Page 63 of Crocodile Tears

“Not at all.” His father beamed. “You boys have earned it with your fantastic degree results. Take it as a graduation gift from me.” Noah put one arm around his shoulder and the other around Neil’s.

Alex gazed at Neil blankly, and Neil shot him a darkly triumphant smile in return.

“Neil’s been a good friend to you, Alex.” Noah reached for a glass of champagne and raised it. “To Alex and Neil – congratulations!”

The rest of the afternoon passed in a haze; all Alex could see were Neil’s glittering eyes, filled with gleeful triumph.

He rolled over the options in his mind, but came up empty. Neil had no doubt painted himself as Alex’s saviour in his weekly conversations with his father, and Noah had no reason to disbelieve him.

How could he tell his father about the reality of their relationship? Noah would never trust him again if he knew he’d been lied to for the past three years. Alex could bring Neil down that way, but he’d crashand burn with him. There was no way out; Neil knew it, and he knew it. He was trapped.

He spent the evening downing pints. There was a live band and many of the students started dancing, but he just sat and watched, morosely.

Solange danced with a throng of pretty girls, throwing back her head and laughing too loudly in an obvious way to show him she was having a good time despite him. He didn’t care.

Later, after he’d said goodbye to his father and Charles, he rolled drunkenly back to the party and sought out Neil in a corner of the marquee.

“You fucking shit!” he yelled. “You slimy, creepy, rat-faced, lying arsehole.”

“You’ve had too much to drink, Alex. I should take you home,” Neil said soothingly, putting his hands on his shoulders.

“Don’t touch me,” he said, pulling away. “I fucking hate you.”

“You’re drunk. You’ll think differently in the morning. You need taking care of, Alex, and that’s what I’m good at,” Neil said smugly. “I’m only doing what’s best for you.”

“What’s best foryou, you mean.”

“But I thought this was what you wanted – a place of your own, away from The Orchard.” Neil gave a sanctimonious smile, and it was all Alex could do not to bury his fist in that self-satisfied face.

Suddenly, he had a better idea – something that would hurt Neil far more. He lurched outside in search of what he was looking for.

It was close to 3a.m. when he returned to the flat, pulling Marlon Baxter behind him.

“It’s a miracle!” Bax exclaimed as Alex yanked him into the bedroom by his holotie. “Have I really been invited into the holy sanctum – Alexander Lytton’s bedroom? Nobody ever gets in here. It’s like Fort bloody Knox. We used to sit around gossiping about what you were hiding in here.”

“Nothing. It’s just a bedroom.” Alex pushed Bax up against the wall.

“Then why the mystery? I told everyone that it was typical Alex Lytton behaviour – making a big dark secret out of nothing.”

“I promised Neil I wouldn’t bring anyone home, that’s all, but now that part of my life is over. I’m free.” Alex took hold of Bax’s head and kissed him soundly on the lips.

Bax melted against him. “Oh, dear lord, you do know how to make a boy blush,” he panted.

“I want to do more than make you blush,” Alex said throatily, ripping his shirt open. “There’s just one condition…”

“Hmmm?” Bax gazed at him from heavy-lidded eyes.

“I want you inside me,” Alex told him. “I want you to stick your big hard dick inside me, and fuck me good.”

“Well, I’m usually a big nelly bottom, darling, but I’m sure I could top tonight, if that’s all that’s on offer.” Bax grinned.

“Good – be warned – I’m gonna scream.”

“Oh, me too, sweetie, me too.”

Within seconds, Alex was on his back with his legs over Bax’s shoulders, with Bax pumping away inside him for all he was worth. “Make as much noise as you like,” Alex urged. “That’s it, baby. This is good, isn’t it? Go on – scream your head off.”

Bax, never one to be quiet at the best of times, did just that, yelling so loudly that nobody could possibly sleep through it. Sure enough, a couple of minutes later there was a knock on the bedroom door.

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