Conor & harry - m/m

[Greatand08]

Hi all! This started as 1D fan fic I'll admit... but I changed it around to be a more stand alone story. It's about exes meeting up after a few years and seeing how they're past and present shape up together. Hope you enjoy! The whole thing is already written and edited, so I'll just wait for some response before posting the next installment. And sorry about the spacing, the site's done something weird to it.

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I stepped outside yawning, staring down the road. He’d texted me a couple of minutes ago that he was on his way, but he was perpetually lying about being on time, so I didn’t rush out. I waited in the wind, and it felt like today was going to be particularly cold. I pulled my hoodie closed, and then a huge black SUV came meandering up the road.


As it reached my walk the driver’s window came down, “would you happen to know where I could find a Mr. Conor?”


I walked down to the street, “hi,” I said back quietly from exhaustion. And from nerves.


“This is quite the place you’ve got here,” he said pulling up his sunglasses.


I looked back at the modular unit of apartments I called home. Essentially, it was a big box of concrete and glass with four apartments inside. I never thought it was terribly pretty, just a 1960s experiment gone wrong really.


“It’s not much to look at,” I said back.


“I mean the locale, you shit,” he said gesturing around. Beyond the apartments we were surrounded by forest and fields wherever you looked. My university prided itself on being deep in the Adirondacks, and this separated set of former faculty housing made it feel even more alone.


“It is a lot of nature,” I said more confidently. I’d always loved the outdoors and being here felt very right, even in the cold. I questioned if he loved it too, “think you can handle it?”


“I can handle anything,” he said surely. “Where do I park this?”


“You mean your tank?” I asked. “What’s with this choice anyway?”


“Well, I told the man at the counter that I was going deep into the woods, and I needed something for the journey. He recommended this, nice eh?” he said looking down the dark, glossy black truck.


“It’s a bit much,” I said. “You can park it right at the end of the road.”


With a wink and a gear shift Harry pulled away from me and swerved his way into a parking spot. I waited on the walk in the cold, the wind still cutting through my hoodie. He went to the trunk and pulled out a duffel bag, swinging it over his shoulder. He had a long black coat on with a large scarf around his neck. The jeans were tight, per usual, and his boots had heels, per usual.


“Come here,” he said giving me a hug as he came in the front door. I smelled his bright scent, a smell I knew anywhere. It was a little bit of his shampoo and detergent but at the heart it was just his personal aura, just what he woke up with. Harry was only made up of natural talent, his odor included.


“Good plane ride?”


“Not really the first class experience as I know it, but very good anyway,” he said with a smile as we headed inside. “It’s worth anything to be here.”


He hung up his coat, and I lead him upstairs to the loft. He threw his duffel in the corner and started to pull off his coat and scarf. Alongside the bed the wall was all glass. From ankle height to ceiling you could look straight out into the forest. The set up was unnerving at first, but now I loved it.


“There are blinds, I swear,” I said gesturing at them up above.


“You wouldn’t need really need any though, right?”


“Well for privacy you-”


“Who’s going to see you out here though? Isn’t that the point?” he insisted. “Just be free and like, alone out here?”


“Yeah, that is the design in mind. And admittedly, I don’t ever close them,” I mentioned. Harry grinned at me a little and shot me a wink. “Lemme show you downstairs.”


Harry took in the view one more time. It mostly looked into the fairy tale woods on the other side of the road. The trees felt close up but much more mysterious than meets the eye. They wanted you to waltz right in and fall into their trap.


“So here’s the kitchen and living room,” I said leading him into the open first floor. The window had a sill at waist height down here, not totally exposed. “The couch folds out, so don’t worry.”


“Yeah, that’s great, so-”


“And the bathroom is through there, and I’ve got towels-”


“Yeah that’s-”


“Do you want anything to-”


“Con,” he said grabbing my wrist as I walked over to the kitchen. It was firm but soft.


“Yeah?” I said looking down at his hand.


He studied me, “what’s up?” He looked somewhere between lost and concerned.


“What do you mean?” I asked.


“You’re giving me a tour of your house like I’m a stranger,” he said.


“Well, you’ve never been here before, so I just wanted to-”


“Con, I’m standing in the middle of fucking nowhere with you right now,” he said excited and loudly. “Did you ever think this was gonna happen? Aren’t you excited?”


I gulped and smiled, “I mean, you said you would eventually.” Deep down I thought eventually meant never, so today was really strange, and I still didn’t know if I was happy or not.


“Well I did!” he said. “So stop fucking treating me like a guest, and lets just hang out.”


I breathed out with certainty and tried to relax; I played with the strings of my hoodie. “I guess I didn’t ever really expect you to show up. It’s a little... surreal?” I said with a smile, a laugh. Our relationship had become so different over the last few years. It could just never be the same as it was face to face every day. You learned to expect different things. You had to.


“I know, I never...” he began, and looked out the window. “You just spend four years going and going and going, never thinking about stopping, and then you get six months free and... here I am. It’s the only place I wanted to be. Here with you, C.”


I tried to really hear what he was saying... and to really believe him. It felt like trying to punch through water, but I found a way to actually listen to him. I hugged him from behind.


And suddenly, the breath of my affection for him rushed back through me. It was so fucking good to have him here, and to smell him, and to know that we were no longer transient conveniences. The expectations were normal. We could be real friends for a few weeks.


“Let’s go out there,” he said turning to me with a wonder in his green eyes.


“Where?” I asked.


He threw his arms to the window. “I wanna see what this is all about,” he implored.


“Do you - there’s a lot of snow out there, are you prepared?” Harry was curious first, prepared second.


“I’ve got plenty of sweaters and socks, yes I’m grand,” he said moving to the stairs. “I’ll get changed, then?”


I saw that eager, pulling look in his eyes. That same look that had pulled me into the broom closet in between periods years ago, hiding from Mr. Williams. It dared you to be a little reckless.


“Yeah, let’s go,” I said following him up the stairs.


Harry pulled clothes out of his duffel, laying them on my bed. There were stylish tank tops and more tight jeans. Nothing too heavy duty. “Here’s a sweater,” he said plopping a tasteful maroon pullover onto the bed. It didn’t seem very warm. “And I’ve got sweats I think.”


As he continued his high fashion preparation I went into my closet and pulled out snow pants, a jacket, and some more layers. “Just go with this.”


Harry looked between his pile and mine, then wrinkled his nose. “Didn’t really think about this, I admit.” He took the clothes and pulled off his jacket.


I already had sweatpants on, so I found another pair of snowpants and slipped them on over. Then I ditched the shitty hoodie for a thermal top, a light sweater, and a jacket. Harry may have glanced over at me while I changed, but I certainly looked at him, and studied his new tattoos.


“Oh and what is this one?” I asked pointing to one on his lower back above his left hip. It was a grid was some shapes over it or something.


“Where?” he said looking over his shoulder.


I poked the grid, and he chuckled. “Oh that was supposed to be a map of where I grew up, but it looks more like... well I don’t know, shit.”


“Not your best,” I agreed.


Harry sighed, knowing that most of them weren’t his best. I briefly studied his sturdy frame, surprised by the weight he’d put on around his shoulders and chest. Harry had been so slight in school, I was surprised he’d grown into something other than a blade of grass.


“What should I wear over this?” he asked pulling down his jeans, struggling to pull them off his ankles. He had a black brief-underwear on with a label along the waistband I’d never heard of.


“I’ve got some long johns,” I answered looking for more in my closet. I found them and he slipped them on, adjusting the pouch of his briefs, pulling it further out as the gray material hugged the curve.


“Grand,” he said reaching for his boots, which would have to do, “let’s go.”

 

[Gr8F8]

I like it! I'm looking forward to more!

 

[AJnCJ]

I'm enticed......let's have another installment then, shall we?

 

[Greatand08]

“And then Stevens came roaring out of the room screaming naked!” Harry laughed hard and loudly. He was doubling over on his knees, wheezing for breath.


“He even slipped on the way out, too,” I said with tears streaming down my face.


Harry and I had been remembering all our old mates from prep school. Three years ago we’d been floor mates, and a certain contingent of our friends were always causing trouble. Harry was occasionally among them, but this time we were both joyful spectators. Basically the older boys left someone’s pet snake in a first years closet when he went to the showers, and the whole hall staked out his room waiting for him to find it. And when he did there was a choked, fervent cry and then he tore out of his room naked and terrified. He’d totally left his towel behind and his rosy ass sprinted down the hall back into the bathroom where he lost his footing on the tile floor. The boys cried about the incident for hours afterwards, and the poor victim was too embarrassed to tell the dorm master about it, so everyone got off scotch free.


We both laughed, fog pouring out of our mouths in the snow. I’d taken him down to a creek in the forest, and now we were trekking back up, pausing for a moment on the slope. He wiped his daring eyes remembering that day, and I studied his joyful form. He was relaxed, at peace. As always.


“I wish I could live on that hall again some days,” he said “That was a riot.”


“Honestly, whenever I get pouty about my family moving to England, I remember this fucking shit and I don’t miss anything. Nothing like this in American schools, I can promise you,” I assured him. As I barely graduated high school, my parents were transferred to England. I’d always planned on taking a gap year, but now that they were moving I had to go with them to England first before traveling... except our deal was on the condition that I spent a year at a “sixth form college” to repair the terrible grades I’d earned during my senior year. I resented them at first, but they weren’t going to give me any money to travel until I did it. That was how I ended up at the same school as Harry in the first place.


“Something about having mates like that,” Harry said with a quiet smile. Hw liked traveling, or touring rather, but I knew from our skypes in far away hotel rooms that he also missed constant friends and running jokes. He pushed himself up finally from the snow, and I followed him up the slope again. “When I think about times I’ve been truly happy... that was the first time and maybe the best time.”


Harry turned to continue up the slope, and I peered around his form to catch another look at his face in that tender moment. Harry and I had been so close in those two years, that first time. He was the only boy who didn’t immediately try to haze me. I mean, after a few months no one cared that I was new anymore, but Harry had hung out with me in my room during those first few months. We’d palled around, he’d explained british slang. He was a rock I held onto during the uncertain, moody tides of my transition.


“I think that was my first genuinely happy time, too,” I called up to his back. “And I’ll always remember that first time was with you.”


Harry lost his footing and slid a little down the slope, turning to look at me over his shoulder. His eyes were wide and startled. He furrowed his brow and tried to laugh, I think. He opened his mouth, unsure, not sure what to do. He wiped the panic of his face quickly and tried to nod, but it was fake and awkward.”


“Oh no, fuck,” I said quickly. I stumbled up the hill and through my words. “Like the first times we hung out and pulled a prank on Robert, and like were friends. The first time for all of that.”


Harry’s body exhaled, but his eyes were still locked onto mine. There were other first times between us. He turned up the hill before answering, “those were good, too.”


As I climbed up behind Harry, I flashed to our first times - all of them.

• - - - -

My first day on the hall I was moved into a single room by Dean Salisbury. He walked me up to the third floor of the old, impressive dormitory and handed me a key to room 11D. He showed my how to turn on the radiator below the window and pointed me to the bathroom. Once he left I shoved my suitcases into the closet and sat on my unmade bed.


“Are you Conor?” a boy asked, poking his head into the room.


“Yeah,” I said standing up, going to shake his hand.


“Yeah, I’m Francis,” he said quickly. “Just make sure you check your key in the door before you go. Last boy who lived here could never get it to lock, and you don’t want to let this lot go through your stuff.”


Before I could thank him he smiled briefly and disappeared out the door. I hurried to the hallway, but he was already whipping down the stairs. I walked back into my room and pulled my key out of my pocket, closing the door behind me. I slid the key into the lock and turned it right and then left, trying to figure out where it was supposed to catch or release.


I felt the key sink into something on the left side and tried to pull it out. And failed. I tried to bring it back to the right but it was stuck on something, so it moved slowly like I was pulling it through syrup. I tried pulling it out the way it came but it was stuck. I giggled the handle, but I’d already locked myself in. I pulled on the door; it didn’t move. I tried the key again; it didn’t move.


I stood back, staring at the door wondering how shitty this whole year would be.

• - - - -

I sat in my room for a few hours after that, unpacking and trying to set up my new phone. Once I got hungry, though, I accepted that I was gonna new outside help. I didn’t know where from, but then someone knocked on the door.


“Are you the new one?” the voice asked.


I hesitated and then answered, “Yeah.”


“I’m Harry,” it said.


“Conor.”


A pause, “so are you going to let me in or what?”


I stood next to the door and talked into the crack, “Well, uh, the key got stuck in the lock so I can’t get out exactly.”


Harry groaned. “Did you meet Francis?”


“Uh, yeah,” I said, realizing. “Did he do this?”


“Most certainly,” Harry said. “Hold on.”


I watched the door handle giggle violently for a while and after a few moments Harry banged his way into the room sending the door flying and his body to the ground.


“Shit,” I said as he tumbled right next to me. “Thanks, sorry, wow.”


“Not a problem,” he said getting up and dusting off his pants. “Been there myself, actually.”


He held out his hand and we shook. He was around my height, a little shorter and a little slighter. He had these big, round curls in his hair that wrapped around his preciously cute face. His hair seemed to make his face smaller, which made his body seem smaller, which made him feel like a little elf standing in my room.


“So you’re the American?” he asked, looking around the empty room.


“Yeah, just got here,” I said sitting back down on the bed.


“Well, welcome Conor,” he said brightly sitting next to me on the bed, getting into a crossed position. “I’m very excited to be your first english friend. Now tell me all about yourself.”

 

[Greatand08]

Harry was hardly intrusive, but he was incredibly persistent. I told him about my parents’ jobs and why we moved. I told him about my American high school and others just like it. I explained Walmarts and guns, and not the electoral college. He asked what sports I was going to go out for, I said maybe cross country. He asked if I played any instruments, I said I used to play piano. I didn’t have any siblings, neither did he, and in a sudden two hours I was examined and deemed fit for duty, for friendship. His questions were interested but not interrogative. He balanced his interest between me and my country, making me feel welcome but also special. Harry always made you feel special, like your answers were completely original and moderately revolutionary.


“Alright, let’s go eat now,” he said bouncing off my bed.


I tried to shake my key out of the door, but it felt good and stuck so I left it and bounded after my first and only english friend, trailing after his bouncing air and comforting questions.
- - - -
I thought about this moment as Harry and I wandered down the trail back to my building. We’d been silent since the hill, taking in panting breaths.


“Did you know the first day?” I asked from deep within my train of thought.


“Did I know what?”


“That we’d be mates,” I explained. “I remember you asking so many questions, and then you just stood up, invited me to dinner, and it felt like I was in the club.”


Harry thought for a moment, “I don’t think I- Well, I didn’t know we’d be this close. That’s for sure. You answered my questions honestly though, and you kept up with my thoughts. I don’t get that from a lot of people really.”


“You ask good questions,” I commented.


“You have nice answers,” he said grabbing my shoulder and pulling me closer to walk down the path
- - - -
A month and a half later, I knew all the boys names and I was chummy with them in classes, but Harry was still the only one that hung around my room. He told me that until there was someone newer in the building I would have to be avoided. It was all procedural, of course. I was okay with this because after a day filled with everyone swirling around me in different accents and expressions I liked being left alone in my room. With Harry of course. He was always welcome, though he also let himself in frequently.


“Conor,” he asked one day looking up from my desk. I was on my computer talking to some friends from home. “Do you fancy girls a lot?”


“What?” I asked. “What do you mean?” Our school was very small, so conversations about girls and feelings whipped through the buildings quickly. The moment someone had a crush, we all knew and squashed it right out of them. It was the only honorable thing for an adolescent boy to do.


“Like are you frequently falling in love with girls you meet?” he said with a real journalistic curiosity.


“I don’t - I don’t frequently meet girls?” I said, not having spoken to a girl my age since moving to England. “And I don’t fall in love with them either. That seems like a bit much.”


“Yeah, agreed,” he said looking down at his books. “It’s just weird because,” he paused, “The other boys talk about it all the time, and it feels like there’s always some new girl passing by that they love. Maybe they do all love them or think they do, but I sort of doubt it, and I know that doesn’t happen to me. I don’t frequently write my name in hearts with anyone.”


“Do they love them or just want to hook up with them?” I asked. Harry loved the term hooking up. And in the realm of 16 year old boys, the term made all the difference.


“Certainly both,” he assured me. “Probably more for the hooking up really, but I don’t see that either really. I meet a girl, learn her name, ask her some questions. Attractive or not I don’t decide straight off that I’m going to pursue her for love or hooks. That’s just very arbitrary and impulsive.”


“I mean,” I said playing with my headphones, “that would be strange to do.”


“Good, you agree,” he said smiling and going back to work.


I watched him quietly for a moment before diving back into the conversation. Harry was much more attuned that the other boys. He was sensitive to the differences between himself and others, and he really seemed to have more empathy than the others. At the time I found this strange, and as you wonder of all strange, sensitive boys I asked Harry, “do you ever find yourself... seeing boys in that way?”


Harry wrinkled his face for a moment before looking up at me, “not like that.”


“Like what?” I asked curiously, selfishly.


“I don’t - it’s an interesting question,” he said flipping a page he was no longer reading. “I’ve gone to all boys school my whole life, so the only girls I really know are my cousins. So the whole liking girls thing is pretty rare in my world and-”


He exhaled, looking out the window. I watched him closely. Harry was very articulate, very specific when he spoke. “But on the other hand, I spend all my time with boys, and I notice them and make friends with them. I have more experience liking boys and picking out the ones I like most... so I get why girls would do the same. That makes sense to me in a more concrete way.”


I considered this a moment, rolling around my own thoughts and indecisions. At 16 I think I knew that I liked boys as more than friends, but it was a secret inside my chest. I couldn’t even whisper it at that point, but I felt it wriggling inside. “I agree with that. I don’t see the big difference between boys and girls either.”


“Really?” Harry said casually and also coughing nervously.


“I could- I mean I’ve never liked a guy, but I don’t understand what would stop me exactly if that makes sense...” I trailed off, leaving uncertainty uncertain. “There’s just as much to like it boys as girls for me.”


This mutual, unspecific appreciation of boys paused in the room for a moment. Our wavelengths crossed and returned back to us. There was an understanding of the unsaid.


“Grand,” Harry said to his textbook. Maybe smiling just a little bit.

 

[Greatand08]

A few more weeks went by, and I went back to the states for Thanksgiving. None of the other boys really understood this concept, but naturally Harry was very curious about the whole thing. He found me in my room moments after I’d gotten back on Sunday morning. I still had my coat on and was sitting on my bed calling my parents.


“How was it?” he asked closing the door quietly behind him. He had a gray t-shirt and some maroon pajama pants on, probably just woken up honestly. He curled up onto the bed with me, wrapping my blanket around himself.


“Was good,” I said out of one side of my mouth. “Yeah mom, I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”


“So,” he asked excitedly, tapping me quickly on the leg.


“Yes?” I turned to him, already jet lagged, fairly disoriented.


“Did you enjoy it?”


“Thanksgiving? Yes, of course,” I told him. “Why?”


“Well I have no idea what a thanksgiving is, so I didn’t know if it was good or not. Can they go poorly?”


“Ah,” I said remembering our differences, “Maybe, but it’s fairly simple. You sit at home, watch some football - the american kind-, you eat a lot of food with your family, hang out with friends, and then get on a six hour flight and come back here. Depending on how much you like your relatives it’s better or worse, but it’s a pretty mundane American holiday.”


Harry’s eyes were wide and bright as I spoke, he seemed breathless, eager. A rather strange response considering it was just Thanksgiving and not the Olympics.


“That sounds marvelous,” he said. “Really great.”


“It was,” I said blushing a little bit. “What did you get up to?”


“Oh I,” he said leaning against my headboard, shifting around under the blanket. “Went to class, went to my lessons, hung out, not a lot,” he shrugged a little and then hesitated, “I missed you.”


“Oh well,” I said considering this last line, “I missed you, too. It was weird being at home really.”


“Yeah? How?” Harry said playing with the end of the blanket.


“I don’t know,” I said pulling off my scarf. “Like seeing my family was great and pretty normal, but like seeing my friends from school was weird because we all have these new schools and new lives now, but they also understand each other on a fundamental level that I don’t. American colleges are all very similar, but this just isn’t so I’m inside their world but they’re outside of mine.”


“Yeah, I can see that,” Harry said nodding.


“And I would tell them about here, and it’s just so different that I didn’t know where to start, so I didn’t really bother,” I admitted, remembering a few moments of frustration in the face of a room of happy, excited people. I really did just act like nothing was different on my end. It was simpler. “Kind of wished you were there to explain it all to them.”


“That would’ve been great,” he said smiling to himself. “I think I’d like Thanksgiving.”


We sat in silence for a moment as I pulled off my boots and coat. I went through my bad and found a nice sweater and snuck in next to Harry. He wrapped my blanket around the both of us, our bodies squeezing in together. I looked over my phone again, but I didn’t have my service back yet.


“I did miss you,” Harry said quietly. His breath was close and... nervous. He wasn’t bouncing, he was waiting.


For a moment, I considered him. His lovely profile, his full hair, his gentle voice. I remembered feeling like if he was just next to me at home it would have all made sense. Harry knew how to bridge gaps and see through difference. He was the link in my life across the ocean. He was the one who made sense of it all. Harry turned to look at me and I glanced away, staring at my feet.


“Conor I uh,” Harry said, as I looked away. Harry moved in closer, his soft voice closer to my ear. “I realized that I um.”


I think I heard both of our hearts sped up for a moment and then stopped entirely. I’d had a dream about this intimacy while I was home. I was sitting in an armchair watching TV and Harry just showed up and curled up on top of me. We breathed in sync and I explained the game. Our hands slipped together and I soaked in his delightful, personal smell of his wool sweater. It was a tangy memory on my mind since that night, and it was so fulfilling but unnerving that it was happening again. I’d woken up from that dream confused, but I’d wanted to sink back into it and lay around under the surface of it. Harry moved in closer and my skin tingled like I was slipping under again.


“I really like you,” he said approaching my mouth, kissing me gently from the side. I didn’t fight him at all, I just felt his lips on my own, his nervous breath on my mouth. He wasn’t forcing it, just allowing it.


After a few moments I shifted. Not pulling away, just moving. Maybe to get closer, I wasn’t really sure.


“Har, uh,” I began. Harry was so close, so very very close. His forehead was practically pressed up against mine. His hand was on my thigh, his mouth still close. “I don’t know exactly what-”


Before I could realize what I felt, explain it and announce it to him, he had slipped out from under the blanket and off the bed. “It’s fine,” he said a shaky voice and teary eyes. I skipped a rock across the surface of our moment and the ripples were pulling it apart.


“No, no, I like you it’s just I-” I started, trying to slide off the bed before he walked out of my room. I wanted to pool all the water back together but it was slipping out of my hands as he raced to the door.


“Don’t worry it’s alright,” Harry said, moving to the door as I spoke. He was nodding and fake smiling, trying to assure me as I moved after him. “Don’t worry.” He pattered down the hallway quickly as I watched him, his slight body slipping into his own door as the door closed softly.

 

[Gr8F8]

Sweet! Keep going please!

 

[guynxtdoor61]

Really looking forward to more!

 

[infamous_banana]

more please

 

[Greatand08]

When Harry left I sat on my bed for a moment, feeling his mouth on my own, trying to recreate the sensation in my mind. The dream had felt more tangible than this moment. Maybe knowing it was fake kept it vivid and alive, like a secret or a dare. Now that it had brushed against me, I wasn’t sure what it was. What it meant. What I felt.


I fell asleep quickly on my bed, letting his lips drift in and out of my head.


The dream was really just a 24 hour rewind on my life. I was sitting on the floor of my friend’s basement, waiting for someone to find the remote so we could watch a movie. Everyone was crushed together on ratty couches and broken armchairs, but the setting didn’t matter. There was a palpable harmony amongst everyone, except I felt like the discordant note. I was one step behind on references and one word too long on my explanations. Everything was blurry like opening your eye underwater.


Harry floated into the room suddenly and everyone bounded up to greet him. They hugged, rejoiced, laughed together. I stayed on the ground and stared up at his effortless form, his easy confidence. No one even noticed his accent. He was one of us. He looked down at me with a smile and I just melted. We sat together, but we were totally alone. I think the room emptied and the scene went black, but his voice and his jokes, the connections he made passed through my mind again and again.


And then I was at my old summer camp, sitting by the lake alone on the first night, I was probably 11 or 12. A boy came and sat down next to me on the dock while the rest of the camp shrieked and joked around the camp fire. I looked up at it was Harry but he was wearing... oh he was wearing... Brendan’s clothing... Brendan...


I woke up grasping at straws to remember what I was remembering. Camp... Brendan... oh... I guess he was the first boy to actually kiss me.
- -

I did sit on a dock alone at that camp, but it was towards the end of the summer not the beginning. We’d just had a boy-girl dance with the camp across the lake and I was feeling awkward and anxious reliving the whole experience in my mind. None of the boys in my cabin knew what to do, but some of them were really cocky so they just walked over to the girls and started dancing like idiots. The girls responded in pairs and trios and danced with the boys for a bit but they flickered on and off like fireflies.


I sat on the side with plenty of boys feeling too nervous to look across the room, let alone stand up and make a move. I’d never felt paralyzed by girls before, in fact I had plenty of friends who were girls... but I knew this was different. I knew the older boys were kissing the older girls, and I realized I was supposed to do that too. I didn’t want to... but I didn’t know why.


Brendan sat down next to me while my toes licked the surface of the water.


“That was weird,” he said. I hadn’t talked to Brendan a lot that summer, but we’d been in the same cabin so we knew each other. “Did you like it?”


“No,” I said lowly to the water. “It was really weird. I don’t want to do it again.”


“Did you think-” he began, “were we supposed to kiss them?”


“Who?” I said with shocked, “the girls? No!”


“Tommy and Gerard are saying they did though, or they tried to,” he told me.


“Well they’re really obnoxious, I’m not surprised,” I dismissed. “I bet the girls didn’t even like it.”


“Yeah,” Brendan said trailing off. “I don’t think I want to kiss any girls.”


My stomach turned in knots. That sentence resonated but at the time I didn’t know if I was scared or uninterested. “You mean ever?” I asked.

 

[Greatand08]

Brendan frowned and looked across the lake. I guess he was really cute back then. Brown hair, lots of a freckles, a nice smile. “I don’t know, I don’t get why they like girls. They’re okay.”


I turned this sentence over, “I get it, I mean... some of them are really nice but, I don’t want to like... like them yet.”


“Their nice but, I don’t know,” Brendan said very quietly. “I’d rather be with boys.”


Bing! went the lightbulb in my head. Be with boys. Like boys. That made sense. The girls shifted into focus too in an instance. I liked them, they felt special, but boys were cute and nice too... I definitely liked boys the same as girls.

“I think I...” I began shakily. “I think I agree. Boys are really nice.”


Brendan sighed, “I don’t know if that makes me gay or something, but-”


Gay! What? Me! No? Maybe? No!


“Oh, I didn’t think of it like that,” I cut in. “I don’t think I’m gay but boys are just as nice as girls and I don’t see the big deal about liking one or the other. Girls like boys so why can’t boys like boys?”


Brendan turned to me a smiled very timidly. “I’m glad you get what I’m saying. I’ve been feeling really... weird about this.”


“It’s fine,” I said breezily. Phew, not gay, NOT gay, we are NOT gay. “I would even kiss a boy,” I announced. Fuck shit fuck, that was gay.


“You would?” Brendan say with high eyebrows and much surprise. He lit up like a campfire.


“Uh,” I began as my brain totally stopped working. I fessed up, “yeah I would I guess?”


Brendan leaned in like he was conspiring and put out his lips for me. And I stared at them for a moment, hoping it was a prank or a ploy by the other boys, but always knowing... knowing that I wanted it and would like it. That it was right for me. I looked around the dock and leaned in briefly to kiss him. Our lips touched for a lightning’s instant and then we pulled away.


“Okay,” Brendan said breathing out slowly. He sounded even more confused. Then he paused for a moment and I held my breath with him trying to figure out if that was good bad or terrible. It felt important but indecipherable. My heart raced and I wanted to apologize for doing it. “I’m gonna go get midnight snack.”


“Oh, okay, sounds good,” I agreed very quickly stepping on my apology and standing up. We took a couple steps down the dock and Brendan turned to me.


“Thanks,” he said with a quick smile. “I’m glad I’m not the only one.”

• - -

I replayed those feelings and that memory staring at the ceiling. I did like Brendan, I would’ve kissed him again. Hell I’d kiss him bow. Back then the pieces were only slowly emerging... it was strange thinking I might know how to place them now. I liked girls but Harry was also wonderful and friendly and funny and... I fell back asleep pulling apart the strings of the memory and trying to weave it back into an answer about today.

• - -

I woke up with great certainty. I’d only been asleep a few hours but my mind was totally back on British time. I had a mission.


“Har,” I called into his door.


He didn’t answer.


“Harry,” I said opening the door, watching him lay on his bed.


“What?” he asked peeking over his shoulder. His voice was still weak, his body upset.


“I didn’t mean to do that before,” I began. Harry turned firmly away from me.


“It’s alright, Conor, it was dumb,” he forced out.


I sat on his bed, rubbing my hand up and down his arm.


“It’s not dumb, I really really missed you,” I admitted. I missed him every day, at every meal, I missed him not bothering me when I woke up or when I went to bed. I missed his laughter, his daring, his insatiable questions. His attention. “I wished you were there every day.”


“You don’t have to be nice,” Harry said while still facing the wall. “I’m not a poof or anything.”


“Harry,” I said laying down besides him, trying to contour to his body like we had in my dreams. As I laid down, I started shaking suddenly. I’d come in here knowing what I wanted, and how I would tell him- but now staring over the edge of that announcement I felt panicked. I was gonna cross a line and not look back. I tried to weave together the feelings of the dream and create and armor for what would happen next. I bounded through my trepidation and whispered, “I like you.”


Harry didn’t answer me, so I crouched over his head and whispered into his ear. “I like you. Do you like me?”

 

[Greatand08]

He shifted underneath me and showed a stricken, teary face. “You don’t mean it like that though.”


“Like what?” I asked, feeling absolute dread and wonder at the same time. It was like realizing I’d been trying to solve a puzzle but I’d flipped all the corners. I had the pieces all together, just out of place. This was ready and waiting for me, now I just had to go for it. And Harry had to meet me there.


“Like more than a friend,” he grumbled, wiping his eyes. “I didn’t mean anything when I kissed you.”


“Harry, you can-” I choked on the line, looking at his tender, inviting mouth. “You can kiss me.”


And then I leaned in and met our mouths, letting his surprised lips onto my own, feeling his body turn and warm up again. He was gentle and uninvasive, like always, not forcing me further open, but letting me welcome him inside. It was brief and certain.


“I didn’t know what this was, Conor, you and me,” he said looking at me a little startled and relieved. “I wasn’t trying to get you or anything.”


“Harry,” I said gently, burying my face into the crook of his shoulder and chest, “I still don’t know what this is, but I like it, okay.”


“Okay,” he said laughing. I felt it come up through his chest. I buried my face deep and smelled him fully for the first time. My brain made sure that scent and that taste fused together with that feeling of his body and his heart. We laid melded for a while, certain and undefined at the same time. It may have been the most vivid dream I’d ever been in.


- - - -

After this revelation, Harry and I wandered through a very happy, very uncomplicated, unpronounced courtship. Neither of us felt particularly burdened to explain to ourselves or each other what we “technically” were. We still just sat in my room together, ate the meals together, and went to our own practices and rehearsals, and dotted the passing moments with quietly held hands and secretly held glances. And a lot of covert kissing.


Harry would hide out in the woods during cross country and leap out to kiss me against some trees. The heavy patter of the other boys meant very little in those miniature and magnified moments.


During Harry’s recital at the end of the year I bullied a boy working the door back stage to let me in, so right as he started to panic before his performance I crept up behind him kissed his neck and his ears and his face and his mouth...


It was undisclosed to anyone else, and that meant it felt potent and exciting. Like all good and innocent things though, the lines and meaning of the relationship would eventually have to encounter some menacing obstacles.

 

[TinyMan]

You have written a beautiful, romantic beginning to a tender love story, and I am breathlessly waiting to read more.

 

[Greatand08]

Harry and I trekked back to my place, throwing off our boots and jackets in the front hall. We sprawled out onto the couches, wheezing and panting from the hike. Neither of us had realized how long the walk would be or how hot you could get under four layers of clothing. We pulled off our snow pants and sweaters and left them in heaps on the ground.


“Do you do that often?” Harry asked from the other couch.


“What do you think?” I offered back. He chuckled a little, and we both pulled out our phones.


We recovered in harmony for a while until he asked, “This is a stupid question, and I hate asking it, but my manager wants to know what people are around?”


I perked up and looked over at him, “Like human beings?”


“Anyone who could recognize me, snap a photo, and put it online.”


“Oh,” I said thinking about it. “On campus, there’s practically no one. The winter term was discontinued last year, but a professor and I have been working on this project since last spring so I stuck around to finish it. Naturally, he went to the Bahamas.”


“Does anyone else live in this building?” he asked.


“There are three other apartments, one’s empty, one professor just moved out cause he was visiting, and there is a professor next door, but he’s very old and I honestly hope he moved out cause he was going to fall and break a hip pretty soon.”


“So he wouldn’t know what to do with me even if I introduced myself?” Harry said with a grin. “That’s actually excellent.”

“In town there’s more people, pre-teens and the like, so I wouldn’t suggest going there,” I added.


“Brilliant,” Harry said. “That’s actually fine. I hate grocery stores anyway.”


While Harry texted I asked, “what would someone even do with those photos?”


“Well,” he said closing his phone. “The photos would be shit, but they might want to know who you are, why am I here, etc. There’s an okay story there.


“Hasn’t anyone ever called you up?” Harry asked.


“Called me up? About what?”


“About me,” he said. “All my mates from home get a call once a year looking for some juicy interview about school and crap.”


I was surprised, “No, actually. Guess I didn’t make the list.”


Harry shrugged, “The guys never answer, and if they do they say I was a lovely mate who sang too often.”


I laughed. And then my memory probed around for memories with Harry and I wondered out loud, “how would you like me to describe our friendship?”


Harry tried to demure by fixing his hat, “Dunno. We were mates. We are mates.”


“Yeah, but,” I pressed. “If someone called up saying that Garrett Wilmington had some interesting stories about you and I... as more than mates...”


Harry was lost, “Why would Gar have any stories about you and I? Did we ever speak to him?”


“Only once really,” I said pulling out the threads of a lost memory. “The winter formal my first year there?”


Harry looked at me and as the memory crashed down on him he blushed and hid his face. Garrett might have a lot to say about Harry and me.

 

[Greatand08]

- - -
“Harry probably couldn’t get his own cousin to come to the formal with him,” Garrett Wilmington jeered across the wide circle of boys. The winter formal was the only co-ed event of the year, so every boy was excited and reared to show off whatever girl they’d invited or bullied to coming with them. Usually it was some old friend from home, occasionally girls from a neighboring academy, and yes sometimes a cousin or two. “Poor chap, guess that singing isn’t going anywhere.”


I smiled cleanly at Garrett, drinking the cider while glancing around the room as the rest of the circle’s laughs echoed around hollowly. I was one of many boys without a date, but Garrett had a special beef with me, so he made sure my singleness was well noted.


“I mean really, you’d think with all that talking you do, you could find someone, right?” he continued as I scanned the room steadily. Where was he. Where was he. Don’t be late right now, Con.


And then like a bolt and like a dream, Conor was standing in the corner talking to the second newest boy in the class. He was wearing a dark gray blazer and corduroys, a decision that no one quite understood. And he paired it smartly with a denim shirt and a bloody bow tie because Conor had safely and swiftly transitioned into forgetting that he was new and meant to blend in. Maybe it was me, maybe it was us, but either way I liked it better this way.


He saw my eyes once and smiled, like a friend.


He saw my eyes a moment later as I watched him carry on and raised his eyebrows, like an invitation.


We both cut through the room and schemed curiously.
- - - - -

An hour later or so, a lot of the boys had skipped out on the formal to go to a pub in town. Someone’s uncle was the bartender so he was going to let our whole rowdy mob in no questions asked if you showed up early. I had no intention of doing that. We followed the pack down the road into town though.


“Hey Gar,” I called as Conor and I loped behind Garrett’s unimpressive frame on the road. His lot of mates was hurrying ahead, hearing that someone else’s brother was buying the first round of pints. “Have you met Conor?”


Garrett turned around uneasily, clearly having spiked the cider a little too hard. “Who?”


“Conor,” I said presenting the American to the swollen, bloviated idiot. “He’s the new one.”


“Oh, right,” he said staring at Conor closely, mostly gawking at his clothing in a slow, confused way. “Are you a bit off a poof?”


“Bit of a what?” Conor asked walking closer to Garrett, acting like he didn’t know he was being insulted. He even slipped an arm around his shoulder to make them look like real mates.


“Friend a little new here, eh Har?” he asked me looking over his shoulder. He turned back to Conor, “D’you fancy girls Conor or... other little poofs like Harry here?”


“Oh,” Conor said suddenly. “Am I gay?”


“Not that there’s anything wrong with that I mean, plenty of homosexuals around the place I reckon,” he said graciously. Always the diplomat, even when wasted.


“I’ve never really though about it to be honest,” Conor replied.


“Never really thought about it? What does that mean?”


“Fancying boys, I mean,” Conor said earnestly, playfully. “I mean girls do it, right? Except not to you, right, Gar? I can’t seem to find Melinda anymore, can I. Awkward. Almost like she couldn’t bear to stay around you,” Conor delivered this series of deep cuts with effortless laughter bouncing off each word.


“Fuck off, mate, she’s got a match tomorrow, alright,” Garrett said disengaging. He was done with Conor, but Conor wasn’t done with him.


“But I’ll be real with you, Garrett,” Conor said walking near him again. Now I joined them on the other side of Garrett, watching his meaty face under the poor street lighting. “I’ve been thinking about it for the last minute or so and I’ve come to a decision.”


“Yeah, and that would be?” Garrett leered out poorly, condescendingly.


“Harry is exactly my kind of poof,” he replied brightly. And then he leaned across Garrett’s smaller frame and kissed me firmly on the lips, holding me with a hand, halting Garrett’s surprised gasp.


“Oh you’re a right faggot you lot!” he exclaimed, barreling through our embrace. He tried to move away from us, but he was too drunk to make a beeline. “Fucking knew it with you two, fuck off.”


“Aw, what you jealous, mate?” Conor jeered in an english accent. “Wish someone wouldn’t make up an excuse to ditch you at your own formal?”


“Piss off,” Garrett began before Conor leaned in again sharply.


“I won’t, but I think you ought to Garrett. And all your petty, shitty, dumb little name calling and insulting of my boyfriend had better stop, or I’ll make sure that as soon as you even think about fancying a girl she finds out how fucking indecent and incompetent of a social being you really are, incapable of full sentences or even complex emotions. Oh and I’ll be sure to fucking tell them that in the showers you certainly lack that certain... I don’t know, je ne sais cock.”


Garrett sputtered and maybe tried to swing at Conor, but I grabbed him by the back of the jacket and our growling, tiresome obstacle tripped off the curb and continued his slurred epithets down the street.

 

[Greatand08]

I nearly punched Conor a few times as we rushed back to the dormitory afterwards. We were elated and inflated with justice and power and adrenaline. Conor was reciting all his lines to himself, and we kept leaning in for longer, more protracted versions of our kiss. We reached the entrance to the building and stopped, recounting yet again what had happened in the tiny entranceway.


“Oh and then I said he better not fuck with my boyfriend ever again,” Conor shot with excitement kicking the air.


“You didn’t say that,” I said between laughs. “You didn’t say my boyfriend.”


“Yes I fucking did,” Conor insisted. “I told that fat fucker my boyfriend was off limits.”


“You did?” I asked again, sure that he hadn’t actually said boyfriend. Sure that in the heat of ripping apart my schoolyard menace Conor hadn’t wed up as far as teenagers really could - in boyfriendhood. “You said boyfriend?”


“I fucking did,” he said staring at me for a moment, reading my confusion, my excitement. “What?”


“Are you my boyfriend?” I asked seriously, hurriedly.


“Oh, I uh-” he said opening his mouth wide and furrowing his brows. He was frozen, pinched, the opposite of a few moments ago. “I mean, I just said that like we are friends and stuff so don’t really-”


He trailed off with a ghostly smile across his face. Like he was a little kid who’d made a mistake and now hoped for absolution because he was just so damn cute.


“I mean, I don’t know what else you would call this, I guess, right?” I asked shyly.


“No, no, we don’t have to really it’s fine-”


“I mean it’s not a problem I don’t-”

“I was just sort of blurting it out, not thinking and-”


“I’d like you to be my-”


“Oh you would?” Conor asked with wide eyes, eyes that held me dearly and paused for me. Waited for my response like it meant everything.


“Y-Yes, v-very much,” I stammered looking down.


Conor held my hands and leaned his head against mine. “Me too.”


I exhaled suddenly. He laughed, his head shaking against mine.


“Boyfriends,” I said.


“Boyfriends,” he repeated. With confidence.


“Do we tell anyone?” I asked.


“I don’t-”


“Nevermind,” I said knowing that the name didn’t change anything outside of us. This relationship was still just a sacred space between our heads, between our breaths. We held there for another minute, priming ourselves to go back to bed as boyfriends, not just... whatever we’d left as.


Conor held open the door for me and I swung into his lithe frame, kissing him passionately and banging the door shut. He submitted as my hands raced up his body, feeling the muscles I hadn’t crossed yet, exploring the surfaces I didn’t know yet.


He responded by rushing through my hair, then down my neck, around my collar, towards my belt...


I rushed to open the door again, his hands trailing close behind me, never losing contact.

 

[lobya]

great story, looking forward to next chapter

 

[deleted12830]

You can't stop it here!!

 

[Greatand08]

“You’ve never, right?” I asked as Conor closed his door quietly behind him.


“I, uh, no, no,” he said affirming clearly.


“Do you want to?” I asked pulling off my jacket and shoes, moving for my belt and my tie.


“Yes, if you, yes,” he said pulling his bow tie out dramatically. My heart beat jumped and my breath halted.


“Okay, okay,” I said again, pulling off my pants, my tie, my shirt, my socks.


Conor was down to his boxers, looking at me closely, waiting just outside of arm’s reach for me to be ready. I’d never had a chance to really look at him closely before. Conor was about six foot, a little taller than me, but he was thin like me. His build was long somehow, like all the running had stretched out his torso to made his thin abs stretch down further, to make his surprisingly plump biceps extend higher. He had a nice pair of shoulders and a chest with actual, real hair on it.


“Do you have a condom?” I asked politely, pulling off my t-shirt.


“Do we need one?” he asked.


I nearly rebutted on instinct and then did the math. Virgin plus virgin minus ovaries equals good to go.


“Oh right, okay, do you have uh-” I began trembling a little with nerves, with fear, with emotions.


“What?” he asked coming in closely, his white tall frame cradling my bare skin for the first time.


“Like lube or something I mean we probably need that?” I said like a question, while his mouth met my neck and my shoulders.


“I’ve got some,” he said moving down my arms, across to my chest, kissing on my abs, my waist, my-


I giggled uncomfortably, excitedly. “Okay.” Conor was on his knees before me, ready to go. My cock was very hard in my boxer briefs, his hands grabbing the bulge and holding it firmly.


“Okay?” he asked, looking up with new eyes. Sexy eyes. Fuck me eyes. Ready eyes.


“Yes,” I agreed. His hands slipped down my shorts and he paused.


“Fuck,” he mumbled. But not in a sexy, fuck, ready way.


“Oh no,” I responded instinctively, backing up and pulling up my underwear.


“No, no, no,” Conor said holding my wrists tightly, keeping the underwear in place. “You’re um, wow, you’re uncut clearly, like obviously but you also...”


“What?” I said staring over his primed and positioned head at his untidy, raucous desk. I couldn’t look down at my boyfriend of five minutes staring at my throbbing penis with great concern. I couldn’t.


“Do you know how big you are?” he asked with a slight hesitation. With maybe some concern.


“I don’t - well fuck it I know,” I admitted. Every guy knew.


“Yeah?”


“Yeah like 23 centimeters,” I said meekly, quietly, ashamed and afraid.


After a pause to do the measurement conversion in his head Conor sighed and laughed, “Harry, you’re fucking hung.”


“What?” I said suddenly, looking down at my dick as it lolled near Conor’s face.


“This is a big cock,” he told me seriously. “The average guy is like... 15 centimeters I think.”


“Oh,” I exclaimed. And then I really thought about it, “OH.”


“Yeah,” Conor said smiling at me, nearly laughing. “You didn’t know?”


“Uh, no, I didn’t look up the average I just thought I was like normal and all,” I stuttered. All my time flicking through porn and playboys, I’d never asked that question. I knew my size, but I didn’t think about other guy’s sizes. How shallow I am at being gay.

 

[Greatand08]

“Well, you are exceptional,” Conor said holding my thick cock with his left hand. It was the first time he’d ever held it. Shit - it was the first time anyone had held it. It was so deliciously exciting but nauseating, like what if people found out? What if my mother found out? Or the guys next door? Was I supposed to be doing this? “How far around is it?” he asked pulling back my foreskin.


I blushed, “It’s about 16 centimeters.”


Conor laughed and pulled on my cock assessing its length, its girth. It did seem tremendous as his hands maneuvered around it clumsily. He was new here too and that relieved me.


“You don’t have to blow me then-” I said realizing the implications of my new feature. “I’ll blow you instead.”


“No, fuck no,” Conor said lifting up my shaft and kissing my balls beneath. A shiver shot up my spine, tingling my sides. “I’m gonna do it.” Conor’s bravado emboldened me to (at the very least) accept this intimate, shady moment. He was ready, and I was too (nearly.)


Conor backed up a little so my cock could extend between us. It hovered pulsing for a while and then he opened his mouth wide and slid the head it. He barely closed his mouth around it but as his lips brushed the sides, pre-cum oozed out.


“Well, hello,” he said looking at the drops on the ground. “I think it fits pretty well.”


“I guess so, and-” I began awkwardly, “I pre-cum a lot, so don’t be like freaked out or anything.”


“I can deal with a little pre-cum, Har,” he said leaning in again and lunging down my cock, its girth sliding through his wide lips into a narrow mouth. His tongue ducked out of the way and he shimmed himself closer as he swallowed more of me. It was impressive but strategic. He closed his eyes and grimaced more than halfway down, and then he pulled back. My cock poured out pre-cum. The down was easy, it was the up that got me. My cock sent electric shocks up my body like a dangerous, intoxicating shock between static and lightning.


“How far was I?” he asked, wiping a glob of pre-cum and eating it. He squeezed a little more out of me and then spit in his hand to mix up a lube.


I held my cock maybe six inches down. There was still a lot length. “Shit,” he commented. “Your cock is massive, H.”


“You like it though?” I asked. “I know you do,” I insisted.


Conor smiled again, “Maybe I won’t get it tonight, but that doesn’t mean I’m stopping.”


And boy did he not stop.


Conor sucked on my cock hard and constantly. He barely got his hands around to my balls as he worked on either jerking it off in circles, yanking me and pulling the pre-cum out of me or sucking and twisting and licking and working so fucking hard to get farther down. He pushed and pushed, nearing probably 7 inches, coming off with gasps and determination. It was obvious that Conor was used to marathons, not sprints.


He used his fingers to make a ring to drag up my dick when I was pre-cumming. He seemed to love then licking up the bottom up my shaft along the ridge and then taking my cum with him. He kissed up and down the bottom, urging my cum along. He lapped the cum onto his chest, his cheeks, his hands.


I watched him work with determination squeezing my balls with his left while clenching my ass with his right, trying to force his way down. He moved and moved, wringled and squeezed his eyes shut. He nearly made it farther than 7 but gagged again and came back up looking pained. He gagged a little again and paused.


“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” I said leaning down. Conor’s face was red and he coughed a few more times. Tears pooled in his devilish eyes.


“I think you came in my lungs,” he said between breaths. “Which is hot but problematic.”


I snickered a little to myself. Conor kept breathing and I finally looked over at his boxers, his tent waiting prominently for some attention. I’d been so selfish. He’d probably been sucking me off for... 5? or maybe 25? minutes.


“Oh shit, Conor,” I said looking at it, slinking over to his huddled frame. “You don’t have to just blow me, I can also-”


He looked at me startled as I reached for his boxers. “It’s okay,” he insisted. “Lemme at it.”


I kissed him passionately, pressing him asking his dresser. He submitted again and I reached up the leg of his boxers to his ready cock. I grabbed it and struggled. I moved again and struggled again.


“I don’t want you to, like, if you can’t suck it that’s okay,” he began between kisses. He lifted himself up enough, so I could pull his boxers off. As I did I heard a hard thwap and looked down.


“Oh shit,” I let out suddenly.


“It’s not as long as yours, don’t-”


“How thick is it?” I asked holding his cock, barely reaching my fingers around it. I was in awe of his tremendous member.


“That’s uh,” he said doing the math. “Like 18 or 19?”


“Oh my goooood,” I let out at his impossible wide dick. “Holy shit.”


“I know, so I don’t want you to worry about sucking it or anything, I get it-”


“How long is it?”


“A little over 20,” he knew quickly. “So longer than wide at least.”


“Fuck,” I said marveling at it. “Will that even fit?”


“Uh,” he hesitated. “I don’t know, maybe, I didn’t have too much trouble with yours-”


“No, I mean like, will it fit?” I said more seriously considering where else it might go.


Conor looked at me frozen. “I didn’t know you were ready to...”


“Oh,” I said blushing, not realizing I’d jumped the gun a little. “I just always thought I’d be on the bottom it all, just sort of how I pictured it,” I said quickly. “Not that we have to or anything. Just a thought-”


“No, that’s fine, I didn’t think about that really,” he continued. “And my brother doesn’t have any trouble so I don’t think it should-”


“Your brother?” I interrupted with a brief shock.


“Yeah, he’s my size, maybe bigger but that doesn’t stop him really,” he explained.


“Wait - how do you know?” I asked urgently.


“Oh he just- no nothing weird he just,” Conor said very flustered. He gulped, “My brother was a real slut, so I always heard about it from him or his mates, and he’d brag after a few pints that it was bigger than a beer can. I mean maybe he was full of shit about that, but he bragged a lot and since I’m big I just-”


I let out a light chuckle as the cute, frantic Conor kept on, “well I’d hope he’s not a beer can. This looks big enough for me.”


“Oh yeah! Still gets it in no problem!” Conor added quickly. “Heard it through the walls plenty of times.”


I laughed at the thought of an older, more masculine Conor fucking a girl with a beer can cock and not thinking twice about its size and its might. I didn’t actually know what Conor’s older brother was like, but since Conor was about as demure as they came I imagined a braggart brother would be the total opposite.


“Yeah, so, do you want to uh?” I asked nervously. I wasn’t sure what I was asking or how we’d gotten here so fast, but Conor’s dick was still in my hands so I felt compelled to move the show along. As I stroked his big cock more though I became much more fearful about what path we would take. I’d occasionally fingered myself but I’d never put more than two in... and I was very certain he was bigger than two fingers.


“We don’t have to rush if you want to start with just some... other stuff, but if you want to, I would um, I’m ready,” he said moving to get up. I followed his lead and he pulled lube out of his underwear drawer. “I got lube!”


“Okay then, I’ll just,” I walked over to the bed and laid back. I opened my legs and debate pulling them back up to my chest. I didn’t know the first thing about getting fucked and I think it showed it my purposeful but highly unsexy maneuvers.


Conor hopped onto the bed and the real size of his cock came into view as I glanced down at it over my shy body. It was thick and red, waiting for me with a shiny coat of lube on it. I took the lube from him and loosened myself up with a couple of quick fingers. Tried getting a third and fourth in real quick just to start. I lubed up everything, hole to cheek to be sure.


“So I’ll just,” he said leaning out over me, positioning his head right above mine. “You good?”


“Yeah, I don’t really use dildos or anything though, so I’ll be tight and stuff,” I told him quickly.