Eighteen Years
by Edward Kyle Stokes
Chapter 4
I've Got You!
Those two weeks crawled by with agonising slowness. For Harry, Chester had transformed from a lively university city into a waiting room. The young Welsh farm boy had taken up permanent residence in his thoughts, disrupting his lectures, his rugby training, and his sleep. Harry was realistic enough to know that a relationship across this kind of cultural and geographical divide wouldn't be easy, but in his privileged, city-bred mind, he didn't really have the measure of exactly how difficult it would truly be.
Instead, his mind filled the empty days with vivid, consuming thoughts of Aled. He imagined the next time he'd see those bright eyes, the sound of that soft, melodic Welsh lilt in the quiet of his bedroom, and the sheer pleasure of initiating new experiences. He pictured taking Aled away from the drab halls of residence and rather tame cathedral city of Chester to the exuberant multicultural capital—maybe a proper trip to London, showing him a world where he didn't have to hide, holding his hand on a crowded street where nobody knew or cared who they were.
But beneath the romantic daydreams, a deeper, hotter current pulled at Harry. The undeniable truth was that Aled was a virgin, and whenever Harry's mind drifted to that fact, he was entirely undone. He didn't want to simply perv over the boy—he genuinely cared about Aled's feelings—but he couldn't help the fierce, primitive reaction of his own body. Every time he pictured Aled's slim, delicately smooth frame stretched out on his bed again, completely trusting and beautifully positioned, Harry's cock would get rock-hard, straining against his jeans in the middle of the library or in a lecture hall. He craved the intimacy of being the first one to really touch Aled, to show him what his body was capable of without an ounce of the shame he'd carried for years.
He didn't know it, but across the border, Aled was equally distracted—but while Harry's distraction was fueled by longing, Aled's was driven by a crushing, agonising pressure that felt like it was tearing him apart.
Back on the sprawling, isolated sheep farm outside Mold, life was relentless. The air was cold, the mud was thick, and the work never stopped. Aled's days were a grueling blur of physical labour, dictated by the shouting of his dad and his two older brothers, Gwilym and Iwan. They were large, boisterous, traditional men who viewed the world through the singular lens of the land.
Every single day, the family dynamic served as a reminder of his confinement. At the dinner table, over heavy plates of meat and potatoes, his dad would talk about the future of the acreage, casually splitting the responsibilities into thirds for the boys. "We need you on the tractor rotation for the winter feed, Aled," his dad would say, not as a request, but as an absolute fact of his existence. "You're the quick one with the livestock, we need you here." They didn't see a young man with a future of his own; they saw an essential gear in the family machine.
The guilt was suffocating. Every time Aled looked at his phone, checking the countdown to Saturday night under the suspicious gaze of his family, his stomach twisted into painful knots. He felt like a traitor in his own home.
The climax of his anxiety came on a wet Thursday afternoon in the barn. Aled was hauling heavy sacks of feed, his mind miles away on Parkgate Road, when his oldest brother, Gwilym, slapped him hard on the shoulder, wiping grease from his forehead.
Gwilym laughed, a loud, booming sound that made Aled flinch. "You've been in a right daze lately, little brother. Head in the clouds since you started going off to Chester." Gwilym narrowed his eyes playfully, though the underlying expectation was deadly serious. "I hope you're not going off to find yourself a girlfriend and bugger off to England! We need you here, mate. The farm doesn't run itself, and you're a piece of it."
Aled forced a weak, tight smile, his heart dropping into his boots as Gwilym walked away. The words echoed in his head like a death sentence. England. A girlfriend.
If only they knew that the person pulling him away wasn't a local farm girl, but a broad-shouldered, blond London boy who made him feel alive in a way the valley never could. The pressure was building, and as the second Saturday approached, Aled felt like he was walking a tightrope between the life he was trapped in and the boy he couldn't live without.
○ ○ ○
The minutes dragged by like hours. Harry stood in the exact spot at bar of the club where Aled had been standing two weeks ago when he first saw him. A gin and tonic was steadily melting in his hand. The club was as loud as usual and just as heaving with bodies, as packed as before, but tonight, Harry was completely on his own. He hadn't brought his mates; he didn't want the noise, the distraction, or the prying eyes. He just wanted Aled.
As the clock ticked past their agreed time, anxiety began to claw at his stomach. Intruding thoughts flooded his mind, each worse than the last. What if his dad had confronted him? What if his brothers stopped him leaving on the bike? What if the pressure got too much and he decided a life in hiding was easier than this? What if he just wasn't coming?
Harry gripped his glass tighter, his eyes locked onto the main entrance, watching every single face that filtered through the security checks. He felt exposed, stripped of his usual loud confidence, reduced to a nervous wreck by an eighteen-year-old farm boy.
Then, the heavy velvet curtain at the door swung open, and the world stood still.
Aled stepped into the club.
He looked like a breath of fresh air in the middle of the stale, neon chaos. He was wearing his black leather jacket, his wild dark hair curling erratically from the damp night air outside, and his bright eyes were wide, scanning the crowd with an immediate, frantic intensity. He looked beautifully out of place, a creature of the hills lost in a city neon dream. Before Aled could even succumb to the panic of the crowded room, his eyes cut straight through the strobe lights and locked onto Harry.
The transformation of Aled was instantaneous. The tension melted from his shoulders, and a massive, brilliant smile broke across his face, lighting up his entire features. He didn't hesitate. He pushed through the sea of dancing bodies, moving with a sudden, purposeful speed that left no room for his usual shyness.
Harry's heart was beating fast as Aled finally reached the bar, stepping right into his space. Up close, Harry could smell the crisp, cold night air and the faint scent of rain clinging to Aled's jacket.
"You came," Harry breathed, his voice barely audible over the booming music, relief washing over him so violently he felt weak.
Aled looked up at him, his cheeks flushed from the cold ride, his eyes shining with a fierce, unmistakable longing that matched Harry's own. "I told you I would," he whispered, his soft Welsh lilt cutting straight through the noise of the club. "I wouldn't have missed it for the world."
Harry didn't say another word. He just turned to the bartender, raised two fingers, and ordered Aled a cider. When the cold pint glass was placed in Aled's hands, Harry leaned in so close his lips brushed against Aled's ear, his deep voice slicing right through the thumping rhythm of the dance floor.
"I've done nothing but think about you for fourteen days," Harry murmured, his breath hot against Aled's skin. "And not just about your gorgeous voice, Aled. I've been driving myself mad imagining what I'm going to do to you. Every time I picture you naked on my bed, completely trusting me, I'm gone. I want to take you away from all of this. I want to take you to London, show you a life where we don't have to look over our shoulders, and spend a whole weekend just worshiping your body."
Aled's heart was instantly in his mouth. The sheer intensity of Harry's honesty sent a dizzying rush of heat straight to his core. He took a long, desperate gulp of his cider, trying to cool the fire flaring up in his chest. He looked up at Harry, his bright eyes flashing with a sudden, intoxicating bravery.
Leaning his shoulder heavily against Harry's broad chest, Aled tilted his head up. "You think you're the only one?" he confided, his voice a breathless, melodic whisper. "I've been stuck in those freezing barns, covered in mud, imagining you touching me. I've been picturing exactly how it's going to feel." He paused, a cheeky, wicked smile breaking through his initial shyness as he held Harry's intense gaze. "I know what you want to do to me, Harry."
Harry's grip tightened on the edge of the bar, his knuckles turning white. A low, ragged growl caught in his throat. "Oh, yes!" Harry replied, his eyes dark with unadulterated hunger. "Definitely that."
They barely even tasted their drinks. The alcohol was just a formality at this point, a ticking clock they both wanted to fast-forward. They stayed at the bar only for the absolute minimum time it took to drain their glasses, the tension between them growing so thick and electric that the crowded club around them simply ceased to exist.
As Harry grabbed Aled's hand and led him toward the exit, a quiet wave of apprehension washed over the younger boy. He knew what tonight meant. He knew the boundary they were about to cross. But as he looked at the broad, protective set of Harry's shoulders guiding him through the crowd, the fear dissolved into pure devotion. He trusted Harry implicitly. And deep down, beneath the heavy weight of the farm and the strict expectations waiting for him back in Wales, a heartbreaking thought solidified in Aled's mind: This might be the one and only time I get to be entirely myself. My time.
They walked the short distance to the halls of residence in a charged, breathless silence, their fingers tightly intertwined in the shadows. Aled explained quickly that he'd been a bit late because he'd chosen a secluded spot to hide his motorbike close by, desperate to keep it out of sight. Harry just nodded, pulling him faster toward the brick building, up to the first floor, and down to the very end of the corridor.
The moment Harry's bedroom door clicked shut, locking out the rest of the world, the heavy dam of sexual tension exploded.
They were all over each other instantly. There was no hesitation this time, no careful navigating around the question. Harry's hands were frantic as he grabbed the hem of Aled's t-shirt, pulling it up and over his head, before dropping to his knees to yank off Aled's boots and socks. He tugged Aled's jeans and boxers down in one swift motion, leaving the slim, pale farm boy standing completely naked and beautifully exposed in the centre of the small room.
Harry scrambled to his feet, his eyes devouring Aled's form before he tore at his own clothes. In a matter of seconds, his own shirt, jeans, and boxers were discarded on the floor, leaving him entirely bare, his thick, athletic rugby-player body radiating a fierce, masculine heat.
They stood chest to chest, the contrast between them as striking as ever. Without a single spoken word, an unshakeable, silent agreement passed between them: this was the moment. This was the night Harry was going to fully 'take' him.
Manoeuvring Aled through the tiny, cramped space between the desk and the single bed, Harry pressed the younger boy back against the mattress. He leaned over him, his large hands framing Aled's face as he pulled him into a deep, bruising kiss. It was a kiss full of all the pent-up longing of the last fourteen days, a desperate, consuming clash of lips and tongues. Aled wrapped his slim arms tightly around Harry's broad neck, pulling him down, burying his fingers in Harry's blond hair as their bodies fully embraced, skin sliding against skin.
Harry reached over to his desk drawer, retrieving a small tube of lube he'd prepared. He kept his eyes locked on Aled's, ensuring the younger boy felt completely safe even as the anticipation reached a fever pitch. Harry worked deliberately, coating his fingers and then his thick, rigid length, before gently preparing Aled's tight, uninitiated rose bud. Aled let out a soft, trembling gasp, his knees flexing upward and widening as he braced himself, his heart hammering like a wild bird beating its wings.
Harry positioned himself between Aled's legs, the heavy head of his cock pressing directly against Aled's opening. He paused, looking down at the beautiful, flushed face beneath him. Aled's bright eyes were wide, shining with a mixture of raw apprehension and an overwhelming, desperate desire. He had wanted this moment his entire life—not just the act, but the freedom of it, and most of all now, he wanted it with Harry.
Losing the last of his inhibitions, Aled looked straight into Harry's eyes and whispered the magical words he never thought he'd have the courage to say: "Fuck me, Harry... please."
Harry let out a low, guttural groan and began to push forward.
Aled's breath caught sharply in his throat as Harry slowly, steadily penetrated him for the very first time in his life. The initial stretch was intense, a sudden, blinding fullness that made Aled's fingers dig hard into the muscles of Harry's shoulders. He arched his back slightly, his eyes closing as his body adjusted to the incredible, invading bulk of another man taking possession of him. Harry stopped, holding himself still inside the tight, pulsing passage, kissing Aled's eyelids and wiping away a stray tear of pure overwhelming emotion. He paused until he felt Aled's tight stomach muscles finally relax.
"You okay?" Harry choked out, his own body trembling with the effort of holding back.
Aled opened his eyes, a breathless, ecstatic smile breaking through the flush of his cheeks. "Yes," he gasped, panting against Harry's mouth. "Don't stop. Please."
With the green light given, Harry began to move. He established a slow, powerful rhythm, sliding deeply into Aled's tight core, his heavy hips slapping rhythmically against Aled's thighs in the quiet of the tiny room. The sensation was unlike anything Aled had ever imagined in his lonely bed on the farm; it was consuming, erasing every worry about his family, his future, and the world waiting outside. Underneath Harry's heavy, fit body, Aled felt entirely claimed, entirely alive, and entirely free as he surrendered his virginity completely to the boy from London.
The rhythmic friction reached a fever pitch, the sheer intensity of the connection driving both boys past the point of no return. Aled's head thrashed against the pillow, his breath coming in short, ragged sobs as the slapping of Harry's thick thighs and the deep, relentless stretching of his core pushed him over the edge. With a sharp, broken cry, Aled reached his climax, shooting powerful, hot jets of spunk all over his own stomach and chest.
The intense contractions of Aled's release instantly gripped Harry's shaft like a vice, bringing him right to the absolute precipice.
Harry looked down, locking his dark gaze directly into Aled's blown-out, shining eyes. He anchored his hands firmly into the mattress on either side of Aled's head. Gathering his strength, he slammed his cock deep into the boy beneath him.
Once. Aled cried out, his hips bucking upward to meet the force of the blow.
Twice. Another breathless, ecstatic shout ripped from Aled's throat as Harry drove into the absolute hilt, the friction unbearable.
And a third time, Harry buried himself completely, holding his weight deep inside as he exploded, shooting his own thick, warm load buried inside Aled's tight, pulsing core. Aled clung to him, riding the waves of sheer, unadulterated ecstasy as Harry filled him completely, both of them suspended in a universe where anything outside had simply ceased to exist.
For a long, breathless moment, they held that exact position. Harry kept himself pushed up with his powerful arms, refusing to collapse his heavy rugby-player weight onto the younger boy, but remaining buried inside Aled. They just stared into each other's eyes, their chests heaving in perfect synchronicity, their hearts hammering a frantic, shared rhythm. The raw vulnerability in the room was palpable; all the walls were gone, leaving only two young men bound by an incredible, unspoken devotion.
Slowly, as the intense tremors of their climaxes began to subside, the tight coil of tension in Harry's muscles relaxed. He carefully eased his length out of Aled with a low, satisfied sigh, the sudden emptiness making Aled let out a soft, whimpering breath.
Harry collapsed onto his side, immediately wrapping his large arms around Aled and pulling the slim farm boy tightly against his chest. Aled didn't hesitate; he rolled into the embrace, burying his face in the crook of Harry's neck, his legs tangling naturally with Harry's thick, athletic ones. Harry pulled the duvet up over them, sealing them into a warm, safe cocoon.
They held each other close, the sweat cooling on their skin as the quiet of the night rushed back into the tiny student bedroom.
"You were incredible," Harry whispered into Aled's wild, dark curls, his lips pressing a soft kiss against his temple. "Absolutely beautiful, Aled. I've never felt anything like that."
Aled tightened his grip around Harry's torso, a soft, emotional laugh catching in his throat. "I didn't know... I never knew it could be like that," he murmured back, his melodic Welsh lilt thick with exhaustion and profound happiness. "Thank you, Harry. For making me feel safe. For... everything."
"I've got you," Harry swore softly, stroking his large hand up and down the smooth line of Aled's spine, grounding him. "Always."
In the dim, quiet room, surrounded by the scent of their shared intimacy, they drifted toward sleep, whispering sweet, comforting words into the dark, fiercely holding onto a reality that belonged only to them.
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