Absolution

Absolution 2003 (c) Alex D

===

The day I met my girlfriend's family, Desmond was home for the weekend. According to Bridget, he had just finished university in London, where he had just found a job. The Reilly house was a semi at the edge of the city where I lived, in a quiet cul-de-sac with a huge, sprawling garden overcrowded with flowers and gnomes. My palms were sweaty and my mouth was dry at the thought of meeting the family, but the minute I saw Annie my nerves evaporated. "Welcome, welcome!" she cried, throwing her arms around me and pulling me inside the house, which like the garden was filled with clutter: flowers, ornaments and family photos everywhere. "Come and meet the brood! My son's upstairs so we'll start with the girls, and there's plenty of them! This is wee Annie, the baby..." she waved her hand towards a skinny, spotty teenager with flaming red curly hair, who smiled shyly through her train track braces, "Siobhan and Adele, they're twins," ...two identical girls, a year or two older than the youngest, both with the same black hair as Bridget... "Bronagh, the oldest, and this here's her husband Martin, and this is Cathleen. " So many smiles and nods, so many black haired girls, except for Annie jnr... I knew I would instantly forget their names. Martin looked bashful and desperately in need of male company so I was ushered round to sit beside him.

The dinner began with an empty seat opposite me for Desmond. "He's always dithering around in the bathroom, making himself beautiful!" Annie jnr giggled. "He spends more time in there than Bridget!" Bridget laughed and threw a chip at her. "I do not spend loads of time in the bathroom! "

"Yeah, what about you, Annie, trying to make your hair all straight...with the iron" one of the twins said slyly. Soon, all seven women were talking at once about bathroom usage. Martin seemed disappointed that I didn't know anything about football or rugby, and looked as if he was about to try a new topic when the door opened and Desmond came in.

If my mouth hadn't been full of potato and sausage, my jaw would have hit the table. He was tall, well built and with the same black hair as most of his sisters. He wore a ribbed black t-shirt which showed off his perfectly muscled chest and arms. His smile was wicked, just like Bridget's, and like her, he had piercing blue eyes, which flashed in my direction as introductions were made. A faint flush rose in his cheeks as he sat opposite me, avoiding my eyes as he tucked in to his dinner. I had to force myself to stop staring at that beautiful face, and concentrate on what Bridget was saying. "...Desmond works in an art gallery" she was saying. "Mum wants him to come home, don't you mum, but he says he's settled there for the moment."

"I think he has a girlfriend over there" Annie said, winking at me. " But he's keeping it all secret! Never one for talking much, our Desmond!"

I almost laughed aloud but instead stuffed some more peas into my mouth as I watched Desmond turn beetroot before my eyes. It was so obvious to me that he was gay, I couldn't believe they had never thought about it. Then I saw the way their eyes shone adoringly as they looked at him, and I sympathised, knowing all too well the pressures of being the only son.

Suddenly my knee started to lock and I stretched my leg out, trying to avoid all the feet and legs. No one believes me, but it's the aftermath of an injury I got while cooking. As the pain passed, my ankle brushed against Desmond's, and he nearly jumped out of his chair. I groaned inwardly, hoping he wouldn't think I was playing footsie with him. "Sorry" I muttered. "If I don't stretch it out, it'll seize up and I won't be able to stand up"

"Is your knee playing up again?" Bridget looked at me sympathetically, giving my hand a squeeze.

"Oh, what happened?" Annie asked with her mouth full, showering the plate with specks of potato. So I was forced to tell the humiliating story of how I was standing on a chair getting currants down from the top shelf, and how, when I tried to get down, my foot had caught on my apron and my knee had popped as I fell. "Ouch" they laughed and winced together. Martin looked disapproving. "Seems to me you need cupboards that are more suited to your height" he said, and as I saw Bronagh roll her eyes I knew I was in for a treat. I glanced at Desmond and for a second, our eyes met. They were bright and dancing with amusement, and...had he winked at me? I felt a worm of excitement slither through my stomach as I turned to listen to Martin's explanation of what made a good cupboard. Turned out he was a carpenter, which at least explained his choice of such a dull topic. I think I preferred the sports talk.

The evening seemed to go well, because as I was leaving, Bridget pulled me in for a kiss and whispered, "They like you". I was glad, because I had desperately wanted to come across as someone with a personality, as I was often struck down by crippling shyness. As I was walking to my car, I thought about Desmond. What was he really like? Was I as obvious to him as he was to me? The last thought was a bit worrying. Having grown up with such a religious, conservative background, I knew there was really no way I could ever come out of the closet without doing as Desmond had done, leaving the country. And I didn't want to leave my family and friends. I had figured that everyone had to sacrifice something in life, so I had reasoned that my sacrifice would be sexual happiness. Still, after meeting Desmond and feeling the raw pull of sexual attraction so strongly, I began to wonder if I had just been naive. My mind was suddenly in porno mode, imagining him naked, waiting for me...

As I was fumbling in my pockets for my keys, a soft voice said behind me "Looking for something?" I spun round. It was Desmond, holding my keys in his hand. He was breathless after running after me. The Reilly house was just round the corner, just out of sight. "Thanks" I said, suddenly tongue tied.

There was a pause. He was beetroot red again, shuffling from foot to foot. "Fancy a drink sometime?" he blurted out suddenly. "I thought you were only here for the weekend." I replied, surprised. "Yeah," he said, "but I'll be home next weekend. Don't tell Bridget. I'm meeting a...friend."

Something clicked at that moment when I looked again into his beautiful eyes and became his accomplice. Of course I would never tell Bridget. There was no point trying to hide from the truth, that I wanted to fuck Desmond's brains out and next week, when he came back again, it was likely to happen. Suddenly, a week seemed like such a long time.

===

The week passed slowly, and yet, when it was Friday night, I was pacing the hallway, waiting for him to call me, wondering where the time had gone. I had told Bridget that I was staying in to work on my Masters' project, knowing that I had already finished the first module so I could "prove" it if necessary. Up and down I paced, smoking one after the other. My nerves were jangling. Would he call? Would he call? I kept asking myself, catching a glimpse of my flushed and excited face now and again in the mirror and having a pang of conscience. What are you doing? I thought, stopping my march and staring into my own eyes for a second, but I couldn't rationalise anything, couldn't feel any guilt, couldn't think about the consequences. All I could think about was the way he walked, the way he smiled, the soft voice and that beautiful, sensuous mouth.

The phone rang suddenly and I nearly leapt out of my skin. My hand shook as I picked up the receiver. It was him.

"I'm coming round to yours" he said, and I could hear the roar of traffic in the background. "I'm knackered, is it OK is we stay in for a bit? I've got a video and some fish and chips."

My heart leapt. " Sounds perfect" I said, and gave him directions about how exactly to find my apartment. The minute I hung up I started buzzing around, tidying, hoovering and almost dancing for joy. Desmond was coming round! I didn't even care that I had never even kissed a man before, or that my entire sexual experience was limited to snogging and a few fumbles with Bridget. She was a good catholic after all, and I wasn't complaining. I had always considered my sex drive to be non existent. Now it was running rampant, about to wreak havoc in my boring, perfectly ordered, bookish life and I was tingling all over with nervous excitement. When Desmond arrived, my cock was already starting to stiffen, and I was mortified. I pushed it around in my pants, trying to make it look less obvious, and only exciting it more.

If I could have paused reality to stand and stare, it would have been then, when I opened the front door. He was leaning against the wall, a black leather jacket slung over his shoulder, a plain white t-shirt clinging to his perfect chest. I could see his dark little nipples ghosting through the material and I sighed with longing. His eyes were twinkling as he looked me up and down, a smile spreading across his face like a sunrise. "You going to invite me in?" he asked, winking, and I stood aside, inhaling the aroma of his aftershave and the fish and chips as he walked past.

Awkwardly, I closed the door and almost tripped going after him. "Kitchen's to the left" I called, and followed him in. "Nice pad" he said, looking all around as he put his takeaway on the table. "Is it yours?"

"Yeah" I said, opening the cupboard and pulling out a couple of plates. "My dad died a couple of years ago and left me some money. Otherwise I'd still be living with my mum and sisters."

"How many sisters have you got?" he said, grinning.

"Only three." I laughed. "I'm the youngest. After I was born, my mum had the son she wanted and got her tubes tied."

"I think mum was going for a hockey team" he said, tucking in to his chips. "Then dad died and that put a stop to her ambitions."

Silently, I ate while he talked, about his family, his job, his plans for the future. He didn't mention Bridget, or my relationship with her. He had a chatty, casual manner and I felt like I had known him all my life when he stood up. "Nothing like a good grease attack" he announced, patting his stomach fondly and stretching. "I can feel my arteries hardening as I speak." That's not the only thing that's hardening, I thought, fidgeting in my seat as his t-shirt pulled free and exposed a flat, washboard stomach, lightly dusted with black hair which got thicker as my eyes travelled south. He yawned hugely and relaxed. "Sorry about that" he said. "I'm still a bit tired after last night. Dan and I, Dan's my flatmate, we went out to a new club that's opened near our place. Didn't get to bed until 5am."

With Dan or someone else, I wondered, feeling a stab of irrational jealousy. We went into the living room where he promptly flopped onto the sofa and began to peruse my CD collection. "Radiohead, Leonard Cohen, Coldplay...The Verve...oh my god, ...the Cranberries, NO! You're a bit mournful, aren't you! Got anything a bit lighter?"

"I have Kylie" I confessed, and he beamed. "Stick her on then!" he cried, and patted the seat beside him, beckoning me to sit down.

Sitting beside him, I was almost struck dumb with nerves. Now he was here, beside me, I had no idea what to do. He didn't seem to notice my anxiety because he just kept chatting in that relaxed manner. "So where do you usually go out then" he asked, and I had to clear my throat before I could speak. "Nowhere really" I said, glumly. "I'm not very exciting."

"Och, come on, you must go somewhere sometimes" he said, laughing. "What about the Parliament?"

It was said in such a casual way, but I knew what he was asking. The Parliament was about the only decent gay bar there was in the city. The other one was full of sailors with huge moustaches. At least, that's what I had heard.

"I've been to the Parliament once" I said, and I could feel my face start to burn. " I'm not good in crowds though. As I said, I don't go out much."

"You managed a Reilly family dinner" he said, edging closer to me and smiling. "I would say that was a crowd, wouldn't you?"

I watched, frozen like a statue, as he put out his hand and lightly stroked the back of mine. His touch was like an electric shock, but I couldn't move. "Desmond-" I started, but he silenced me with a light touch of his fingertip on my lips. "It's Des" he whispered, getting closer and closer so I could feel his breath on my face. "I'm Desmond to my family, but Des to the people who really know me."

"Des...I've never..." I began again as his arm snaked round me and turned me to him. "It doesn't matter" he muttered, stroking my cheek, looking at me as if I was some kind of treasure. "I knew from the minute I saw you..." Suddenly, we were kissing, and my heart melted. His lips were so soft, his tongue like a little fish exploring my mouth. Tentatively, I slid my arms around him, savouring the hot wetness of the kiss, pushing my fingers through his hair as if in a dream, as the kiss grew more urgent. His hand found my hard on and rubbed it through the rough material of my jeans, making me groan. He broke the kiss and looked at me, his face flushed. "God!" he said, and the hoarse desire in his voice made me even hornier. He smiled and looked down to where I was pitching a pretty enormous tent. I felt dizzy, as if most of my blood had gone south to fire up my rod, leaving me brainless and weak, only able to feel the incredible sensations my body was racked with, feelings I had never felt before. He pulled my flies apart and delved into my pants. I didn't know how close I was to the end until the touch of his hand, enveloping my bare cock had me seeing stars as I spewed out a load of cum. When I could see straight again, I gasped "Sorry about that!" as he started to lick my cum off his fist.

"No problem" he smiled, and pulled my trousers and pants off. Burying his face in my groin, he sighed. "You are so beautiful" he whispered, inhaling the scent of my sweat as he slid off the sofa to kneel before me. The feeling of his breath on my cock and balls was divine. Slowly and gently, he began to lick me there, all the way up my shaft to the head, flicking his tongue slowly around, then lapping my balls with little light butterfly licks, teasing the sensitive flesh until I was rock hard again. "Oh God" I groaned, almost unable to stand it. In one fluid movement he engulfed my cock in the soft wetness of his mouth, his tongue still flicking away at the head, then his throat muscles constricting to torture me even more as my cock slid in, slowly, slowly..then it was all in and his hand found my balls, tickling and stroking behind the sack as he began to bob his head up and down. I gasped and groaned like a whore, I had lost myself entirely. He kept me in a state of heady arousal for a good ten minutes, bringing me to the brink then squeezing me gently to put off the inevitable. Having just cum I hoped I could save face and last longer than a few seconds, but it was clear Desmond knew exactly what he was doing. I was babbling incoherently, begging for release when he slid a finger into my asshole and that was it. I stifled a roar as my cock exploded into his mouth, every spasm was a delicious agony as my hips jerked forward, pumping squirts of cum down his waiting throat.

As the orgasm faded, my tingling body began to glow, as if alive for the first time. Dazed, I lay there like a rag doll, as my breathing slowed. He sat up and licked his lips. "There's more...if you want it" he said, smiling wickedly, stripping off his clothes until he was standing before me in all his perfection. His cock was pointing upwards, rock hard and glistening with precum. Like the rest of him, it was beautiful. At least, I thought so, not having had much to compare it with except my own. I watched as he rummaged in his jacket pocket and brought out some condoms and a tube of something. "I've been thinking about you all week" he whispered, kneeling down before me again and pushing my legs up to my chest, exposing me completely.

Anxious, I sat up, but his smile was reassuring. " I won't hurt you" he said, and went back to licking my balls, tickling the inside of my thighs with his fingernails...soon, I was hard again and I couldn't believe it. Pushing my legs up even further, his tongue trailed away from my ball bag, torturing me slowly as it flicked over my asshole, making me jump and shiver. "Oh God" I groaned, as he slid a slippy finger inside me, opening me up. It felt a bit strange, but when he found my prostate..."Fuck!" . My eyes began to glaze as he found it again and again, he added another finger then another and as my muscles relaxed, I could feel another orgasm start to build...but then he took out his fingers and sat back on his heels. Almost drunk with pleasure, I watched as he rolled on a condom, and applied liberal amounts of the gel he had brought to my hole and his cock. "Sit up" he grunted, his face red and his eyes dark. Obediently, I obeyed as he positioned me in front of him, on my knees with my ass in the air, face pressed into the sofa. He nudged my knees apart and positioned himself between them, and I felt his cock come to rest between my arse cheeks. I held my breath as he began to push slowly inside me. Despite the lubrication, it was a struggle, and I wasn't quite prepared for the pain...I grunted and he stopped, allowing my arse to get used to the intrusion. As the pain subsided, he pushed in further and further until I could feel the whole of his hot tool inside me, his hairy balls resting against my cheeks. "Are you OK?" he whispered, and I nodded. "Just fuck me" I gasped. Slowly, he pulled out and pushed in, hitting the spot his fingers had so deliciously tortured...I felt my cock, which had drooped a bit with the shock of the pain, starting to stiffen again as his assault began.

The sound of his breathing, the slap of his flesh against mine, the smell of sweat and cum and the unbelievable sensations coming from my insides...I seized my cock and began to flog it rapidly as he started to slam me, emitting small whimpers of ecstasy. He didn't last long: suddenly he cried out as he began to cum, emptying his load in rapid bursts. I felt his tool twitch and then my own orgasm hit and this time I couldn't hold back my cries, spraying the sofa with watery cum, feeling him buried deep inside me, wishing the moment would never end. We collapsed together onto the floor, and he pulled the condom off and wrapped me in his arms, stroking my hair. "Jesus, that was amazing" he muttered, and I could hardly speak as I nuzzled into his neck. I felt as if we had been lovers forever, I felt complete, I never wanted to leave his arms.

Later, when we had regained our senses, we had a shower together. My arse was still a bit tender, and I was exhausted, so I contented myself with soaping his amazing body, and kissing him deeply. Still damp, we flopped into bed together. He curled up behind me and we made spoons, his cock nestling against my ass, the tickle of his hairy thighs against mine. Perfect, I thought. I had never imagined that I could feel so completly comfortable with another person. Even though we had only met twice I knew he was The One, if I had any kind of choice. Guiltily, I thought about Bridget and realised that I was condemning myself and her to a life lacking in physical love, all because I was a coward. As Desmond began to snore gently in my ear, I made a silent prayer, now I had met someone so totally special, to have the courage to keep him.

===

The next morning, I woke up and it felt like the world was a different place. My body was still echoing the delights of the previous night's activities. When I moved, my muscles protested as if I'd been at the gym. My arse was still a bit tender, but I was grinning like the Cheshire cat. I wasn't a virgin any more!

Desmond was sitting on the edge of the bed, a glass of water in his hand. Propping myself up on one elbow, I watched as he took a bottle out of his bag and popped two pills out onto his palm, then threw them to the back of his throat. He saw me looking, and smiled. "Got to take my vitamins" he said, swallowing the last of the water.

"They're obviously working" I said, eyeing his naked body in all its perfection. He smiled and slid in beside me once more.

He snuggled up to me, and I could feel his cock stiffening against my thigh. "I don't know what it is about you" he said, "but I knew I had to see you again. In fact..." he looked sheepish, "I've always fancied Bridget's boyfriends. We appear to have the same taste. Mum always said we were the real twins of the family. Siobhan and Adele look the same but they're complete opposites once you get to know them."

I didn't know what to say. Suddenly it all seemed a bit incestuous. I thought about Bridget and felt slightly ill. "I thought you were visiting someone this weekend." I said eventually, as he began to stroke my belly. His touch was like fire, and my muscles fluttered as his hand went further down...I groaned as he found my stiff prick and took it in his hand. "I'm already visiting someone" he muttered as he pulled me over for a kiss, a long, sensuous exploration of my nouth which left me gasping."Christ" I muttered as he began to kiss and lick me all over, nibbling at my neck, my armpits, my nipples as I writhed in unbelievable pleasure. "I can't get enough of you" he breathed into my pubes as once again my cock was sucked in to that amazing, wet cavern, his tongue sending me to heaven. Seconds later, I was sending volleys of spunk down his throat, groaning and jerking, unable to think of anything but his mouth and fingers, and of course, his cock.

We stayed in bed all that day. He fucked me again and again as I begged for it, harder, faster. Now I could see what all the fuss was about. I loved the feel of his prick pistoning in and out of my arse, the taste of his cock in my mouth, the way he looked when he was cumming, eyes screwed tight shut with a look of sheer bliss on his face. When it was finally time for him to leave, I was gutted. "Will I see you again?" I asked as he packed his bag.

"You can bet on it!" he said, smiling. "Thanks, Antoin, that was probably the most amazing weekend I've had for quite some time."

"The feeling's mutual" I said. "Just call me anytime you're over."

And so it became a regular thing. He would come over every third weekend, sometimes staying with his family, and sometimes staying with me. I would spend as much time with Bridget as possible in between, seeing Desmond in her smile and hearing him in her laugh. I did love her, but she was "saving" herself for marriage and I was content to do without sex, because I always knew Desmond would be coming over soon, and I could have all the sex I wanted then. I fell in love with the Reilly family, it was impossible not to. I loved Annie's bustling, mother hen manner. I even grew to like Martin and his boring talk about furniture.

Time passed, three months, six months, a year. When I was with Desmond, it seemed like nothing else mattered. I was completely and utterly in love with him, and he with me, though god knows why. I had initially thought we had a lot in common, but I was slowly realising we didn't. He was extrovert, full of fun, had a busy social life. He liked disco music and going out to clubs and bars. He was 24, same age as me, but intent on living it up. I, on the other hand, was a painfully shy wallflower who liked nothing better than a night in with my Master's stuff and a cup of tea, or spending time at the library or the coffee shop with my equally boring friends. I was like a 24 year old grandfather. But with Bridget, I really did have a lot in common. She took a great interest in my Masters' and planned to enrol in the programme once she had saved up enough money. Coming from big families, we both wanted loads of children. We were comfortable together, like a pair of old slippers.

Then one day, out of the blue, Bridget proposed to me.

"So what do you think?" she said, as I stared at her, open mouthed. "We make sense, you and me. I love you, and so does my family. We could be happy."

I looked down at my untouched cappucino, listening to the soft sound of Portishead playing from the cafe's speakers and wondering what the other people were talking about. Did I really want to marry Bridget? Desmond had asked me many times to move over to London, but I had refused. I had visited him once, and hadn't enjoyed it much. I was a country boy at heart, and I was shocked when he had taken me to a gay club, where men kissed openly and wore outrageously little. There was even a "glory hole" in the loos and when Desmond explained what it was, I had to try so hard not to be horrified as I felt the weight of my puritannical upbringing clashing once again with what I thought I should be thinking about life, sexuality, human behaviour...I knew Desmond's trendy friends thought I was a nerd and a bookworm, and they were not far from the truth. Bridget was right in a way. I was incredibly introvert, unlike her brother. I needed a quiet, ordered life, and I could have that with Bridget. I thought about breaking it off with Desmond, but I couldn't. He was like a drug that I couldn't get enough of. I would have the speech all rehearsed in my head, but when he came into my apartment and pulled me close for a long, hot kiss, I lost my heart all over again. It was so lucky for me that he didn't live in Belfast too. It meant I could go on circumventing the problem, keeping my "bit on the side" and having the best of both worlds.

I dragged my attention back to Bridget and her proposal. "Can I think about it?" I said. "It's a bit out of the blue."

She looked disappointed. "Look," I said, in a tone I hoped was reassuring, "I'm not saying no. You know what a bachelor I am. Just give me time to get used to the idea." I picked up her hand and kissed it. She smiled, and for the millionth time I marvelled at how much she reminded me of Desmond.

That night, he called me. He couldn't come over as he had planned, how about I stirred my boring ass into action and went over there? Just this once. "We can stay in the whole time" he said, and I could hear the wicked smile in his voice.

I fully meant to say no, but suddenly there I was, making arrangements to go. I didn't tell him about what Bridget had said. After I had hung up, I stared at myself in the mirror for a long time, wondering how someone could possibly be so weak minded, wishing my dad was alive so I could have someone to tell me what to do, although if I had even hinted that I thought I was gay, he probably would have beaten me half to death. I had never felt so confused.

===

That weekend, I made my usual excuse to Bridget about visiting an imaginary sick aunt in England, and hopped on a plane to London. I still hadn't given her an answer about the marriage proposal, and I felt sick to my stomach every time I thought about it. Preoccupied, I barely noticed the people around me as I caught the tube to King's Cross, where Desmond lived.

He was waiting for me outside, blinking in the bright sunlight. My heart did its usual somersault and I ran to meet him. "Hi!" I said brightly, longing to take him in my arms there and then. He smiled, a small, sad smile I'd never seen before and took my bag. "Let's go" he said, flagging down a cab. I wondered what was wrong.

He was still silent when we exited the busy outside world and stepped into his flat. His room mate was obviously there that weekend, judging by the amount of crap lying around. I knew Desmond to be a bit of a neat freak, and wondered how on earth they managed to live together.

I sat down. "What's wrong?" I asked.

He stared at me and bit his lip. Startled, I noticed there were tears in his eyes. "Bridget told me you asked her to marry you" he said finally, sitting down beside me.

I was gobsmacked. "SHE asked ME to marry HER" I said, " And I haven't given her an answer yet."

He shrugged. "I can't wait for you forever, Antoin" he said, and I was silent. He went on, as if I wasn't even there, "What am I doing with you anyway? Can't make up your mind about which sibling to fuck next?"

My mouth hung open. It took me a second or two to find my voice. "Look" I said, "You knew all about me and Bridget from word go. I don't see you racked with guilt for shagging your sister's fiance! How dare you say that to me! You're just as guilty!"

"So you ARE going to marry her" he said, flatly.

"I didn't say that."

"Yes, you did" he said, and with the same sad smile he stood up. "Better get shagging then" he said. "That's all you want me for anyway, so you might as well get down to it."

"Yeah, the bickering's really got me all horned up" I remarked sarcastically, and he frowned. "So be it" he said, grabbed his coat and stalked out of the flat.

I didn't know what to do, so I waited for him. Waited and waited. It got dark, and Dan came back. He looked surprised to see me. "Hello Ant-wan, where's Des?" he asked, throwing his coat on the floor and slumping into an armchair.

"Don't know" I said shortly, irritated by his mispronunciation of my name. "He just picked a fight with me and left."

Dan looked hesitant. "Look" he said finally, "I know this is none of my business, but Des really likes you. I mean, he REALLY does. Maybe you should think about where your priorities lie and stop this business with his sister."

My face flamed. I was about to speak when the door rattled and Desmond came in. I looked at my watch. It was after eleven. Judging by the way he was swaying around, I guessed he'd been in the pub drowning his sorrows. He spotted me and fixed me a beaming smile. "Sorry about before" he said and flopped down beside me.

"That's OK" I said, trying to ignore the smell of beer on his breath. "I deserved it."

"No you didn't" he murmured. "I love you, Antoin. Never forget that."

He stood up again and held out his hand. I grabbed it as he swayed. Trying to ignore Dan's silent disapproval, I followed Desmond into the bedroom and closed the door. Immediately he took me in his arms. "I love you" he repeated softly, burying his nose in my hair and inhaling deeply. "Bridget's a lucky girl."

He kissed me, and the feel of his lips on mine sent my head spinning again. Seized with desire, I lost all thoughts of conversation and slid my hands under his clothes, revelling in the smoothness of his skin, the feel of the hard muscle underneath. His cock was rock hard when I pulled off his jeans, and I took it into my mouth as he sighed and stroked my hair. By now I knew exactly how to please him, so I licked the glistening helmet for a while, stroking his balls and gradually beginning to take the shaft into my mouth. I was proud of my increasing blowjob prowess, having recently learned how to deepthroat him which I proceeded to do..."God!" he cried as I bobbed my head up and down, swallowing him again and again...Suddenly he pushed me off him and sat up, breathing heavily. Without a word, he stripped me and threw my clothes on the floor. Flipping me over, he forced me onto my knees and drove his slippery cock into my ass.

Unprepared as I was, my breath left my body and there was a stab of pain but it quickly turned to pleasure as he began to pound me...He was making no attempt to be quiet and groaning deeply as he picked up the pace...pounding my most sensitive spot until I felt my balls beginning to tighten up and burying my face in the pillow I held my breath as boiling semen burst from my throbbing tool in rapid spurts. I felt my ass tighten around his cock and in no time he was unloading his hot spunk inside me, crying out and digging his fingers into my waist as his hips jerked forward, impaling me deeper and deeper until he fell on top of me, gasping, and fell asleep almost instantly.

I pulled the covers round him and lay down beside him, feeling his cum dribble out of my body. As I watched him sleep, my heart ached for him. I loved him so much, but I couldn't see how it was possible for us to be together, not without hurting all the people we cared for. I knew what my mum and sisters thought about gays, and was terrified even to talk about the subject. Then there was Bridget, and the Reillys. I knew Desmond was never going to tell them about his sexuality. If only I had the courage to throw caution to the wind and tell the world, I love this man, sorry Bridget. Sorry mum, your only son is a queer. Apologies, Annie, its your son I want, not your daughter. Doesn't matter, does it? If only I had broken it off with Bridget earlier, it seemed to be the logical plan in hindsight. If only I hadn't let it get so serious. If only I was brave and extrovert and didn't give a damn about others. If only.

===

After spending the weekend in bed, I packed to leave. Desmond watched me, as if mesmerised. "What!" I laughed at the expression on his face.

"I love you" he said. "Never forget that."

I looked at him, puzzled. Snapping shut my case, I turned to face him. "I'll see you in a couple of weeks" I said eventually. Seeing him so downcast almost gave me physical pain. "I won't marry Bridget" I said, suddenly full of resolve.

He looked up at me. "Sure you won't" he said. "See you soon."

All the way home I puzzled over his behaviour. I had never seen him so crestfallen and sad. I was worried about him and resolved to call him as soon as I got home. It couldn't just be about me and Bridget, surely, could it? But when I got in and tried to ring, the line was engaged. Again and again I tried, but still the same. Eventually, I went to bed and slept, exhausted.

===

The phone rang, sometime in the middle of the night. Cursing it, I padded into the hall and picked up. No one spoke, but I could hear some kind of agonised breathing, and wailing in the background. "Who is it?" I repeated. It was Bridget. "Desmond's dead," she said finally. "Can you come over?"

My heart missed a beat and I sat down suddenly. This is a dream, it isn't real. How can he be dead? "Sure" I said and hung up, my head spinning.

Wildly, I dialled his number. There had to be some mistake. Again, it was engaged. I swore as I flung the receiver into its socket. Grabbing my keys I rushed into the street, leapt into the car and drove like a madman to the Reilly's house.

All the lights were on. I stood at the gate, not wanting to go in. I didn't want to know what they were going to tell me. How could I support them when it felt as if I was dying inside? I bit my lip and walked up the path, like a prisoner going to his execution. Bridget answered the door, her eyes red and swollen. Seeing her, I knew it was true, and I took her in my arms as she began to sob. Upstairs, I could hear screaming and crying. Annie was sitting on the stairs, her littlest daughter in her arms, just rocking and rocking. Her face was empty. I couldn't find any words to say to her. Bridget led me into the living room.

"How?" I asked, my voice tight with shock.

"He's killed himself !" she said, her voice breaking. "His flatmate called us with the news. He took an overdose. They tried to revive him but it was too late. Mum's going to have to go over and..."

Deal with the body. I held Bridget tight and stared at the wall. I could not bear to look at her, because all I could see was Desmond.

===

The chapel was quiet and smelt like a flower shop, the low mutter of conversation rippling over the soft organ music. Desmond had been a popular guy. I thought I had known all of his friends but there were people there I had never met before, who I was never going to meet now he was gone. Now, the Reillys were huddled together in grief, faces set in determination to see this dreadful day through. I felt bound to them more than ever and dutifully went over to join them. Annie enveloped me in her meaty arms. "You're a good lad Antoin" she whispered in my ear, rocking me from side to side. "You'll be a good husband to Bridget, we know that. And god knows, we've got precious little to look forward to these days."

The day passed in a blur. I felt as if I was going through the motions like a robot, struggling with a feeling of nausea as I carried the coffin, wishing selfishly that I was a few inches smaller so I didn't have to bear so much of the weight. It had been hard to round up enough men to carry the coffin because they were rare in the Reilly family, so I was roped in as an honorary son. In fact there were many men who would have done the job, but I had told them not to come. My stomach lurched as I tried desperately not to think of what was inside. A body I had known and loved so secretly, for so long. The girls would have been surprised to see me grief stricken: after all, to them, I had only met Desmond at a few family functions and evenings out. As we struggled along the path towards the graveside, I felt the weight of my complicity in his death drag at my heart, heavier than the weight of his body. Can you ever forgive me, Des, I thought to myself as finally the coffin was lowered into the ground. I wanted to scream, to scratch my skin off, to run away howling. But with self control I never knew I had, I saw the day right through to the end, smiling mechanically and polite, shaking hands and serving sandwiches at the wake, muttering all the right platitudes in all the right places without even shedding a tear. "Such a nice boy, is our Antoin," Annie kept saying, louder and louder as the whisky started to flow."I remember the first time Bridget brought him home. It was a great day for this family."

"Like hell it was" I muttered when no one could hear, hurrying to lock myself into the bathroom just for a few minutes, just so I could breathe.

===

After the funeral I hopped on a plane to London. There was someone I desperately needed to see, to talk to. I couldn't sleep, eat or think. Forced to spend so much time with the Reilly's, I could not even grieve properly. I had lost almost ten pounds in four days, and I looked ill and haunted. Haunted by crushing, horrendous guilt. If only I had said this, or done that, was all I could think as I pulled up in a cab to Desmond's. Well, Dan's place now...

Dan answered the door, wearing Desmond's dressing gown. He beckoned me in with a curt nod. there were brown boxes in the living room. "His stuff" Dan said hollowly, and I sat down. "I can't stand looking at it."

I noticed a t-shirt poking out of one of the boxes. It was the same one he had been wearing the day I first saw him. Impulsively, I picked it up and inhaled. It still smelt of him, and I was seized by a wave of dizziness so severe I almost blacked out. I had to sit down and put my head between my legs.

I felt a touch on my shoulder. It was Dan, he pulled me up and hugged me tight. Surprised by the unexpected gesture, I rested my head against his huge shoulder, breathing deeply. "You mustn't blame yourself" he muttered, his voice muffled. "Des was depressed. He'd been on anti depressants for years. Sometimes he would lie in bed for days, he couldn't shake it off."

"What?" I muttered dumbly, trying to make sense of his words. I sat down, Dan beside me. "Des was ill" he said gently. "I was the only one who knew. Don't blame yourself."

"Why didn't he tell me?"

Dan shrugged. "Who knows?" he said. "Des didn't tell many people a lot about himself. His whole family, they never knew he was gay. I told them about the depression, of course. It's a reason. They need that."

I shook my head. "He should have told me."

"Antoin, you made him happy. He loved you. Don't forget that."

I remembered what Desmond had said just before I left. "I love you. Never forget that." He must have already decided to end his life at that point, and all I had done was chatter inanely about nonsense, not realising how down he really was. Suddenly the dam broke and I cried and cried, while Dan held me and stroked my hair. When the wave of grief subsided, I felt raw and sore, but just slightly better for finally having let it out. As my chest hitched and I hiccupped, Dan fetched me a glass of water. I drank it rapidly and stared at the glass, stupid with sorrow.

So he had been ill, there was a reason. I felt the weight of guilt lift a little. Absolution...of a sort. Looking round the apartment, now empty of his things, brought on the tears again. I cried until I fell asleep there on the sofa. Later, when I woke up, Dan took me out to dinner. Some of Desmond's friends were there, the ones I had disliked. They welcomed me like a brother, and I felt ashamed of my earlier judgements of them. We ate dinner, drank wine and talked about Desmond. As the fifth bottle of wine arrived at the table, Dan asked me if I was going to marry Bridget.

I shrugged. "Probably" I said.

"You won't be happy, denying who you are, " he said, shaking his head.

"It doesn't matter" I said, looking out at the busy London street, where people were getting on with their lives. I felt as if I had turned to stone, devoid of emotion. "I can't leave Bridget now, not ever. Anyway, without Des, I'll never be happy again. "

He nodded. "Well don't forget to come and visit sometimes." he said.

I forced a smile. "I won't" I said, but I was sure Dan knew it was a lie. I didn't belong in their world, any more than Desmond had belonged in mine. I would finish my masters then do a PhD. I would marry Bridget and have the settled, quiet family life I had always planned. I would spend my time with books and pay my bills on time like a good citizen with the money dad had left me, and just hope that one day, I would be able to feel again.

===

Any comments can be emailed to the author at alex_d0uglas@yahoo.co.uk All feedback is greatly appreciated!