Jamie Lawrence - Chapter Six
Warning
This story contains graphic description of sex acts betweens members of the same sex. If accessing material such as this is illegal in your country/province/state, please do not continue reading.
The characters contained within this story are entirely fictional and should be taken as such. Any resemblance to any person(s) living or dead is entirely coincidental.
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For the American readers amongst you; This story is set in England. This means that at the age of 16, these boys are free of High School and are looking forward to 'College', which is the equivalent of YOUR High School.
Jamie Lawrence - Chapter Six
That same day, Diane received a call from her husband at around six in the evening telling her that he would not be home at all until the morning. Taking it as divine providence, the boys seized the opportunity to spend the night cuddled up in Shane's bed. Diane stayed well away from her son's bedroom. She knew what young love was like.
Unfortunately for the boys, Sunday was Gerry's day off. Not trusting himself to be able to keep his hands off Jamie for the whole day, Shane begged his beautiful boyfriend to take him home with him.
Jamie assented for one very simple reason. Jamie had met Shane's mother, and now he was eager to return the favour. Sadly, as Jamie walked into the kitchen of his home, his boyfriend barely a step behind him, he saw a note pinned to the fridge. 'Working until nine. Spag Bol on the stove. Love you, Mum x'.
Shane was already sampling the Bolognaise and making some rather sexual noises to emphasize his enjoyment. "Wow, your Mum can cook."
"Yeah, she's a bit of an overachiever. Great at everything," said Jamie, mentally adding 'with one exception' to his statement.
Shane came over, wrapped his arms around Jamie, and read the note. "Who works on a Sunday? 'Til nine at that."
"She's a doctor. Neurology and Psychology. How else do you think we could afford this house?"
Shane walked into the foyer and spun on his heel, taking it all in at once. "It's practically identical to mine. Better decor though." He looked at his watch. "And by my count, it's all ours for the next four hours. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" He popped open the button on his jeans.
"Doctor Who marathon?" Jamie asked, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Or we could play Twister!" He said this last with such boyish glee that Shane rolled his eyes, a wry smile on his face.
"Naked Twister!" he suggested, wondering how limber Jamie really was. He ran both hands over Jamie's arse.
Jamie wrapped one arm around Shane and slid the other down his jeans. "Or," he said seductively. "We could cut out the middle man and you could take me up to my bedroom and do unspeakable things to me." He stood on his tiptoes and bit Shane's lip lightly.
Shane gulped loudly. "Yeah," he said breathily. "I prefer your plan."
Jamie led the way up the stairs, Shane's hands continually playing over his bottom as he went.
Several hours later, the two found themselves together on the sofa in the lounge. They were wearing nothing but boxers and had a blanket slung over themselves.
The remnants of two bowls of spaghetti lay nearby and the TV was playing through an episode of CSI: New York.
The boys were more interested in playing the game they had just invented. They had dubbed it 'What part of Jamie should Shane lick yoghurt from next?"
Shane returned from beneath the blanket and kissed Jamie. "Am I winning yet?"
Jamie devoured Shane's tongue again, savouring the strawberry yoghurt he could taste there. "Trust me, in this game, there are no losers."
Shane rubbed at Jamie's hard dick. "Mmm, I'm inclined to agree." He nuzzled at Jamie neck.
The pair then heard the front door open and close. Jamie whispered "Lie on my chest." Shane did as he was told. For all the world, they simply looked like a couple watching television together.
A moment later, Jamie's mother popped her head around the door. She looked startled for a moment at Shane's presence, but all she said was "I'm home," before heading into her study to dump her case files and other work stuff.
"Put some clothes on, quickly. She'll want to meet you." Both started donning their clothes that had been strewn all around the lounge. Jamie had to tap his dick a few times to make it go down. He was about to put his shirt on when Shane licked his nipple. "Missed a bit," he said, smirking.
Jamie finished dressing just as his mother came in and flopped down on the opposite sofa. "Oh, boys. You didn't have to dress on my account. During my residency, I saw naked people all day," she said wearily.
"Mum, this is Shane. He's my, er..." Jamie suddenly realised that they hadn't really talked about what they were to each other. He had been mentally referring to Shane as his boyfriend all day, but he wasn't sure how Shane would react to him verbalising that.
"I'm his boyfriend, Dr Lawrence."
"Oh, please. Call me Beth."
"Hey, what about me?" Jamie joked in a petulant voice.
"You just stick with 'Mum' you little brat," she joked back. She sighed. "Is your father home?" She looked at her watch.
Jamie shifted uncomfortably. "No, he hasn't been home all day." He knew what his mother was about to ask him to do, although he fervently wished she wouldn't.
"Would you fetch him, sweetie. I don't want him there all night." Jamie nodded resignedly. "Thank you." She closed her eyes.
Jamie indicated to Shane that they should leave. Once out of the front door, Shane slung an arm around Jamie. "So where's your Dad?"
Jamie was looking at the floor again. "The Duck on the Water."
The Duck on the Water was a dingy little establishment hidden away from any busy thoroughfares. As such, it's custom came almost entirely from regulars.
The nicotine stained paint was peeling on almost every wall and as the main room started to warm up, often the strong odour of vomit would fill the air, doubtless stirred up from the ancient carpet that hadn't been cleaned since the seventies.
As Jamie and Shane walked in, Shane observed that news of the smoking ban clearly hadn't reached the landlord's ears as the dense fog nearly blinded him. He coughed slightly and watched Jamie scan the room.
"No, I swear it!" shouted a voice on the other end of the bar. "I gave George Lucas the idea for Star Wars! Yoda was based on MY grandmother."
"Yeah right, Johnny. And last week you told me you wrestled a bear. The week before that, you fought Ali."
Shane was beginning to see the whole picture. As soon as Jamie had heard the shouting, his grip on Shane's hand had tightened. "Is Johnny your father?" he whispered to Jamie. Jamie nodded mutely.
Johnny picked up a pint glass from the bar, turned to walk to a table and spotted Jamie standing awkwardly by the door. "Look who's here!" he shouted, clearly overjoyed to see Jamie. "Hey, everyone. This here is my little boy, Jamie! He turns thirteen next month!"
Jamie spun on his heel and walked out of the pub. Shane hurriedly followed. Outside, Jamie simply froze. "Why does your father think you're twelve?"
"Because he has been drunk every day since I was. He's not abusive, he just gets drunk, goes home and sleeps. Then he wakes up and comes here. His car has been parked here for three weeks now." Jamie pointed to a green Peugot. "He's never sober enough to drive it home." He said all this in a monotone, almost emotionless. "All those stories he tells, he actually believes them. He can't remember that it's all bullshit."
Johnny Lawrence came barrelling out of the pub, almost crashing into Shane's back as he did. "Oops, sorry kiddo. Where's- ah, there you are. Your mum send you to get me?" Jamie nodded. "Well then. Onwards!"
Johnny walked off in the direction of his home without noticing that Jamie wasn't following. He had instead turned and gone back into the pub. Shane followed, confused. He walked up to the bar. "Hey Richard. Have you got my Dad's keys?"
The barman reached into a cubby hole behind the bar and withdrew a set of keys which he handed to Jamie. "Thanks Richard. Um, how many was it today?"
"Fourteen."
Jamie sighed and pulled out his wallet. He handed the barman thirty pounds. "See you tomorrow." Richard saluted and Jamie turned and walked out of the pub, again with Shane in tow.
The two walked hand in hand, a hundred yards between them and Johnny. "You would think that my Mum would do something to help him; Her being a doctor. There again, they ARE divorced, so I guess it's not her problem."
"If they're divorced, why does he still live with you guys?"
"I think it's mostly for my sake. She didn't want to be married to him any more, but she didn't want me to lose my father. She begged him to quit for abolutely ages. Eventually she started focusing on her work. Then when I was fourteen, they got divorced."
"How did it start? If you don't mind my asking."
Jamie smiled, but there was no humour or joy in it. "2008 was a bad year for us. That's the year I came out. My Dad took it harder than my Mum. He was okay with it; I think it just stung him a little.
"Then my Gran died. My Dad's Mum, that is. He was devastated. He had never been much of a drinker till then. Out of the blue, he was drinking whisky every weekend.
"Then my Mum got a big promotion and she was around less and less. She always made time for me. She said she didn't want to be a 'career mum,' but I guess my Dad dropped in her list of priorities. Then my Dad was made redundant."
They turned into Jamie's garden and saw that his father had left the front door wide open. Jamie shook his head before closing and locking it. They made their way up to his bedroom. Inside, door closed, Jamie continued. "Anyway, with nowhere to be, and no wife watching him, he drank every day." Jamie laughed wryly. "He used to slip me a pound coin to buy my silence."
Jamie told the whole story with almost no emotion, as if it were somebody else's tale. Even Shane was having more of a reaction to it. There was a catch in his throat as he pictured his boyfriend watching his own father decline like that.
He put out his arms and Jamie came over to him. They lay on his bed, fully clothed and, after a while, fell asleep. Shane's arms never moved from around Jamie's body.
Darren had no idea where he was. All he knew was that he felt like shit, and that somebody was removing all of his clothes. He had terrible dry mouth and felt like he had gone ten rounds with Tyson.
The hands stop fussing over him. He could hear voices somewhere above him. It wasn't until then that he realised he was lying down. He tried to open his eyes, but a bright light was shining straight down at him. He could taste vomit.
"Push 0.4 miligrams Naloxone." Darren knew that this sentence meant something, but for the life of him he couldn't figure it out. He was falling and falling. Words became gibberish. Gibberish became white noise until finally, he was sleeping.
He drifted in and out of consciousness for several hours after that, each time hearing snippets of different conversations. The first time he woke up, he heard a police officer talking to his father outside the room. "We found these in his pocket." His father's face fell as Darren dropped out of consciousness again.
A few hours later he awoke to hear his father on the phone telling his mother what had happened. Darren was still dazed and confused. He couldn't figure out what was going on.
More sleep and he awoke to find his mother by his bedside. She saw him open his eyes and started stroking his hair. "My sweet baby. What happened to you?"
Darren tried to speak, but his mouth was still too dry. His mother noticed him smacking his lips and reached for a cup of ice chips. By the time she turned back, he was asleep again.
All in all, he slept for the better part of twenty hours. When he was finally able to cling to consciousness, his mother was sleeping in the bed opposite and his father was doing a crossword in the paper. When Darren cleared his throat to indicate he was awake, his father barely looked up.
"Seven letters. Collection of papers pertaining to a single topic."
"Dossier," Darren croaked.
"Well I see your mind is in tact, so could you tell me what the FUCK YOU WERE THINKING?!" He threw the newspaper at his son.
"I don't even know what's going on!" Darren could feel his throat closing and tears gathering in his eyes.
"You were found at two o'clock this morning lying on a park bench, out of your head on heroin! They found a veritable cache of drugs in your pocket and now they want to press charges!"
"Dad, please." Darren lost his voice to anguish.
"Now, I have managed to talk them down to a misdemeanour charge and they assured me you'll receive a sentence of community service, but if you think you're ever going to see the sun again, you are sorely mistaken!"
"Dad..."
"Save it. I don't want to hear anything you have to say." He stood up and moved to the door. He paused, his hand on the doorknob. "Maybe I should send you to live with your real father. Obviously I wasn't good enough." He left, slamming the door behind himself.
Darren cried for a long time after that. The whole time he had been doing the various drugs he had done, he knew it was not a risk worth taking. He knew that he was risking his family, and his future, but somehow he couldn't help himself. Even when it began to escalate and he was showing definite signs of addiction, he didn't change a thing.
Now he had lost his father, and his mother surely wouldn't be far behind him. Darren's world was collapsing, and for that, he wept.
Outside the hospital room, Michael Dempster slumped to the floor. The boy he had raised as his own; the boy he loved with all his heart had broken it. He took out his wallet and stared at the photgraph he kept there. It was of him and Darren at Disneyland Paris ten years earlier. Michael touched the image of his baby boy and wondered what had happened to the perfect little child he had come to love as his own. Hell, aside from DNA, he WAS his own.
Michael wondered if it was his own fault; if he had been too much of a stickler for perfection. He had always pushed Darren; demanded that he not accept less than he was worth.
He pictured his son the way he had dreamed he would be at this age and beyond. Then he recalled the image of him lying the hospital bed, not ten feet from where he was sitting and he started to cry, the sobs wracking his body.
"I'll hang up on you," said Jamie in the most threatening tone he could muster when talking to Shane. He quickly thanked the bud driver and stepped off the bus before heading around the first corner.
"No you won't. You love me too much," Shane returned.
"True, but I actually do have to hang up on you now. I'm here."
"Do you HAVE to stay at Matthew's? I've got this big old bed that needs filling," Shane pleaded.
"I haven't seen him since prom! I'm starting to forget what he looks like." Jamie rang Matthew's doorbell. "Got to go babe. I love you."
"Love you too."
Matthew's mother, Anita, opened the door just as Jamie was returning his phone to his bag. She fussed over him for a moment before she directed Jamie up to Matthew's bedroom where he found him playing Gears of War. Jamie took up the second handset and joined in the next game. He wasn't particularly good at video games, but he knew enough to kill a couple of ugly freaks.
Aside from a brief 'hello', the two didn't speak much. The sun had dipped below the horizon before Jamie broke the silence. "Aren't you going to ask me what happened after Prom?"
"Nope. There's nothing you could tell me that I haven't already guessed." Matthew didn't take his eyes off the screen.
"But you're my best friend. I thought you would want to hear about my first time, and there's nobody I want to tell more. You told me all about your first time." Jamie abandoned his handset, leaving Marcus Fenix to fend for himself.
"That's different. You actually wanted to hear about mine." Matthew tapped furiously on at his controller.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jamie felt he knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from the horse's mouth.
"Exactly what it sounds like. I don't want to hear where that dick stuck his dick."
"First off, that's my boyfriend you're talking about so drop the attitude. Second, I thought you were better than this."
Matthew paused the game just as a Locust blew his character's brains all over the screen. "I'm sorry. It's just that not only do I not like the guy, but I kind of don't want to hear all the gory details. You remember how you cringed when I talked about Sam's..." He motioned to his groin.
"So you don't want to hear that your best friend is in love?"
"Nope."
Jamie rose. "I think I'll sleep in the guest room." He picked up his bag went into the next room. He moaped around for a while, muttering curses at Matthew's expense. He sat on the bed for a long time before Matthew came in and sat next to him. The resigned look on his face told Jamie that he had folded.
"Go on," he said. "The last thing I want is a Titch with a vendetta against me."
Jamie smiled, but hid it behind his hair. He nudged Matthew's arm with his elbow. Matthew returned the gesture. They got more and more violent until they were wrestling on the bed, giggling like school girls. Due to his superior size, Matthew had Jamie pinned within seconds. "Go on. It's gory details time."
Jamie relayed the PG version of the events of Prom night. Every now and again, Matthew winced when the story came close to the more intimate moments. When Jamie got to the follow morning and how Jamie had had to hide in the wardrobe with a hanger sticking up his chute, even Matthew had to laugh.
When Jamie had finally finished talking, it was nearly midnight and he was exhausted. He had covered all the events, as well as how he felt about Shane. He stifled a yawn, but Matthew caught it.
"Come on, you. Time for bed." Matthew rose and offered his hand to Jamie.
Jamie was about to take it, but thought better of it. "Actually, given that I have a boyfriend now, I think it might be best if I sleep in here anyway." Matthew looked hurt. "Nothing against you. It's just, if it ever got back to Shane that you and I share a bed, it might create waves I don't need."
"So he doesn't trust you?" His eyes were serious.
"It's not that. It's just, it's early days yet. I don't want to do anything to jeopardize it before it's even really begun. Do you understand? It's not like you ever told Sam that we share a bed."
Matthew still looked a little hurt, but he shrugged and left. Jamie stripped naked, and clambered into the bed. Certainly, had he slept with Matthew, he would have donned his pajamas, but he did enjoy the freedom of sleeping naked. He silently admitted that there was a distinct thrill to being naked in somebody else's house.
He thought of Shane, and he suddenly realised that in the five days since Prom, he and Shane hadn't slept apart once. He missed having Shane's arms around him; his hand clasped around Jamie's limp cock and his steady breathing in his ear.
He retrieved his phone from his bag and dialled Shane's number. "Hey Babe. Are you busy?"
"No, what's up?"
"I just wanted to hear your sexy voice."
"Well, now I don't know what to say."
"You could tell me what you're wearing." Jamie grinned.
"Funny you should ask. Nothing at all." Jamie's cock twitched at those words.
"What a coinkydink; same here!" Just saying that out loud made Jamie's cock twitch again.
"Hmm, it seems the fates have offered us a gift. It would almost be sacrilege to ignore it. So what if I told you that I was now running my tongue over your nipple?"
Jamie quickly wet his finger with his saliva before running it over his nipple. It wasn't quite Shane's tongue, but it would suffice. "Mmm, I like the sound of that." Jamie closed his eyes and started picturing Shane.
"Well then, you'll love this. I'm biting it. It's getting harder. I'm moving to the other one, flicking your nipple ring with my tongue. I'm kissing down your chest, dipping my tongue into your belly-button."
Jamie could hear Shane's breathing becoming irregular and heavier. He was running his hand up and down his own cock, his eyes closed and little whimpers escaping his lips.
"I'm pinning your arms above your head whilst I tug on your big thick cock. My tongue is deep in your throat." Jamie started to work his cock faster and faster.
The pair didn't last too much longer. Jamie's toes curled. He heard Shane release his load as his own spread over his stomach. They talked for a while longer before saying goodnight to one another and Jamie cleaned himself up.
In the next room, Matthew cuddled up to the pillows he had laid out as a replacement for his best friend and sighed sadly.
Darren was so relieved. The doctors had kept him in for three days and he had gone almost stir crazy. He was now gulping down his first taste of fresh air since the worst day of his life. He was wheeled to the main entrance of North Manchester General Hospital, and as he rose from the wheelchair, he swore to himself he would never be back.
It was his mother who drove him home. This was not a good sign. His mother was a nervous driver. She had had a serious accident six years earlier and had been a timid behind the wheel ever since. The fact that it was she who was to drive him home told Darren one thing: His father had refused to do it.
They drove home at twenty miles an hour, hordes of cars honking the whole way. Darren was frustrated by the pace, but his mother was stressed enough so he kept quiet. When they finally pulled up at the house, his mother let out a long, slow breath.
Darren leaned across and gave her a hug. She was shaking a little. 'Thank you, Mum." His gratitude was in part for the lift home, but also for the meaning behind it. She clearly didn't hate him, as he had feared. It felt a little stilted to say it, but he felt that he needed to start thanking her more often, for every little thing. She gave him a wan little smile. If that was the only good thing to come out of this ordeal, it was enough.
They went inside and Darren's last fervent hope that his father's absence was due to work was instantly dashed. His father was sitting on the couch, once again reading the newspaper.
"Hi, Dad."
"Mmm."
If his shoulders hadn't already been drooping, they would have done then. Saddened by his father's dismissal, Darren went to his bedroom and lay on his bed. For a long time he simply stared at the ceiling, immobile.
When he left the hospital he had promised himself that drugs were in his past. He couldn't believe that so soon after making that pledge to himself, he was reaching under his bed.
A while back, he had cut a slice of the carpet and used the resulting hole to hide his stash. He reached in and retrieved the remnants of his cache.
He sighed. Barely enough for a line. At that moment, his mother walked into his room with a pile of clean clothes for him. She saw the bag in his hand and Darren watched her face pale, then flush. Her eyes ran from sad to angry. She dropped the clothes on the floor, came over to her son and slapped him soundly across the face.
As Darren watched his mother storm out of the room, he felt that he was watching the last of the love in his life go with her. In his young mind, there was nothing left for him. The thought of suicide crossed his mind but he quickly dismissed it. There was another way he could feel better. If there was no love left, then there was nothing left for him to lose, and everything to gain.
I hope you enjoyed this. I especially enjoyed exapnding on the character of Darren. Hopefully it shows!
Thanks to Andy, Daniel S, Dicky, Reece C, and MP. Special thanks to David L, Bill T, and Bill E who have been a great comfort to me during the long hours of writing!
Sorry if I missed anyone out!
Any comments, questions, or even suggestions are welcome. Please feel free to email me with your thoughts at thebobbyfish@gmail.com Your emails are all very welcome, and I will try to answer ever single one of them!
For those of you who aren't already, you should have a read of 'Tommy and Tanner' by David Lee in the High School section of Nifty.
Keep an eye out for Chapter Seven!