Westpoint Tales
by Kiwi
Jason and Jordan's tale - 12
Worryingly, Sean gave as good as he got. He was big for thirteen and he wasn't a baby anymore either. Fists and curses were flying, Mrs. Taylor tried to intervene but they weren't listening. She had to go get Michael to come and stop them.
Michael restrained Jordan and their mother pulled Sean out of the room. They locked the door and left Jordan in there to cool off. No-one was about to apologise.
How did this get so crazy? She didn't know what they were going to do with him. They'd wait until the father got home.
Jordan flopped onto his bed and, amazingly, went to sleep. He was upset, crying and angry, but for some reason, he was also exhausted - so he went to sleep.
Bill Taylor arrived home after 8pm., and his wife filled him in on what had happened.
"What a mess. I'm not saying that you were wrong, Dear. But you could have handled that better. We're not having Jordan talk to you like that though. I'd better go and talk to him. If he apologises, will you lift the grounding?"
"No way, Bill. No way. He's grounded."
"Okay then. Let's see what he's got to say for himself."
He went into the boys' room, Jordan woke up and he had plenty to say for himself. He was not only still angry, he was offended now as well.
"How dare she? How dare she lock me up like I'm a fucking criminal or something? My friend did nothing wrong, absolutely nothing, and they treated him like dirt. How do you think he feels? He's probably bloody drunk by now."
"That's enough of that language, Jordan. There's no need for that. What do you mean, your friend's probably drunk? Is he a drinker?"
"Yes, he's a drinker. He's fifteen, he's all alone and lonely and he's a secret drunk. Hard liquor too, vodka and stuff. He says he needs it to cope with his miserable life. Jason said that he was going to stop it. He was going to give it up, for me, but this has probably driven him right back there. And who could blame him?"
(Jordan knew that this was "playing dirty pool", this was an unfair tactic to use on his father, an active member of Alcoholics Anonymous, but, whatever. All's fair in love and war and this was war.)
"Oh well, Jordie. If he's drinking, he's drinking. If he's going to stop he has to want to do it for himself. Nothing else will work. I think everyone needs some time out here. Sean can sleep on the floor in Michael's room tonight. I am going to go and talk with your mother, and I'll leave you here to think about things. Please Jordan, be reasonable. Sometimes it takes the bigger man to back down and apologise even if he doesn't think he's in the wrong."
"I'm not in the wrong and neither is Jason. I love him and he loves me and I don't care what anyone thinks."
"Maybe you should care. No man is an island. We all live in the midst of a crowd of people and life doesn't always go like you want it to."
"What? You don't care. You're just taking her side. You always take her side."
"I'm not taking anyone's side, Jordan. I think that it's time for you to grow up a bit."
"Oh you do, do you? Well, I am growing up whether you like it or not and you obviously don't like it.
"What do you mean by that?"
"I'm gay and I've got a friend who I love - or I did have. He probably doesn't want anything to do with me now - not with the family I've got. Sure, everybody was fine with Jordan being gay - as long as he didn't do anything about it!"
"Jordie, settle down. We're getting nowhere here. I think we'd all better sleep on it and we'll talk about this in the morning." Mr. Taylor went back to the kitchen and Jordan flopped back on his bed - not for long though. He got up and went over and opened the door. It wasn't locked, of course it wasn't locked. His father wouldn't do that to him.
He could hear his parent's voices in the kitchen, his brothers were nowhere in sight, so he slipped on his sneakers, put a jacket on, quietly closed the door and he went down the passage and out the back door.
Out the back, he almost tripped over something - bloody Sean's bloody skateboard. He climbed over the squeaky gate without opening it, and he was gone.
There was a brilliant sunset earlier on but he'd missed it. It was dark now and getting cold already, but that didn't bother him, he was in a hurry. He stalked up the road to King Street, turned there and walked double-quick, fired by anger again, all the way across town to Jason's house.
Earlier, Jason had made the same journey, but by a different route. He left the Taylor's home, out through the shop and into the main street. Halfway along there, he spotted some familiar faces in the distance - Sandie, Tommy, Brenda and James Cosgrove - so, not wanting to face them, he went around the corner and went home along Russley Street.
He was a bit angry, though nowhere as much as Jordan seemed to be. Mostly he was just embarrassed and sorry that he'd put them both in that position. He should have known better, he knew that it was a mistake. Of course Jordan's family wouldn't want him getting involved with a fag like Jason McDonald. Jordan didn't need him in his life; he'd only bring him down.
He arrived home to his empty house, sat down at the kitchen table and looked at - nobody.
'Face it, McDonald. This is the way your life's going to be. Anything else was just a dream.'
He had no doubts at all, Jordan Taylor was the coolest, nicest kid he'd ever known and he was seriously in love with him, but it was not going to happen. Whoever Jordan finished up with, it would be someone special. It certainly wouldn't be a loser like Jason McDonald. "Fuckit."
He needed a drink. No, he didn't. Yes he did! Yes, he had told Jordan that he wasn't going to drink anymore, but - dammit.
Jordan wasn't there, he'd never know. Besides, he probably wouldn't be coming back, would he? No, why should he?
Just one little drink wouldn't hurt. It might do him good. Couldn't hurt anyway.
It was right there, waiting for him, hidden in the closet in his room. He could practically smell it. He could taste it. It was good, his latest brew, very good. It was probably the best he'd ever made. Ah, whatever. He needed a drink.
He rushed to his room and grabbed a bottle. Returning to the kitchen, he poured a large glass full and sat down looking at it. It looked good. No, it didn't - it looked like a glass of water. But it was better than that, he knew. Way better.
He picked it up again and smelled it, then put it down and sat staring at it.
This was freedom. How many other fifteen-year-old kids in Westpoint were sitting with a full glass of straight vodka in front of them? Probably none.
Jordan was really anti-alcohol, he hated it. "It's an addictive drug and it will kill you."
What would he know anyway, he didn't drink it.
What was it he said? "I don't want anything to do with it and I don't need a friend who's into it either."
So, obviously, he didn't need Jason then. He picked it up again and sat there, holding it, while a tear slid down his cheek.
Suddenly deciding, he jumped up and emptied the glass down the kitchen sink. Then he upended the bottle and stood watching as it emptied down the plug-hole. He didn't need it either.
Feeling relieved now, sort of, he went to his room, stripped off, curled up in his bed and cried himself to sleep. What a loser he was.
Hours later, well after dark, the doorbell rang. And rang, and rang and rang. A long, loud, continuous ringing of the annoying chimes filled the house as he struggled his way up out of a deep sleep. "Jordan?"
He rolled out of bed and padded out to open the front door. Jordan was standing there, his finger held on the door-bell and a grim look on his face.
"Damm, Jordan, you'd wake the dead. What do you want now?"
Jordan pushed him back inside and closed the door behind them. Jason looked at him wonderingly. They were well-matched, exactly the same height, but right then, he felt like he was much smaller than his friend.
Jordan still didn't say a word; he just cupped his hands around Jason's head, holding him firmly. He pulled his head forward and kissed him on the lips. There was nothing gentle and loving about his kiss. This was long and hard and hungry; filled with animal passion.
His mouth was wide open and he seemed to be trying to cover Jason's face and swallow him. His hands slid down, his arms encircled his back and held him close in a vice-grip as his rigid body writhed against him.
Both hands clenched Jason's butt-cheeks and squeezed, pulling his hips forward against his fully-clothed and thrusting groin. One hand came around between them and grabbed Jason's rapidly -rising dick and balls, holding him firmly and squeezing gently as his mouth continued to work on his face.
Jason felt like he couldn't get away from him if he tried, not that he wanted to, but when Jordan's hand slid inside his boxers and encircled his rigid dick, firmly, he broke his head away and gasped. "Wow. Jordan, what's got into you?"
"You have," he growled. "You're in my heart, you're in my soul. I want you in my body. Fuck me, Jason. Fuck me now!"
"Wow. I mean, Whoa! What's happened to you? What happened to waiting for the right time?"
"This is the right time. Right here, right now." His hand was still moving up and down on Jason's dick, squeezing and relaxing. Pumping and milking him.
"I want you Jason. I want it hot and I want it hard. I want it right now. Fuck me, Jason."
Jason looked into his eyes and all he could see was raw lust and - anger? Where was the gentle, smiling boy that he'd come to know?
"I don't know, Jordan. I really don't know. I want you, of course I want you. But we were going to make love and not just fuck."
"You said that you're ready when I am. Well I'm ready. Call it what you want, but I want it now."
Jason was puzzled, this didn't feel right. It was not at all like he'd imagined that their first time was going to be. But, Jordan's right hand was still working on his dick and doing wonderful things to him. Jolts of electric excitement rushed through his body.
He was getting hot. He'd take what he could get.
"Come to bed," he shivered; he took Jordan's hand and led him into the bedroom.
There was no finesse about it, no warm and gentle loving and sharing, they just fucked. In the bedroom, they quickly stripped naked. Jason didn't take long at all; all he was wearing was his boxers. He laid on the bed and watched as Jordan tore his own clothes off, and then he threw himself on top of him.
Their mouths fused together and held. Jason spread his legs wide, presenting his rock-hard penis to the stimulation of his lover's body. His arms were wrapped around Jordan's back as he slid and thrust and grunted on top of him.
Then, despite what he'd said he wanted to do, Jordan silently rolled Jason over so that he lay face-down, his head buried in the pillows. He spread his legs apart, positioned himself between them and entered him in one hard, firm, thrust. His cock buried to the hilt in Jason's arse, he lay still, panting and holding him firmly.
When Jordan's engorged member smoothly pushed its way into him, brooking no arguments, possessing him completely, Jason felt like he was being ripped in two. But he clenched his teeth, suffered the pain, and refused to scream, or whimper even. This was what he wanted wasn't it? He wanted Jordan to take him. He wanted him to love him. He'd take whatever he gave him.
Jordan's dick slowly withdrew until only the head was inside him, then he slid forward again. In and out, faster and faster, he fucked him. He fucked him and he fucked him, until, with a strangled cry, he exploded and pumped his juices into him.
Jordan shuddered and went limp and relaxed, but his dick stayed rigid and it remained where it was. Then, after just a few seconds, he started again. Slowly at first, then faster and faster until he exploded and came a second time.
He slid back out of him and rolled over on to his back and lay, one raised arm crooked around his eyes, gasping for air and recovering. His dick stood red and proud but slowly deflated as he recovered.
Jason turned on his side and lay looking at him. His butt felt stretched, red and sore, but it was good. Jordan had fucked him, twice, but he hadn't come at all. Hadn't even come close to it.
It was good. For a few seconds he felt like Jordan had completely owned him. The second time was much better, easier, as his insides were already coated with Jordan's cum. They'd done it, or rather Jordan had done it. He didn't really feel like he was a part of it. He might as well have been a rubber doll.
"Jordie? Jordan are you all right? Talk to me Jordan.'
"I'm all right," Jordan mumbled. "We've done it now and I'm all right."
"What was that all about, Jordan? Are you breaking up with me?"
"What?! NO! Of course I'm not breaking up with you. How can you say that?" Jordan sat up and looked down at him.
"Well that's what it felt like. I wasn't even a part of that. It felt like you just came around here to fuck the faggot."
"Don't call yourself that, Jase. I hate that. I did not fuck the faggot. I had sex with the boy I love."
"Love? That wasn't making love, Jordan. You just had a fuck - two fucks."
Jordan looked down at him, wide-eyed like he was in shock. Then he hung his head low and mumbled. "I did, didn't I? I'm just a bastard. I'm sorry, Jason. So, so sorry. How could I do that to you of all people? I'm so sorry. I'll never do that again." He sat and cried, tears splashing on his naked legs.
"Hey. Don't." Jason sat up and embraced him. "It's all right, Jordie. Really it is."
When Jordan's sobbing stopped, Jason pushed him off, then he kissed him briefly and smiled. "Don't say you'll never do it again. I want you to. Just take me with you next time, okay?"
"Oh, Jason!" He hugged him tight. "I do love you. I love you so much. I'm sorry Jason, really, really sorry."
"It's okay. Everything's cool, we're tight. I love you Jordan Taylor.'
"But I really did fuck up didn't I?" He grinned through his tears. "I was angry, Jase. Not at you, never at you. I was angry at my family, my mother and my brothers. I was pissed at the whole bloody world. All the world except you, and I took it out on you. I didn't mean to, I just wanted to be with you - totally, all the way with you. I love you and I want to be with you and only you, now and forever. Forgive me?"
"Forgive You? Of course I forgive you, I love you, you dork. Make love to me, Jordie."
And, he did. And they made love together all night long. They slept and woke and loved again. Then they slept again, cuddled around each other. Jason had never felt so good. He'd never felt so loved. Neither had Jordan. They both knew that they had found their soulmate and that they loved him.
They woke together in the morning with the sun streaming down on them through the window.
"Whoah. It's late," said Jason, raising his head to look at the clock. "Ten o'clock already. Are we going to school today?"
"Nah," Jordan grinned sleepily. "Fuck school, we'll go tomorrow."
"Yeah, tomorrow," Jason agreed. "Fuck school and fuck you too."
"Fuck me? Again? Okay."
The tickling turned to wrestling. The wrestling turned to cuddling, and kissing, and loving. Life was great.
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