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Secrets

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Phil kept tabs on James Calvert. He didn’t check on him every day or even every week. It was usually only once or twice per year. It seemed the thing to do, given what he and Tom had got up to. Tom had been too late to save the girls, but his actions had saved James.

Phil’s actions had saved Tom.

James had had a less-than-normal adolescence. What could you expect with an alcoholic mother and a serial killer father? Especially when that father had killed James’ sisters, then enticed him into the house to view the bodies. Then he’d covered James’ head with a pillow and pressed down with the barrel of a gun.

After all of that, and four years living in Canada, James seemed to be getting by. The lad had managed to pass his A-levels. His marks were acceptable, if rather unremarkable. He’d been lacking in friends, though.

Now that James was a young man, he was surrounded by people almost constantly. Phil wouldn’t presume to call them his friends. No, not these gothic tossers. They were pretending to be James’ friends, ‘cause they got off on chumming around with the son of the Pretty Boy Killer.

Watching James from across the crowded Goth bar, Phil realized that James’ delicate features worked well with the exaggerated make-up they all wore - save for Phil. He was only willing to take this so far. Still, James was handsome, in an effeminate way. He’d have made more than a few quid working a street corner as a rent-boy.

Phil slowly made his way through the crowd. He stepped up to the bar, standing right next to James, but pretending to pay him no mind. It was a small bit of fortune that the crowd jostled him, knocking Phil sideways and into James.

“Sorry ‘bout that, mate,” Phil said, flashing James a quick smile before turning away.

“No worries,” James replied. His answering smile held a shadow of shyness.

“It’s a bloody mad house in here, yeah?” Phil exploited his opening.

“It’s always this way.” James gestured around the room with his lager bottle. “Bloody freak show.” It sounded almost like an afterthought.

“It’s why blokes like you and I come here, I’d say. To feel like we’re fucking normal.” Phil took a long draught of his lager and turned toward James.

Suddenly, one of James’ so-called friends joined them. He wore pasty white make-up, his eyes were kohl-rimmed, and he wore a gruesome shade of black lipstick. The bloke had obscenely wide plugs in his earlobes and more surgical steel in his face than Phil had in his entire body. He draped himself over James’ shoulders, marking his territory in an obvious manner. “Gonna introduce me to your new friend, James?”

“I’ve only just met him,” James replied wearily. To Phil he said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

“Phil,” he replied, extending his hand to James, not bothering to look at the wanker on his shoulders.

“James.” he shook Phil’s hand firmly.

“Like he didn’t already know your name,” the human pin cushion said derisively.

Phil feigned ignorance. He’d spent years pretending to be someone he wasn’t; now he was pretty fucking good at it. He shrugged, as if to ask after a private joke to which he wasn’t yet privy.

James sighed heavily, his features taking on a dark cast. “Calvert. I’m James Calvert.”

“I’m getting the idea that should mean something to me,” Phil said, smiling innocently. “I’m sorry, if I should know who you are. I don’t.”

Pin Cushion snorted his disbelief. Phil didn’t spare him a look.

James shook his shoulders violently, dislodging his ‘friend’. “Sod off, Ian,” he snapped.

The bastard stomped off in a huff and Phil was happy to see the back of him.

“I’m sorry I don’t know who you are,” Phil offered, wondering what James might be willing to divulge.

“You shouldn’t know,” James said heatedly. “It’s good that you don’t.”

“Since I don’t know you, how about we play all those stupid ‘getting-to-know-you’ rituals people normally use?” Phil ventured.

James smiled. It made him appear younger and Phil’s heart kicked up a beat.

“Alright, I’ll bite. What is it you do for a living, Phil?”

“I’m an estate agent.” The lie fell almost too easily from Phil’s lips. “I just started, so I’m still learning. I’m not terribly good, yet.”

“I’m sure you’re just fine,” James assured him.

“And you, James Calvert? What is it you do? When you’re not hanging out in a Goth bar, drinking with wankers.”

James smiled again, and a strange warmth settled in Phil’s belly.

“I’m at university.” Phil knew James was lying, but was amazed at just how well he did it. He knew it was a lie, but he left it alone. If James wanted to be someone he wasn’t, if only for one night, Phil had no problem letting him.

Phil had his secret; he’d let James hang onto the belief he had one, too. He didn’t ask the next logical question.

“Do you live ‘round here?” Phil asked instead.

“Nah. You?”

“No. Had to take a taxi to get here.”

“They disarmed the alarm on the emergency exit, did you know?” James’ eyes were fever-bright and his cheeks were flushed.

“No. Why would they have done that?” he wondered if he was pushing the innocent act too far.

“It’s so people can slip out into the alley for a bit of fun, then slip back in.”

“What? Have sex in the alley, then come back in and start back drinking?”

James nodded.

“Have you ever taken a woman out there?” Phil probed gently, already fairly certain of the answer.

“Not a woman. No.”

Phil smiled knowingly. “A bloke, then?”

James blushed.

Phil set down his drink. “I’m going in search of this exit door. Want to come with?”

James turned and led the way.

Phil had expected that he’d have to seduce James; ease him into whatever they decided to get up to. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

They’d taken no more than a dozen steps down the alley, when Phil found himself shoved backward into the rough brick wall. He didn’t even have his bearings back when he realized James was in front of him, on his knees, and unfastening Phil’s belt.

Guilt rose up unexpectedly, threatening to choke him. Phil had covered up the fact that Tom had killed James’ father. He’d successfully made it appear to be suicide, then kept the secret hidden away. Getting his dick sucked by James would be fucking …

Phil lost his train of thought when James opened the fly of his jeans and pushed his pants aside. He took out Phil’s cock, and the ambient air was cool on his skin. When James slid his hot, wet mouth down the length of his erection, Phil’s head hit the bricks behind him with a dull thud.

“Bloody hell,” Phil whispered, glancing down and running his fingers through James’ hair. He should put a stop to this, but he couldn’t. He didn’t really want to.

Phil was keeping an explosive secret from James, but James was keeping one from Phil, too. He decided that was all the justification he needed, when James sucked hard on him and pulled his mouth back to the head.

James wrapped a hand around Phil’s length and stroked downward, toward the base. He followed with his hot mouth, lips wet and tight. Phil watched as James’ head moved forward and back, his mouth and fist working tight and fast. He pulled back, letting Phil’s cock slide from between his lips with a lewd, wet sound. Phil grunted when the heat enveloped him again.

He wrapped both hands around James’ skull. Phil’s hips began to flex rhythmically, in time with the motions of James’ head. It was reflexive. He didn’t mean to start, but now he certainly couldn’t stop.

James looked up at him. He watched Phil carefully, then lifted his hands and gripped Phil’s hips. He stopped moving all together, his eyes pleading with Phil.

He obliged James and began to move his hips. Phil gripped James’ head, holding him steady, and fucked his mouth. It was a filthy affair. They were in an alley that smelled of rotting food and human waste. James was kneeling in the detritus of the city around them, letting a man he’d only just met, slide his dick in and out of his mouth.

The whole thing had Phil right on the verge of coming. There were electrical jolts running along his spine. A strange tingling spread through his pelvis. Phil could feel his balls tighten, start to rise up toward his body. His breath caught in his throat and he thought his heart might slam its way out of his chest. He opened his eyes again to watch James, kneeling in filth and sucking Phil’s cock enthusiastically.

Their eyes locked again and Phil couldn’t hold it off any longer. He forced James to hold still as he pulled his cock from that swollen mouth. Phil fisted himself. He stroked his own dick rapidly, reaching desperately for that precipice to which he was so close.

Mindful of their surroundings, Phil bit back a shout. He shuddered violently as his orgasm rolled through him. He watched as the first strings of come shot out to land on James’ upturned face. He groaned, teeth clenched, as the strings of come turned to thick, white ropey jets. They coated James’ cheek, his lips, and his chin. Phil kept hold of his flagging erection, watching with a twisted fascination as he smeared his own come around James’ face with the tip of his dick.

He sagged back against the wall, hoping his knees would hold him. He should find something for James to use to clean himself up. He should tuck himself away. He should get the fuck out there, but Phil did none of those things.

He watched James produce a handkerchief and clean himself up. Phil managed, with shaking hands, to finally put himself back into his pants and zip his jeans. James slowly climbed to his feet.

Phil was still breathing heavily. He should beg off and go home. Instead he heard himself asking, “Need me to return the favor?”

“No,” James answered on a sigh, looking strangely relaxed. “How ‘bout we have another drink, then go back to mine? Get up to a little more than blowjobs in dirty alley ways?”

Phil knew he shouldn’t be there. There were so many ways this could all go pear-shaped.

It wouldn’t be the first time he did something he knew was wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time he did something he would have to keep secret.

“Yeah, can do.”