A Pure and Honest Heart
by Zambezi
Chapter Six
Brad woke up the following morning with his arms still wrapped around Richie; neither had moved all night. His pyjamas were soaked with sweat where his tortured friend had lain against him and he could feel Richie's morning wood pressed against him. He was also very conscious of his own six inches jammed against his friend's thigh, while Richie's other leg was now draped over his own. Both teenagers were facing each other, noses only inches apart and foreheads pressed together. The pillow was damp - from sweat or tears or a combination.
Brad tried to extricate himself from the entanglement, but his right arm was numb from where it had been lying under Richard's body all night. He moved it slightly and blood began to flow back as he studied his sleeping friend. He looked so peaceful, delicate, and innocent lying there with his eyes closed, his damp hair plastered down to his forehead. His hair, which had been passable as dark blond back in September, had darkened over the winter and was now more of a light brown. Like Brad's, his baby-smooth skin was wholly unblemished in any way whatsoever. Unlike Brad, he didn't have a single facial hair beyond the softest down.
The older boy's mind began to wonder. It wondered about how he could enable and encourage his relationship with Richie to grow positively - as he knew it had to - when Richie's feelings for him were so strong that he had felt compelled to come out to Brad in a torrent of tears and anguish the night before. The feelings were definitely unrequited, Brad told himself. The boy lying next to him was very special, of that there was no doubt. Somewhere in time they had just 'clicked'. However, although Brad recognised in his mind that he loved Richard as a friend, he was decidedly not in love. He was not gay. Then he began to wonder a bit more. This was the second time in a fortnight a gay person had told him he was attracted to him. Was there something about him that made him irresistible to gay people? Or that made them think he might be interested?
He pulled further away from his sleeping friend and had nearly freed himself from the embrace when he felt himself being pulled back in.
"Stay a bit longer, please," the small sleepy voice begged. "Don't begrudge me the memory of waking up in the arms of the person I love. Just let me savour this feeling once before you abandon our friendship."
"I'm not going to do that. I told you last night."
"Don't worry, I knew this day would come. You don't feel the same way about me, do you?"
"No, I don't, and I'm truly sorry if I ever gave you that impression. But I promise, I love you very much as a friend and that isn't going to change. We are exactly the same this morning as we were when we woke up yesterday. We're still friends."
"I'll understand if you never want to speak to me again."
"For fuck's sake, stop speaking like that! I need to pee, then I am going to grab a shower before I head downstairs for a cup of coffee. I suggest you go shower too and stop feeling sorry for yourself. I promised you I wouldn't think anything less of you, and I don't. I really appreciate your candour and your honesty, and I am so happy that you trusted me enough to tell me that, even though you knew the chances I felt the same way about you were non-existent. That takes a lot of guts. Anyway, now that everything is out in the open we can go on building our friendship into something great. Granted, there may be a few, er, issues which many friends wouldn't normally have to deal with, but I'll bet money that there are also plenty of friends out there where one has stronger feelings for the other that aren't returned. They all manage, and so will we," Brad promised.
Next, he pulled his friend into the tightest, warmest hug either of them could have imagined between two guys. Both were aware of their erections pressing into each other, but neither said a word. As they released each other Richard propped himself up on his elbow and put his other hand to Brad's face, looked his best friend in the eye and simply asked, "May I?"
Nodding, Brad closed his eyes and smiled as a single kiss on his cheek sent shivers down his entire body.
Twenty minutes later Brad was in the kitchen, where Zelda poured him a cup of coffee. Richard was still in his bathroom. "You look like hell, honey," she said as she passed the cup to him. "Did you have a good time last night at the cinema?"
The movie seemed a lifetime ago. "Yeah, it was good, actually. Thanks." He omitted being stopped by the local constabulary on the way back.
"So why do you look like something the cat dragged in?"
"Had a bit of trouble getting to sleep last night, that's all. Everything's fine."
"He told you, didn't he?"
"What are you talking about?" Brad replied, unconvincingly.
"Come on, I didn't come down with the last shower. Did he tell you, well, everything?"
"I guess so," Brad admitted.
"And?"
"Everything's fine. He knows it'll never happen."
"He always did. But he felt he had to be honest with you."
"Funnily enough I've been encouraging him to be honest to himself," Brad observed. He began to sing quietly. "Gofyn rwyf am calon hapus, calon onest, calon lân."
"I beg your pardon?"
"But I have the best of wishes for a pure and honest heart. They're lines from a traditional Welsh hymn," Brad explained.
"I suppose one learns something new every day."
"My mother is Welsh and made sure I was aware of at least some of my background."
"I didn't know that. Listen, I'm not sure if we'll get long to talk now before he comes downstairs, but he's going to need you as a friend more than ever now. He told me last summer about his sexuality, although Peter and I had suspected it for years. Peter thinks he just needs a bit of manliness knocking in to him, which is why he insisted on Trinity even though I had my doubts. But unless there's a massive change in him around the corner, he's as gay as they come. You'll be the only boy at school who knows, you'll be the only outlet for his emotions, and you'll be lining yourself up for tarring with the same brush if anyone else ever finds out. It's a lot to put on your shoulders, and we'd both understand if you thought of yourself first and basically never spoke to us again."
"We have just been talking about that upstairs. I promise it's not going to happen. As long as Richard's fantasies about our relationship don't ever push out the reality, I will never leave him to face the music and dance on his own. I genuinely care too much about him for that."
"Bradley Johnson, you are an amazing boy. I'd gladly claim you as my own son," Zelda beamed. The she added with an almost knowing smirk, "You know, if you were gay as well, I couldn't think of anyone I'd rather him have as his boyfriend."
"That's very kind of you." Brad was really beginning to wonder what kind of vibes he was giving out. Maybe I have really gay hair or something, he thought to himself.
He continued out loud. "Zelda, I have one more quick question for you before we head our separate ways this morning. When we got back last night, I saw a Golf in your garage. Why on earth not let us take that rather than the Mercedes?"
"Oh, that old thing? It has some engine problems - lumpy running and occasionally it doesn't start. Besides, I thought you might like to try the Benz. I only ever use the VW for when I want to drive and park somewhere without attracting too much attention - I'm not keen on leaving the Benz or Toyota open to temptation. I was about to trade it in, but after that thing I won't have another diesel."
They were interrupted as by this time Richard had joined them and he began to recount the movie he'd seen the night before, and they then tried to plan the rest of the day. Zelda was going to work in her study, so for the boys more swimming and computer games seemed the order of the morning.
After lunch, Brad asked Saunders to let him into the garage, and Richie followed them out. Saunders turned the key in the Volkswagen's ignition and the little hatch stuttered into life in huge billowing clouds of smoke, running roughly for a minute before it cut out.
"It caught first turn of the engine so glowplugs and compressions are all right," Brad explained as he popped open the bonnet. "But it is not running properly so it's either seizing mechanically - which doesn't appear to be the problem here as it seems in perfect nick - or it's being starved of fuel."
He poked around a bit longer, then got underneath on his back. "Fire it up again please Mr Saunders," he called out. The engine ran for about thirty seconds before Brad shouted to cut it. "Pump seems OK too. My guess is a leak in the fuel line. Richie, can you find some light oil of some sort, maybe something you'd put on a bike?"
"Sure." Two minutes later he returned with a bottle of linseed oil. "Is this OK?"
"Perfect."
"Brad, if it's a leak in the fuel line, why doesn't the diesel just drip onto the floor?"
"You'd think it would, wouldn't you? But even Volkswagens must give way to physics - diesel lines run under negative pressure so holes let air in rather than fuel out. I think I've found it." Two intrigued heads appeared next to Brad's at ground level. "See, there." Brad pointed where air bubbles were bubbling through the linseed oil he had smeared along the tube every time he squeezed. "I can patch it up with a bit of duct tape and bleed the air out for now but it will need replacing properly. I can do that in about half an hour if you want, but I'll need to get it up on a rack and buy the right part."
Saunders replied, "Very good Sir, I'll inform Ms Williams. I'm sure she'll be delighted."
"Just defending the diesel cause."
After dinner that evening, Zelda asked Brad to come to her study, without Richie. When they arrived, she closed the door and went straight to a drinks cabinet. "Armagnac?"
"Thanks."
She handed him a glass. "Well, it's back to school tomorrow. How does the talented Mr Johnson feel about it?"
"I can't say I'm thrilled, because it's school, but I'm happy enough there. I applied to do Business and Economics at Magdalene College, Oxford, and I should have the results some time in the next week or two. I'm really worried about that first. After that, everything else is just another term at Trinity. I've been there over eight years, so I don't think this term will be too much of a problem."
"What will you do if you don't get into Oxford?"
"There's no guarantee I'll go if I do get in. With these new tuition fees, and then living expenses and stuff like that on top the finances just don't add up for us. I have insurance offers like Manchester or Leeds if I don't get Oxford, but I'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
"How much do you know about my background and what I do?"
"Not a lot. Richie never talks about it, unlike some of the boys at school, although he mentioned you were thinking of starting a business based around Inglewood."
"My mother's family were in the oil industry in the Middle East in the Twenties and Thirties. Zelda is a Persian name."
"I did wonder."
"Oil is where the wealth you see around you comes from - the house and stuff like that. I don't ever have to work if I don't want to, and neither does Richie. I could easily pay you through university as well if you wanted."
"Out of the question."
"I thought it might be. How about if you were sponsored though?"
"I'm not sure what you mean."
"I own a company which operates almost as a hobby for me. I couldn't even tell you if it makes money or not. But I want Richie to have a real job in a family business if he wants it. I want him to have a business to put some effort into as his future security, not some trust fund."
"I'm still not sure what you are getting at."
"The two of us rattle around in this house, and no-one in their right mind would buy it at what's it's valued at. So I want to turn it into a working asset for the company. I have planning permission to turn it into a residential conference centre, which can be hired out to companies who want a first class secluded retreat to get business done. The problem is I can't run it as a one woman band, and by the time Richard's ready, if he wants it, I'll be too old to still have day to day responsibility."
"Don't be silly."
"Seriously, I was 44 when I had him and although he was never unwanted he was certainly a surprise. I'll be well into my sixties even by the time he leaves school, and closer to 70 by the time he leaves university and is ready to be useful. I need someone I can build the business alongside, who can run it first with me and then with Richie, covering the gap between our useful shelf lives. I am sufficiently impressed by what I've seen of you that I want you. You'd be sponsored through university - tuition fees, living expenses, and so on - and work in vacations. It would give your CV good business management exposure, hotel services experience, a guaranteed job after university, and cover all your costs while there."
Brad sat down in the chair opposite the desk, thunderstruck. "I don't know what to say."
"Think about it, and let me know what happens with uni applications and your decision. It's a serious offer. Now, let's hit the karaoke and make the most of what's left of the holiday. I'm sure Richie is dying to have a sing-song."
They headed back to the bar and karaoke machine, and all three enjoyed each other's company for the rest of the evening, and a while into early hours before heading to bed - in their own rooms.
The following day, after a long lie-in, Brad repacked the few things he had brought in his suitcase and then helped Richard pack his belongings in a large trunk to take back to school later that afternoon. He chuckled as Richie threw a pile of briefs in along with a few boxers, suggesting "You'd better throw in a few more, the laundry seems to have lost a few of mine this year."
After a traditional Sunday lunch, Brad conveniently excused himself, making sure he popped into the kitchen to thank Mr and Mrs Saunders, butler and cook, while his younger friend telephoned his father and then had a long chat with his mother about the forthcoming term, diary events, and the rest. Saunders helped load the Toyota with the piles of luggage that boarding school kids seem to require, before his wife joined them outside to wish 'Master Richie' and his guest farewell until half term six weeks away.
Brad drove the giant truck all the way up to Trinity so that Zelda would be fresh for the three hour return drive. When they got there, he noted thankfully that the place was more or less deserted and no-one appeared to have noticed them arrive together.
As was normal in the Spring Term at Trinity, things settled down into routine very quickly. Although there was the occasional sevens tournament, rugby had finished for Brad so that he was only seriously playing hockey during afternoon games, allowing him far more time to concentrate on his studies. Magdalene had not offered him a place, but had referred him to the inter-collegiate pool so he waited for several weeks until he was rejected from that, too. It was a massive setback for someone who had always backed himself to achieve what he set out to do, but he resolved to redouble his efforts, get into another university, and get the results to prove the Oxford dons wrong.
One evening shortly after the news came through he found himself in Tom Stephens' study, discussing whether New Zealand's climate was more suited to Sauvignon Blanc or Riesling as they tasted one of each, when the teacher looked at his student and asked matter of factly: "Any trouble with Richard Young?"
"Not really, he has settled right back in and seems a lot more, er, comfortable than before Christmas."
"I thought he might. I spoke to his mother too."
"Oh? What did she tell you?"
"Everything."
"Oh."
"Actually, I was more concerned about the effect it had on you."
"It kind of freaked me at first, for about a nanosecond, mainly because my cousin had kind of come on to me while he was with us for the funeral. But then I thought that far from feeling threatened, I was kind of pleased that he felt attracted to me. It's nice to know I can still do it for people," Brad sniggered.
"He fancies you? She didn't tell me that!"
"Oh shit."
"Don't worry, his secret's safe with me," the teacher laughed. "I would have been surprised if he didn't, to be honest, but it's quite funny to see it happen to you of all people."
"What do you mean 'me of all people'?"
"Well Bradley, it's just that you're so, um, caring, approachable, strong and cuddly to a gay thirteen year old, even if we know you're hopelessly straight. Did you have any idea before he told you?"
"Well, he has always been sensitive and shy, and while I was staying with them he had one or two moments. I was in the middle of it and I knew something was not quite right, but I couldn't put it into words. So although I knew something was afoot, his gayness was never really obvious."
"It rarely is. He's not the first gay kid to come through Wordsworth in my time, and I'll bet he's not the last. Apparently about ten per cent of the population is that way inclined, about the same proportion as are left-handed. Pretty similar, when you think about it too - everything in life revolves around right-handedness, like can-openers, corkscrews, rifles, yet southpaws don't have any choice in their hand dominance." Brad looked at the glass in his left hand surreptitiously - and self-consciously. "Just make sure he's safe. But I guess you would anyway."
"Of course. He's my friend."
"Apparently so." Tom Stephens laughed long into the night.
Indoor cricket net practice had begun at the beginning of February, and both Brad and Richard attended the twice-weekly sessions, Brad holding good to his coaching offer. The previous year's captain, Brad was very much a bowling all-rounder. With his long, muscular arms and mammoth shoulders he was capable of bowling dipping, drifting, fizzing leg breaks off the sports hall matting with his right-arm wrist spin, and could also match the 85 mph maximum setting on the bowling machine with his swinging, skidding left-arm thunderbolts. His left hand batting was less commanding, but as Trinity would this year have a strong batting line-up he was able to concentrate on hitting the ball hard to score quick runs down the order rather than build long innings.
Richard, on the other hand, was very much a top-order batsman. His shorter stature, fast upper body reflexes and good eye, combined with fleeting footwork and unflappable temperament at the crease made him a nightmare to bowl to, while his academic understanding of the game bode well for a future as a senior player on the Under 14 team that summer - and both boys were secretly hoping that this sporting prowess would give him a little more recognition and acceptance from his classmates. He was capable of turning his arm over as a change bowler, but his lack of height and physical strength combined with an un-natural action made him relatively ineffectual as the fast bowler he tried to be. As a result Brad started to teach him to bowl flighted off breaks to add some variety to the pace-heavy junior attack. One evening, when Richard was experiencing difficulty balancing in his delivery stride Brad stood right up behind him, pressing as much of his body as possible against the younger boy and holding both Richard's arms in his own as he went through the off spinner's action while moving the younger boy's body. As he moved through the delivery he suddenly found himself inhaling the smell of Richard's recently washed hair combined with fresh sweat and teenage boy. If he hadn't been in the middle of showing his friend how to shift his weight from one foot to the other he might have fallen to the ground, his mind elsewhere.
After three attempts at practising the action in unison, Richard suddenly started to laugh.
Brad released him. "OK kiddo, what's so funny?"
"I can feel your box pressing into my back. It's kinda ticklish and it's gonna have a rather pleasant but unwelcome effect on me in a moment."
Brad instantly knew what his friend was talking about, and quickly glanced around to ensure nobody could overhear them. "Sorry mate," he whispered as he forced a laugh. He didn't tell Richie that he had already taken his box out, and that the hardness his friend had felt was something else.
That night as he lay in bed Brad kept breathing in deeply trying to recapture the intoxicating scent he had experienced earlier. For a transient moment, he wanted Richie back in his arms again but quickly put that thought aside as he picked up the picture of Sarah by his bed and reached into his pyjamas, where he was rock hard and aching for relief.
The following day Richard's practical chemistry experiment went horribly wrong and he found himself with mild, but extensive, chemical burns to the front of his upper body where the test tube had shattered. The Accident and Emergency doctor at the Radcliffe Infirmary in Oxford ensured there would be no lasting effects and had him bandaged up, but the burn could not be allowed to get wet and Richie would need to go to the sanatorium every day for a week or so to be bathed down in the tub rather than risk the shower.
He complained to Brad that night when he came into the older boy's single room and sat on the bed for a chat about nothing in particular, as he had done almost every night since the term began. "There's no way I'm getting naked in front of matron so she can sponge me down!" he moaned.
Matron was slightly taken aback to see Brad arrive with Richard at the appointed hour, but said nothing and showed them both into the bathroom. Brad locked the door behind them as Richard began to run a bath and removed his uniform in some obvious discomfort. Brad moved over and helped Richard out of his shirt.
The bath run to half full, Richard stepped in and sat down, making sure the burns stayed out of the water. He washed his arms and legs carefully, concentrating on his feet as he tried to put off the inevitable. When he finished he leaned forward in the bath. Brad picked up the sponge without a further word and continued by washing Richard's back from the nape of his neck down to the top of his crack. They left his hair for another time at the sink.
"You're done now," Brad announced as he put the sponge down.
"Can you pass me the towel over there?"
Brad walked over and picked it up. As he came back to the edge of the bath where Richard was still doubled forward he thought about simply handing it over and leaving the room, but at the last minute he changed his mind and unfolded it, holding it out so that Richard could stand up and step into it. The younger boy did, and Brad tenderly wrapped him in it and started to dry him as his own mother had done to him a lifetime ago. He dabbed around the burns and gently rubbed his back dry, then towelled down the backs of his legs before going back up the fronts. By the time he got to the crotch, Richard's four inch hardon was sticking straight out and up at 45 degrees. Brad slowly dried around it without saying a word, until eventually he remarked casually, "You're getting a few hairs down here you know."
"Am I? Cool."
Brad helped Richard back into his clothes and finally, just before they left the bathroom, pulled him into a light hug, taking care not to press against the burns.
The younger boy beamed. "Thanks. I'm feeling a bit pathetic and I really needed that."
"That's what friends are for. I'd be a lousy one if I couldn't give you a hug when you needed one," Brad explained, before he winked and smiled at his friend.
For an entire week the two boys went through the same routine until the doctor gave the all-clear to resume normal showering. Brad often developed a slight hardon himself as he bathed and dried his friend. It stood to reason, Brad rationalised, that there was enough intimacy between two people who cared for each other that such a reaction was normal. On the final occasion, Brad produced so much pre-cum he actually went back to his room and changed his briefs before it soaked through his uniform trousers.
By half term break in the third week of February it was obvious to most in Wordsworth House that the two boys had become close friends. Most knew that they attended cricket nets together and that was explanation enough for many. For anyone who asked, Brad normally explained that they also lived close together and it was natural for them to get to know each other. He didn't go so far as to explain that "close together" meant an hour and a half apart. In the meantime, his parents had suggested that he invite Richard back to their home for a couple of days in Kent in return for his earlier invitation to Inglewood. Richard readily accepted after consulting his mother, and arranged to spend the other half of the break with his father in London.
At about this time, a new television series started showing on the Channel Four network. Queer As Folk was broadcast too late to be watched by anyone at Trinity, but it was in all the newspapers and everyone talked about it. Its main achievement at Trinity was to provide an outlet for the latent homophobia which existed in some quarters, and it made Brad sick to his stomach whenever he heard it, forcing him to keep an extra eye out for Richard, although apart from himself he knew Richie hadn't told anyone about his being gay. Richard himself was devastated that he couldn't watch any of it, but he telephoned his mother to ask her to record it. She didn't say that she was going to anyway.
Brad's mother picked them up from Trinity on the first day of the half term break and they headed back to the farm, Brad at the wheel to give his mother a rest. As Brad concentrated on the high speed traffic on the rolling hills of the M40 Richard mused that he really did not know what to expect. His life had always been both sheltered and privileged and he wasn't really certain what lay in store for him. He had never really hung around poor people before, and the closest he had ever been to a farm was a petting zoo. Catrin Johnson, in the way that mothers do, had seen that coming and from the back seat went out of her way to make him feel welcome and part of the family, at the same time painting a picture of life at the Johnson farm which, she hoped, would be realistic enough to manage his expectations.
When they arrived after battling through road works on the M2, Richard was pleasantly surprised. The house was physically warm and comfortable and clearly the seat of an emotionally warm and loving family. Bill Johnson met them as they pulled up and welcomed Richard to the family. Jamie sauntered up shortly afterwards and played it cool for a moment, but little Rosie was clearly very taken with the young teen and held on to his hand for the first hour or so after they arrived.
When he finally gave her the slip, he whispered to Brad, "Jeez, now I know how you must have felt with me when you first arrived at my place!" The older boy just grinned and ruffled his hair, before he put his arm around Richie's shoulder and squeezed.
As was normal there was a phone call from Sarah Clarkson, Brad's girlfriend, that afternoon asking if he had arrived yet. Catrin had explained several days previously that her son would be bringing a friend from school, so both were invited over. Brad grabbed some keys and went out to the yard with Richard in tow. They walked past the Sierra and round to far side of the milking shed where, in the mud, sat the ugliest looking vehicle Richard had ever seen. It sort of looked like a light beige Land Rover with its corners squashed in, but was clearly rather less sophisticated, with a definite military look about it. "What the hell is that?" he asked, amazed that such an uncivilised looking thing was allowed out in public.
"Our pride and joy. It's an UMM Alter."
"And what's one of those when it's at home?"
"Rather like one of those. We can use it to take the scenic route."
"Very funny Bradley. Really, I've never seen anything like it."
"I have never seen another one either, to be honest. It's a Portuguese-built four wheel drive thing, although we normally just refer to it as the jeep. We bought it really cheaply when they stopped importing them, they're built like tanks, and with this clutch and steering it's pretty good for body building too. It's a bugger to get parts for them but the engine's a twenty year old Peugeot design and we struck lucky with a dealer who hasn't had a parts clearout for a while. Luckily none of us has bent the body yet. The original brakes were crap, but I've fitted some better ones from a Land Rover."
The boys climbed in and Brad coaxed the engine into life, sending a powerful vibro-massage effect through the hard vinyl seats to accompany the deafening roar.
"And you like diesels, even after this?" Richard mocked.
"You bet. With all the vibration, it's giving me a hardon," Brad replied with a grin, quickly raising his eyebrows. Richard's eyes lit up with mock delight and he leaned over to the driver's side to drop his head towards Brad's crotch, stopping to study it - with exaggerated interest - from less than a foot away. He earned a friendly clip around the ear for his troubles. "Help, I've invited a perve into my house!" Brad wailed to no-one in particular as he released the brakes and set off.
The UMM jeep bounced across a muddy field, across the lane at the far side, and dashed down a narrow track between two rows of hop vines. After half a mile of hop garden Brad stopped and opened a gate into a large pasture which ran down the side of a steep hill. As he got back into the jeep and pointed out the Clarkson residence on the other side of the road at the bottom, Richard looked at him incredulously. "You're not going to drive down here are you?"
"Why not? I've been doing it since I was your age."
"Well, I always feel safe in your hands, so bring it on." He didn't sound very convinced.
"Richie, if you're unsure we don't have to do it. You know I'd never ask you to do anything you weren't totally comfortable doing." Brad was suddenly deadly serious.
"Yeah, I guess I've always known that," Richard replied, visibly relaxing. "I really do feel safe whenever I'm with you, it's like I know you'll always look out for me. Let's go. It'll just be like the rides at Thorpe Park."
"I've never been so I'll take your word for it," the older boy said as he pointed the vehicle straight down the hill. Moments later and still in one piece they parked up in front of the Clarkson house and the door opened before they even got out.
Sarah was, Richard could see, beautiful - for a girl. A few inches taller than him, deep blue eyes like his own, long blonde hair, and perfect figure. He just knew that he'd stare at her gravity-defying breasts if he'd been straight. As she bounded up to her boyfriend and they mashed their faces together Richard's heart sank a little bit and he suddenly felt that he was a spare part. He was also slightly irritated when Sarah introduced him to her parents with an "isn't he cute" throwaway remark.
Brad knew his friend well enough to realise that something was wrong within minutes and resolved to talk to Richie about it at an appropriate time. He quickly orchestrated a dignified exit from the Clarkson household, promising Sarah he'd catch up with her as soon as Richard had left. As they crossed back into the pasture and headed up the hill in low range, Brad suddenly had an idea. When he reached the track at the top and got out to close the gate behind them, he came back to the passenger side and opened the door. "Swap seats kiddo. You're getting your first driving lesson."
Richie's eyes lit up. "Really? You'd let me?"
"Sure. It's private land so there's nothing illegal, and you've gotta start somewhere. Jamie and I both learned to drive in these fields and if you're going to be part of the family then so will you!"
For a first attempt at driving it wasn't bad, although naturally he sucked - the steering was so heavy the slightly built boy could only really drive with any confidence in a straight line. Still, by the time they kangarooed back to the house Richard Young was possibly the proudest teenager in Kent. He beamed at Brad as they got out of the jeep.
On his own initiative Richard helped Catrin cook dinner - another new experience for him - and the family all sat down together for a thoroughly enjoyable meal. It had already struck Richard that although the Johnsons were of limited means compared to his own family, they were very happy with their lot in life. They were all immensely proud of their eldest boy, from which Brad clearly drew a lot of his mind-blowing mental strength. Indeed, the strength they clearly drew from supporting and loving each other was their greatest asset. Touchingly, he was made to feel right at home in this warm and loving family immediately. He began to wonder if they would feel the same if they knew he was gay and fancied the pants off Brad, but if Brad had told them it didn't seem to bother them and on further reflection he didn't think it would have made much difference.
Richard also got talking to Jamie. Both had been a bit worried about how each would react to the other, but it turned out that because Richie's birthday was in May and Jamie's in September they were only four months apart, despite being in separate school years. They also had a lot in common: besides their obvious but unspoken love - in their own ways - for Brad they were both into science, fantasy novels (including - both sheepishly admitted - Harry Potter) and cricket.
In many ways, Jamie was a younger version of Brad, Richie noted. At thirteen he was just on the threshold of adulthood: his body was developing nicely and he was clearly as much of a natural sportsman as his elder brother. His voice was just squeaky and husky enough to suggest the recent arrival of testosterone without really changing in pitch, and he shared Brad's caring charm, considered philosophy, and killer smile.
The three boys cleared the dishes away after dinner, with Rosie 'supervising' and then they moved into the lounge to watch some Friday evening television with the Johnson parents. As soon as Richard sat down, Rosie was climbing onto the sofa next to him, virtually crawling into his lap where she stayed until she was put to bed. As they sat and watched the evening film Richard's mind wondered back to Jamie and he started to wonder whether there was any chance that he might be gay. He was mentally chastising himself for even considering impure thoughts - he thought he was being unfaithful to Brad - when Brad nudged him to head for bed. There would be cows to milk in the morning and they needed a good night's sleep.
When they got upstairs to the bedrooms, Richard's heart skipped a beat. He'd remembered both Brad and Catrin telling him that they were tight on space, but he must have ignored the bit when he was told he'd sleep in Jamie's room while the younger brother shared Brad's room - and double bed. As all the possible sleeping permutations ran around in his mind, he knew it was going to be a tough couple of nights no matter where he slept. He settled on the evil he knew, and addressed Jamie while Brad was out of earshot as he was being shown round the room.
"Jamie mate, I really feel awful about turfing you out of your room when I'm not even your guest. If Brad doesn't mind, I'd be quite happy to share with him so you can stay here."
"Don't worry Rich, we always bunk up together when we have guests," Jamie explained, before mischievously adding, "except Sarah."
The thought of Brad in bed with Sarah, while depressing, made Richard instantly hard when combined with the prospect of either sleeping in Jamie's bed or sharing Brad's double.
"Really, I'd feel terrible. Stay here and I'll tell him." He trotted down the corridor and knocked lightly before entering. Brad was unpacking his toiletries and pyjamas from the bag he had brought back from school. "Brad, I can't force your brother out of his room just to accommodate me. I know there might be issues but I'd feel much more comfortable in here with you. I'll sleep on the floor if necessary."
Brad was only half listening, wondering when was best to broach the Sarah issue with Richie. "Sure, whatever you want. It doesn't bother me."
Jamie had appeared at the door himself by this stage, and he walked in, up to his brother. "Well, it looks like I'm staying in my own room then. Night bro." He kissed his brother gently on the cheek and turned to Richard. "Richie, you are a very considerate and kind guy. I hope we can be good friends too, in our own right." He leaned forward and gave Richie a goodnight hug and peck on the cheek as well before heading out of the door.
If there had been any chance of Richie getting rid of his erection before bed, it was gone now. The two schoolfriends stood on either side of the double bed as they undressed, matching each other for each item of clothing discarded until finally they were down to their Marks and Spencers briefs. Brad thought it was a funny coincidence they owned identical underwear; Richard knew otherwise. Brad's bulged with his natural physique; Richard's were tented out.
"Don't worry kiddo. It's nothing I haven't seen before, remember?" Brad offered.
"It's still soooo embarrassing. Now I'm terrified of what you'll think of me for insisting I slept in here."
"So you're a healthy, horny teenage boy who has just watched the object of his desire stripping off in front of him. It's hardly surprising you're in that state, is it? Do you want ten minutes to, er, take matters in hand?" Brad felt his face burning, and he could see Richard's was too.
"Might be a good idea." Richard wanted to die.
"I'll be in the bathroom, let me know when you're finished. There's a box of tissues on the chest there if you need 'em."
Brad slipped his dressing gown on, grabbed his toilet bag and pyjamas, and shut the door behind him as he left. As he got to the bathroom, he was suddenly aware of two things. First, that his gay friend who fancied him was masturbating in his room - probably in his bed with his dirty underwear pressed to his face. Second, that he himself was now rock hard too.
He pulled his cock out and pumped himself furiously, coming within about sixty seconds. He managed to aim most of it into the toilet bowl and wiped the rest up with toilet paper. He then changed into his pyjamas, brushed his teeth and flossed, and by the time he finished his hardon had totally disappeared, so he peed and flushed everything away. He had just finished washing his hands when there was a knock at the door. "Brad, are you finished?"
He opened it up and looked at Richie. "Yeah. Did you manage to get everything sorted out?"
"Twice!" Richard admitted as he headed into the bathroom for his ablutions while Brad climbed into bed. Richard came back into the bedroom a few minutes later and grabbed a pillow and spare blanket as he started to make a bed up on the floor.
"What in the hell are you doing Richie?"
"Getting ready for bed. I said I'd be happy to sleep on-"
"Don't be so bloody stupid - you'll freeze to death down there when the central heating goes off. Get into the bed."
"But aren't you-"
"Just get into bed."
Richard turned off the lights and climbed into the bed, but stayed as far away from Brad as possible.
After a few minutes, Brad let out a big sigh. "Richie, we need to talk."
"I don't like the sound of that."
"Nothing bad. I just wanted to clear the air between us. You seemed a bit peeved at Sarah's today and you've been kind of distant all evening. I know we can't provide everything you have at home and it's probably a very strange and unsettling environment to you, but I just wanted to understand if there was anything wrong."
"It's a bit hard."
"Not again! Can't you control yourself?" Brad laughed.
"No, not that you perve. Hard to talk about."
"I've told you before, I'll not think anything less of you."
"Yeah, I know, but it's a bit silly really. Although you told me there's no chance we'd ever be, you know, together, I kind of still had hopes you were just in denial and might change your mind. But when I saw you kissing Sarah I knew there was no chance. I guess it just upset me a bit more than I thought it might. Plus, she called me 'cute'!"
"Well, you are. Honestly."
"See, it's when you say things like that that I get my hopes up."
"I see. Shit, I'm so sorry. I had no idea I was doing that to you." Brad's mind was racing. He felt terrible for hurting Richie, the boy he had vowed to protect from everything.
"It's not your fault, you were just trying to make me feel good, weren't you?"
"Yeah, I suppose. Richie?"
"Yeah?"
"You know, I love both you and Sarah more than I could have ever imagined a few years ago. The only difference is that I am in love with her as well. I'm so sorry I can't be any more to you than that, I really am. You are a wonderful guy and you deserve to have someone who loves you and makes you happy."
"Thanks. I really appreciate your honesty, and I appreciate all the effort you put into our relationship when it would be so much easier for you in every respect to simply walk away. I love you too, Brad, in the best possible way." A small sniffle followed.
Brad was virtually in tears himself by this stage. He knew that he was in love with Sarah, but he also knew that he wanted - needed - to give Richie more than the pure, honest, but platonic love he could offer at the moment. He knew he needed to be Richard's sun and moon, fire and earth, sword and shield. He knew he was Richard's life.
A few silent minutes later he propped himself up on the bed. Richard had moved a bit closer and Brad was able to lean over his exposed face. "Richie, don't take this the wrong way, but..."
He gently placed one kiss on Richie's forehead, another on his cheek, and a third - fleeting, chaste and delicate - on his lips before he spooned up behind his younger friend and held him, silent tears streaming down his face as he was faced with the reality that someone was going to get hurt eventually.
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