Part ninety-three: Up on the Roof
The movie credits trailed by to an end and Neco Williams gently pulled closed the laptop on the side of his bed. He blinked sleepily at the computer as it purred into standby and let out a wide leonine yawn before pulling himself out of bed and hoisting his laptop over to rest on the desk. A mild draught from the half-open window tickled his bare hairy legs as he crossed the dark room in the tight black briefs and loose tie-dye tshirt he was wearing to bed, reminding him to go and pull it shut before returning to his cosy nest.
The 19-year-old Welsh footballer yanked it shut and locked it and stared out for a moment or two before hitting bed, enjoying the pale night sky over the suburban treetops. It had been another quiet day; a rest day on his personalised fitness regime from the club's experts, so a pretty lazy one by lockdown standards. Plenty of binge viewing, secretive snacks, a few video chats with mates and family members -- and a long night of films in bed, needing a break from the increasingly oppressive company of the host family and the sulky brat next door.
He'd tried his best to make peace with Harvey Elliott over the past few days. Neither lad had explicitly brought up what happened with any clarity or detail, that seemed fair and obvious; Williams was hardly ready to think it through in his head never mind say aloud what had passed between the frustrated teens on this very bed. But he'd done his best to be kind and friendly with the moody younger lad in the days after that, assuming the awkward ending would be forgotten with the night.
No such luck: Harvey had scowled at him over meals, taken runs on his own, avoided group chats with their fellow Liverpool mates on the youth and reserve team. If easy-going Neco had wanted to dismiss the lads' surprise fumble in the night as some daft joke gone too far, he wasn't really being given the option. The 17-year-old had barely said more than a few words to him in the past ten days or so and, to make it worse, their surrogate parents had clearly noticed. A few polite questions had been pushed at Neco in quiet moments: Have you two had a falling out, lads?' Do you know what's bothering young Harv at the moment?' Fortunately, it was easy to dismiss bad moods and low days in the current circumstances, though in moments of private paranoia Neco had wondered if anybody heard their muttered fall-out that night, or suspected anything taboo in the sudden frost between them.
Another fortunate thing, perhaps -- Neco could allow his internal anxieties to centre on his soured friendship with his young teammate rather than the mildly horrifying fact he'd let himself try such dirty things with another guy! Weeks and weeks without a lass's touch, sure, but still...!
He pulled the duvet about him and pressed his face into the pillows, irritated that these thoughts should surface now when he'd spent hours numbing his thoughts with comfort viewing favourite movies from his early teens. He yawned silently and stretched his long limbs against the bedding, warm and comfortable in the converted loft bedroom. The sound of footsteps nearby disturbed him for a moment, the familiar light thumps always audible room-to-room; the gentle thud of Harvey's bedroom door closing. The noises were inevitable for the close attic neighbours and never normally registered much with him, but the daytime tension between the young football stars seemed to seep into the night. The sound of Harvey's sulky footsteps on the landing filled him with the same vague unease that his scowling lips and beady eyes did at the dinner table.
He waited for the second door noise and gently humming pipes of his housemate entering their small shared bathroom, but it didn't come. He lay awake, idly wondering if Harvey was deliberately sneaking more quietly to avoid alerting him. He was certainly doing his best to avoid one-to-one conversation between them, barring Neco's begrudging attempts at apology.
Apology, he thought, when it had been Elliott who initiated every bit of it!
A minute passed, then another noise. But not from the landing at all. It was the slightest metallic clang, distant and muffled, and for a second he lay blinking into the dark unsure what the familiar little noise even was, but then... He stiffened up and lifted his head from the pillow. That was the clang of the rusty side-gate in the garden. He climbed out of bed, feeling his tshirt ride up over his tight abs and his briefs bunch awkwardly about his big balls. He adjusted them clumsily as he loped over the room back to the window, pushing himself up against it to stare dimly down into the back garden. A security light had flashed on, motion sensor, and in its glow he could see a hooded figure disappearing down the lane that ran along the back of the home's garden.
Fuck, he thought. What was that little prick up to?!
It wasn't nosiness or resentment or any moral judgment that pushed him to tug on some clothes, but the brotherly responsibility that had built up over their few years of sharing. He knew with silent conviction what was going on as he dragged a red Liverpool hoody on over his tshirt and a pair of skimpy running shorts up over his briefs. Sliders on feet, he quickly but quietly descended through the house.
Neco exited the building with the stealth only a teenager breaking a rule can muster. He let himself out through the back door in the kitchen and trudged over the garden. The air was cool and damp despite the hot sunny day that had passed. Wet grass tickled his heels and toes in the Nike sliders. He pulled carefully on the rusty gate, knowing the muffled noise it could trigger, and dipped out into the lane he'd seen his hooded colleague fuck off down.
The tall Welsh lad hurried down this passage and out into the wider alley beyond it, glancing left and right then spotting him just as he passed through the nearest streetlamp. Harvey's face was distinctive even in the brief flash of light, hoody up and jogger bottoms dragging around his ankles, one hand clutched tightly around a small plastic bag. Neco took a few lunging steps towards him and they met in another pool of lamplight, Harvey yelping in surprise and almost dropping his nocturnal purchase.
Mate,' hissed Neco quietly, are you for real?'
The 17-year-old Liverpool hope glared at him in the yellowy glow from above, bunching his shoulders and stuffing the contents of his hand into the front pocket of his black hoodie. `What the fuck, Wills, following me now? Jesus, get over me.' He was about to bustle aggressively forward but worried Neco reached out both hands and grabbed his shoulders.
`You just picked up weed?' he demanded.
`So what if I did?'
`Right now, under these lockdown rules? Fuck's sake, kid.'
`Don't call me KID, fuck-face.'
`Oh, real mature. Give it me.'
`What?! No fuckin' way...'
`Give it here. You daft prick. Give it.' Neco reached into his pocket and dragged it out, holding it away and too high; Harvey looked enraged and for a second like he was going to wrestle him to the alley floor, but it was late and any struggle would sound obviously in the silent spring night.
Fuck off, I paid good cash for that,' Elliott grumbled in his chavvy Surrey tones. What's your problem? Up to me what I spend my dosh on, bruv, I don't know why you-`
Think of the trouble you could get in,' Neco said sharply. I'm just watchin' your back, kid. Seriously? Sneakin' out at night for drugs? Think of the club, think of the family in there, god...' He backed off, clutching the confiscated weed, shaking his head. `You doin' this just cos you're in a fuckin' sulk with me, Harv?'
`What?! Fuck off, no way. As if I...'
You gonna deny you're sulking with me then?' Neco asked bluntly. He realised their voices were getting a little lout and distinct. It's gone on long off enough,' he whispered coolly, `you need to chill out. We're stuck here together, however much you hate me, okay?'
Harvey stared at him intensely from beneath his black hood. Don't hate ya,' he muttered. His steely anger seemed to fizzle to a worried frown. Don't fuckin' tell them, will ya? Don't rat on me just cos... Just cos, well, you know.'
Where were you even gonna smoke this?' Neco demanded in a tiny voice of indignation, beginning to lead the way back down the alley. You're mental, Harvey, fuckin' mental, sometimes. Come on.' The two teens tramped back round the narrow lane between the big suburban homes and found the rusty gate into their surrogate family's generous back garden. Neco held it open and ushered his frowning pal back through it, oddly relieved that he'd intervened and that no major trouble was about to come of this. He eyed the dark back windows of the house anxiously, fearing someone was up and the drugs would be exposed; he didn't care about his own reputation, but he knew Elliott was on thin ice with some big names at the club. Harvey's current disciplinary record was outshined by his youthful promise, but for how long?
Upstairs, Neco pushed open the door to his room and then turned round; Harvey stood awkwardly on the landing, his scowl gone and replaced with a gloomy expression that was at once pitiful and endearing. The Welsh lad hesitated in the harsh whispered lecture he was about to issue, the small bag of marijuana still clutched in his hand. He felt the tension of almost two weeks between them ease somewhat, and for a moment couldn't remember why he was so irritated or angered by the sullen youth.
`What?' he asked in a soft mutter.
`Let me have just one rollie of it, bruv,' Harvey said, almost pleadingly.
`What, in your room? You think it won't smell pretty fuckin' obvious, Harv...?'
Nah, bruv, out your window, on the roof,' Harvey said, scratching at his goatee and shrugging his slim shoulders. Reckon that would be okay. It's just --He twisted uncomfortably.I know you think I'm just being a tosser or whatever, but...'
You're no addict,' Neco said almost accusingly, doubting his need' for one.
I've just been getting really shit anxiety at night,' Harvey confessed suddenly in an even smaller voice, blushing hotly as he said it. You'll think I'm daft and that but, it's mad times right, and I ain't seen my mum in bare weeks and that, so...' He trailed off and dragged a hand over his face, clearly ashamed at the mental health admission. Neco softened immediately. He was just about managing the bouts of homesickness himself, but he was two years older and calmer than this lad.
`And a bit of green will help, will it?' he asked gently but cynically.
`It ain't gonna make it worse. Fuck it, forget I...'
No, no,' Neco mumbled quickly, stepping back in the doorway a bit. Erm, come on then. Maybe you're right. Maybe it'll be okay?' He pushed his bedroom door further open to let Harvey in, alarmed by his sudden turnaround but overcome with empathy; he'd seen a real distress in the 17-year-old Liverpool winger's face. It was weird to see the brash, cocky teen so honest and vulnerable and it had both shaken him and woken his sense of duty. Fuck the rules for a night, he thought, if the poor lad's been struggling that much. He'd wanted to lecture him on the risks of meeting up with some backstreet dealer, the trouble he could bring to both of them and the club, the trouble their hosts would get into on their behalf, all of it, but...
`For real?' exclaimed Harvey hesitantly.
Neco shrugged with unconvincing assuredness. `Why not.'
Once they were out there, he could see what Harvey had meant; the large window at the side of his bedroom opened out onto a gentle slope of roof tiles with a stony balustrade at the edge, creating a safe dip of space overlooking the garden and alleyways, invisible to the rest of the house below. As he eased himself out and found a perch, Neco wondered why he'd never once thought of climbing out here before! A sensible inner voice asked himself some question about medical insurance and Liverpool FC's attitude to youth players who broke limbs in falling-off-roof incidents...
Behind him, Harvey clambered out a little more deftly, short and wiry as he hunkered down on the tiles and began to roll up on his lap. Neco watched him quietly and then looked out at the strangely beautiful view of their corner of Liverpool. He entertained a couple of nagging doubts but as he watched the younger lad construct a fat joint, he thought about that worried boyish look on his face just now; he'd never thought about how much tougher it might be for Harvey, much further from home. How much of his laddish bravado was a front to hide his worries?
`You gonna share this one with me then, bruv?'
`Pfft. Erm, well, yeh. Go on then.'
`Sweet. Here, take a puff.'
The two footballers crouched on their little corner of rooftop and smoked their way through first this and then a second joint. Days of built-up banter spilled out in whispered chat, conscious of the sleeping household beneath them. Harvey gave a quiet rant about his desperation to get on a proper pitch and Neco shared some hilarious gossip from a recent group chat with his Wrexham mates. A comfortable bond returned between the Liverpool youngsters, and a comfortable buzz settled on Williams as he felt the weed take effect.
`Good to be talkin' again,' he murmured with a smile and a nod at his partner-in-crime.
`Yeh,' Harvey confirmed simply.
Neco never could control what he said once he'd had a little puff. I had no idea what I was doing,' he confided in a gentle tone, but I really am sorry that I did that in your mouth, mate, I am.' As soon as he said it out loud, he saw the high flush in Harvey's rounded cheeks and the nervous darting of his sparkling eyes.
`God, mate, please don't,' was all Elliott could mumble out.
Neco leaned over to pass the tiny stub remains of the second joint. `No, buddy, I just mean... like I never woulda... I didn't mean to -- lose control, and...'
`Stop,' Harvey said forcefully, refusing the dull fag-end and burying his face in both hands.
Neco flicked it into the gutter and leaned over to rub his mate's shoulder affectionately. `Don't worry mate, it's my fault, I shouldn't have...'
Why are you still talking about this?' Harvey pleaded through the heels of his hands. Can we just... Fuck's sake. Ugh.' Sympathetic, Harvey slid slightly closer on the roof tiles, buoyant on the herbal high, throwing his long sleeved arm about the lad's shoulders and pulling him into a half-hug.
Yeh, yeh, forget it, that's what I mean,' he said quietly. That's all I'm saying. Like, just fucking forget it happened, it don't matter, it's just one of them things. That's all.' He gave the slimmer kid a bit of a squeeze and rubbed at his own tired eyes. Both of us wanna put that memory out of our heads, I swear. I mean, not that you weren't good -- I mean -- like obviously I...' His lips and tongue felt rubbery with the fuzzy head of what he'd smoked, and he trailed off, rubbing his face and loosening his hold on Harvey's shoulders. We should go in.'
`Yeh,' the southerner agreed a little bitterly, pulling quickly away and scrambling for the window. Neco followed him, a tiny bit dizzied by the height and the high, clambering back into the warmth of his bedroom and closing the window after them. Inside, Harvey had sat on the edge of his bed rather than going for the door, which didn't strike him as a problem, he was too close to being fully stoned. He moved towards the bed himself and rested one hand on the teen's shoulder.
`Gotta stop beating yourself up about what happened,' he droned, unaware of how close his long hairy legs were to the other player, exposed by the brevity of his running shorts.
`I ain't, I just...'
We were just messing,' Neco comforted. Was daft, mate.' He stroked gently at the shoulder of the thick black hoody, reassuring, he hoped. Harvey's hand lifted up and he stared blankly down as it pressed against the side of his thigh. It was odd, he thought dimly, how you could feel so numbed and so sensitive at the same time, after puffing away at some weed.
`Yeh, real daft,' Harvey said, his hand stroking around a little just over the knee, but creeping up.
`Mad daft,' Neco added stupidly, resting back on his heels there, shifting his weight from the balls of his feet and down his arm into Harvey's shoulder where his hand rested. He watched in a vague, detached sort of way as the other lad's fingers crept up the tense muscle of his thigh, over the thin dark hair and under the edge of his shorts a little. Again, numb and sensitive at the same time. He found himself giggling as if tickled.
But you say I was good at it?' Elliott asked and he heard him as if from afar. Yeh?'
Neco found himself making a vague, bashful `mmm' noise of confirmation. He brought his arms up and rested his hands behind his head, fingering the rough growth and the dense curls of his hair. The room swam about him and he enjoyed the vague warmth and lightness of the high. The feel of fingertips pressing at his balls was pleasant and stimulating but as if from miles away, not just halfway down his lean muscular frame.
I mean,' he mumbled aloud, I basically thought you were a girl for a bit of it, I think, that's why I... you know, lost grip a bit, and...' He giggled again. `I blame your hair.' He slid his hand off Harvey's shoulder, stroking his neck and past the downy fluff of his goatee and reaching for the tangled topknot, undoing it with a few rough pokes until he was letting the long top-hair flow down and tousle in his fingers. He scratched Harvey's scalp in gentle soothing motion; motion that was mirrored by the tender fingertips cupping the bulging front of his briefs inside his shorts leg.
`But I ain't a girl,' he heard Harvey's voice say. There was a smirk to that voice.
The Welsh 19-year-old relaxed his body where he stood and felt the fingers get more persistent, straining the crumpled material of his shorts to get in and really squeeze and pull at their contents. He let out a long sigh of arousal and enjoyed the vague tingling that ran up and down his body, bursting out of his mouth as a sighing yawn.
`Why don't you sit down on the bed, mate?' Elliott asked him. He blinked his eyes open, rubbed at his warm cheeks and nodded at the leering face of the younger lad, kneeling onto the bed beside him then flopping down into the duvet. He felt Harvey pulling up next to him and idly reached out to stroke and pull at his loosened hair, dazed. There was a hand on Neco's crotch again, squeezing and fondling through two layers. God it felt good. The stimulation spurred Neco on: he pushed over with vague grabs at the loose clothing of the other lad and pressed him down into the bed beneath his own body until he was grinding his crotch into something firm and meaty. He blinked his eyes and realised he was looking into a swirl of mousy hair, pulling a slim but curvy body against his. His hands roved for her breasts but found only firm muscle, disappointingly; still, he rubbed his stiffening prick in against her plump arse and groaned gently to himself.
`Finger me again?' whispered Harvey's voice delicately.
Neco pushed his hand in past the loose fabric, stretching into the back of those grey joggers and the tight undies beneath, feeling the firm warm meat of his mate's cheeks. Their bodies were twisting and grinding on the bed and he felt lost in a whirlpool of materials and skin. His finger found its way between the buttocks. The little purring noises made him desperate to shove his finger in, not just one finger, maybe a few -- and a hand was reaching from somewhere to knead at his bulge then force its way inside his shorts and briefs. Both lads growled excitedly.
Williams was slumped on top of the shorter lad, reaching beneath his own body to press at those meaty cheeks, dimly aware of his own cock being pulled and stroked inside his tight briefs. The skin-to-skin roughness was exciting and strange, that same numb-but-sensitive firework of the marijuana; enjoyable but intensely frustrating. The frustration of wanting something more, though Neco's brain felt like sludge; what even was the something more?
He both knew he was touching a lad, and believed he was about to finger a girl. Could he be thinking both thoughts at once? And this thought right now? He rolled over in a confused flush, but Harvey's body came with him. He was just clutching and squeezing at a tensed arse cheek now, but his cock had been pulled out of the confines of his pants and was being teased back and forth until it was rock hard. He tried to hold in his cries of pleasure, but ragged gasps gave him away.
Neco clamped his eyes shut; he was self-aware enough right now to know he didn't want to see the wicked little smirk that would no doubt be on Harvey's face. He felt like he was outside his own body, standing somewhere in the room, looking down at the scene, and it was as if he could choose: did he want to see himself with a stocky little footballer holding his dick, or did he want to imagine that hot bird in the corner shop who had served him some essential supplies yesterday afternoon? He found he was picturing both.
It became more intense. Harvey, or the imaginary girl was pinning HIM down, really pressing down on his taut abs, hand beneath his hoody and tee to feel the muscles; his cock was being yanked and tugged with an almost desperate energy. His own hands moved from grasping fistfuls of duvet to pulling at the other lad's hoody and then dipping back down into his joggers, one palm over each bulging cheek, smooth but for a few downy hairs. He pulled them apart and crept fingertips into the crack between; a distinctly masculine gasp of enjoyment sounded inches from his face and he pulled his hands away. He might have pushed Harvey off him or scrambled away then, but the sensations in his dick and balls were insane, he'd never actually had sex whilst high before and it was mad.
`Come on, come on,' hissed Elliott in a voice almost sinister in its enjoyment.
Again Neco tried to hold in the noises of his enjoyment but failed. `Mmm, ohh, bruv...'
He felt Harvey's body shift back so he anticipated the wet lap of the tongue before it struck, but even so... he could have screamed the house down. Harvey wasn't sucking him as such but he was flicking his tongue against the very tip of his nob whilst he yanked at its base. The brief wet snatches of oral pleasure made him arch his back and growl and twitch each limb in frustration. He wanted to fuck something properly, wanted to balls-deep in a pussy, not TEASED like this, but... `Ohhhh,' he gasped, reaching his hands to snatch at Harvey's head, hoping to pull it down and find entry to that mouth...
But Harvey was pulling away, resisting him, snatching one wrist and pulling it to his OWN dick. Neco had touched it before, he remembered, he'd tried that; they'd wanked each other, hadn't they, before it all got a bit more... intense. For a few moments, high as a kite, he could hardly tell whose dick he was touching, Harvey's or his own. What did it matter? Pleasure surged up through his body (their bodies?) and it seemed like it could go on FOREVER.
But nothing goes on forever, especially not the erection of a horny teenager. `Oh jesus,' Neco cried out to the ceiling, hopefully not loud enough for anyone downstairs to hear. He was spilling drop after drop of his cum and he tugged on the other guy's meat like it was his own, until that too was shooting; he heard and tried to ignore Harvey's gasping pleasure, murmuring something that might be his own name. There was just the intense warm stickiness of cum, his own and someone else's. Ohhh...
He relaxed his head back in, knocking it lightly off the wall behind the bed, exhausted by the release. He felt like he had pins-and-needles in every inch of his lithe body. His gasps fell into sync with Harvey's and he relaxed at the idea that they had both climaxed and it didn't matter who was touching who, not REALLY, because... The thought was interrupted by gentle touch on his stubbled chin. Before he knew what was happening, the fingers were on his lip, and instinctively, his tongue pushed forward to explore. The salty taste hit him with a tang. Then, a second or four later, the knowledge of what he was tasting.
He shoved Harvey off him with such force that the other teenager almost went skidding off the bed and onto the floor; that would be a thud that EVERYONE downstairs would hear. Neco sat up, eyes wide (and presumably, pupils dilated), staring him down, dragging a sleeve across his lips to wipe away the cum that had been smeared there.
`Now we're even,' sneered Elliott.
`What the fuck?' Williams snapped sharply, and he aimed a kick. Harvey backed away just in time, hopping from the bed to the carpet and backing off, cock swinging loosely at the gap between his hoody and joggers.
It was only your own,' Harvey muttered in the dark. I only gave you your own, I...'
Fuck you!' Neco snapped furiously, pulling himself off the bed and reaching for his shorts and undies, halfway down his thighs. He pulled them up furiously, pushing his dick away and smearing more spunk on his wrist and palm. Fucking prick,' he snarled, `what are you playin' at? Who do you think you are?'
Harvey was staring at him and his cocky sneer was now a look of bewildered fright. Neco ignored it and lunged right at him, grabbing the front of his hoody and almost lifting him off his feet. You fuckin' faggot,' he snarled angrily, how dare you do that to me?!' This anger was totally out of character for Williams and he had the same sense of watching himself from afar. A part of him thought, what the fuck am I doing? When he let go of the other lad, Harvey scrambled quickly away, backing off over the room, eyes wide and hair all over the place.
It was a creepy midnight de ja vu. He watched as Harvey exited the room in a hurry, huffing and gasping and shooting him a furious glare before pulling the door to. Neco stayed where he was, chest heaving, head throbbing, dick growing limp. He could taste the saltiness on his tongue and he almost heaved with confused nausea. Gutted with his own temper and overwhelmed by the long intense wank he'd just emerged from, he fell back against his own bed and let the bedroom spin about him. The sensible corner of his brain asked, just how fucking strong was that weed his housemate had picked up tonight?
Perhaps he drifted off, he felt so shattered, perhaps he entered sleep for a moment; it definitely felt like the noise of a door jolted him awake and broke his rest. A minute later, an hour? Everything was blurred.
It was Harvey's door, he thought, and those footsteps were descending in a hurry. Then quiet. In the same vague de ja vu, he lay there waiting for the clang of the gate. It arrived, the rusty creak of that back garden gate being pulled open. He dragged himself from the bed in a rush of confusion and staggered over to the big window they'd climbed out of for their smoke.
Overcome with headache, Neco Williams leaned on the sill and stared out into the garden, spotting the dark figure at the gate. But something wasn't right with this picture. He hadn't just magically flicked back into the beginning of this odd encounter, he was no time traveller. He could see Harvey Elliott in the same black hoody and baggy joggers, pausing at the garden gate -- but what was he carrying? Was that a big satchel slung over one shoulder, an extra backpack dangling from the other arm...?
Harvey looked back at the house. Neco could just about make out some detail of his face. Harvey was looking right back at the house, up this way, perhaps he even saw Neco. And then he was gone, bolting through the gate and into the alleyways. Running away, Neco thought with slow dread. Fucking hell.
He should run down now, he thought. He should sprint it. Get out in the garden, follow him, stop him running off. He could tell him it was all okay and it took two to do shit like that and poor confused Harvey had done nothing wrong. Poor homesick Harvey. But... no. His head was spinning and he felt like he might throw up, and he was still pulsing with an uncertain anger, and could he even face that conversation right now...? He leaned hard forward into the windowsill and cradled his head, and lingered there for might have been half an hour before pulling himself back into bed and falling into a fitful sleep of erratic weed-addled dreams. When he woke up, it was already bright, and the first thing he did was get up and stagger out onto the landing in his t-shirt and briefs. He pulled open the next door and stared into Harvey's bedroom. Harvey's EMPTY bedroom.
Shit.