The Symposium

The Symposium Chapter 16: I See Love

This story is a work of fiction. Resemblances to real persons, places or events would be extremely surprising.

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Please write if you have enjoyed the story so far - i'm always glad to hear from readers. A previous story, "School Exhitionism", written by me can be read in the High School section: 14 July 2007. If you like either story, email: niftyencomiums@gmail.com

Callum and Iain were running along their usual route. Although early in the morning it was a warm but gloomy summer's day: grey and white clouds obscured the sun at frequent intervals and drizzle could be seen peppering the surface of the canal. The overcast sky was predicted to break up by mid-morning. They were both in vests and shorts and each enjoyed the cool breeze against their hot skin.

Callum was still thinking about the letter sitting on the kitchen table. Iain was thinking about it too.

"A year ago we'd have been running along here thinking about how to get into this job. Are you sure you want out of it?" Iain asked.

Callum was sure, but had intuitively dialled down his certainty. He didn't want to ruin Iain's enjoyment of his work at the Symposium. He was assuming of course that Iain still enjoyed the work. Callum had known for weeks that he wanted to go, his relationship with Robbie had blossomed and the Symposium felt... wrong.

Mr Douglas had stopped, well dialled down, Callum's extracurricular involvement at the Club. The sex had stopped (and still hadn't started with Robbie but that was another story) but occasional costume malfunctions still occurred. Callum didn't mind, it still gave him the occasional thrill, but he appreciated Mr Douglas respecting that he had changed. Callum wondered if his employer would -see this coming -- probably, Callum surmised.

But it was time to resign and Callum felt sure he knew what to do next so he replied; "I'm pretty sure."

"Righto." Iain said.

A minute or three of silence passed before Callum could articulate his own question. "A year ago..." It didn't sound right once he'd said aloud, so Callum tried again; "You've changed a lot."

"Yea, I guess I have. Haven't we all?" Iain replied.

Iain was right -- everyone they knew and everyone they'd met during their escapades had changed.

"I'm glad you don't hate me," Callum said, though it wasn't quite how he had intended to articulate it.

"Why would I hate you?" Iain wondered.

"The change in your life... I imagine it wasn't something you imagined would happen," Callum said. He drew a deep breath before adding, "Ok, look. What happened between us, happened. I'm glad it did, but now that's over and... I wouldn't want you to think that I pulled you into my world then abandoned you as a stranger in a strange land."

Iain smiled, shook his head, vaguely recognised the literary reference and thought how to answer his cousin.

He said, "What happened, happened, that's true but it was my choice. I sold my soul to the Symposium even before I knew you were involved. I discovered I wanted to try something I'd never done before and I sold myself to it. You were... a bonus. A wonderful thing."

"Yea." Callum said, because he didn't know what else to say.

"So you didn't abandon me," Iain said. "You know what they say; seventy-five percent of gay men are born that way, the other twenty-five are sucked into it."

Callum laughed at that, "Pervert."

"Other pervert." Iain thought for a moment and then added: "You're right though, I never imagined having sex with men, let alone my cousin, let alone getting a boyfriend someday. But then, there was a time when I didn't like broccoli."

Callum laughed again.

"So, you and Justin are going out?" Callum asked, a tad more blunt than he intended but he didn't know how else to ask the question. So far the closest thing Iain had had to a boyfriend was Callum, his own cousin, so it seemed like a seminal question.

"Yea. Kind of." Iain replied, non-commitally. After a minute, "We are going out... trying to... but the whole boyfriend thing is new for both of us." Iain laughed at himself before adding, "Dunno if it's really going to catch on or not. Mostly because I see guys and dolls our age having kids and I think to myself: `I want that', y'know?"

Callum shrugged.

"Yea, well, if it doesn't work out there's always that dog walker." Callum said.

"Dog walker?" Iain asked.

"Yea. Hot red haired girl who just walked past." Callum said.

Iain turned and saw the girl Callum meant, she was looking back at him -- caught him checking her out (if that's what he was doing).

"I hadn't noticed her." Iain said dishonestly, flinging Callum a lop-sided grin.

The boys arrived back at the house a half hour later. Callum bagsied the shower first so Iain took a seat in the kitchen with a glass of orange juice. He drained it in four gulps and poured another.

"Hey."

Iain turned to see Robbie enter the kitchen.

"Morning, Robbie. You want some?" Iain offered the orange juice.

He was relieved when Robbie declined -- there was barely a dribble left.

"Did I hear Justin leave this morning?" Robbie asked innocently.

Justin had slipped out of bed at six in the morning, Iain had stayed put for another half hour until Callum came knocking and they'd run off together. So to speak.

"Yea," Iain replied happily. "We're meeting up later."

Now that school was out for summer Robbie was spending a lot more time around the house. Iain was happy to see Callum so happy with someone. Iain also enjoyed Robbie's company and he'd proven himself a skilled story teller.

Justin was similarly present -- now working as much in Glasgow as he did in Edinburgh. Iain knew this was by design: he and Justin made as vivid a couple and as effective a draw as Iain and Callum had always been.

"So what are you guys planning on doing later?" Iain asked.

"Well, we are planning on going to the Symposium soon obviously." Robbie replied, casting an eye towards the kitchen table where Callum's resignation letter sat. "And we've got a long drive after that."

Iain nodded -- remembering that Callum and Robbie were heading out for a wedding.

"Oh yea, your little sister's getting married. What's her name again: Danielle, Denise, Daenerys...?"

"Hannah."

"I was close."

Robbie laughed and took a seat opposite him.

"Callum's got his sights set on teaching now. Was that your idea?" Iain asked, it was a bit of a non sequitur but Iain had been dying to ask since Callum announced he was resigning.

"Yes and no," Robbie admitted. "We talk a lot about books and language and... stuff."

"He'll be good at that. I've always thought he was cleverer than me," Iain had never said it in as many words.

"Callum doesn't think that's true. He knows it's what you think but it's not true. And that's not why he wants to leave the Symposium." Robbie answered gently.

"So why then?"

"Because... the Symposium is Denmark."

Iain was briefly bewildered.

"My geography is a little off but it can't be that bad." Iain said wryly.

"Denmark is a prison," Robbie said brightly, the teacher in him becoming enthused. "You know, it's a line from Hamlet."

"I've read it." Iain admitted.

Robbie wanted to say "Really?" but it would have been discourteous.

"Good."

"No idea what you're talking about."

Robbie was undeterred. "Hamlet has realised his uncle killed his father so he could become king. And now his uncle is using Hamlet's witless friends to spy on him -- which Hamlet has also worked out. So Hamlet feels trapped in his own kingdom... Denmark is a prison."

"Are you saying my cousin is Hamlet?" Iain asked, trying to work out what Robbie was trying to say.

"No..." Robbie replied, "Callum is one of Hamlet's witless friends who didn't even realise he was trapped." Robbie paused then added, "There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so."

Iain thought about this. The Symposium had been a goodly prison, but even so Iain knew what Robbie was trying to say.

"Hamlet had two friend's, didn't he?" Iain asked.

"Quite so." Robbie answered.

Iain had decided to accompany Callum and Robbie on their journey to the Symposium Athletics Club -- he figured he could find something to do there on his day off. Robbie was driving, leaving Callum and Iain in the back seat.

They were nearly there when Iain realised he should have driven himself since, when Robbie and Callum left on their journey he'd have to find his own way home. In fairness, Iain was distracted as he thought about his cousin's decision and about what Robbie had said. If he had to walk home, it wouldn't bother Iain -- he was planning to meet Justin at the Symposium and they could find something to occupy themselves.

Callum asked what was wrong; Iain lied and told him nothing and Callum had had the good grace to not believe him but not to push the issue further.

Callum was distracted too, thinking about his meeting with Mr Douglas. It would be an early meeting and Callum expected to be on the road again by nine o'clock.

Mr Douglas was expecting them and met then in the foyer -- just like old times thought Callum. He caught Iain's eye and could see the same thought had occurred to him. The smiled knowingly at each other -- good times had been had with each other under this man's leadership.

The handsome bald man smiled genuinely he met them and then led Callum, Iain and Robbie to the glass lift and up to his his office. Iain wasn't sure he should really be there, but found himself carried like driftwood in the wake of polite conversation exchanged between the others as they travelled to their boss's office.

"So, Callum, what did you want to meet with me about?" Mr Douglas asked.

The man had a way of speaking that Iain admired. He felt certain Mr Douglas already knew exactly why Callum as there. But, to give Callum his due, Mr Douglas asked the question.

"Well, I think you know how much I've enjoyed working here." Callum prefaced.

"I know you have. Until recently at least? I have sensed a change in you over the past few months." Mr Douglas said in his relaxed tones. "The change suits you though and I'm pleased you have met someone, I hope you'll agree this change was respected here at the Symposium?"

Mr Douglas smiled warmly at Robbie as he referred to Callum's change in life. And, in fairness, Mr Douglas had indeed eliminated Callum's extracurricular nudity and exploits since he and Robbie had become serious.

"I know." Callum replied. "But I feel it's time for me to move on."

Callum got straight to the chase.

"I'm not exactly sure how I plan to pursue it, but I want to teach. So that's what I'm going to do." Callum said.

Mr Douglas smiled and nodded as if he already knew and was indulging the formality. In truth, Mr Douglas was sorry to see Callum leave but was already planning to pull some strings -- private teaching posts were well-paid but difficult to get. Mr Douglas would see to it, once Callum was ready to start, that he got any job he desired.

"I admire you for pursuing what you want." Mr Douglas replied honestly.

"Really?" Callum could not help but sound surprised, perhaps he had expected the man to fight to keep him more?

"The easy option would be to stay, would it not?" Mr Douglas asked, speaking as the line of thought emerged from his mind. "You only completed your degree a year ago and you have only worked here for a year. The easy option would be to stay. You have decided to go back to study, to work hard and expand your mind a bit more. And in a few years you will be expanding the minds of others. I think you will be very good at it." Mr Douglas paused. "And whether you become a P.E. teacher or a lecturer in English Literature, I have faith in you. And I'll help you if I can."

"Why?" Callum asked.

"Because I'm magnanimous." He answered, and meant it too. "I assume that is your written resignation?" Mr Douglas gestured to Callum's hand.

Callum nodded numbly and handed it over.

Had he expected this to go differently? For Mr Douglas to refuse to let him go, or talk him out of it? Callum realised he should have known better -- Mr Douglas was clever and intuitive. And kind.

"Would you care to talk any further?" Mr Douglas asked, taking Callum's letter from him.

"No. Thank you." Callum smiled and locked eyes with Mr Douglas then extended his hand for the man to shake. "Thank you." He repeated.

"Callum, I was my pleasure."

Iain watched Callum and Robbie leave Mr Douglas's office together -- he'd see them tomorrow when they returned from the wedding. Iain had watched the exchange between Callum and Mr Douglas in silence, admiring his boss's grace and seeing what Finn must see. Iain realised exactly why Finn cared so deeply about Mr Douglas -- he was a gentle-man.

Iain and Finn had talked once, a few weeks ago, about commitment. Iain had admitted he had been committed to relationships several times, just never to a man. Justin would be his first `partner'. In turn, Finn had admitted he had been committed to Mr Douglas, Elliot as Finn called him, so long that all other commitments seemed awfully far away. Iain smiled at the way Finn spoke about his partner; they seemed like such a happy couple.

"We've been married since before marriage was legal in Scotland. Married in practice if not by law," Finn had added and Iain felt a stab of jealousy of not having that.

On reflection it was perhaps weird for Mr Douglas to enjoy watching young men like Iain or for Finn to have participated in their escapades but they were happy.

"Iain?" Mr Douglas repeated.

"Sorry. Yes." He replied.

"Yes, what? You haven't said anything." Mr Douglas joked.

"I was thinking about something else." Iain admitted.

"Anything I can help you with?" Mr Douglas asked.

Iain smiled appreciatively, the man seemed as enigmatic as when they first met, yet Iain now knew how genuinely kind Mr Douglas could be. For all Mr Douglas's machinations he really did want to help if he could. Iain wouldn't have believed that possible a year ago.

"Every now and then people surprise you." Iain muttered to himself.

"Pardon?" Mr Douglas asked, leaving Iain wondering if he really hadn't heard or wanted clarification.

"Nothing," Iain replied. "I was thinking out loud."

Mr Douglas smiled, "Thinking again, Iain? You must have a lot on your mind. If you don't mind my asking, what are you thinking about?" he asked.

"Denmark." Iain replied.

Something was on the radio, the music largely drowned out by engine noise and air from the open window. Robbie held the car's velocity at a steady 70 miles per hour, overtaking with gentle manoeuvres before returning to normal driving position.

"Are you ok?" asked Robbie.

"Yea. I'm ok." Callum replied, "Feels weird being unemployed at the moment, I'll need to think about working part time somewhere."

In his heart, Callum knew Iain would keep him. His aunt and uncle, Iain's parents, had always been good to them both. Callum would never be left wanting. Thinking about this, he realised how lucky he was. He could live a comfortable life even without working and it made him feel guilty as he thought about families who could work all the hours under the sun and still struggle to pay the bills. Callum was resolved not to be a kept man.

"It's to be expected. Feeling weird I mean," said Robbie. "The Symposium was a big part of your life."

Callum nodded.

Iain was a big part of his life too -- Callum was unsure if he meant  was' as in third person present tense or third person past tense. No -- Iain IS still a big part of his life, but that part had changed now. Changed again. They had explored the limits of their relationship and their attraction and now... it was over. They'd both moved on.

Callum had Robbie now and was happy with that, but his memory of the brief intensity of things with Iain now bordered on melancholic.

"I think I'll miss the Symposium." Callum admitted, omitting the thought of part-time nudity-free work at the Athletics Club until he qualified for teaching. Robbie wouldn't approve.

"You know," Robbie said.

This was usually the way Robbie opened a teaching gambit.

"When Lee, Jason, Eric and the others started going to the Club I started thinking about E.M. Forster. I got them to read Maurice." Robbie continued.

"Yea, I read it." Callum said, sitting up straighter. He'd read it a few weeks ago at Robbie's recommendation.

Callum knew why Robbie had recommended the book, to him and to his pupils. The novel mentions Plato's philosophical text about friendship between lovers and beloved, and the desire to offer themselves to each other. An affection that could make one capable of dying for one's friend and doing anything to please him.

"I couldn't decide if Clive had only been experimenting at college, or was too afraid to be himself." Callum said.

"The nineteen-twenties were not a good time to be a homosexual." Robbie replied, not really answering the question.

"I liked the end. When Maurice finally says out loud what Clive must have always known -- that he's in love with a man. What is it Maurice says?  He's mine in a way that shocks you. But why don't you stop being shocked and attend to your own happiness.'" Callum thought for a second then added, "I thought it was an appropriate bitch slap given Clive was the one who told Maurice about the Symposium, told Maurice being homosexual was ok then got cold feet and married someone with two X chromosomes."

Robbie had been quiet while listening to Callum's thoughts. Now he added his own.

"Well I've been thinking the beginning of the novel. When Clive and Maurice start their chaste affair. Clive says: `I knew you read the Symposium in the Vac... Then you understand without my saying more..."

Callum knew what Clive said next, he said `I love you' but Robbie didn't. He left the words hanging in the air: implied rather than said outright.

Justin and Iain were having brunch in the coffee bar of the Symposium. Their feet touched under the table -- an almost imperceptible affection that both seemed to enjoy.

Justin laughed -- they had been talking about bars and clubs, chat up lines and put-downs.

"It's weird for me." Justin admitted, "For you too, maybe. Because it's only since this place that I started taking an interest in guys. I'd say my guy to girl interest ratio is about 70% to 30% at the moment."

Iain found this funny, "There's really no easy way to articulate being newly-gay, is there?"

"I have a cousin like Callum..." began Justin, "Well, not exactly like Callum." He admitted.

Iain doubted if anyone had a cousin like Callum.

"He makes me laugh with the outrageous things he says sometimes. Last time he was out a random drunk guy asked him if he had kids." Justin said, "He replied: you can't get pregnant the way I do it."

Iain laughed at this, "Callum likes noising up straight boys too. He tells girls who hit on him that he doesn't go out with people who have a uterus."

Justin smiled and the two shared a conspiratorial gaze.

A moment later, Paul materialised beside their table, "Hi guys."

Since meeting Justin, Paul had come to enjoy his company as much as he enjoyed Iain and Callum's. Just Iain now.

"Rumour has it Callum has left the building," said Paul sympathetically -- knowing that Iain would miss his cousin's place in the Symposium.

"Yea, he has," Iain replied guardedly, then asked: "Who's your friend?"

A good looking lad with short but slightly curled hair stood a few inches taller than Paul.

"This is Harry," replied Paul. "Harry, this is Iain and Justin."

"Nice to meet you. I've heard, eh, a lot about you," said Harry - the corners of his mouth twitching.

Paul had been very cautious about revealing things about his boyfriend. He had taken a month to even mention him and in the five or so months since Iain and Callum had learned more only by pulling teeth.

"Hi Harry," Iain replied pleasantly as he offered a hand to shake. "Paul has told us lots about you," Iain waited a beat then revised this: "He's told us a little about you." And other beat, "Well, we know your name at least."

Harry shook hands and laughed politely, "Harry's not my real name," he joked.

"So what're you guys doing here?" Justin asked, noticing Paul wasn't in his work uniform.

"We're talking to you guys," Paul responded.

"Smart-ass."

"We're here for a swim, maybe a sauna." Paul replied.

"Sounds good," Iain said "We were thinking of going for a swim too."

"Skinny dipping?" jested, or perhaps requested, Paul.

After a silence that had been filled with radio tunes and banter, Callum and Robbie settled back into an easy conversation. A tension had filled the car when the `L' word had been said-but-not-said. They were talking about Robbie's sister, whom Callum had met only twice, when the topic of his fiancé arose.

"Is he fit?" Callum asked.

"Callum! Honestly, I can't answer that," replied Robbie.

"So, yes then."

"Correct."

Robbie and his sister got on rather well and since meeting her, Callum had come to like her too. She was a few years younger than Robbie but equally witty. Hannah had moved for Glasgow to just outside Lockerbie with her fiancé and now, just three years later, they were tying the knot. Callum and Robbie were headed to her house first, thereafter the hotel that the Holt family had, almost singlehandedly, commandeered for the big day.

By the time Callum and Robbie got there they had gotten good mileage out of discussing the merits of men in kilts. Hannah explosion of nerves and enthusiasm and excitability -- and her joy had been infectious.

The blushing bride to be and her friends were busy with beauty and dynamic with dressing. Not really Robbie or Callum's scene. So they paid their respects, caught up and complemented the girls. After nearly an hour amongst the harem of girls, Robbie felt he had fulfilled his role as devoted brother and excused himself. He and Callum made their way to join Robbie's parents to help organise other things. Balloons, checking place settings, helping with sound equipment.

"There's an awful lot of D.I.Y. going on for a wedding hosted by a posh hotel," commented Callum.

"It's not that posh."

"Clearly."

Robbie hit Callum.

They were just finishing setting up the last of the chairs in the marquee that had invaded the hotel's grounds and now Callum and Robbie were flagging a little.

"They're mostly catering and putting people up for the night," Robbie said. "Speaking of which, I was thinking we could get it up tonight."

Callum nearly choked. They'd been together for months and still not had sex - other things, yes, but not that. Callum was glad in a way -- waiting had been an important step for their relationship and somewhat of a change given how Callum had conducted himself for seven months.

"That sounds like a good plan." Callum replied with a grin that couldn't be erased.

"Are you alright there boys?" Robbie's father was calling.

"Dad, where have you been?" Robbie asked, grabbing his dad in a hug.

"With Graham. The lad's a wreck," he said. Turning to Callum he added, "Honestly it's a good thing he's wearing a kilt the traditional way or he'd have had to changed his underwear by now."

Callum laughed while Robbie muttered "Gross," in a sotto voice.

"George Holt," he said as he extended his hand to Callum.

Callum had met Robbie's sister Hannah, and his mother Laura but Mr Holt had been absent for one reason or another each time. He was affable enough however. In his forties he was already grey, but his hear was thick and the salt and pepper suited him. He was tall and broad and his handshake very firm.

"Nice to meet you Mr Holt," Callum answered.

"Please, George is fine," he replied. "My son speaks very highly of you, which is a good sign. Robert's my only son I'd hate for him to be involved with someone who wasn't good enough for him."

Callum didn't know what to say to that.

"Callum's good enough for me, dad," Robbie replied, sounding a little embarrassed as if this was a conversation they had perhaps had before.

Mr Holt paused before answering, "Well if it's good enough for you, it's good enough for me... It's good enough for two, that's what I want to see."

Robbie cringed and smiled with genuine affection at his dad.

"What are you lot talking about?" came the voice of Laura Holt, Robbie mum.

"Free Peace Sweet." George Holt replied.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," Robbie said, though deep down he was impressed with his dad's ability to drop lyrics, album titles and the like seamlessly into conversation.

"Well we don't have time to stand around chatting," Laura Holt said. Then, as if to make her point, took a seat in one of the many vacant chairs that occupied the empty marquee.

"How's things, mum?" Robbie asked her.

"Fine, dear," she replied. "Everything seems to be organised."

"Good."

"The registrar will be here soon and your father and I will be off to get changed and collect your sister as soon as we've changed," Laura Holt said but was interrupted by her husband.

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing now?" he asked.

He was wearing faded black jeans and a short sleeved green shirt that had seen better days.

"I want a divorce," she shot.

"I'll be good," he replied.

She just smiled knowingly, "Why don't you boys go get ready, we'll see you at the big event."

Callum and Robbie made their way out of the marquee and across the grass towards the back of the small hotel. They were sharing a room on the first floor, which was far from roomy -- only just big enough to swing a kitten. They had to admit it was quaint, twee even, but the bed was big an comfy and the walls dense enough to muffle sounds from the room next door to little more than a sigh.

Their attire was hanging up tidily in the wardrobe in the corner of the room: shirts and waistcoats, jackets, kilts and sporrans, bowties, socks and boots. When they had picked up the outfits, Callum had made a joke about dressing up and role playing -- Robbie had laughed non-committally.

There was only one shower in the en suite, so Robbie went first after a round of rock paper scissors. Callum took the opportunity to sit by the window and observe the melee of activity from the catering and hotel staff. The view from the window was green with views of gardens and grass and trees up to the horizon; above which blue skies formed a heavenly canopy.

When Robbie emerged from the en suite, he was showered and changed and looking good enough to...

"Fuck."

"Oi, hush," admonished Robbie. "We'll be having none of that sort of language."

"You look great."

"Thanks."

Robbie blushed.

Callum moved closer and kissed Robbie's lips. With his arms dangling, his hand brushed Robbie's thigh and slipped up underneath the kilt. Robbie held his breath, feeling his cock stiffen, just a little, at the subtle caress.

"Do you think we have time to...?"

"No."

"Not even just a quick...?"

"No."

"I hate you," pouted Callum.

"No you don't."

Skinny dipping.

Iain had been tempted to strip in the foyer and make his way to the pool just like that. But he resisted. It had become a habit -- sex and exhibitionism -- a habit Iain knew it was time to break. People don't work like that, Iain reminded himself. Sane, normal, stable (all words Iain was reticent to use -- one man's normal being another man's aberration) don't get naked in public spaces and...

"I've been thinking about something," said Justin.

"Oh yea?" Iain replied.

Although Iain and Justin had resisted the urge to get naked at the lunch table and swaggering to the pool, they had been persuaded to ditch their swim suits in the locker room.

"Didn't you bring your own swim suits?" Finn had asked.

"We hadn't planned on swimming today," Justin had admitted.

"Well," Finn had replied, "I don't have any spares; you'll just have to go au naturel."

"What have you been thinking?" Iain added as he and Justin held the edge of the pool and kept afloat by kicking their legs, occasionally brushing each other's legs as they did so.

"Let's get out of here," Justin said. "My thinking involves you and me, locking the sauna door and making the room steamier than usual."

"That sounds like a plan." Iain replied, just a little surprised to hear Justin be so brazen. "After you," Iain said -- prompting Justin to leave the pool first.

Iain watched as Justin hoisted himself from the pool -- his back dripping and gleaming with water, his bum tight and pert and especially attractive from his vantage point below. Justin stood at the edge of the pool: tall, wet and naked and turned back to Iain.

Iain just watched him happily for a few seconds, prolonging Justin's exposure. Justin soon drew him a look and beckoned him exit with a hand signal. Iain caught the eyes of the dozen or so other men in the pool, including Paul and Harry, who were all watching their exchange. Iain lifted himself out and stood beside Justin.

Then, Iain took Justin's hand and they left the pool room together. It was a nice feeling, holding hands. Iain had always like it: lying in bed with someone and interlocking fingers, going to the movies and holding hands in the dark - did it feel any different holding a man's hand than a woman's? Iain didn't dwell on that; he had other things on his mind. Hot blood and hot deeds, mostly.

Justin took a detour to his locker where he'd stowed away some protection while Iain used his staff discretion to reserve the sauna. Before pushing his way in Iain adjusted the temperature to a more moderate 70 degrees Celsius. Twenty minutes, especially with what they planned, would be the maximum staying limit if they wanted to be safe. Then he put up the sign that read:

Reserved, Please Come Back Later.

Justin entered the room just after him. Justin paused in the threshold of the door -- cool air on his back and warm steam curling around him at the front. Iain was already hot and steamy and also sweating from the temperature. Justin let the door fall closed behind him and approach Iain -- dropping to his knees and wrapping a hand around Iain's cock then giving it a tight stoke with his fist. Iain sat back and enjoyed the sensation, enjoying the sensation even more when he felt his knob enter Justin's mouth. Justin's tongue lapped at the pre-cum oozing from Iain's cock -- the steam, the seminal fluid and saliva made for a very wet environment and a very slick penis.

Iain knew Justin was in the same position he had been months before -- he'd fucked but never been a bottom. Now Justin was ready to do it.

Justin had communicated it in every way possible, barring the actual words.

"Fuck me."

Justin had communicated it in every way possible.

Justin opened his closed hand and offered the wrapped condom to Iain, who took it but did not immediately open it.

"Are you sure?" Iain asked.

"Yes."

"Because you don't have to. You can still wear this yourself." Iain added.

"Put it on."

Justin stood and stoked his cock in front of Iain's face -- fully erect it stood just centimetres from Iain's face, the head glistening and gooey in anticipation. Iain leaned forward an took it in his mouth, sucking on the head and then pulling it deeper into his mouth by sucking and pulling Justin closer with his hands on Justin's arse.

Justin instinctively held Iain's head with his hands but did not force anything, his hands just rested there -- leaving Iain the freedom to move his head back and forth with his lips pursed and his hot breath coming out his nose.

Iain pulled away with a kiss to the tip of Justin's engorged member and unwrapped the condom. He slipped it on and stood up -- Justin was still standing close, so they were eye to eye and cock to cock once Iain was upright.

"Bend over the bench." Iain said, adding a kiss to Justin's lips.

Justin kissed back then took a step to his left and bent all the way over -- his arse sticking out into the centre of the room.

Iain leaned all the way over him and kissed the back of Justin's neck, then half-kissed half-licked his way down Justin's spine. At his coccyx, Iain spent more time and slowed down -- his lounge inching ever closer to Justin's hole. Iain's tongue passed between the checks of Justin's (immaculately clean) buttocks and he moaned as his ass hole was lubricated even more by saliva than it already had been by steam.

It was almost unbearably hot in the sauna now and Justin was quacking for his arsehole to be penetrated for the first time. Iain's protected cock rested between Justin's rear cheeks before slowly pressing in. Justin's hole dilated as Iain's cock began to occupy the tight space.

Justin could not help but tighten his sphincter -- increasing resistance and generating a pleasurable ring of pressure on Iain's partially inserted cock. He waited for Justin to relax before pushing deeper and then deeper still. Entering Justin's virgin hole was made easier by the fact Justin had been loosened up over the months -- mostly by fingers. Though Justin had confided an exhilarating experience that had involved ass beads.

Iain pushed deeper, entering slowly and using all his senses to detect pain, reluctance or discomfort from his partner but Justin was quite happy to be filled up by eight inches of solid penis. Once Iain's entire cock was buried in Justin's arse, he began to pull and push -- Justin moaned with pleasure.

Though Justin had never had sex before, as a receiver, he knew he would definably want to do this again. Justin began to push himself back as Iain thrust in, increasing the pressure, the gratification and yes, the pain. The pain was something Justin had anticipated, even feared, but now that he felt it was an unfounded trepidation. The euphoria was greater than the pain of being stretched open and Iain was big but Justin was hardly cut in two by it.

Iain felt close to coming.

He was breathing harder now and slick with wet. Iain pulled out and turned Justin around -- they kissed and exchanged dancing tongues. Then Iain sat on the bench and looked up at Justin, then down on his dick.

Look up, look down, smile knowingly.

Justin smiled too -- stepping in front of Iain and then turning his back on him. Iain parted his legs farther apart and Justin stepped back between them then lowered his bottom down until he felt the tip of Iain's cock again.

Iain's penis stood long and rigid like a mast, which Justin prepared to impale himself on. Justin felt the strain in his legs and he lowed himself deeper and deeper and then rose up. He repeated this again and again -- the friction churning the cum in Iain's balls and blinding Justin with euphoria that started in his anus and spread everywhere.

Justin bounced a few more times before he felt Iain's hand on his cock. The initial reach around masturbation was clumsy until Iain got a good grip on the steam soaked organ and then began to pump it proficiently.

Iain could feel the cum build and finally exploded spectacularly. Cum filled the condom and gravity pulled it down until cum and ass-juice started to pool on Iain's lap. Iain let go of Justin's dick and the younger lad rose up - turning to look at his handiwork. Justin smiled satisfactorily.

"You still haven't blown yet." Iain said, breathlessly.

"I can barely breath in here. Finish me off outside." Justin winked and pushed the sauna door open.

Steam billowed out into the locker room and the two lads poured out after it. The commotion caught the attention of a handful of me in the locker room and their audible delight caught the attention of a handful more.

The men watched as Iain sank o his knees and took Justin's fat cock in his mouth. Iain had no compunction about finishing him off here, even if he was being watched -- he delighted in the taste of the leaking organ and wrapped it on his lower lip a few times before putting it back in his mouth.

As he pulled it out a second time, a sticky strand of semen followed it -- detaching and dribbling down Iain's chin and neck. One last time, Iain took the whole penis in his mouth and gave the best blow job he'd ever given.

Justin happily let the men in the locker room watch too -- he was so close now. Justin put his hands behind his head, exposing his armpits and everything else that wSas already in view.

When Justin came it was a torrent of leaky goo that Iain couldn't hope to swallow all of. Justin waited until Iain was done licking and kissing his cock before he sank down in front of Iain and kissed -- taking back the taste of his own cum. The men rumbled and chatted about the scene they seen, and speculated (largely correctly) about what they'd missed.

When Iain and Justin could stand again, they made their way to a bench where they could rest.

"We need to do that again," said Justin.

"Definitely," Iain replied. He nudged Justin in the ribs, "I've got an empty tonight," he added.

Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.

Ceremony, confetti, photography, reception.

Food at last was served in the late afternoon and Callum and Robbie were starving.

"Do you ever get half way through eating a horse and think, I'm not as hungry as I thought?" Callum asked.

Robbie grinned but refused to grace the joke with laughter.

The meal had been three courses of amazing. Callum even got to eat great aunt Roberta's chocolate brownie cheese cake because: "I'm on a diet dear, and you look like you need some winter weight."

"Should I point out we're in the middle of summer?" Callum whispered to Robbie.

"I wish you wouldn't." Robbie answered.

Luckily, Robbie had eared great uncle Melvin's profiteroles on account of: "My diabetes is so bad my foot might fall off."

"Should I point out that if he drinks any more he could have a hypo and he might need the cheesecake to save his life?" Robbie whispered to Callum.

"I wouldn't." Callum answered.

The speeches followed. Then the cutting of the cake and coffee.

By the time the band started playing "(Everything I Do) I Do it for You," by Bryan Adams -- the happy couple's first dance -- everyone was ready to burn off the dinner weight.

Hannah and Graham -- Mr and Mrs Ingram -- departed the venue twenty minutes before midnight.

Apparently, "The bride and groom don't stay to see the lights go up, Robbie," Hannah told her brother. "Seriously, would you want to see the state of this place once the party is over?"

Robbie and Callum did not, they knew the marquee would be a bombsite and secretly hoped the hotel's staff would get cracking on the clean-up before they got up in the morning. They rather assumed they'd be on cleaning duty tomorrow.

Robbie's mum and dad retired to their room a while later and later still the music had slowed for couples to shuffle romantically to.

Aerosmith's "Don't Wanna Miss A Thing" was now playing as Callum and Robbie danced slow in the middle of a now sedate dance floor.

"This would be a nice first dance." Robbie said.

"Is this what you would want for our first dance?" Callum asked, then wondered if he should regret saying it.

They still hadn't had sex. They still hadn't said the `L' word. What the hell was Callum thinking talking about first dances?

But Robbie smiled, "Maybe."

They kissed at the end of the song and agreed the time was time to retire their room.

"Our revels now are ended." Robbie whispered as they exited the marquee.

As they walked up the back garden of the hotel, Robbie took Callum's hand. The night was now very cool, the sky was midnight blue and speckled with little lights shining in the dark that would all burn out by day.

There was something tender and reassuring in hand-holding, which both Callum and Robbie savoured. They entered the hotel and made for the stairs; the lights inside were dimmed and the staff consisted of a pair of knackered girls drinking cans of Irn Bru while reading Heat magazine. These girls were the vanguard that had to be negotiated to penetrate the heart of the hotel, the sentinels on station to meet the needs of the rowdy partygoers still revelling outside.

They didn't even look up as the lads passed.

Callum opened their bedroom door and flipped the light switch -- the light was bright and white so he turned it off again and fumbled for the bedside lamp. The room glowed in the wane light it emitted -- casting Callum in a halo that caused Robbie to stare.

"What?" Callum asked, noticing Robbie's rapt attention.

"I was just thinking." Robbie replied as he closed the door.

"Thinking what?"

"About what's underneath your kilt."

Callum smiled and felt his dick stir. They were both still clad in kilts and socks, shirt and waistcoats -- though their jackets had been long discarded.

Robbie moved towards Callum and kissed him on the lips, his hands moving quickly to the buttons of Callum's shirt. As the buttons came undone, he untucked the shirt and pulled it free of the kilt. When the last button was undone, the shirt opened up and Robbie moved his mouth from Callum's lips to his nipples. Callum enjoyed the sensation -- neither of them were drunk anymore; certainly plenty of alcohol had been consumed but it had been danced off long ago. What remained amplified every feeling in their bodies -- Callum could now feel the knob of his cock making contact with the inside of the kilt.

When Robbie stopped with the nipple's, he straightened up and carefully slipped Callum's shirt off his shoulders. Robbie had admitted he was a sucker for 1) a man's legs and 2) the collar/ shoulder area -- this was apparent now as Robbie's gaze followed his fingertips as they slid the shirt off Callum's shoulders and then down his arms. It hit the floor softly and Robbie kissed Callum's collar bone.

Callum responded at last, sliding his hand from where it rested on Robbie's hips to his partner's thigh. His fingers danced at the hem of Robbie's kilt and it was immediately apparent he too was rock hard.

Callum slipped his hand under Robbie's kilt and moved his hand up until he could give Robbie a few tugs. Robbie moaned and moved his mouth back to Callum's lips. Callum smiled when Robbie's cock bounced in his hand.

"Help me undress." Robbie whispered.

Callum unbuttoned Robbie's shirt and slid it off, revealing Robbie's slim and lean physique. Robbie once lamented he was not as muscled, toned or  hot' as Callum's body and Callum punished him by singing One Direction's "That's What Makes You Beautiful"

The two men sat on the edge of the bed as shoes and socks were hastily removed, each hoping the unsexy break in the proceedings could be mentally edited out later. Robbie stood up again and faced Callum, whose hands reached around Robbie's waist again as it found the fastening for the kilt.

Callum's eyes looked at everything: from Robbie's bare feet and skinny legs, past the kilt, to Robbie's outie belly button and his little nipples to his blue-eyed-boy eyes. The kilt slipped lower and Callum took his time to slide it off Robbie's hips. Eventually it reached the tipping point, the point at which momentum for change is impossible, and the kilt dripped to the floor.

Robbie's cock, half hard, bobbed in front of Callum's face. He leaned forward and kissed the tip then slipped his lips tightly over the head of Robbie's penis, slipping it into his mouth with his tongue underneath like a runway welcoming it in.

Robbie made pleasing noises as Callum slicked the organ with saliva, bobbing his head back and forth. After a few minutes he invited Robbie's testicles to join the party, slathering them with saliva and precum too and sucking them into his mouth one at a time.

"I'm ready to do it now," Robbie breathed heavily.

"Do what?" Callum asked, he knew what or thought he knew but had to be sure.

"I want to have sex with you. Make love with you. I'm ready now." Robbie said in a low voice.

"I'm ready too." Callum replied.

Callum knew this was a big step for Robbie. Robbie had never explained his reticent for having sex, never told Callum why he wanted to wait. Callum had inferred a past relationship had gone badly wrong -- very badly wrong -- and Robbie had been hurt. Emotionally and physically: but Robbie wouldn't talk about it.

Now he was ready and Robbie pulled a condom from the bedside cabinet and started to roll it on. Callum stood and made to remove his kilt.

"Leave it on," Robbie said, smiling wickedly and winking.

Callum grinned back and turned around, bending over the bed. Robbie stood behind Callum and hoiked up the kilt -- gazing at Callum's ass and rubbing it with his hands. He put some saliva on his fingers before rubbing them into Callum's arse hole and easing the hole open.

A few minutes of liberal finger fucking and he pulled out three clean fingers that were ready to be replaced by something bigger. Robbie pressed his cock against Callum's arsehole and began to press -- with on hand on Callum's back holding the kilt up and one hand under his cock to guide it in.

Callum spread his cheeks apart with his hands and when he felt Robbie enter, he let go and placed both hands flat on the bed. Robbie pressed in and pulled out, which caused Callum to tense as he realised the condom was ribbed. Callum let out a moan that combined with Robbie's as both men enjoyed their mutual sexual sensations.

Robbie thrust deeper with each thrust, until his pubic region nestled against Callum's back with a final push. Robbie kissed Callum's back and nipped his shoulder as he stayed buried deep in Callum's anus. He eventually withdrew, pushing and pulling again -- thrusting and extracting, plunging and vacating.

The ridges of the condom excited Robbie's penis as much as it stimulated Callum's. It took great effort to not stroke himself off, but Callum resisted. Instead he reached around and gave Robbie's bottom a swat with his hand -- Callum had once read that spanking was so effective because it increased blood flow to the penis during intercourse. Sure as hell didn't hurt here.

Robbie could feel himself getting closer and prepared himself by holding Callum's hips and pulling him hard onto his cock -- the deep feeling and the warmth surrounding his entire cock grew until it was intolerable. One final drag out, the ridges popping quietly as he came out, and then a push in sent Robbie over the edge.

Volcanic cum erupted with a low roar from Robbie's throat, the sound muffled as he buried his face in Callum's back. When Robbie pulled out he kissed Callum's back again, low down around the sacrum. Robbie stepped back on uneven legs and eased his penis out of the condom.

Callum turned and held Robbie close -- gripping him with both arms and kissing his cheek. Cheek to cheek, they stood and sawed as if in a gentle wind. Callum was still hard and Robbie was still buzzing with euphoria.

"Your turn?" Robbie said -- asking or stating, it was hard to tell.

"Do you want me to?" Callum asked.

Robbie looked down, wrapped a hand around Callum's dick and pulled it. His palm massaged the head of Callum's cock before easing the foreskin back again. A few tugs and he looked up into Callum's blue eyes.

"I want. You. Too." Robbie said, smiling. Then added, "Right now."

Robbie flopped onto the bed, exhausted but eager, while Callum found protection.

"You know I read somewhere," Callum said from behind, "That the anus has taste receptors."

"My arse," Robbie replied.

"Exactly," Callum retorted.

"Mmm, tastes like pot noodle," Robbie said, looking over his shoulder.

Callum stood at the side of the bed, ready to mount it, towering over Robbie. He was tall and lit by the lamp behind him, his skin glistening and tanned, his cock thick and long.

"Apparently the anus and testicles have sweet and umami taste receptors..."

"I've always thought you had a sweet ass."

Callum mounted the bed and leaned over Robbie. Then lowed himself to kiss his lover, slow and tenderly. When their lips parted, Robbie rolled over onto his right side and hitched his knees up to his chin.

Callum spooned behind him and eased his cock, made slippery with lube from the bedside cabinate, against Robbie's savoury arsehole. He pushed with exponential force, feeling the walls part and Robbie's arse open up. Callum's cock was longer, and thicker, than Robbie's so Callum was careful to take it slow.

Callum made long, deep thrusts inside Robbie, his cock sliding over Robbie's prostate and filling up Robbie's body with sensations he had not felt for several years.

Callum's hands wandered over Robbie's back and then slid over his chest. Robbie brought up his arm and took Callum's hand in his own. Their fingers linked as Callum continued to thrust in and out. Their hands remained joined, nestled on Robbie's chest between his nipples.

Robbie loosened his grip and their hands fell apart, then he began to rotate on the bed, lifting his left leg high and straight. Callum caught it at the ankle -- with Robbie's legs splayed he was able to rotate further, turning his arsehole around Callum's cock like an animal on a spit. Robbie lay on his back, with his legs wide; Callum holding both of Robbie's ankles now.

Callum felt the friction on his penis building to a climax, his balls ready to release. When he finally came he breathed out with shuddering breaths.

A calm followed. Post-coital bliss erased all thought and time from the room.

Callum and Robbie lay together, eventually finding enough energy to slide under the sheets. They lay facing one another, Robbie's leg sandwiched between Callum's and each draping an arm over the other.

"You haven't said anything for a while," Callum said eventually, "Are you ok?"

"I'm great," Robbie replied, "I feel... great."

"I love you."

Robbie didn't say anything.

"Do you love me?"

"Yea, you're alright."

Robbie smiled widely and Callum laughed happily, tears prickling his eyes.

"Hush," Callum replied.

"You've made me very happy," Robbie said. "You're too good to be true," Robbie said. His eyes were closed and he spoke in a dreamy voice, as if sleep might take him at any moment.

"I was just thinking the same thing." Callum said equally softly.

You know that place between sleeping and awake, that place where you can still remember dreaming? That's where I always think of you," said Robbie.

"You're not dreaming me," Callum said, "Look. Open your eyes."

"All I dream about is you. All I see is you, even when my eyes are closed," Robbie replied. "I see love when I close my eyes."

Callum said nothing, he just leaned over and kissed Robbie's forehead. Together the two of them cuddled under the covers.

"Goodnight."

And soon, they fell asleep.

SIX YEARS LATER.

"I heard you on the radio this morning, Mr Iain Carter," teased Callum.

"Shut up."

"Tut tut, should the founder of a charity really be speaking that way?" Callum asked.

"Shut up."

"I'm very proud of you," Callum admitted.

"Tell me more."

Callum and Iain were milling about the front garden, the sound of activity growing around the back of the house. Iain had had a busy few days talking about his charity come business aimed at helping to rehabilitate people with limb disabilities or amputations. It had been on the go for nearly five years now.

Iain had Mr Douglas to thank for helping him get started, but in truth the older man had been impressed by the idea of the venture. Mr Douglas had been surprisingly supportive considering Iain defected from the Symposium to do it and that he had left so soon after Callum. Surprisingly supportive also since Iain's venture threatened to poach clients from the Symposium. But Mr Douglas was, at heart, a great big softie. Their conversation at the infancy of Iain's endeavour had proven that.

"You always had a soft spot for the amputee group. But I never realised how much they had affected you," Mr Douglas told him.

"Yea, well, the guys who come here, struggling to overcome their limitations; adjusting to the change to their lives -- they're kinda special to me," replied Iain.

"Every now and then people surprise you," Mr Douglas muttered.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing," Mr Douglas replied. "I was thinking out loud."

Then he reached for his chequebook.

That was years ago, now (well, a few weeks ago) an invitation to be interviewed on the radio had come as a nice surprise for Iain: after being nominated for a community award, his charity had found a recognition it had never enjoyed before.

"Have you seen Justin lately?" asked Callum.

"Not since he started seeing Victor," admitted Iain.

"That was two months ago," Callum replied, half admonishingly.

"I've been busy," Iain protested. "So has Justin," he added in a sotto voice.

"I see what you did there," said Callum; "He's coming tonight."

"Cool. You know Adam calls him `uncle Justy'... it's so cute," Iain said with a bright proud-daddy face.

"Adam's four - everything he does is cute," Callum retorted.

"Sam and I thought the same thing... then we actually started fostering." Iain said with an impish grin.

"We both know you love that wee man just as much as you love Sam. So, you guys getting married soon?" Callum asked.

"Some of us have had trouble finding our soul mate, thank you very much," Iain gently reprimanded.

Callum's gaze dropped unconsciously to the ring on the third finger of his left hand.

"Yea, I'm a lucky boy," Callum said in a low voice.

"Pft! Boy? Who are you kidding?" Iain mocked.

"You're the one turning thirty tonight not me," Callum replied unabashed.

"Wheesht, nobody asked you," Iain replied jovially. "It's your turn in a few months remember, so be nice to your elders."

Callum changed the subject, "Mum and dad are looking great," he said, he always referred to Iain's mum and dad in this way -- as if they were his own, they were, as near as damn it at least.

"Dad looked tired, he always gets jetlag though," Iain said.

Callum and Iain had wandered around the back of the house that they once shared and that Iain now shared with his partner, Sam, and their foster child Adam, a boy the couple planned to adopt. The four year old was putting Robbie through his paces running about the garden while the barbeque warmed up. Mum contently watched Adam and Callum's husband; Dad was firing up the barbeque and trying to look busy but was really sneaking another bottle of Stella.

The two cousins watched the activity, which was sure to grow as more guests arrived for the celebration.

"I've been thinking," said Callum. "If you're going to give a speech for your big three-oh..."

"Yes?" said Iain, suspiciously.

"Maybe you should give it before you've had too much to drink. You get incoherent when you've had too much." Callum said gently, truthfully, tactfully.

"That's not true," Iain objected theatrically. "I say all the right words..."

"Just not necessarily in the right order," finished Callum.

"I'll give you that, sunshine. I'll give you that." Iain put his arm around Callum and gave him a squeeze.

Callum laughed, truth was he was glad he it was the weekend before the October week -- no school to prepare for, or to recover in time for either. Callum knew he'd need time to recover as much as Iain would.

Drinking to excess is bad.

"That husband of yours, Callum," Iain began to say.

"Yes?" Callum prompted.

"Any time he fancies coming around to tire out my son, he's more than welcome."

The boy in question was now being tickled, causing a chorus of laughter to fill the garden.

"Tag, you're it," said Robbie a few minutes later.

Iain chuckled and wandered off to entertain the lad until his friends turned up.

"My party and the wee man gets to invite friends over..." Iain muttered good-naturedly, faux-grumpily.

Once out of earshot, Robbie asked; "Does he know what's gonna hit him?"

"He thinks it's just `a few people', boy is he in for a surprise," replied Callum.

Iain's turn at being "it" didn't last long as Adam decided his "nana" were much more interesting than dad.

"Breaks my heart a little, getting rejected by a four year old," admitted Iain.

They heard a car pull up front and Iain respectfully attended to hosting duties, turning to hustle himself back around to the front garden.

"Well, we still love you," Robbie called cheekily after him.

Callum and Robbie could hear greetings: "Mr Douglas, Findlay, great to see you," hugs, kisses and "oh, you shouldn't have" gift bags materialising.

Callum took Robbie's hand and smiled contently.

"Have I mentioned lately..." Callum asked.

"Mentioned what?" Robbie replied, but he knew. He always knew: he could see it in Callum's big sad eyes, in the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips, in the tremor of his voice.

Callum closed his eyes.

"Do you see it?"

Robbie closed his eyes too.

"Hmm?"

Callum squeezed Robbie's hand.

"I see love... with all my heart."

Acknowledgements: That was the final instalment. I would like to thank everyone who has taken the time to read The Symposium; especially these who also took the time to email their comments, suggestions, opinions and regards. I would be delighted to continue hear from anyone who has read the story and enjoyed it.

J. niftyencomiums@gmail.com