Page 98 of Rhymes with Metaphor
Rather than lulling Joel to sleep, the book excited him, and when Reg finished reading the story, Joel jumped up and ran into the house.He unhooked a shiny black mask from the wall of the main floor staircase and tore across the lawn holding the mask aloft while Reg chased him.Joel donned the mask, leapt onto the rim of the fountain, and pranced along its rim in a weird, primal dance.The sun gleamed on the edge of the mask and Joel’s pale skin.
Reg stared until he couldn’t stand it anymore, and he seized Joel, if only to prove that he was real, and pulled him off the rim of the fountain and onto the grass.Reg almost succumbed to the temptation to fuck him there and then.Joel twisted in his arms, and they wrestled until they were breathless, and Joel lay heaving.
Reg pulled the mask off and kissed him until the smile melted off Joel’s face, and his mouth grew harder, and Reg pinned him to the ground by his hips and busied himself opening Joel’s trousers and freeing his cock.
“I want you to fill up my mouth, right?”said Reg, and he went down on him.
Joel, already worked up, surged against him, making the most delicious sounds with increasing urgency, plunging his heels into the ground beside Reg’s head, thumping the grass with his palm.
“I’m going to come,” Joel gasped.
Reg raised his head a moment.“Don’t tell me.Tell the fucking universe.”And he enclosed Joel fully in his mouth and everything came spilling out: Words, gasps, yells, an unending stream of raw feeling, a tonsil-scorching scream.
Reg suckled him softly, and when Joel was done, he opened his mouth and spilled Joel’s pleasure into the grass beside him.
“Perhaps your seed will grow a Joel tree,” said Reg.
“Fuck,” Joel breathed, head back, the back of his hand balanced on his forehead.“Oh fuck.Oh fuckohfuckohfuck.”
Thunder rumbled in the distance.
“Let’s go in, cariad,” said Reg.
He got up, pulled Joel to his feet, loose-limbed and weak, and held Joel against him as they shambled to the house.As he shut the door behind them, Joel leaned into him, resting his head in the hollow of Reg’s shoulder and hugged him.“I don’t want to go home.”His voice was muffled against Reg’s chest.
“I know.”Reg held him gently.“But I need to defend.You don’t have to go.You can stay behind if you like.Bethan will look after you, and there’ll be no one here till my father comes back in October.You clearly love England.”
“You’re my England,” said Joel.“You’re my Wales.”
“Come and live with me, then.Unless you’d rather move in with your mother?Or your sister?”
“No.With you.”
“Well,” said Reg, feeling absurdly pleased.
“You don’t mind?”
“Joel, I’d mind if you weren’t with me.”
Rain hammered on the glass in the front door.
“Shit,” said Joel.
“What?”
“I left my clothes on the lawn.”
“So, they’ll get rained on.They’ve had much worse.”
“Thanks to you,” said Joel.
They both laughed quietly, sadly.
The next day as they stood on the drive waiting for their taxi, Joel looked lost.“I’m going to make sure I don’t forget anything,” he said, and he went inside.
He hadn’t come back when the taxi arrived, so Reg went in to look for him.The house felt empty and bittersweet, like an orange with the flesh scooped out.He found Joel in the library, in front of the window, pressing his fingertip against a mullioned pane, the green of the lawn and the trees lending it an emerald glow.
“What are you doing?”said Reg.
