Sanctus

by Rafael Henry

Chapter 11

Saturday 06.35 Three hours before lessons begin.

'Why won't you let me kiss you Tom?' The boy asks, almost in a whisper.

Tom stares at Robin, mouth open.

'It's a dangerous thing to do Rob. Too dangerous.'

'Why? I want to show you I can. Please? Just for a moment. I promise.'

Tom runs his fingers through Robin's hair for the umpteenth time. He loves doing it as much as Robin loves him doing it to him. The boy seems to melt into a puddle when he does it. Surely a brief kiss wouldn't do any harm?

Tom looks into those eyes again. That bluish grey colour with the black dot in the middle and the deep blue ring around the centre. He sees the pale freckles on and either side of the very slightly retrousse nose. Yes, and those prominent front teeth inside the mouth. A good mouth and not too full. Neither is it mean and thin lipped. Yes it's a good mouth. He's already felt it on his flesh, and his tongue weaving its magic spell on him. What's the harm? He knows he's aroused by his very presence. The boy's hard too. He's felt it on his body, pressing. If he turns towards him now, who knows where it will end?

'Please Tom? You would if you loved me. I know you would. Tell me you don't love me then. Then I'll go away for ever.'

'Don't say that Rob, please. You know I care for you; very much. Sometimes we can't have what we want. Not all the time.'

'Not any of the time you mean. You had that boy you talked about. What about him? Roland. Ro you called him. That one. Please……can we? Did you kiss him? I bet you did every day.'

'None of your business young man.'

That was the beginning of everything. He had perfect lips. A perfect mouth. Well, almost perfect. Like someone else we know.

'By the way, I don't want to see you in those tomorrow. I know they're not yours you naughty boy. They're Ned's.' Tom says, tweaking at the waistband of Rob's pants.'

'Or these.' Reposts Robin, giving Tom's briefs a similar tweak. 'Can't we try now; just quickly like it never happened. Are my lips not good enough for you? Not as good as Roland's?'

Tom turns slightly towards the boy so he can hold him with both hands and kiss the top of his head. Letting him go, the boy looks up and thinking it's his turn now, takes Tom's head in his hands and touches his mouth with his; and then lets him go, and then resting his head on what there is left of the pillow. He looks up, open mouthed assessing the effect of what he's just done, and seeing Tom up on one elbow now, looking down at him.

'I need your hand Tom.'

'Why?'

'Let me have it please.'

The boy takes the hand offered and selecting the thumb, places it carefully in his mouth, like he used to do to his own not that long ago before his people managed to break him of the habit. Old habits die hard it seems. What the boy does with Tom's thumb, lips and tongue working hard on it, both surprised and rather interested him.

'So you were a thumb sucker then Robin?'

Without stopping what he's doing, he nods, and then breaks off from his manipulations of the thumb, grabs Tom's head and kisses his mouth with some gusto. No point saying no Tom. Every boy has his limit beyond which he will willingly go. The kiss was very rapidly all tongues, hands around heads, and a realignment of their bodies. Finally, breathless, they separate.

'That was naughty Robin.' Tom says, still breathing hard, as the boy holds his own thumb out for Tom to take. He does, and now inserted in his mouth, he mimics the treatment that Robin gave to his, his tongue making circles and patterns around it before disappearing fully, reappearing again, and the cycle repeated for a minute or so.

'You do love me don't you?'

'What do you think?'

'You do.'

Tom smiles and places not his thumb this time, but his index finger in Robin's mouth. The boy takes the hand offered, and the whole length of Tom's finger disappears into Robin's mouth, appears again, and then disappears once more. The tip appears once again, and the tip of the boy's tongue, gently making circles on it. An erotic gesture that could not be mistaken for anything other than an offer that was going to be hard to refuse.

'You know I can't Robin.'

'Why not?'

'Because I love you. Believe me, in a world which might understand us better, I would with the greatest of pleasure. But in this one that we live in, I can't. Perhaps in another life, after school, we might.'

'Can I come back after school then? Today?' He asks, misunderstanding completely.

Tom laughs. That's not exactly what I meant sweetheart. I meant when we've all left this place. In the future some time.'

Terry Goodwin, Assistant Housemaster, wants a word with Tom

They can talk privately, as they have often done, alone in Terry's study cum bedroom. They have always had this kind of relationship where communicating ideas, any ideas, was always possible. Now it's a kind of friendship. Tom, essentially still a boy, is friends with Terry, essentially a man. First name terms too, privately of course and why not.

'We've got a meeting this evening about this issue of boys scumming for other boys. Quite a few of us want it stopped Tom. Particularly this business of our youngest waking the oldest boys in the House up in the mornings.'

'But the boys like it.'

'Do they? Anyway if we don't like it we can stop it, and we count for a bit more than the boys do when it comes to the rules Tom. We actually run the place if you hadn't noticed. Or should do. Sometimes I think you boys run the place.'

Tom thinks an insolent reply knowing full well that the prefects, or Whips as they are known, do run the place. The trick is to make Terry and the others think they run things. But Tom is a pragmatist.

'It's always been this way. The boys enjoy being given little jobs to do, and their interaction with us. And they get a nice tip at the end of it. But I agree, times change.'

Oh, that's big of you Tom, to agree.

'A tip at the end of it? Good grief. They're spending significant time in another boy's room. Just the two of them? There are possibilities Tom. It has to be a doubtful arrangement.'

'Of course it is. The boys are very aware. If they walk in and the lad's otherwise occupied, reading or something , [he says with a smile] he'll just walk out again. He's obviously already awake, so he's not required.'

'Or he can sit on his bed and watch.' Terry says, tongue in cheek, and in a rare moment of levity.

'And offer him his hanky I suppose.'

'Ok Tom. Enough. This isn't a laughing matter. So has everything run smoothly with Robin? You and Robin De'Ath?'

'Yes of course. Nothing significant, thanks.'

'I think we've always had a pretty special relationship Tom, you and I. You know that you can always tell me. It will never go any further. I can tell you're excited these days. There's something going on. What is it? You've rather fallen for him haven't you? I've noticed Tom; the way Robin looks at you? Come on Tom. It'll go no further.'

'No further? I was reading Plato's Symposium the other day. One paragraph amused me, rather innocent sounding, but not in fact so innocent.'

'Oh?'

'Yes. Rather graphic in fact. 'Acceptance of the teacher's thrusting penis between his thighs or in his anus is the fee which the pupil pays for good teaching'. How about that Terry?'

'How about what Tom?' Terry answers, flushing visibly.

'What do you think?' Tom says, smiling, eyebrows raised. 'And i f you must know, we've been spending a bit more time together than we should do; according to the rules. Robin and I.'

'At wake up time?'

'Yes. He's been coming in with me. He's rather keen. The feelings are mutual Terry. We are both very keen.'

'You mean in your bed Tom? Earlier than necessary I take it to leave you plenty of time for play.'

'To talk, yes. But not naked. Almost.'

'Is this thing a sexual thing…..perchance?' Terry asking a rather obvious question.

'Yes. That would be entirely possible, if I allowed it of course.'

'Well you wouldn't would you. And thus far you haven't?'

'No of course not.' Tom answers indignantly.

'How long do you think you can go on controlling your feelings Tom?'

'Not much longer. It's hard. Very. It's very hard for both of us. Robin is quite persuasive. We've had nice words together. Lovely words. And we've had our arms around each other. He's perfectly lovely Terry. And yes I have fallen for him. He's terribly anxious to please me. He can't understand why he can't do what he likes. He's told me in more than one way that it's possible for us to gain some deep joy together, actual physical gestures, but I'm trying to keep at a distance, emotionally, so far. I'm only human Terry. It's all beautifully intimate. Rather wonderful actually.'

'I can see that Tom. I totally empathise with your situation. I'm only twenty three myself Tom. That's just six years older than you. Would you mind if I talk to Robin about all this? Then I could advise you a little better. Of course you can do what you like in secret. No one else involved. Invite him home in the holidays or something? One other thing Tom. Do you imagine that this is a new thing for Robin? A first-time thing?'

'No definitely not. Boys will be boys won't they? Ok some of them are quite innocent and uninterested, but some are not. Robin is quite worldly. I think he knows far more than you might think. And has done more than we might think too?'

'But he knows nothing about Plato?'

'I imagine he does, like we all did by his age. Some of us are perfectly prepared for boys like Robin, or for anybody. I've made no secret of what I am. I'm ready for life Terry. I want it. I'm ready and I need it. It's good to talk to you like this. It makes things special. I'm attracted to Robin. Perhaps I need distracting. Someone else to take my mind off him.'

'I'm going to get you out of a hole Tom. You won't be seeing him. We're about to stop these wake-up calls.'

'When?'

'Any moment now. This morning may well have been your last moments with your beautiful boy Tom. I'm sorry. We all need degrees of intimacy with someone. I do too but I'm not acting on it despite my desires, if you get that. I have feelings Tom, attractions. I don't find it easy here Tom, with all you lot around. You know you can come here whenever you want to. I'm always ready for you. Always ready to talk things through and whatever.'

'That's nice of you Terry. What would Plato be saying right now, if he was here I wonder? I think that things do feel positive between us, and I'm very grateful for that, and I'm sorry you don't feel fulfilled. It must be a lonely life in the midst of all us boys. Weird to think that I'm not that much younger than you are but it's true isn't it. I think of you as a friend and I'll keep coming back if you don't mind. I'll keep coming. I want to come Terry. Definitely.'

Tom's tummy did a double flip when he realised he had uttered such an obviously clumsy but unintended double entendre. And then the reply he got. Another tummy tangle.

'That would be lovely Tom. I'm ready when you are. Come whenever you like. You'll be off somewhere next year, university probably. That's just weeks away. With regard to our relationship there are no repercussions the way things are, or might be. Or you with Robin I wouldn't think. Have one more morning with your boy if you want. By the way I know about your history concerning Bobbie Elmer. No one else does but he told me what had happened one night before he left. It was a big thing for him too. I felt for Bobbie. We had some time together. I know exactly how those feelings can develop when I look at you Tom. I know he was very fond of you. Need I say more? And the swimming thing with Robin. That's brilliant. I've heard how well he's doing.'

'He is. Do you think we can end this year without a disaster Terry? I can feel one coming on.'

'Try to hang on Tom. When your exams are over; well, that's another day isn't it?'

'A day to celebrate and unlock the chastity belt perhaps?'

Terry laughs. 'I have a set of keys. One might fit?'

'Well if it does……..' says Tom, launching into that Engelbert Humperdinck song. Release me.

'What about that other song of his Tom? A man without love. Lonely is a man without love Tom. Sometimes risks are worth taking. Especially after exams!'

Was that a joke? Or some kind of assignation?

A boy and his PE teacher, Bobbie Elmer, years ago now. All was well in the end after a lot of heartache on both sides of the equation. All done and dusted. And now, right at the end of an era for Tom, there's no harm admitting to some late flowering lust.

Tom walks over to the window, his heart beating in anticipation. Terry has let him know how he feels and that's the best news possible for Tom. He's wanting badly. He can see boys playing outside, lots of pipy voices and pretty bodies showing bare arms and legs. They've finished games. Sports Day, and Swimming Sports the day after beckons in a week, so it's athletics practice for most. Tom's eyes rove over the various individuals and coming to rest on one boy. He's noticed him before, brown haired and particular lovely, bare top and in his brief white shorts. He's talking to a member of the PE staff whilst throwing a tennis ball into the air and catching it. Tom's waiting until he drops the ball. After a few more tosses, like a tennis player throws the ball up before the serve, he does drop it, runs a few yards to pick it up. There you go Tom. Just what you wanted to know. Just like almost all the other boys. Lovely.

He hadn't heard Terry walked quietly up to him, and then what he's been waiting for; a hand on his shoulder. He doesn't react at all as the hand moves this way and that in soothing fashion, and then around his bare neck. Now he can feel warm breath on his neck, and another hand on the other shoulder. The hands move lower down his back. Is this it? Is it about to happen after all this time? His heart thumps louder. Tom has wondered whether it would ever happen. It's easy to tell when a master approves of a boy. Of course approval can mean a multitude of things, but there's approval and approval . You just know.

Tom begins to wonder where this will all end? In his mind he's more than ready to offer himself if he were asked. But what does that mean? Offer yourself. To what exactly? There's time for it right here and now isn't there? He came to Terry's room knowing there was plenty of time to talk, or whatever. He has a last look at the boy playing below. So beautiful, and then turns to face his friend. He thought he was going to land one directly on his mouth but at the last instance something has got in the way. A last instant doubt. A fear of repercussions? But there wouldn't be any. What? From Tom? Never in a thousand years. The man and the boy, Tom being technically still a boy, face each other.

'You're not new to this are you Tom? There was Bobbie. Have you thought about it? Maybe it's all come to a head too quickly for you?'

'No. And I have thought about it. I know what it's like.'

'And did you? Like it? Enjoy it even?'

'Yes. Yes I did.'

This is all a misunderstanding.

'It was Bobbie Elmer?'

'Yes. Right at the end. I loved him. A boy's thing I suppose. Did you ever have one like that?'

'Of course I did. More than one. I've had an interest in you Tom, for quite some time now. You had realized hadn't you?' He says, almost laughing.

'I rather thought so.'

'So, do you want to do anything about it?'

'I am doing. Now. I've got a slight problem.'

'Oh dear. Anything I can do Tom?'

A speculative question from Terry.

'Umm. Possibly.'

'Is it a bit critical Tom?'

'In a way. But it can wait until tonight I guess.' Tom says, with a nervous giggle, and in a roundabout way, hinting heavily.

'But it doesn't have to wait Tom?'

'No.'

Tom turns his back to the window and faces Terry, who places his two hands either side of Tom's hips.

'I've got more to lose than you have, but I'm still keen Tom.'

'So am I.'

Terry face gets ever nearer Tom's until he feels breath on him.

'Once this is done, it's done Tom.'

'I know.'

'Still ok with it.'

'Yes. Please.'

The kiss is a gentle affair, the two sets of hands go to the same places on the two bodies, around their backs, pulling I whilst the pressure exerted on Tom by Terry is forcing him back against the window. A part of Tom's mind wanted an idea of what to expect from his new partner, something that is rapidly coming to pass, and in a way, unexpected. Thought about, wanted, but never at any stage, expected.

Cheek to cheek now, and a little breathless they begin to fiddle with clothing. Terry helps Tom with his, but Terry has no problem with Tom's. The lightweight summer shorts pose few problems. Now they are hands feeling underpants, as they begin to discover each other.

'You ok there Tom?' Asks Terry, as he feels the length of the boy's penis in his hand, and now inside his pants.

'Yes. But it's close. Better not do too much. Not too much more.' Tom says, breathlessly.

But Terry goes on playing his game. There's no way he can stop at this rather late stage, if Tom's words are to be believed. He's dreamed of these moments for a long time now, years in fact, from the early days when Tom was……..well, a lot younger than he is now.

'I'm going to turn you round Tom. Are you ready?'

The boy on the hard surface fifteen feet down below and opposite the window looks up. He had no idea why he did. Edward Barfoot. That's his name. The boys call him Ned. He was on his way back from Games on the Field. He looks away quickly as if he thought he shouldn't be looking, and then he looks back again. Tom had pulled at the closed curtain, and at the same time thrust his pelvis forwards towards the glass, just as he came. He'd missed the curtains but it was all over the large pane of Victorian glass, sliding down in little rivulets and pooling on the white painted moulding below. Ned Barfoot had an inkling of what it was, what it could conceivably be, but his experience of such matters is so limited that a positive identification is impossible. Just as well.

The boy knew he'd seen something he should not have seen. Something extraordinary. He thought it was one of the dormitory windows but it wasn't. He had quickly gone upstairs to see which door it was, or thought it was. It was Mr Goodwin's door. He'd tried to put the two things together, the little splashes on the glass that looked distinctly odd, the room it happened in, to put two and two together and get the right answer, but he didn't get four. Such carelessness on Tom's part. He went straight up to the room he shared with five other boys and sat and thought about what he'd seen. Two and two now made four. Was it really possible? Lying there, he puts one hand inside his white games shorts and begins to feel himself. It was a boy up there, definitely. Then his sperm all over the glass. It must have been that. He goes on feeling himself and when he's ready, he pulls down his shorts, and looks at the nice bump in his pants. He's ready. More than. He listens for any sounds outside. Nothing. And anyway, boys do it all the time don't they? He pulls the front of pants down and holds his penis between three fingers and his thumb, and begins the familiar process, quite slowly at first, and then as the image reforms in his memory, he quickens and quite shortly, that beautiful feeling comes.

With his finger Ned touches the very tip of his penis, and then slowly takes it away. There it is again, but no more than the last time.

Tom was late for Tea that evening, unsurprisingly. He almost decided he wouldn't go in at all but changed the plan. He was only six or seven minutes late when he entered the Hall and the general hubbub, and pulled out the wooden chair at the end of the long table. The younger boys he should be supervising sat on benches along the sides. No one noticed his lateness, or asked why he was late. The conversation amongst the boys rattled on throughout Tea as it always did, always about nothing. He didn't hear any of it, his mind elsewhere. His mind was in another room with another person. Somehow a wall seems to have fallen down, giving him a sudden rush of cool air over his face, like a cool shower on a hot day. That sort of feeling.

Fish fingers again. He looked at the on the other side of the table who was toying with his food. Usually Ned was chatty. Tom kept looking at the boy, the one he'd seen wandering below the window. He's shut the curtain when Terry had got him even closer, and then opened it again just before. He had no choice. Terry didn't know how close he was. And then it happened. He saw Ned looking up, but doubted that he could see.

When Ned looked up, elbow on the table, his head leaning against his hand, and holding his fork in an odd way, he saw Tom looking back at him. Ned looked away. It was him, the face in the window. Tom Davenport was looking down, but it was definitely him.

Tom found the note from Terry in his pigeon hole after supervising the prep session in one of the classrooms they used for the purpose. Nine thirty? He recognized the distinctive handwriting, an italic style he liked. Rather cultured and stylish. Typical of Terry. Artistic you might say.

Tom knocks on Terry's door. 'Come' sounds from within. He's fully dressed but Tom is in his dressing gown already, held together at the from with one hand. He opens the door for find Terry working at his desk.

'Goodness, ready for bed already Tom?'

'The boys are all asleep. Thought I'd read for a while until……'

'You got my note?'

'Yes. Sorry about earlier. The curtains.'

'Oh yes. Bad timing on your part Tom.' He says with a broad smile.

'Hardly my fault.'

'Quite. One of those things then.'

'And Edward Barfoot. I think he saw. He was below the window and happened to look up.'

'Do you think he recognized you?'

'Probably. He looked at me very sheepishly at Tea.'

'Oh dear. He's a quiet one though.'

'Yes. I saw him down there so he might have seen me.'

'Down there? Really?' He says, eyebrows raised.

'Not in that way. At least not then.'

'But you have , at some stage?'

'Oh yes. Very pretty.'

'Anyway I'm glad you came……meaning I'm glad you're here now. I've no commitments this evening, hence the note. How are you fixed?'

'Free as a bird.'

'And ready to fly perhaps?'

'Ready for lift off, but I'm a novice I'm afraid. A lack of opportunity. I haven't yet learned to fly; not properly.'

'A little bird of paradise that needs a little tuition, not that I'm any kind of expert.'

'The blind leading the blind then?'

'Umm. I'm not sure we really need eyes for it, do we?'

'Hands might be better?'

'Exactly what I was thinking. Hands are very sensory.'

'Like other parts. Good for connecting. Would you like to Tom?'

'Yes. You've been kind to me. I'm excited.'

'The boys are very fond of you Tom. You've been kind to them too. Kindness begets kindness. They're going to miss when you're having the time of your life in Exeter. I'm sure your virginity will be in great jeopardy.'

Tom didn't count the others boy he'd played games with. That was nothing to do with 'official' virginity. A bit of playful poking, and in and out a few times,or more than a few times amid giggling, and as far as Tom went, a nice feeling out of it. He didn't let on about that. How it had felt and how he'd wanted to make a noise while it seemed to go on, and on, and on. If you want to count those I suppose plenty of them lost their virginity that way. But we don't count those.

'I didn't think I'd still have it by then.'

'Take it slowly Tom. That's my advice.'

'Ok, I will.' Tom answers, more breathless by the second. It's all getting much closer now don't you think?'

'Just let me know Tom; in your own time. May I see you now?'

Tom undoes the cord holding his gown in place. It falls open. Terry looks, and smiles. Goodness me. In Terry's eyes he's perfect.

'You are such a beautiful boy Tom. Look, no one is going to notice if you're not in your bed tonight are they?'

'I hope not. Does that mean I can stay here with you?'

'I'd like that, if you would? I need to shower first. Care to join me?'

Tom watches as Terry prepares himself for their shower together. For years he's shared a shower with other boys. An economy measure rather than a social arrangement, but convenient as far as Tom is concerned. It was rare if there wasn't some sort of giggly contact in such a confined space, and the average youngster was always curious as to what a bigger boy looked like, especially if he was finding the occasion interesting.

Terry needed to know if Tom wanted to be touched there. When he tentatively wandered in that direction with Tom's back to him, there was no objection at all. Quite the opposite in fact. It was just a hand between his legs which felt interesting. Tom wondered if it would go further. With his palms against the tiled wall of the shower, the hand did go further. A lot further. Terry heard Tom's sharp intake of breath and took that be an expression of deep pleasure, which it was. And now, deeper still.

Tom exhales the very deep breath he had taken and savours Terry's intimate invasion. He continues his deep breathing with slow exhalations mixed with his own particular sounds of deep joy. Terry thought how lovely those little appreciative noises were. How incredibly sexy.

The joy Tom had indulged himself in that morning two years ago, a joy he could not put completely out of his mind. Alone under the warm cascade of water, and almost there now. Just a few seconds left. He hadn't heard the footsteps. And then the figure appears, blond and lovely, and naked. Ned looks at Tom, as Tom, almost finished and quite far too gone to stop now, looks down at Ned Barfoot. Ned, open mouthed and transfixed, watches. The fact that Tom had unexpected company now, and the fact that it was in the form of that little beauty [as one or two of the other senior boys described him] produced a harder and longer splash than was usual for Tom. He counted six pulses. Tom's eyes had not left the eyes of the boy who wasn't looking at his face, but lower down, waiting to see something he'd heard about but never actually seen, until this moment. Quite a revelation for Edward Barfoot, and one he wasn't about to forget. Tom could have turned away for a more private emission of his sins but he didn't. One might ague it's all part of a boy's extra-curricular education.

Tom, breathing less hard now, watches the water run out through the central drain and all that it's carrying away, now gone. But Edward Barfoot is not gone.

'Where've you been Ned?' Tom asks with a benign smile, soaping his nether regions.

'To the loo. I think I need to wash again.'

'Oh, like that is it.'

'I think so. Itchy.'

'Oh dear. Can I help?'

'Would you?'

'How's that now?' Tom asks, his hand on the Ned's shoulder.

'You shouldn't use soap Ned. Not there. It's too harsh. 'Come and find me if your symptoms persist. It'll probably need something else.'

'Persist? What's that mean Tom?'

'If it still bothering you by tonight. Tell me, or Matron.'

The boy looks at Tom, feeling his behind with one hand.

'What will you do? I don't want to see Matron.'

'Fine. I'll sort it out Edward. It's very common, that little difficulty, but easily fixed.' He says, giving the boy's shoulder another little encouraging squeeze.

Terry dried Tom off before leading him to the bed. When they both in, Terry kissed Tom gently on the mouth for the very first time. Tom felt a shiver of excitement run through his fine slim frame ending with a distinct tweaking of his penis. He'd softened before the towelling Terry had given him, like a small boy being dried after his evening bath. And then hardened again. The kissing has done that. It always does with Tom. The kissing went on, in tandem with mutual fondling. Tom had seen Terry's erection in the shower, needless to say, and thought it very acceptable and not monumentally scary. But that might be a blessing in disguise. Off-putting discomfort and the loss of his virginity, two minuses that might not make a plus.

Talk about this story on our forum

Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.

[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]

* Some browsers may require a right click instead