletcher than meets the eye; he possesses a natural
artistic talent that shines through untutored
technique. Unfortunately, no one else seems to see the sensitive soul beneath Al‟s imposing,
scarred, undeniably sexy exterior. Least of all
Larry's class-conscious family, who would like nothing better than to split up this mismatched
pair.
Is it phy

sical? Oh, yes, it‟s deliciously physical, and so much more—which makes Larry‟s next

task so daunting. Not just convincing his
colleagues, friends and family that their relationship is more than skin deep. It‟s convincing Al.
Warning: Contains comic misunderstandings, misuse of art materials, and unexpected
poignancy.

eBooks are

not

transferable.

They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright
of this work.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the
writer‟s imagination or have been used

fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead,
actual events, locale or organizations is entirely
coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520
Macon GA 31201
Muscling Through
Copyright © 2011 by JL Merrow
ISBN: 978-1-60928-501-2
Edited by Linda Ingmanson
Cover by Angela Waters
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner
whatsoever without written permission, except in the
case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First

Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

electronic publication: July 2011

www.samhainpublishing.com

Table of Contents

Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
About the Author
Look for these titles by JL Merrow
Also Available from Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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