T.G.I.F.
Written by Caleb Wilson
Part 5
They arrived at the parent's house shortly after 4.00 p.m., the boy nervous and standing as close to Dylan's side as he could on the doorstep. Dylan rang the bell and shortly the door was opened.
Mrs. Roberts stood framed in the doorway. "Dylan, darling, it's so good to see you again," she said, completely ignoring the boy at his side. "Come in and ask your friend to wait in the car till you've finished visiting."
"Goodbye mother," and Dylan took Lucas by the hand and made to leave.
"Dylan, stop, wait come back and bring your friend with you."
Dylan stopped, turned, and returned to the front door facing his mother, "If it was just you mum you wouldn't see my face again, but my father also has a say in these matters so I'll forgive your behaviour, but first I'll also have to ask my friend Lucas if he can overlook your narrow mindedness and bad manners. Lucas, you okay with going ahead with the visit?"
"Umm, yeah sure. I'm sure that your mum didn't mean to be rude, did you Mrs. Roberts?"
"Uh no, please come in," Mrs. Roberts said and showed her son and Lucas into the house. Inside she led them into the study where Mr. Roberts was seated at his desk. On the arrival of his guests he rose to greet them, shaking Dylan's hand and embracing him like the prodigal son. When the greetings were over he turned to Lucas, saying, "Will you please excuse Dylan and me, as we have some business details to discuss. My wife, I hope, will attend to your needs."
"Sure Mr. Roberts, whatever you say," Lucas said and headed out of the study, followed by Mrs. Roberts.
Outside the study, the two of them stood in an awkward silence till Lucas, not being able to bear the silence any longer, asked, "You got a kitchen nearby, Mrs. Roberts?"
"Uh, yes, why do you want to know?"
"Because my tongue's hanging out and I need a cuppa."
"Oh, I am sorry. Follow me," she said and led the boy to the kitchen. Inside he went straight to the kettle, filled it, and put it on to boil.
"Where d'you keep the china?" the boy asked.
"Um, do you mean the cups and saucers?" Mrs. Roberts asked hesitantly.
"Yeah, that's what I said."
"In the cupboard above your head," the woman indicated by pointing.
Lucas looked and saw the wall cabinet. He opened it, then, turning to Dylan's mother, asked, "You fancy a cuppa as well? I'm making."
"Uh, yes please."
"What's up with you?" the boy asked. "Relax, don't be so formal, and the name's Lucas; you can use it if you want."
"Uh, alright Lucas, make me a cuppa," Mrs. Roberts said, imitating the boy's use of slang.
"Right, there you go, that wasn't hard. You're not bad at all, Mrs. Roberts. I thought you were a bit of a hard case and I was really shitting, oops sorry, I mean, pooping myself having to come here today."
Mrs. Roberts looked at the boy and burst into laughter. When she'd got herself more composed she turned to the boy. "Now I understand why Dylan got involved with you, you're like a breath of fresh air, blowing the cobwebs away from people's minds."
"Haven't the faintest idea what the Hell you're yapping about, but it sounds good to me. Now come over here and grab your tea."
She moved closer to where the tea was waiting, picked it up, and took a sip. "Not bad, Lucas, you make a good cup of tea. And while we're on the subject, what did you do to those mashed potatoes that you served up when we came to visit you and Dylan for the first and only time?"
"Can't give away trade secrets, missus, but I tell you what, you give us an invite again and I'll show you what I did, how's about that?"
"What about next weekend?"
"Well, I'll have to ask Dylan first if it's okay."
"Why d'you have to ask him? I could come and pick you up, and bring you over if you don't know the way."
"It's not that, Mrs. Roberts. Dylan may have already made plans for next weekend that may include me."
"Oh, I see. Well, we'll wait till he's finished with his father then we'll ask him, and while we're on the subject of Dylan, do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions about you and Dylan?"
"Okay, missus, I've a good idea what they are but go ahead all the same. But if I think that it's not for me to answer without Dylan being present, then I won't. You got that?"
"That sounds fair enough, Lucas." Mrs. Roberts took a deep breath and asked, "Are you emotionally attached to my son?"
"Come on, Mrs. Roberts, speak plain like, will you? If you mean 'do I love Dylan', the answer is Yes with a capital Y."
"Uh, alright, are you and Dylan sexually involved?"
"Don't ask me to answer that, Mrs. Roberts, you already know the answer from when you walked into our bedroom when you visited at the old place."
"Oh dear, I never thought that Dylan would become involved with another male, he was always so popular with the girls."
"Are you feeling sorry for Dylan, Mrs. Roberts, or for yourself?"
She looked at the boy who stood before her, who, for all his youth, spoke words that made her stop and think before speaking. "If I was to be honest, it would be for myself. I suppose like all mothers I want my offspring to grow, marry, and raise families of their own. But in this case I was not prepared to face the truth, or more the reality, that Dylan has found his happiness in areas that I don't understand."
Before the conversation could be continued, it was interrupted by Dylan walking into the kitchen. "So what's going on here, the two of you hatching some kind of plot?"
"No dear," his mother responded, "we were just making small talk. Do you want a cup of tea?"
"No thanks, mum. If I can drag Lucas away we've got to get home. I have to get myself organised if I'm going to run the business, and also discuss the situation with Lucas."
"With me? What's to discuss? You'd be crazy if you didn't run your dad's business," the boy said.
"Alright then, I still want to get things arranged so that I can go into work on Monday to terminate my employment on amicable grounds." He walked over to his mother and pecked her on the cheek saying, "Bye mum." He turned to leave the room with Lucas following and mouthing his good-bye to Mrs. Roberts.
"Dylan," he turned, "can you bring Lucas over next Saturday or if not can he come on his own?" his mother asked.
He raised his eyebrows, looking at the boy, "Okay mum, I'll bring him over."
They left his parent's house, with Dylan saying to Lucas, "You seem to have hit it off with my mother."
"Yeah, she's not bad. A bit snotty-nosed, but once she knows that all the airs and graces count for shit, she's okay," the boy replied.
Dylan smiled to himself thinking how he would have loved to have listened in on the conversation the two of them had in the kitchen, and to observe how the boy was able to control himself from using the normal obscenities that were a part of his everyday of way of talking, and the reaction of his mother to them if he did.
He had them back at their own apartment within fifteen minutes with hardly a word being spoken in the car. As the front door closed behind them the boy turned to the man, "Okay what's the problem?"
"There's no problem."
"Then why the rush to get home?"
"Uh okay, umm I….."
"Come on Dylan, don't stutter, just say it."
"Alright, alright, give me a chance, will you. I think that if I take over the running of my father's business, it won't be 9 to 5 like it is at the moment."
"What d'you mean?"
"Until I get things sorted, and God knows how long that will take, especially the marketing side of the business, I could be in the office till quite late, no idea how late, but it will depend on the urgency of the problem. So, I was a bit concerned that you might get fed up with me getting home at all hours in the evening and you might get kinda restless."
"D'you think I'm here just for getting my rocks off and a place to stay? Shit, I thought you knew better."
"Lucas, I'm not a teenager and don't think like one, okay? So you'll have to forgive my doubting you at times."
The boy smiled, "Well I'm beginning to doubt you, I think you're making these excuses beforehand so you can play around after work, and if you want to prove me wrong you had better perform right now!"
Dylan laughed, grabbed the boy, and took him into the bedroom. He dropped the boy on the bed and started to strip. Lucas didn't wait for the man to undress him, he started to disrobe and wasn't far behind Dylan when the man was naked, standing by the side of the bed looking down at him.
He lay down next to the boy, taking him into his arms, to feel the boy's naked body which, when squeezed into his, gave him untold pleasure.
The boy brushed their lips together, whispering, "Make love to me, Dylan."
"It's not my turn, it's yours."
"Please Dylan, don't bloody argue, just do it."
Dylan reached over to the bedside table to acquire the Vaseline and some tissues, which he gave to Lucas. He opened the Vaseline and applied a liberal coating to his erection. The boy turned onto his stomach and lifted his hips, exposing his rectum for the man to penetrate.
Dylan moved forward, placed the tip of his cock at the entrance to the boy's rectum, and applied a bit of pressure. His cock slid in all the way till it was completely buried, with only a sigh of pleasure escaping from the boy's lips. He wrapped his arm around Lucas and started to play with his flaccid dick till, like his, it was hard. Now grasping the boys rampant member, he proceeded to fuck him.
The movements inside the boy as he was fucked gave him pleasure at the back while Dylan's hand grasping the cock was doing the same at the front. Lucas didn't need to do any work for the pleasure he was deriving, it was all being done for him, with Dylan pounding into his arse and holding onto his cock, he just had to lie there and soak up the pleasure.
The man had started with a slow leisurely stroke which he now increased in frequency as his orgasm came near fulfillment; he was now fucking Lucas like a rabbit as he craved release, but before he could achieve it, he felt the boy's sphincter clamp onto his cock. Lucas was yelling, "Oh God, uh uh Oh fuck aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh," as his spunk exploded into the tissues he was holding over the top of his cock. Dylan pumped even more furiously till he out did the yelling of his partner, ramming his cock as far up the boy it could go, and blasted his seed deep inside the boy's bowels.
He lay panting on top of the boy and, before he could be told to move, he rolled onto his side, pulling the boy with him, his cock still buried to the hilt.
They lay silently for a few minutes, with the Dylan stroking the boys head and kissing him on the back of the neck. He stretched his arm out and acquired some tissues, then slowly withdrew from the boy and proceeded to clean both Lucas and himself.
Finished with the cleaning, and with Lucas now facing him, he took the boy into his arms again, drawing him to his body.
The boy pecked him on the cheek, "Dylan?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm going to be seventeen soon."
"So?"
"Well, you know, since I've been here I've put on a little bit of weight and grown a bit."
"Put on a bit of weight? Five pounds maybe. Do you call that putting on weight? I swear, I don't know what happens to all that food you eat. And as for growing, what do you mean? You look the same to me."
"I've grown half an inch."
"Oh great! Sound the trumpets, ring the bells! Is that some kind of record that we need to inform Guinness, so they can enter it into their record book?"
"Stop taking the piss."
"Alright, so what's all this about?"
"Nothing."
"Come on Lucas; tell me for Christ's sake."
"Do you still fancy going out with birds?"
"No, but what the Hell has putting on weight, and growing got to do with it?"
"I just thought that you like your partners to be small, and when I get bigger you might want to find someone more to your liking."
"Lucas, for the last time, I'm not about to find somebody else, even if you were to grow taller and outweigh me. Your being here has never had anything to do with your age, size, or weight. It's because I don't know how to express my feelings about you. Wait, yeah, I think I do," he said, breaking into a smile. "Something about you makes my cock twitch when I see you."
Lucas giggled, "Where have I heard that before?" Then he lifted his face to join his lips to that of his lover's.
With the advent of Dylan taking over the running of his father's business, their time together, as Dylan had suspected, was cut dramatically. About a month into running the business, on a Friday night he came home around 9.00 p.m. to find the house empty, with a note in the kitchen telling him his food was in the oven and that the boy would be back later. He ate his food, watched a bit of television, and by 10.30 p.m., feeling tired and with Lucas still not home, he decided to go to bed.
Next morning, by 7.00 a.m. he was up, to find that Lucas was not beside him. He washed and dressed, had a coffee, then made his way to the office. At 10.30 a.m. the phone rang. He picked it up to hear Lucas's voice say, "Dylan I'm…" and he put the phone down on the boy. Although his mind was continually distracted by the thought of the boy being out all night, he continued working till about 4.00 p.m., then made for home.
As soon as he walked in the front door, Lucas, who was standing in the hallway, blurted out, "What the fuck got into you hanging up on me?"
Dylan walked over to the boy, then, looking down at him, said, "At the moment I'm not in the mood to discuss the matter with you, and especially not until you learn to moderate your language." When he'd finished speaking, he walked past the boy and made for the shower. Ten minutes later he was out and in the bedroom, getting dressed, when Lucas walked in.
"You want something to eat?" the boy asked.
"No, thank you, I'll grab something when I'm out."
"I suppose you're getting back at me for last night."
"You suppose right." Dylan picked up his wallet, put it into his jacket pocket, and headed for the front door.
"I suppose you're going to get Brahms," the boy called after him.
"And what's that supposed to mean? Why don't you just say it in plain English?"
"It means pissed, Brahms and Liszt, pissed."
"That depends how I feel, and don't wait up, I might be out all night," Dylan stepped out the front door and slammed it shut behind him.
At midnight, he exited the pub with a woman hanging on his arm.
"We going back to your place?" she asked.
He looked at her through bleary eyes and thought, 'How the Hell did I get stuck with this piece of quivering flesh,'then answered her question. "No, I have my family staying with me. I'll see you later." Untangling his arm from the woman's, he staggered in the direction of his flat.
He weaved along the pavement till he felt an arm envelope his, and a voice say, "Need a hand mister?" He smiled when he recognised the voice.
"Lucas," he mumbled, turning to look at the smiling face, "I think I need more than a hand, more like an arm and a leg."
"You got it, let's go," the boy said and led Dylan back to the apartment.
When they got there, he took the man by the arm and seated him on the settee, sitting himself down beside Dylan. Putting an arm around the man, Lucas pulled him till he tilted over so that Dylan's head was resting in his arms. Looking down at the unseeing face that had brought him so much happiness these last few months, he slowly lowered his face to bring their lips together. On making contact the eyes that had been closed opened and looked into his. Lucas broke the kiss and lifted his head. Looking into the man's eyes he blurted out, "I should have left you to fall on your ugly face."
"Why didn't you?"
"I uh, umm, fuck you. You know I couldn't."
"Why?" the man insisted.
"Because I fucking love you, you arsehole! Just because I didn't come back home one night, and you wouldn't give me a chance to explain over the phone, you treat me like shit."
"Sorry, Lucas, but why didn't you come home last night?"
"When you're sober I'll let you talk to the person's concerned, maybe you'll believe them rather than me."
"No, Lucas, I don't want to know the reason. I have to learn to trust you the same as you trust me, so let's forget what happened."
The boy lowered his face once more to bring their lips together, before he did so he whispered, "You want to play hide-the-sausage?"
"Oh God!" Dylan exclaimed. "You say the most sentiment…" but his words were cut short as their lips met.
He lay back and let the boy's tongue invade his mouth and gave himself up to the pleasure it brought. He knew from the boy's reaction to his behaviour this evening that this boy was attached to him, body and soul, and he had nothing to fear from anyone else replacing him in Lucas's affections, young or old.
And he, in turn, belonged to Lucas. He was bound to the boy absolutely and completely, they were one.
As the realisation came to him, he wrapped the boy in his arms and squeezed him gently into his body. Lucas broke the kiss and stared into his eyes.
In that instant, Dylan saw the depth of emotion and love in the boy's eyes, which was quickly camouflaged, with him saying, "You're a right piss-arse, you know that don't you?"
He gazed back at the boy with a slight smile, knowing what he'd seen in the boy's eyes, "Yeah, I know it."
"Okay, but all the same, I still love you, and don't you forget it."
"I won't forget, Lucas. I promise."
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