Eighteen Years
by Edward Kyle Stokes
Chapter 2
Should We Sleep?
They stayed like that for what felt like hours, leaning into each other like a couple frozen to the spot, completely insulated from the rest of the world. The frantic, weeping tremors in Aled's chest gradually slowed down, replaced by a rhythmic, peaceful rise and fall against Harry's solid frame.
Eventually, the silence in the small room grew heavy with an unspoken anticipation. Harry shifted slightly, the warmth of his breath stirring the wild curls near Aled's ear as he finally whispered the question that had been resting on his lips: "Can you stay the night?"
Aled did not reply immediately. Instead, Harry felt the younger boy's muscles tense just a fraction, his body subtly shifting position as the old, defensive instincts threatened to flare up again.
Sensing the shift, Harry quickly stepped in to reassure him, desperate not to undo the trust they had just built. "Not to sleep together," he added hurriedly, his voice cracking slightly in his haste. "I mean—yes, to sleep, obviously, but... you know. Just sleep. No pressure."
Harry's fumbling, tongue-tied attempt to set matters straight was a magnificent, endearing contrast to the self-assured, loud posture he had carried through the club earlier. The smooth Londoner had completely vanished, replaced by a boy utterly terrified of messing things up with the person in his arms.
Hearing the confident university student reduced to an anxious, protective puddle actually made Aled smile. The last remnants of his panic evaporated, and he relaxed visibly against Harry's chest. He pulled back just enough to look up through his wet eyelashes, his bright eyes glinting with a sudden, shy amusement.
"In this tiny bed?" Aled asked softly, his Welsh lilt teasing.
Harry blinked, momentarily stumped. He looked around the cramped bedroom, his eyes darting from the cluttered desk to the single chair, as if he could somehow conjure a sprawling king-sized mattress or a hidden futon out of thin air. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. "Yeah. It's... a bit of a tactical challenge, isn't it?"
Seeing Harry so beautifully disarmed, Aled felt a surge of warmth that completely eclipsed his earlier fear. For the first time tonight, he reached out on his own initiative. His slim, delicate hand found Harry's thick forearm, squeezing it gently.
"Sure," Aled replied, his voice steady and full of a quiet certainty. "I can stay."
Harry closed his eyes and breathed an audible sigh of relief, his whole body sagging as the tension left him. He looked down at Aled, a massive, brilliant smile breaking across his face, more genuine than any grin he'd worn on the dance floor.
"You know, Aled," Harry began, a sudden spark of his usual playful energy returning to his eyes. "I don't want to freak you out or anything, but... I usually sleep in just my boxers."
Luckily—and perhaps because of the intense emotional dam that had just broken between them—Aled wasn't freaked out at all. The heavy mantle of fear had lifted, leaving behind a heady, dizzying afterglow of pure attraction.
Feeling a sudden, brave wave of playfulness wash over him, Aled looked up through his dark fringe and let out a soft, teasing hum. "Well," he commented, his Welsh lilt dropping to a quiet, cheeky murmur. "I suppose I'll just have to tolerate that, then."
Harry caught the small, wicked smile playing on Aled's lips and let out a soft chuckle. "Okay then," he replied, taking the cue.
Harry stood up from the narrow mattress, giving himself a bit of space in the tight gap between the bed and the desk. He didn't hesitate. With an unselfconscious ease born of years in communal rugby changing rooms, he crossed his arms, grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, and pulled it over his head.
Aled's breath caught in his throat.
Sitting on the low edge of the bed, he had a perfect, front-row view as Harry's clothes came off. He watched, utterly transfixed, as the soft light of the room mapped out the contours of Harry's body. Harry was every bit the fit rugby player: broad, powerful shoulders that tapered down to a solid chest, dusted with a light tracing of blond hair, and a flat, toned stomach. When Harry unbuttoned his jeans and stepped out of them, leaving himself in just his dark grey boxers, Aled's mouth went completely dry. Harry's thighs and calves were thick with solid, athletic muscle, radiating a palpable, masculine heat.
Aled felt a sudden, fierce thrum of heat pool low in his stomach. His own body was reacting instantly, a heavy, aching throb that hammered beneath his jeans. It was a dizzying sensation—half terrifying, half exhilarating—to realise that this incredible, powerful man was standing unclothed in front of him, entirely by choice. Aled's eyes tracked the line of Harry's hips, his heart racing so fast he was sure Harry could hear it.
Harry folded his clothes with a casual neatness and placed them on the desk chair. Then, he turned back to the bed. He caught Aled staring, noticing the way the younger boy's bright eyes were wide, taking in every inch of him with a mixture of reverence and raw desire.
With a low, knowing chuckle, Harry reached down and pulled back the duvet, slipping into the small single bed. He leaned forward slightly, resting his hands on his knees, and looked directly into Aled's eyes with a broad, devastating grin.
"Your turn," Harry said.
Harry slid beneath the crisp duvet, propping his head up on his hand as Aled stood up into the narrow space to get undressed.
Taking a deep, centring breath, Aled slowly copied the same sequence Harry had just performed. He pulled his t-shirt over his head, exposing his pale skin to the cool air of the room, before sitting back down briefly to unlace his shoes and peel off his socks. Finally, he stood to undo his jeans, sliding them down his lean legs and stepping out of them.
Harry watched every single movement, his chest tightening with a quiet appreciation. Where Harry was all broad, heavy muscle, Aled was delicately smooth and slim, with a lithe, natural fitness that came from a lifetime of hard outdoor work. But as Aled stood there in just his black boxers, Harry's eyes drifted downward, and he immediately noticed the prominent, rigid bulge pushing hard against the thin fabric.
Aled caught sight of exactly where Harry's intense gaze was focused. He felt a sudden, scorching wave of heat rise straight to his face. Mortified but deeply thrilled, he looked down at the linoleum floor, instinctively moving his hands down to cover his front in a modest, shielding gesture.
"You're beautiful," Harry told him, his voice thick and utterly sincere. He completely ignored Aled's acute embarrassment, focusing instead on making him feel wanted. Harry patted the mattress, holding open the duvet with one hand while squeezing his broad shoulders right back against the cold wall to maximize what little space they had. "Come here."
As Aled slid under the covers beside him, the sheer lack of space made itself known instantly. Their bare legs knocked together heavily under the duvet, the sudden friction of skin on skin sending a jolt through both of them. The clumsiness of it broke the tension, and they both let out a soft, breathless laugh.
Shifting around to find a position that worked for a single mattress, Harry settled onto his side, his face inches away from Aled. Aled lay flat on his back next to him, his shoulder pressed firmly against Harry's chest, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as his heart hammered a frantic, ecstatic rhythm in the dark.
"Should we try to sleep?" Harry asked tensely.
In truth, the way his own body was responding, Harry wanted to do absolutely anything but sleep. Every muscle in his torso was tight, and the heat radiating from Aled was like a physical pull. But he desperately didn't want to break Aled's fragile confidence, nor his own solemn promise that they could just sleep. He wanted Aled to feel completely safe.
He needn't have worried this time. Aled was every bit as wound up and excited as Harry was. Harry had seen the evidence just moments before, and even if they were both currently navigating carefully around the question, the air under the duvet was practically humming with electricity.
Feeling Harry's massive, solid frame right next to him, their bare skin touching and sending sparks along his flanks, Aled felt a newfound wave of confidence. He trusted Harry now; he knew Harry wouldn't force anything, and that certainty gave him a thrill of immense bravery.
Slowly, Aled turned his head slightly on the pillow toward Harry, looking him dead in the eyes. Feeling his cheeks flush a violent crimson in the dim light, he found the courage to whisper, "Maybe... maybe we could sleep later."
Harry's breath hitched. He looked at the boy, his heart thumping hard against his ribs. Deciding to test the waters with agonising gentleness, Harry moved his free arm, reaching across to lightly touch Aled's smooth, boyish chest. His fingertips brushed against the soft skin just over Aled's racing heart.
Aled gasped aloud. At the sudden, electric contact, his cock sprang up instantly, struggling as it pushed hard and unyielding against the fabric of his black boxers and the heavy weight of the duvet.
Harry stopped dead at the gasp, his hand freezing on Aled's chest, terrified he'd pushed too far, too fast.
Seeing Harry's sudden hesitation, Aled's filter completely evaporated. The sheer frustration and overwhelming desire took over, and he spoke quickly, his words tripping over each other in his beautiful, frantic Welsh lilt.
"No, it's alright! It's... I mean..." Aled hid his face in the pillow for a split second before looking back at Harry, utterly exasperated by his own body. "Oh, fuck, Harry—I'm hard as a rock!"
Harry smiled, a low, rumbling chuckle vibrating in his chest as the sheer honesty of Aled's outburst shattered the last of the tension. Slowly, deliberately, he moved his palm down from Aled's chest, letting it rest on the boy's tight, flat stomach. Under his hand, he felt Aled take a deep, shuddering breath, the muscles flexing hard beneath Harry's touch.
"Let's see if I can't help you out," Harry said, his voice quivering just a little with his own mounting excitement. "If that's okay?"
Aled didn't reply with words. Instead, his answer was purely physical. He arched his hips, squirming out of his black boxers and kicking his legs to push them completely down and off his feet.
Taking the invitation, Harry reached for the duvet and threw it back, revealing the full glory of Aled's erection. Instinct, practice, and a wave of sheer, unchecked sex drive took over. Harry reached down and wrapped his large, warm hand securely around the base of Aled's cock.
Aled gasped, his hips bucking slightly at the initial shock of the contact.
Harry started a slow, rhythmic movement with his fist, his grip firm but careful. Aled held his breath, his eyes wide and fixed on the ceiling as a wave of pure sensation crashed over him. Harry's thumb glided upward, smoothing over the bulbous, sensitive head, playing with the slick wetness that was already leaking out from the tip.
Aled had masturbated before. Of course he had—like every boy ever born, he'd reached his teenage years and discovered the intense pleasure his own body could deliver. But for Aled, those moments had always been confined to the dark, isolated corners of his bedroom on the farm. They had always been done in secret, and always accompanied by a heavy, suffocating blanket of shame. Because deep down, he had known it wasn't "right" to think about other boys when he did it. He had spent years conditioning himself to feel guilty for his own desires.
But here, under the soft light of Harry's room, with Harry's large but gentle hand moving on him, there was no shame. There was only the overwhelming, beautiful reality of another man making him feel alive.
The pressure built slowly, steadily. Harry did not rush this first sexual experience; he knew Aled was in pure ecstasy and he wanted to make it last as long as possible. His own weapon was a mad, raging stallion, which he ignored for the moment, letting it buck and jump like a horse in a rodeo against his own boxers.
He concentrated entirely on Aled, slowly sliding his fist up and down the pulsing rod, then gradually building the speed. He listened intently to Aled's ragged breathing, watching his tight stomach contract and shudder with every stroke, until finally, he felt Aled could stand it no longer.
Harry pumped Aled's cock in a fast, tight rhythm just as the boy bucked his hips upward. With a sharp, breathless gasp, Aled shot three powerful jets of spunk high into the air, hitting his own chin before the rest landed across his smooth chest and stomach.
He looked totally satiated as he sank back down into the mattress, his muscles turning to jelly and a huge, dazed smile spreading across his face. Harry released his hand, letting out a breath of his own, and just lay there on his side, watching Aled bask in the absolute freedom of the moment.
When Aled's breathing finally calmed down, Harry scrambled over him, navigating the tight squeeze of the single bed to step onto the floor. Padding across the small room to the en-suite sink, he grabbed a clean towel, and ran it under the warm tap.
Returning to the bed, Harry knelt beside Aled and began to gently wipe away the stray, sticky splatters from the boy's chin, chest, and stomach. The tenderness of the gesture made Aled's heart swell. When Harry was done, he tossed the towel to the foot of the bed and leaned down, his mouth finding Aled's for a soft, lingering kiss that tasted of pure relief and sweetness.
As their lips parted, Aled looked up, his bright eyes tracking Harry's broad form, and posed the question: "And what about you?"
Harry didn't know what to say. He stood by the edge of the mattress, his broad rugby-player frame completely commanding the small space. His grey boxers were tented out aggressively, a prominent, obvious wet patch blooming at the front from the sheer force of his own excitement.
"Do you want me to..." Aled started, his voice trailing off, but they both knew the answer to that unfinished question.
In response, Harry hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, pushing them down his thick thighs and stepping out of them. He stood completely naked and fully erect, a magnificent sight for Aled to admire. Aled's eyes widened, taking in the sheer size and power of Harry's body.
"What shall I do?" Aled asked softly, looking up like a little lost boy. It was incredibly endearing, a mix of his natural innocence and a desperate desire to please.
Harry looked down at him, his gaze dark with heat. "How would you feel about my cock between your legs?"
Aled's heartbeat became rapid instantly, a sudden rush of blood sending his own cock springing right back up, starting to get hard all over again. "Okay, but..."
"Roll over. Put this under you," Harry murmured gently, grabing another towel and laying it out on the mattress.
Aled shifted, rolling onto his stomach and aligning himself over the towel. A heavy thrill of anticipation raced down his spine. Harry climbed onto the bed, his large, powerful frame settling over Aled's slim one. The sensation of skin against skin was electric—Harry's heavy, fit body completely pinning Aled down, his chest pressing into Aled's smooth back.
With a low groan, Harry guided his erection down, sliding his slick cock inbetween Aled's thighs.
The friction was unbelievable. Harry began to pump his cock in a steady, urgent rhythm between Aled's legs, the heavy head of his shaft hitting the back of Aled's balls with every downward stroke. Underneath him, Aled's own renewed erection was pressed hard and unyielding into the mattress, the intense friction sending waves of pleasure through his entire body.
The small room filled with the raw, wet sounds of intimacy as Harry's thick hips slapped rhythmically against Aled's arse. It was too much, too fast. The containment of Aled's thighs was incredibly tight, and after only a few powerful, driving strokes, Harry lost all control. He let out a loud, guttural cry, his upper body tensing as he shot a heavy load between Aled's legs, coating the younger boy's thighs and balls in thick, warm, creamy juice.
Harry collapsed forward, burying his face in the crook of Aled's neck, both of them panting heavily into the quiet of the room.
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