Knowing Noah

by c m

Chapter 10

After we've all showered and dressed, we make our way to the kitchen, where Christophe is put on peeling potatoes and veg, Noah on laying the table and me on making stock and stuffing. Aunt Sarah is getting the two geese that are the main event ready and Francine is decorating some of the myriad of desserts that have been created. My uncle and my father have decided that opening and tasting the wine is their job (funny that) and my mother is helping out with preparing little canapes of foie gras. This team event all works like a well-oiled machine and by early afternoon everything is ready. My aunt sorts out the cooking times and announces that our Christmas lunch will begin at 4. In the meantime, we are all to move into the lounge where Champagne will be served alongside the canapes, and the remaining presents will be opened.

The first bottle of Champagne is opened just before 2 o'clock. This is the start of what turns out to be a six-hour eating and drinking marathon. The conversation is relaxed, and there is a lot of laughter around the table. We finish with coffee and brandy. How we manage to clear the table without breaking anything is anyone's guess. I've never seen Noah so unsteady and Christophe has reached that stage where he just giggles helplessly whenever anyone says anything remotely funny. Or anything at all, in fact.

By 10, we're ready for bed; Noah is a looking a little better and Christo has calmed down. We all have a big hug in the centre of the room then tumble into bed. Sex is out of the question – and Christo's gentle snores are the music I fall asleep to.

In the morning, however, we are all back to normal. Christophe's erection is once again on show as he goes to the bathroom before he puts on his briefs and goes downstairs. He reappears with coffee for all of us.

'You are an absolute hero', says Noah, shuffling up to make room in bed for him to join us. We sit there, enjoying the coffee, and idly discussing what the day holds. We talk about perhaps going back into Blois or going for a walk – or both, or neither. Eventually Christophe says,

'OK...you two decide. I will take a shower and we can plan things after. He shucks off his shorts, throws his towel over his shoulder and walks across to the bathroom.

'He has got a very cute bottom, hasn't he?' I observe.

Noah laughs. 'Yes…and talking of his bottom…have you thought any more about his request?'

'Yes, Noah, I have. Are you quite sure you'll be OK with me….showing him what it's like? Maybe it should be you?'

'First, yes, I'm just fine with it being you. Look, it's going to be his first – maybe his only - time, and while you're not exactly small, I'm…'

'A whole lot bigger,' I add.

'Quite. I think you'll be more than enough for him to take. And second I meant what I said. You two have some history – alright, not to the extent we're talking about but still….'

'We don't have any condoms.'

'We probably don't need them – though Christophe may have some. You've only been with me, right? And you know I'm OK. And this will be Christophe's first, so…'

'OK. Do you suppose he's had…anything…up there? He may be curious but I don't want to hurt him.'

'We can ask.'

Christophe emerges from the shower.

'OK…you have decided?'

'No...well, not about today but we have decided that if you still want to know what's it like to have a man inside you, then Ollie would be happy to show you.'

Christophe's eyes open wide.

'Really, Ollie? You'd do that for me? And it is OK with you, Noah?'

'Yes and yes,' I say, 'but one thing Christo, have you ever had ANYTHING…not a cock obviously…inside you…it's just…'

'Yes, yes, of course, I understand. Well…my last girlfriend, she liked to have something in both entrances at the same time. So bought her a…I don't know the word…we say godemiche…'

From the actions he's making it can only be one thing.

'Ah…dildo,' I say.

'Ah, c'est ca…dildo. And…well…she used it on me too sometimes. I used to imagine it was…' he stops and looks at me, '….a man. This is how I know more that I am bisexual.'

For a moment, I could have sworn he was going to say that he imagined it was me…but I'm probably seeing things that aren't there.

'OK…well I think that's good. Do you have any condoms…protectifs?'

'Condoms? Why do we need condoms? I am a virgin in that way and you have only been with Noah, yes?'

'We don't have to use one, Christophe, but it can make things easier first time or two.'

'I don't like protectifs…and I want to feel a man not plastic. If I want plastic I have the godemiche.'

The logic was undeniable – though probably not to be found in any safe-sex handbook.

'OK, 'I say.

'Good. When can we do this? Tonight?'

'Sure…but it would be better if we could do it when we know we are alone in the house. It may be a little…noisy.'

'OK…I think the family will go walking after lunch. We do not have to join them. Would that be OK?'

I look at Noah. He shrugs.

'That's fine by us – if they're out.'

'Excellent. Then I suggest we go into Blois and see the castle. It will be open, and then get back here for lunch.'

'Sounds like a plan.'

Blois castle is impressive. Before France was unified, it was the seat of one of the noble houses engaged in the tussle for supremacy. It has been home to several French kings, and has its own chapel. It's been turned into museum – and, as a historian, I find it fascinating. Even Noah is impressed by the 'chamber of secrets' which contains the supposed poison cabinets of Catherine de Medici.

We take our time, but I can tell, after two hours, that both Noah and Christophe are keen to return home for lunch.

Lunch is a help-yourself affair consisting largely of left over food from the previous day. In addition to the meats and cheeses, there are chutneys and salads – not mention the desserts.

As expected, after lunch my parents and my aunt and uncle announce that they intend to do a long walk. Francine has been invited round to a friend, where she will have a sleep-over. We are invited, but plead tiredness. We wave them farewell on their walk and shut the door behind them.

'Well?' says Christophe, 'Yes or no?' I look at Noah and he nods. 'Looks like a yes, Christo.'

We run like naughty school boys up to Christophe's room and shut the door.

'Is there anything I need to do to…get ready?' asks Christophe.

'I'll let Noah explain that – he's the more experienced one,' I say.

Noah explains to Christophe about being 'nice to know' and offers to show him in the shower. This involves both of them getting naked. While Noah does his thing, I, too, strip off and lie on the bed waiting for them. I can hear a lot of giggling from the bathroom.

When they reappear, they are both sporting erections.

'Have you seen the size of that?!' says Christophe, pointing at Noah.

I just look at him.

'Oops…silly question…but if he can put that in you without hurting you, I'm sure I can take yours.'

'Are you saying I'm small?' I ask, with a smile, pointing between my legs where I am also now hard.

'No…no…just….'

I laugh. 'It's OK, Christo, I know what you mean.'

He comes and sits on the bed beside me.

'How do we do this?'

'When Noah first…took…me, I lay on my side and drew one leg up so he could enter me from behind. That seemed to work well.'

'OK,' says Christophe, and he proceeds to put himself in exactly that position.

'OK, next I'm going to use some gel to make you slippery and then use my fingers on you to open you up. '

'OK.'

I squirt gel on my fingers and his hole, and slide one finger inside him. He is hot and tight. And it makes my cock pulse with desire.

'Try to relax, Christo.'

'OK.'

He does and I soon have a second finger inside him. I also hit 'that' spot.

'Oh Ollie…that feels good.'

'Good…now…are you ready for the real deal?'

'Yes…be gentle.'

I smile. I remember using the self-same words to Noah on my first time.

I press my achingly hard erection, which I have also covered in gel, against his hole – and am surprised but delighted that I seem to slide easily into him, seemingly painlessly. I keep going until I have my full length buried inside him.

'Mon dieu…it feels like you have put a moelle…a marrow…inside me.'

'But no pain?'

'No…just a very little as you first started.'

'OK…here we go then.'

I take things very gently, and I can feel him relax. I can sense the precise moment when 'feeling full' turns to 'feeling pleasure'. As if to make the point, he says,

'Can you go a little faster please.'

I do. And I go deeper too. He grunts as I do so.

'Oof…that hurt but it is good.'

He reaches round, takes hold of my hand and puts it on his cock. I stroke him as I step up the pace and strength of my thrusts. I see Noah unashamedly stroking himself as he watches. Christo starts making little bleating noises and then he's spurting all over my hand. As his muscles clench, he sends me over the top and I empty myself inside him. I see Noah erupt in a fountain as well.

Apart from the sound of our heavy breathing, there is silence.

I pull out of Christophe and he rolls over on his back. His eyes are alight and there's a goofy grin on his face.

'So…that is what it is like to have a man inside you.'

'Well, what passes for a man,' says Noah with a grin.

'Bloody charming,' I say.

Christophe just giggles.

'And?' I ask him questioningly.

'I like. I like very much. Very, very much. It was super-good.'

He turns to me.

'Thank you, Ollie – and thank you Noah, too.'

'My pleasure – literally – Christo.'

'I would do that all the time if I was you.'

'We do,' I say, with a big smile.

Christophe laughs and the sits up and gives me a kiss.

'And one for you too, Noah.'

He goes to get up but is suddenly aware of one of the other downsides of not using a condom; my seed leaks out of him all down his leg. I take my handkerchief out from under the pillow and throw it to him.

'Ah…thanks, Ollie.'

He wipes my seed off him and gives Noah a kiss. Noah takes the handkerchief and cleans himself up as well.

'So…are you batting for our team, now, Christo?'

'Quoi? Sorry, 'batting for your team'…I don't understand.'

Noah explains – half in English and half in French.

'OOOh…I see…yes, I understand. Well…sometimes at least, maybe. If there is a boy I like enough!'

We get dressed and all have a hug, then go downstairs and I make us all a cup of tea – a habit even Christophe enjoys, having picked it up from his mother. Considering what we have just done, it is all very matter-of-fact. Except that I can't help feeling guilty at just how much pleasure it gave me to be inside Christophe. And I hope that Noah is genuinely OK with it.

The next day – the 27th – is the last one that we are scheduled to spend with my aunt. On the 28th we drive to Courchevel. My father and aunt tell us that there's a surprise; the surprise is that Christophe and his family are coming too. It's to be a real family holiday.

Part of me is pleased, and part of me isn't; I love Christophe, but I'd been looking forward to some time with just Noah. Noah and I will still have a room to ourselves – which is good – but it won't be just the two of us during the day.

It's a lovely crisp, winter day, and having missed out on the walk the previous day (not that any of us was complaining about what we did instead) we three decide to do our own walk that afternoon. We wrap up warm and Christophe leads the way. About a mile into the walk, we start to horse around with each other – I can't remember what started it – and we are pushing and shoving one another. Unfortunately – and totally by accident - Christophe pushes me when I have already been knocked off balance by Noah, and I tumble sideways. My foot gets caught in a tree root and my whole weight comes wrenching down across it. The pain is excruciating and I can't help but scream in agony.

'Oh my God, Ollie, are you alright?'

'No…no, I don't think I am. My ankle…'

'Stay still, Ollie,' says Noah.

Christophe comes over, bends down and gently puts a hand either side of my ankle. I yelp in pain.

'Is it broken, Christophe?' asks Noah.

'I don't know…I don't think so. But he isn't going to be able to walk on it. Either we support him, one on each side, or we get help.'

'I think you should phone your parents and tell them what's happened. Ollie needs a doctor for sure. We can make a start on getting him back, but maybe they can meet us along the way. If we can get his foot out without killing him.'

Christophe makes the call, and Noah gently tries to release my foot from the root. He does so, but I nearly pass out with the pain. My ankle is also now visibly swelling, and the pain is coming in waves.

'OK,' says Christophe, as he ends the call, 'they'll meet us with the car if we cut across the last field we crossed. Papa is organising for a doctor to see you, Ollie.'

I nod. It's about as much as I can do.

Noah and Christophe help me to my feet – or rather foot – by taking my weight, one on each side. I have an arm round each of their shoulders, and I hop, supported by them. It is ungainly and it is slow. And then it hits me. There's no way I can go skiing with this.

'FUCK!!' I shout.

'What is it? Are we hurting you?'

'No…but I've just realised…we're supposed to be going skiing tomorrow.'

The other two look at each other.

'Merde.'

'Fuck.'

We make our uncomfortable way about a third of a mile across uneven ground to the road, where my uncle and my mother are both waiting for us with the car. My mother is very concerned.

'What on earth happened? Are you alright, Ollie?'

'I'll live,' I say, 'I caught my foot in a tree root and went over on it. Christophe doesn't think it's broken, but it hurts like hell.'

I just about manage to get my leg into the footwell by the front seat, and the others sit in the back. My uncle drives me the local doctor who asks me to tell him what happened while he examines me. Noah and Christophe translate.

'The good news is that it is not broken. From the pain you are experiencing and the swelling, I think you have probably torn a ligament. I will splint it and you will need to support yourself either with crutches or sticks for at least two weeks, perhaps more, and it will take between four and six weeks to heal. Longer if the tear is bad. I will also give you something for the pain. It would be best if you could stay here for forty minutes and we will put ice on it first. I am sorry about the skiing.'

Noah insists on staying with me while the others go home. Christophe says he will come back for me in forty minutes. The ice packs that the doctor produces are a welcome relief – as are the painkillers. When he is satisfied that the ice has done as much good as it can, he splints my ankle and tapes it up to provide as much support as possible. He also lends me a pair of crutches and a walking stick.

'You must keep the weight off it as much as you can for a week at least. If you need to shower, wrap it in a plastic bag and tape the top. Are you coming back this way after your ski trip?'

'I don't know,' I say, 'I'll ask.'

'OK…well, if you do, I will look at it again and resupport it. Return the crutches and stick when you can.'

'They will come back with Christophe's family whether we come back this way or not.'

'Eh bien.'

Christophe arrives just as the last part of this conversation takes place, and we all head back to his house.

We hold something of a council of war that evening. I don't want Noah to miss out on the chance to learn to ski; Christophe is a first-class skier and that, added to a couple of hours with an instructor, will, I am sure, have Noah zipping down the pistes in no time. I suggest that I should stay ay my aunt's house and they can pick me up on the way back; I really can't see myself getting outside the hotel – and even getting around inside it will be a challenge. Noah insists he doesn't want to go without me. My parents suggest cancelling altogether, but my aunt and uncle are keen to have the holiday as arranged. I know Christophe loves skiing and really wants to go, but he is lovely enough to say that of course he'll stay with me and Noah if we don't go.

In the end, I'm the one who gives in; just because I think I'll be bored and frustrated is no reason for me to spoil everybody else's holiday. Everyone is pleased.

It turns out that my worst fears are realised; we are on the top floor of the hotel which has an ancient creaky lift that it is hard to get in and out of with crutches. But my frustration is tempered, at least to start with, by the fact that I see Noah having the time of his life. Like many sportsmen, he finds picking up the basics of a different sport easy. After two lessons, Christophe is confident enough in what Noah can do to take over the instructor role – and Noah can't wait to tell me, when they get back from the pistes each afternoon, just what Christophe has shown him and helped him do. It's Christophe this and Christophe that and Christophe every other fucking word. And then he goes off in the evening with Christophe into town to enjoy the nightlife. He does offer to stay in with me but I can see he is itching to go out, so I send him off with my blessing. Well, those are the words I use but inside I am seething.

And that's what causes the Great Explosion.

In my three months with Noah, we have never exchanged even so much as a cross word, but on the fourth afternoon, when he comes back from the pistes and starts on again about bloody Christophe, he catches me at a bad time. I've stumbled earlier on and banged my ankle which now hurts like hell. I've tried to get downstairs to the bar for a drink and found the lift out of order, and when they brought me the lunch I'd ordered from room service, as I sat down I caught the plate with my crutch and it went all over the floor. I used a lot of foul language and actually cried in frustration. So when Noah comes in all smiles - much later than usual because he has been having a celebratory drink having mastered a new piste – and starts banging on about what a brilliant day he's had with Christophe, I lose it.

I say a lot of things I shouldn't – including wishing that I'd never come; that I hope he and Christophe will be very happy together and that I don't care what he does that evening. I can see the surprise, shock and hurt in his eyes.

'I know you're having a tough time, Ollie, but you need to stop feeling sorry for yourself. And what you just said is unforgiveable.'

And with that he walks out.

He still isn't back when I go to bed. I message him but he doesn't reply. In the meantime, I've calmed down and bitterly regret my words to him earlier. Oh well, I think, I'll apologise in the morning. But when I wake up, the space beside me is empty, cold and unslept in. My immediate thought is that something has happened to Noah. I call his number, but the message just says the number I'm calling is unavailable. But as I struggle to get up, the door opens and Noah walks in.

'Thank God, you're alright…I thought something had happened to you. And where were you last night?' I say.

He looks very uncomfortable and says, 'There's something I need to tell you, Ollie.'

I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

'I went out drinking with Christophe last night. I told him what you'd said. We were going to come and see you and put things right…but we thought we'd just have one more beer first. And that became another and another. By the time we got back to the hotel it was late, and I knew you'd be asleep. And yes, I was pretty much the worse for wear. So I spent the night in Christophe's room.'

'You spent the night with Christophe? In Christophe's bed?'

'Yes…'

I suppose I knew what was coming but I hoped I wouldn't hear the words I dreaded.

'And Ollie…it was a mistake…we didn't mean to…I'm so sorry…'

'You fucked him didn't you?' I say in barely a whisper.

He just nods, tears rolling down his cheeks.

'I'm so, so sorry Ollie….'

But there's something about Noah, the way he's standing, the way he's looking at me, that tells me that this isn't all. That there's more. Oh, no…surely not…

'Did he…did he…?'

I see the misery deepen in Noah's already wet eyes.

'Oh God…he fucked you too, didn't he?'

'I'm so sorry Ollie…we truly didn't mean for it to happen. We were drunk and I was angry with you and….'

'And that makes it OK, does it? I'm suddenly very angry again. 'You spend all day with Christophe so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you now spend the night with him too. Was he good? Was he better than me?'

Noah says, very quietly, 'I came here to apologise….'

Then he suddenly gets angry too.

'You sit there like a bloody raincloud every day when I come back...you don't make any effort, you don't show any interest, you just sit there feeling sorry for yourself. Anyway…you bloody fucked him so why shouldn't I?'

And there it is. Shocked by what he's said, there is complete silence.

'I fucked him because we agreed that I should,' I say, 'I fucked him as 'an experiment' as I recall; I fucked him with you there; I did it to satisfy his curiosity, not my lust; you said you'd be alright with it. How could I have been so stupid.'

Noah hangs his head.

'I'm just so sorry, Ollie.'

'Well so am I, Noah. Now why don't you go back to lover boy; I'm sure there's time to fuck him a couple of times again before breakfast. Or vice versa.'

The emotion finally hits me and I am crying my eyes out. Noah half steps towards me, but then turns and leaves. I have never been so unhappy in all my life.

I am, by turns, angry and miserable; and then I start thinking about what Noah's said. And he's right; I have been acting like a spoiled brat. I've driven him away. I'm responsible for him going out and getting drunk with Christophe because of what I said to him yesterday. And though he shouldn't have done what he did, was it really so different from what I did with Christophe? Would he have done it if I hadn't virtually told him to? And was it really reasonable to expect him to be so OK with the 'experiment'? As the anger and disappointment finally fades, all I know was that I don't want to lose him; that he's the best thing that had ever happened to me. And if he's been unfaithful, it was at least with a boy I've had sex with and who we both love. Is it something worth losing both of them - and ruining the rest of my life - over? I sit there thinking about how best to put things right; how best to make sure all three of us can go forward without guilt or regrets. And I get the germ of an idea…though I have no idea how it will be received. But I think it's worth a go. I pick up my phone and type in a message to Noah:

'You're forgiven.'

I was about to hit 'send'…and then I add,

'And I'm sorry.'

And then,

'I could use a hug.'

Five minutes later, Noah comes through the door. He walks slowly over to me.

'Ollie…'

I hold up my hand.

'Shush, Noah. First, I apologise for being such a totally grumpy bastard for the last few days. Second, I apologise for the things I said to you – both yesterday and earlier today. Third, I love you more than anything else in the world and I don't want to lose you – or Christophe. Fourth, you shouldn't have done what you did, but I am at least partly to blame and I forgive you. Fifth….please can I have that hug.'

'I…Ollie…that is…you…I mean…'

'Please Noah…just hug me.' I am almost in tears.

He comes over and puts his arms round me – and we both dissolve. When we regain our composure, I say,

'Do you still love me, Noah?'

'With all my heart, Ollie.'

'Going forward, we need to be able to look each other in the eye without guilt, yes?'

He nods.

'You, me and Christophe?'

He nods again.

'I don't ever want to be in a position where, when – if - I'm angry with you, I hear myself say 'you were the one who slept with my cousin'.'

'I agree, Ollie, but where is this….'

'Just listen. Please Noah.'

'OK.'

'You're a sportsman. I guess you know all about 'what happens on tour stays on tour', yes?'

'Yes.'

'I suggest that we look at our stay in France as us being on tour. An aberration – albeit a pleasant one – with behaviours that never get repeated.'

'OK.'

'But to make sure I can never accuse you of doing anything I haven't done as well…something needs to happen.'

I can see him working it out.

'Ollie...are you saying…?

'Yes…but only if he wants to, of course. And only if you agree.'

'If you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting, then, yes, I agree...and I'd be astonished if he says no.'

'Then why don't we ask him? Where is he?'

'Outside. He's a wreck. He's convinced he's spoiled everything. He's guilt-ridden, ashamed and scared to death of what you think of him and probably want to do to him.'

He realises what he's said and we both smile. It's the start of our relationship being repaired.

'Why don't you get him.'

Noah gets up and goes to the door. He opens it. Christophe has clearly been waiting outside. Christophe enters. He can barely look at me.

'Ollie…I know you probably never want to talk to me again – much less see me - but I want to say sorry…so, so sorry.'

I get up on my crutches and walk over to him. He looks as if he thinks I'm going to hit him. But I put one arm round his shoulder.

'Despite the fact that what you did was wrong, I still love you. Both of you. And I accept my part of the responsibility for it.'

'You what??'

Christophe clearly can't believe what he's heard.

'But….'

'Christophe… the only thing that matters is that we - all three of us – can look each other in the eye, without guilt, without recriminations, without there being the unsaid weight of accusation hanging over any of us. Yes?'

'Of course…if that were possible, but….'

I hold up my hand, and he falls silent.

'You and I have jacked off together yes?'

'Yes…' he says warily.

'I've fucked you, but not from desire, yes, just as an experiment?'

'Yes…'

'But when Noah fucked you, that was out of desire, yes?'

'Yes…'

'And you fucked Noah out of desire too?'

'Yes…I'm sorry, I would never try to take him away from you, you know that…'

'Listen.'

'Sorry.'

'So I think something needs to happen to make sure that we all feel we are in the same position. So that there are no recriminations, ever.'

He goes quiet. He works it out. His head jerks up in surprise.

'You are saying we need to fuck each other not just as an experiment? You in me, me in you?'

I nod.

'But…'

'Think about it, Christophe. This way we have no anger or jealousy or mistrust between us. We are all equal. It is not something we ever do again, but by doing it this once, we can put things right between us. And I want to put things right between us. You are still my favourite cousin – and Noah is still the love of my life. This whole thing becomes…something that happened once upon a time while we were staying with you.'

I see Christophe look at Noah – who nods.

'Ollie…if you mean it…well, of course I say yes. How would I not?'

'Then we all agree. But we do this like you did with Noah; just the two of us.'

'Bien sur. But…do you feel desire for me, Ollie?'

'Do you feel desire for me Christophe?'

'I think you are super sexy.'

'And I think you're sexy too, Christo.'

'So…when?'

'Tonight? I think we need to put things back as they were as soon as possible.'

'OK…Ollie, please can I check something?'

'What?'

'This conversation is really happening? It isn't a dream? You don't hate me…you really want to have sex with me?'

'I want to put things right, Christo. And now, Christophe, if you don't mind, I need some time with my boyfriend.'

'Ahh…OK…of course. Delayed skiing lesson today, Noah?'

'Yes. Very delayed I think. Probably after lunch.'

We all hug, and Christophe leaves still shaking his head. But also with a noticeable lump in his tight ski pants.

Noah comes over and embraces me.

'You, Ollie Peters are amazing - and full of surprises. Let me say one more time that I AM really sorry for letting you down. I promise it will never, ever happen again.'

'Apology accepted. And if you ever DO do it again, I will personally remove your testicles with a rusty spoon. Now I'd like you to fuck me, please.'

And he does. Twice. And it's wonderful.

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