Cal

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Cal - part 12

Notes from the author:

Hi there, this is my first story for nifty - so please let me know what you think. It's weirdly lonely when you have no idea what anyone thinks of your work. You can contact me at secret_writer@outlook.com

All the usual disclaimers apply, if you shouldn't be reading this then don't. And if you don't like this kind of content, well really, WTF are you doing here?

The previous episodes in this story can be found here: http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/beginnings/cal

And don't forget, if you enjoy this story (or even if you don't but have found some other stuff you like) then support the site at http://donate.nifty.org

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My Dad had left me an envelope at work, which I hadn't opened before I saw him again the following night. We exchanged a few words, but it was awkward, difficult, and just generally weird. Had I read the letter? No. Would I? I don't know. How can he contact me again? We you know where I fucking work don't you? That sort of thing. Becky was trying to be really supportive, as was Frank, but I don't think they really knew what to say. I mean, what the fuck do you say? So after a few days things seemed to be back to normal. I talked to Davey about it a few times though. He was really clear that whatever I wanted to do, or not do about it, he'd be happy with my choice. Which was both really nice, and also not so fucking helpful. It was probably a week or two later before I could really think about the envelope. Days passed and turned into weeks, which turned in to a month, and then a couple of months. I still hadn't opened it. There had been many times when I nearly did. But I just couldn't bring myself to do it. It would be like I was letting him in to my life, or worse, pretending that I was actually OK about what had happened. I Ieft it in a drawer at home, occasionally bothering me with it's unopenedness. Yeah it's a fucking word.

Anyway, there are more important, well, at least other things to think about right now. It's my birthday on Friday. I'm supposed to be at work, and haven't made any plans not to be. I haven't actually told anyone that it's my birthday, and was expecting it to just be like any other day. I've pretty much stopped doing the whole birthday thing these last few years. And besides, I'll be 20 then. And that?s like nearly 21. And that's like proper fucking grown up 'you should at least have some idea where the fuck your life is going by now' time. At least that's how I see it. Stupidly, I'd been thinking that this was just going to go away, or at least not be a 'thing'. But of course Davey had other ideas.

"We can't just do nothing, it's your Birthday!" Yeah, Davey was super excited, definitely more than I was. We were laying in bed on the Sunday morning, having got up, had breakfast, been out with Scarlett and come back home again.

"I'm going to work, then I'm coming home. That's all."

"No."

"What do you mean 'no'. You can't just say 'no' as if it's some kind of proper reason."

"Yes, I can."

And with that Davey was on top of me, pinning me to the bed, smiling wide. As much as I faked protest, he knows perfectly well that I love him being on top of me like this. Totally covered by him. Any pretense that we weren't going to be having some kind of sex was totally gone, although I'm not sure that was ever really happening anyway. We were both hard, pressing against each others bodies.

"So we're doing something for your Birthday then?" He asked again. My 'No' turned into more of a bad porn 'ohhhh' as he played with my balls and gently bit my ear. Kissing my neck. The fucker knows exactly how to get me. Between my laughter and moaning I struggled to tell him that this was totally unfair and blatantly manipulative. I gave up totally when he started to squeeze my nipple between his teeth and slowly wank my now harder than ever cock. Not wanting to be the only one at the party, I gently pushed his shoulder and he rolled over onto his back, never letting go of me. I started to return the action so we were quickly have a very intense mutual wank. The conclusion was pretty fucking obvious, and as usual, Davey wasn't holding out a moment longer as soon as I started to shoot. We were both pretty messy, and I loved it. We showered with a repeat although slightly slower session before getting dressed. We didn't exactly finish the birthday conversation, but I guess I knew that ultimately we were going to be doing something. My final plea was just for nothing too over the top. Davey is awesome and everything, obviously, but he can get a bit carried away.

I got to work a few minutes early as usual, and Becky was straight in there with a million fucking questions. What am I doing for my birthday? Dunno. Don't I want the day off? No. Maybe even the whole weekend? Still no. What's Davey going to buy me? Dunno. Do I think he's going to propose?

"What!?" Yeah, that last one got my attention.

"Well he might. He's obviously totally in love with you." She had this sort of satisfied look on her face, like I couldn't help but end up getting married.

"No, it's not like that."

"What do you mean it's not like that? Don't you love him?"

"That's not what I mean. I just don't see us getting married, that's all. Now stop asking me and go and serve people."

I tried to play it cool, but actually the whole idea kind of freaked me out. I mean, I do love Davey, like totally. But getting married? Fuck, that's a whole new level of seriousness. I tried to forget about it. And if you've ever tried to not think about something then you'll know exactly how fucking ridiculous the idea is. It just kept filling up my head whenever there was a space. By the time I got home that night I was more or less convinced - OK, so pretty much totally convinced, that Davey was going to propose to me on my birthday. But what could I do? 'Hey Davey, you know I love you and everything and you're the single best thing that has EVER happened to me? Well I just wanted to say that if you were thinking of asking me to marry you on my birthday then you shouldn't'. No, there was no reasonable or nice or even vaguely defensible way of saying it. Carlton Jeremy Matthew Richardson - Get. A. Fucking. Grip. Whoooooa. There's a blast from the past. I shuddered just a little bit remembering my Mum yelling my full name at me when I was in trouble. Not like serious trouble, she wasn't really around in my life by then, but like the time that I broke some stupid ugly glass-vase-bowl-dish thing - you know the sort of thing that costs enough so it really should have some sort of actual purpose, but it never fucking seems to ever get around to it. I was probably only 9 or something, and I thought that if I just kept saying that I hadn't done it, then everyone was going to have to believe me. Obviously that didn?t work, but I was a kid, it make perfect sense to me at the time.

I shuddered again, realising that this wasn't the first time I'd though about my Mum recently. And it was all his fault, somehow my Dad stumbling back in to my life had also brought her with him, and I fucking hate him for that. Well OK then, maybe I don't hate him, but I really fucking don't like him. So there it was, one of those rare moments (for me at least) of clarity. I knew exactly what I had to do. I had to read the fucking letter. It was late, Davey was playing something on Xbox, probably badly. He's sooooo bad at video games, but still plays them anyway. I sat up on the bed leaning against the headboard, pulled the letter from the drawer next to me and opened it. I know it's stupid, but I was thinking that if I opened it nicely and not just rip it apart then maybe what was inside was going to be nicer to me. My heart sank a little when I realised that there were several pages of the hotel paper, not just a brief note or anything. And then I laughed to myself as I tried to start reading it. His writing was so bad you have to concentrate pretty hard to make sense of it. I remember Mum complaining to him all the time about it, 'does this say cheese or chives? How am I supposed to buy things if I can't read your writing?', 'Neither darling it says, erm.... oh yes, chestnuts' - the same sort if thing happened every week when Mum was going shopping. And who the fuck buys chestnuts anyway? I guess I forget sometimes just how middle fucking class my parents were.

Don't worry, I'm not going to bore you with the details, but it started with a lot of apologising which I ended up skimming over a bit to be honest. So you're sorry. I'm fucking sorry too, but it doesn't really change anything does it. And it was nothing that you wouldn't really expect, given the circumstances. But then he started to talk about why he left. Wow - some of that was really hard to read, and not just because of his bad writing. It seems that Mum and Dad had stopped liking each other a couple of years before he finally left, but then they stopped loving each other as well and it was all too difficult. It was true, he did go out with some woman from work, but that didn't go anywhere and lasted only a couple of months. He met someone else a year ago - I guess that was the annoying woman he was with in the bar that time. Apparently he hadn't told her very much about his life before her, and meeting me as he did had kind of forced the issue. It was difficult for me to take it all in, he was constantly saying how much he loved me and how much he hated leaving me behind when he left - but I've never heard him say those words to me, ever. It's hard to imagine. I wiped my face, pulled my knees even closer towards me, and carried on reading.

It was like some kind of self inflicted torture. Now he was talking about Mum. Fuck it, maybe I don't want to read this after all. Apparently he's in some sort of contact with her again, and has been for a year or so. She's still living in the same house we all used to live in down in London, has a new job, is doing well for herself. Fucking idiot. He obviously either has no idea or is just pretending like the whole alcohol fuelled, self obsessed, zero parenting capability, bitch phase didn?t happen at all. And despite everything, all the countless fucking times that I've hated her, and resented her, and screamed at her even though she isn't actually there, I fucking miss her. I suppose it's not a new thing, but maybe this is the first time I've let myself really feel it. It's sad.

Friday morning arrived, as it would, and it was pretty much like every other morning with me and Davey and Scarlett doing our usual morning things. Except of course, there were presents. Having told Davey many times not to go too crazy with the present buying he had finally agreed to try. As it turns out - he also lied. Before we were even out of bed he was holding this perfectly wrapped little box. No - not like a ring sized box - thank fuck - bigger, but nothing even close to a shoe box. I know it might sound stupid, I mean, what was he going to do, NOT buy me a present? I don't fucking think so. But it was also really weird when he did. I could feel myself starting to cry a little as I opened it which I tried to hide. And then I saw what it was, and then I realised that he'd spent way too much money - but I've now got a brand new iPhone! Fucking awesome. But also - still way too much money. Predictably, I shouldn't have started worrying about that so early. Waiting on the table with breakfast was another larger, flatter box. I gave Davey a look, and he knew what it fucking meant.

"What? It's not from me, that one's from Scarlett, that's OK isn't it?"

Scarlett made one of her little friendly noises at the sound of her name, but I swear she might really have been listening. OK - so Scarlett should win some kind of prize because apparently she managed to order and wrap an iPad for me. Clever fucking dog. I gave Davey another kiss before sitting down where I saw a small pile of cards. Davey, Jen, Davey's Mum Mary, his Brother Ben, Vicky from his office, and Kati and Simon as well. Fuck - I've spent a few years having no cards at all, and now I've got loads. It's pretty fucking cool really but kind of way too much to manage as well.

"So baby, don't be mad, but there's one last present. And no, it's not a birthday present, so it doesn?t count - right? This is from me and Scarlett - for our six month anniversary."

He produces this even bigger fucking box, but I really couldn't say anything - I mean, I hadn't even known it was our six month anniversary - who even counts that? And it was way too big for a ring. Anyway, I felt pretty bad for not knowing, but I don't think Davey cared the tiniest bit. I could tell he was just really enjoying giving me presents. I opened the box, and it's a fucking MacBook - a fucking MacBook! Maybe he thought it was some kind of set where you really had to buy all three things!?

We'd finally agreed that I'd finish work early and we'd do something small to celebrate. But after this morning I was beginning to wonder about his definition of 'something small'. When I got to work there were even more cards and presents. The other hotel and bar staff had all put in and got me a new bar for my eyebrow piercing and some fuck off nice aftershave. Becky got me this really nice bottle of whisky as well - which I'm sure cost her way too much. But all in all it was a pretty fucking nice day. Inevitably there was also a card for me from my Dad which he'd posted to the hotel. I didn't open it, but I knew it was from him. That pissed me off a little. You can't just start sending your own son a card and pretend that everything is all OK. I finished at 5pm, and Davey came to pick me up ready for whatever he had planned. He stayed for a couple of drinks at the hotel and some of the guys joined us for one, which was really cool. It was like I got to show off my boyfriend or something - as most of the people there hadn't actually met Davey.

Thankfully Davey was true to his word this time around - not that I really mind my fuck off fancy new stuff. We had dinner at this new tapas place where Davey knew the owners. His Mum and brother was there, and Kati and Simon as well. There were even more presents from them too, but at least these were more sensibly sized. It was a really fucking nice night. I guess it felt a bit like a big family get together. We were there for hours, just talking, and drinking, and then probably drinking some more. I think it was like 2 or 3 in the morning before we all headed off home.

I sat on the sofa and started trying to set up my new iPad but Scarlett was having none of it. She wanted attention and of course she won.

Davey came and sat with us and put his arm around me.

"Thanks Davey - it's been awesome today."

"Good, it was supposed to be."

"And you still spent way too fucking much on all these presents - but thank you anyway."

As we kissed I realised that I just wanted to be exactly where I was - at home, with Davey and Scarlett, and happy. It felt so nice, but it also reminded me of how my life used to be.

Kind of from nowhere I said to Davey:

"I want to go to London for the weekend."

"OK, but right now? It's kind of late..."

"No, stupid, not right now, but soon."

"Of course we can go to London baby - but why? You've never wanted to go back there."

"Yeah, I know. But I just do."

There it was, spoken out loud, as real as it was ever going to be. I couldn't quite bring myself to say that I wanted to see my Mum, that I missed her, and that all of this great time that Davey has given me today has reminded me of her. Even though I still hate her. But I think Davey knows all that - he just hugs me closer, tighter, and kisses me.

What. The. Fuck. Is. That. Fucking. Noise!? I think that maybe there's been a nuclear war overnight and now every siren and alarm is being sounded all at the same time to alert the whole fucking world to it. But apparently it's just the alarm clock. I sort of knew that things were pretty bad at that point, but then actually moving, crawling over the bed to hit the fucking thing to make it stop was a whole new world of swirling pain, weird lights and what was that? Oh yeah, I think maybe I'm about to throw up. I hit the clock several times, and the noise had stopped, but it was now on the floor so I couldn't really tell if I'd actually turned it off or put it on 'sleep' which means it will go off again in 9 minutes. Why 9 minutes? Who fucking knows? Of course I wasn't opening my eyes again, not after that first time. Stupid fuck. I hear Davey come in to the room and feel him sit on the bed next to me.

"Hey baby, how are you feeling?" I'm feeling like I've been run over by a train, several times. All I manage is a vague sort or "Nnnnrrrrghhh!" sound.

"Are you still feeling a little hung over maybe?"

"What gives it away?"

"Well, just a hunch. That - and the way you've spent all night throwing up in the bathroom."

"I have?"

"Yes baby, you have. Now take a couple of these and go back to sleep.

You're not due in work for another 4 hours." He handed me some headache pills and a glass of water.

"What have you done to me?"

"Me? I think you'll find it's probably the lager, then wine, then cocktails, then champagne, then more cocktails, and then whiskey."

"Bollox."

I woke up again with Davey gently shaking my shoulder. Somehow I managed to eat something - well - dry toast was all I could stomach - before showering and getting a cab to work.

"You look like crap!"

"Thanks Becky."

"Why didn't you just take the day off?"

"Well I didn?t exactly plan on feeling like shit did I?"

"But you could have just phoned in sick, we'd have managed."

"Well I'm here now aren't I."

"Sort of." She laughed at me, in a friendly sort of way if that's possible, and proceeded to keep me regularly fuelled with strong coffee.

Amazingly I did actually start to feel better after an hour or two, but word travels fast and pretty much every fucker in the building seemed to make a point of coming to see just how tragic I was today. But they all cared really. For the most part I tried to avoid too many customers, and definitely the ones ordering anything with tequila in it. Fuck knows what I was drinking last night, but the smell of that stuff has nearly sent me heaving twice already today.

During a quiet moment later in the day, when I was nearing a more normal sort of version of myself, Becky came and propped herself against the bar in front of me.

"So did you have a good night?"

"Yeah, actually I did, it was really awesome. Even if I do feel like crap today."

"We'll you look good, so don?t worry about it, no-one will notice."

"Thanks - I think."

"And did he?"

"Did who what?"

"Did Davey propose?"

"No, of course he didn't!"

"Awwwwwww - what a shame."

"No, it's not a shame, it's perfectly cool. Not everyone is as obsessed with us getting marred as you seem to be. Besides, it's only been six months or something."

"Is that all? Wow - it feels like much longer."

"Yeah - well, I'm very happy, that's all that matters."

I think it must have been the longest shift ever. Like - totally, ever.

Either that, or time actually slowed down. I got home just after midnight and Davey was just in his boxers and t-shirt - always a nice sight. I seriously wanted to fuck - I mean, he's just so fucking beautiful - but also - I seriously wanted to sleep. Sleep won. But not straight away. I told Davey that I'd booked next weekend off work, so that if Davey was OK with it as well, we could go down to London.

"Yeah, sure baby, of course we can go. I'll get Jen to look after Scarlett - I don?t think she'll like The South." It's kind of funny how he things it's like a different country or something.

"Thanks Davey."

"So is there anything in particular you want to do? You know, in case we need to stay somewhere particular?"

I knew what he was asking, or at least I thought I did. But I still couldn't quite say the words.

"No, just anywhere central will be cool. Maybe towards the north side of central?"

"OK Cal, I'll book it in the morning."

I don't remember falling asleep, but obviously I did. I woke up to find Davey just looking at me, still in bed.

"What?"

"Nothing, I was just looking at you and wondering how my very pretty boy was feeling this morning."

"He's feeling loads better than yesterday!" My hands were on his body under the duvet before the end of the sentence, and then we were all over each other. Before long, Davey was fucking me, and I just couldn't get enough of him. I dunno what the fuck was with me but I was feeling so fucking horny, he made me spunk twice in the hour or so we were fucking, before he blasted his own load inside me. It was the perfect start to a perfect lazy Sunday - even if the weather was pretty crap. But it's November in the UK, what do you expect?