vision, a fire behind my eyelids. Even if it’s likely he’ll ignore me, I still want him to know I exist.
Shane eyes me curiously from the open window of his van as I try to sneak past, so I stand taller and look out across the fields as I walk towards Finn’s.
I don’t know what they think is going on between Finn and I, and I don’t really want Dad to find out, but I’m getting sick of hiding what I am, what I feel.
“Hey,” Finn quirks his lips, surprised to find me on his doorstep. “You walk all this way to see me?”
I shrug. I should probably be more enthusiastic. Instead I wish he’d invite me in rather than slouching lazily against the doorframe, his sweatpants hung way too low, the thin material advertising what I already know is on offer. I don’t want to be standing out here like this.
“Can I come in?”
He steps aside, pinning me against the wall as soon as he closes the door.
“I was just thinking about you,” his voice hums against my neck, his fingers tickling the patch of damp skin at the base of my spine.
I’m not sure what I expected, but again he goes too fast. Stripping me and taking charge. We’re too evenly matched for him to pick me up, but he throws me against the bed and stretches out on top of me, fisting both our cocks in a painfully tight grasp until I come.
There is none of the sweet intensity of last time. He doesn’t kiss me, I don’t lose myself, I think about going home.
You’re a kid, Christopher, a fucking kid.
The words catch me unawares—Malachi’s voice in my head. My throat tightens up and I close my eyes so that Finn won’t see.
After he comes, he rolls off me and we lie side by side, everything yellowed in the light, my hand sticky against my stomach. Numbly I wonder how many others have lain here before me, how many will after. I’m under no illusion that Finn’s love is exclusive or ever will be, but then I don’t love him, do I, so why should it matter?
I find myself chattering on about nothing, just needing to talk or being in danger of falling into the chasm opening up inside me. Finn’s eyes keep closing, then jolting open when I speak.
Outside, Maisie barks excitedly, and, as though I’m having an out-of-body experience, I can see Malachi stood outside on the step by his van, his gaze like a laser boring holes through the thin walls of Finn’s van to see me lying here, spent and naked, his expression unreadable.
“Why does Malachi do it?”
“What?” Finn mumbles, restlessly slinging his arm across his eyes.
“Drink.”
“How should I know?”
“Has he always been like he is? Is that why you don’t like him?”
Finn makes an exasperated noise. “He ruined some girl’s life once, or so I heard. It eats away at him. Chris, close your eyes and go to sleep for a bit, yeah?”
A girl, I think dully. My heart couldn’t get any emptier, the space inside my chest more unpopulated.
“I’m not tired,” I mutter.
If he just held me instead of lying there half a meter away and dozing, I might shut up.
But with a sudden burst of energy, he jumps on top of me.
“I’m going to get you so drunk later, then fuck you through the bed.”
“Why do I have to be drunk?”
Swiftly he silences me, his lips against mine.
“You’ll relax more,” he whispers into my mouth. “Now sleep!”
I suppose I do after a while. It’s not a deep sleep, but my head feels stuffy when I wake. I shift in the bed, not used to so much space, and find it’s empty. I get up to open the flimsy window, looking out into the dusky dark at the sparse woods behind Finn’s caravan. It’s home I’m thinking about—Jay wondering where I am, the only person who really cares. I could do with him here right now, holding me like nobody else does or wants to.
With a plastic-sounding crack the bedroom door flings open and both Finn and Pixie step into the tiny space. Instinctively I grab the sheet to cover myself. Pixie catches my eye and, hating myself,
Shane eyes me curiously from the open window of his van as I try to sneak past, so I stand taller and look out across the fields as I walk towards Finn’s.
I don’t know what they think is going on between Finn and I, and I don’t really want Dad to find out, but I’m getting sick of hiding what I am, what I feel.
“Hey,” Finn quirks his lips, surprised to find me on his doorstep. “You walk all this way to see me?”
I shrug. I should probably be more enthusiastic. Instead I wish he’d invite me in rather than slouching lazily against the doorframe, his sweatpants hung way too low, the thin material advertising what I already know is on offer. I don’t want to be standing out here like this.
“Can I come in?”
He steps aside, pinning me against the wall as soon as he closes the door.
“I was just thinking about you,” his voice hums against my neck, his fingers tickling the patch of damp skin at the base of my spine.
I’m not sure what I expected, but again he goes too fast. Stripping me and taking charge. We’re too evenly matched for him to pick me up, but he throws me against the bed and stretches out on top of me, fisting both our cocks in a painfully tight grasp until I come.
There is none of the sweet intensity of last time. He doesn’t kiss me, I don’t lose myself, I think about going home.
You’re a kid, Christopher, a fucking kid.
The words catch me unawares—Malachi’s voice in my head. My throat tightens up and I close my eyes so that Finn won’t see.
After he comes, he rolls off me and we lie side by side, everything yellowed in the light, my hand sticky against my stomach. Numbly I wonder how many others have lain here before me, how many will after. I’m under no illusion that Finn’s love is exclusive or ever will be, but then I don’t love him, do I, so why should it matter?
I find myself chattering on about nothing, just needing to talk or being in danger of falling into the chasm opening up inside me. Finn’s eyes keep closing, then jolting open when I speak.
Outside, Maisie barks excitedly, and, as though I’m having an out-of-body experience, I can see Malachi stood outside on the step by his van, his gaze like a laser boring holes through the thin walls of Finn’s van to see me lying here, spent and naked, his expression unreadable.
“Why does Malachi do it?”
“What?” Finn mumbles, restlessly slinging his arm across his eyes.
“Drink.”
“How should I know?”
“Has he always been like he is? Is that why you don’t like him?”
Finn makes an exasperated noise. “He ruined some girl’s life once, or so I heard. It eats away at him. Chris, close your eyes and go to sleep for a bit, yeah?”
A girl, I think dully. My heart couldn’t get any emptier, the space inside my chest more unpopulated.
“I’m not tired,” I mutter.
If he just held me instead of lying there half a meter away and dozing, I might shut up.
But with a sudden burst of energy, he jumps on top of me.
“I’m going to get you so drunk later, then fuck you through the bed.”
“Why do I have to be drunk?”
Swiftly he silences me, his lips against mine.
“You’ll relax more,” he whispers into my mouth. “Now sleep!”
I suppose I do after a while. It’s not a deep sleep, but my head feels stuffy when I wake. I shift in the bed, not used to so much space, and find it’s empty. I get up to open the flimsy window, looking out into the dusky dark at the sparse woods behind Finn’s caravan. It’s home I’m thinking about—Jay wondering where I am, the only person who really cares. I could do with him here right now, holding me like nobody else does or wants to.
With a plastic-sounding crack the bedroom door flings open and both Finn and Pixie step into the tiny space. Instinctively I grab the sheet to cover myself. Pixie catches my eye and, hating myself,
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