Rory and Sebastian

--As before, all characters in this story are above the age of 18--

I found Rory up a ladder, wearing a red sweater and a pair of beige chinos, placing decorations on his family's enormous Christmas tree. An antique nativity scene was placed near the drawing room's cavernous fireplace and when I looked at it later, Rory nervously hovered behind me. The Virgin Mary and one of the wisemen had been made in France in the 1830s. As Rory pointed out, his grandmother would probably prefer to see one of her own grandchildren's arms broken, rather than the statues'. They were beautiful, in a kind of other-worldly, serene way. They looked like animated chess pieces, posed in an immaculate tableau of a story I wasn't sure I believed in, but which I knew Rory did.

'Happy Christmas, baby,' I boomed as I entered. He smiled and climbed down off the ladder. 'That was nice to walk into.'

'What was?' he asked, as he walked towards me.

'Seeing you like that.' I kissed him. 'It was like a postcard or something. Or an old movie. You looked beautiful. Husband-beautiful.'

He beamed up at me and stroked my face. 'That's so nice. Are we giving presents now?'

He'd spotted the bag I was carrying, which did actually have his presents in them, but which I didn't want to give to him just yet. 'I'd rather give you mine over dinner, if that's okay?'

'Yes!' he nodded. 'That actually works much better for me. I haven't finished wrapping yours yet!'

'I've only wrapped some of yours.'

'Oh. Why?'

I leant in and whispered in his ear. 'Because I prefer barebacking.'

He giggled and walked back to the ladder. As he climbed it, I thought again how handsome he looked. Like someone from a movie a long time ago. He interrupted my thoughts, not all of them particularly pure, with a question about what time dinner was at tonight. I was taking him back to the restaurant where we'd had dinner after our first proper fight. It was such a nice restaurant -- the nicest in the area, I think -- and I'd wanted our first time there to be so special; not an orgy of awkwardness and repression. Tonight was the night to make up for that, I guess.

'Seven thirty,' I answered.

He smiled and looked over his shoulder, from where he was attaching a silver bauble to the top left hand corner of the tree. 'That's perfect.'

'Why?'

'I have to be back here by eleven, at the very latest.'

'Family stuff?' I asked, coming to stand by the foot of the ladder. He really shouldn't be up there, however low it was, without someone there to hold the base for him. It wasn't safe.

'Midnight Mass,' he answered. 'Heathen.'

'Protestant,' I corrected.

'Barely,' he retorted, with a smile. 'Do you want to watch a movie before we go?'

'I'll have to go home to get changed.'

'Why are you here, then?'

I shrugged. 'I wanted to see you. How are you feeling?'

For the last few days, leading up to Christmas, Rory had been ill again. The same headaches, a couple of nose bleeds, faintness and dizziness. I was beginning to suspect that part of it must be his erratic eating habits and I knew I was going to have to pick up my persistence in hounding him if he didn't eat properly. Even if him feeling unwell wasn't directly caused by his attitude to food, it definitely wasn't helped by it and at times in the last week, he'd look practically anemic. He looked pale. Which wasn't his natural skin tone, at all. He still looked, in terms of his physique, healthy; if a little bit too thin. But when you held his wrist, you'd notice that he was actually quite fragile and it was only the horse-riding he did occasionally with his father, uncle and cousins that kept him toned. Without it, I think he'd have looked a lot, lot thinner.

As I thought all this over in my head, Rory had focused on tweaking a disobedient bauble and he took his time before answering with a nonchalant, 'Fine. A bit better, I think.'

He did look a bit better and he didn't look exhausted, which is how he'd looked the day before - we'd been at my house, hanging out and watching a movie; Rory had placed his head on my chest and dozed for half the film. I'd absent-mindedly stroked his arm as he slept. It was good he was resting. When he woke up, we began talking about New Year's. I was a big fan of the idea of us just staying in and doing nothing. My parents were going all the way to Scotland to be with my mom's sister for new year's and they were leaving Evan and I in the house alone; Jenny was going with them. Evan was clearly planning a rager of a house party, but I was pretty sure that if I asked him -- and locked my door -- Rory and I could just hang out in my room all night. And see in the new year together; hopefully with me inside him. Left to my own devices, I'd like to have spent all of new year's eve fucking my boyfriend and watching crappy movies in the "rest periods" between shagging.

Rory, however, was against the plan and even a well-timed grinding of him while we were making out, mid-discussion, did not sway him. Since we had both been invited to a house party at my friend Daniel's and it was a 'rugby team-themed' party, Rory felt it would send a bad message if I was the only player who didn't turn up.

'I'd rather be in with you,' I reasoned. 'I'd rather be in you, to be quite honest.'

'I just don't want to be that boyfriend that made you miss the party; we could hang out on our ownsome any time! Plus, Virginia would be pissed if I don't go with them to have some drinks at Zara-Felicity's.'

'So that's what this is really about?'

He took his head off my chest and kissed me on my jaw line. 'Don't be like that. We should honor our commitments, then come back and stay at your house afterwards. We can leave right after twelve. Once drinks are over at Zara-Felicity's, we'll come over to Daniel's to see you guys and hang out for midnight. Then, when it's over, we can come back here.'

'And fuck?'

'Like rabbits.'

I rolled over on top of him. 'Gurl, you so nasty,' I joked.

I kissed him and we began making out again. But we had to stop when he began coughing.

'I'm sorry,' he said. Getting flustered. He was starting to panic. Like he always did when he thought he'd "messed up" something physical. 'I couldn't breathe. I got a bit breathless. I...'

'It's fine,' I said, helping him to sit up. 'I took your breath away. I am that good, baby.'

He smiled through a cough. 'I'm sorry we haven't been able to... y'know... more often.'

'Me too, but you're not feeling too hot right now and that's fine. Once you feel a bit better and got rid of this, then believe me, I'll ride you until your legs are like jello.'

Rory and I had, in fact, only slept together, fully, twice more since he'd lost his virginity to me nearly a week earlier. Once had been in my bed, the morning after, and another had been in his bed, when his parents had gone out shopping for a couple of hours. Not that I was complaining too much; I was so glad we'd done it and it had gone off without a hitch. I loved him. So very, very much.

At dinner on Christmas Eve, Rory once again refused to be budged on the issue of New Year's. I'd accepted, albeit begrudgingly, that it might actually be quite fun to hang out with our friends, then party together with them, before going back to my house. Evan was totally cool with the idea and had even said that if Daniel's party sucked, which it hopefully wouldn't, then I could bring a few people back to our house to party with him and his friends.

We split a dessert at dinner, which was the most obvious way I could think of making sure he ate one. Back in my car, we exchanged gifts. He'd bought me a new sweater, the new Hilary Mantel novel, a DVD boxset and he'd handwritten a letter to me, which he asked me to read later. I got him a box of flavored lubes (hahaha), a pair of gloves I knew he wanted and a bottle of cologne I thought smelt really nice. Looking back on it, we'd spent too much on each other for eighteen year olds, but it had felt really good to save and to spend the money on him. I think he felt the same way.

After I dropped him off home, so that he could make to Mass in time with his family, I drove to a spot near my house, stopped the car and read his letter.

"Dear Sebastian,

This is our first Christmas together and I hope so much that it won't be our last. I thought back to that day in September, near the playing fields, when we began talking and I've never been so glad of either a nosebleed or a wounded ankle in my entire life! I cannot imagine what my life, or my heart, would be like without you. I know I tease you all the time, and maybe drive you mad every now and again, but I love you more than it's possible to say. I love you and I cannot comprehend, even to myself, how happy that makes me.

You are so strong and so kind, you're so loving and so supportive, that I keep hoping and trying to deserve you. To be worthy of you -- if that makes sense?

There are so many obvious reasons why I had a crush on you, and still do -- you're handsome, strong, sexy, confident, funny. You have so much presence and charisma. And confidence. You are dazzlingly attractive. But, those are only reasons to have a crush and they're not the reasons to fall in love. I fell in love with you because you're so good. You are so protective, loyal, devoted, clever, deep and ... I don't know. I feel like I want to say 'good' again, because it's your goodness; it's the strength and depth of your character -- it's you, Sebastian -- it's every bit of you, that makes me love you.

Before I met you, I existed and now that I'm with you, I feel like I'm living. Like it's worth it. Like you're worth it. That sounds ridiculous?

I love you more than I thought was I capable of. I love you madly and I always will.

Yours, Completely,

Rory."

I'm not ashamed to say that I wept slightly, in my car, and thought of my boy, kneeling in the candlelight of a nearby church. The snow had begun to fall lightly and I sent him a text: - YOUR LETTER MADE ME CRY. I LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH. HAPPY CHRISTMAS, RORY. YOU MAKE EVERY DAY WORTH GETTING UP FOR AND I LOVE YOU.

*

The New Year's Eve party at Daniel's was actually a lot of fun. The guys started with several drinking games, one of which I became the essential victim of. By the time Rory arrived from Zara-Felicity's, I was already pretty drunk. I spotted him coming in, flanked, as ever, by Virginia, Caroline, Judith and Claudia. A few of the other popular girls floated in with them; although Zara-Felicity and her clique had gone on to another party at another house. But Daniel had a healthy crowd at his; including our school's rugby, polo and football teams. With the arrival of the girls, and Rory, I was actually quite glad we'd come out, instead of staying in. It was a good night.

I saw Rory pose in the center of his group -- with Claudia and Caroline to his right; Judith and Virginia to his left. They all stood like sorority girls; cups in hands, other hand on hips. Bright plastic smiles painted on their pretty faces. They all looked immaculate, as always; they all looked stunning. Especially my guy.

Everything about him that night was lovely and stylish. Clothes just sat better on Rory than they did on other people. His hair was freshly-washed, dark and bouncy; he wore a fitted navy cashmere sweater and the beige chinos I liked so much. He smiled across the room, as he was greeted with a big bear hug from Robbie and another of Rory's friends, Victor. A polo player who I, personally, thought was a bit of a dick.

'You are so drunk,' he laughed, when he walked over to me. I'd kissed him on the lips for a "hello." Quite aggressively. There was a lewd cheer from two of my team-mates.

'I had to do the keg stand,' I informed him. 'You look fucking awesome.'

'Thanks, baby,' he smiled. 'Guess what?' He beckoned and I leant in; Rory's mouth was placed right against my ear, as he spoke, in a voice that no-one else could hear. 'I can't wait to get back to your house tonight and for you to fuck me all the way into new year with that big dick of yours. I want to wake up tomorrow with your semen leaking out of me. Just something to think about for the rest of the party.'

The moment he was finished, he turned back to the party and exchanged a friendly wave with Daniel's new girlfriend, Alice; a very pretty girl in our year who was desperate to become part of Rory and Virginia's group. He crossed over to her, giving me one last look over his shoulder as he left. I stared at him and winked. He laughed and I worried for a minute I was going to start masturbating right there and then.

*

By the time we got back to my house, it had just gone one o'clock and I had imbibed four more beers and Jesus knows how many shots, at my team's chanting-behest. Rory was less drunk than I was, but still pretty gone. As we stumbled into my house, I was dimly aware of the scenes of devastation created by my big brother's party. A couple of girls lay comatose, passed out or asleep, in our den; a few guys had stopped drinking where they'd fallen. There was debris and decoration everywhere. But I didn't care -- I wanted only Rory. Now.

As we passed my brother's bedroom door, two down from mine and near the top of the stairway, we could hear the sounds from inside that made it quite clear that Evan was nailing one of his party guests. The sighs and moans sounded familiar. I recognized them as Sarah, his 21 year-old ex; neither had ever quite gotten over each other. Their grunts and squeals had pierced through my walls a couple of times when they were dating.

By that point, everything was either a distraction or a turn-on. I began kicking my shoes somewhere near Evan's door and unbuckling my belt as I lunged in to kiss Rory, as we swayed through my door.

'You're going to get it tonight,' I breathed, yanking his sweater up and off over his head. 'Swaying and dancing with the girls tonight. Teasing me.' Kiss. 'Toying with me. You looked so fucking sexy.' Kiss. 'But you knew that?' Kiss. 'Didn't you?' Kiss. 'Didn't you, baby?'

He feverishly helped me unbuckle my belt and rubbed his hands under my now-untucked shirt, tracing the contours of my stomach. Which he seemed to love doing. 'I was trying to tease you, Sebastian.' Breathless. Kiss. 'Ruin me.' Kiss. 'Fuck me.' The voice dropped to a whisper; another kiss. 'Fuck me, you big rugby player. Show me what you've got.'

That was it. I pushed him savagely onto my bed, then dropped to my knees to undo his belt, open his chinos, pull off his shoes, yank off his socks and then pull his underwear and chinos right off. When they were hurled across the room, I pulled him off the bed and undo his knees on the ground. Then I pulled my dick out of my boxers and smacked him on the face with it.

'You want to be my little bitch tonight, Rory?' He looked up at me and nodded. His eyes glazed and hungry. 'You want to be fucked by your big rugby player boyfriend?' Another nod. 'I'll give it to you then.'

I was drunk. I was possessed by lust and turned on by him. By this side of him that only I get to saw. He wanted it rough, and I wanted to give it to him like that. I grabbed the back of his hair and thrust my cock into his warm, wet, dripping mouth. I thrust in and out; face fucking him. Listening to him choke and gag. Feeling trails of spit fall out of his mouth and onto my balls, my bare feet and onto him. I fucked his mouth savagely and he reached down to start jerking himself off. After a few minutes, I pulled out and walked over to my bedside drawer to get some lube.

'Please, Sebastian,' he begged, still kneeling where I'd left him, 'put it back inside me.'

'Get up,' I commanded. 'I want to fuck you.'

I smeared lube all over my cock and rubbed it on, as Rory stumbled to his feet. He was breathtakingly beautiful and I marched over to force my tongue deep inside his mouth again. I undid my shirt and threw it off.

'Jump up,' I ordered. 'Legs around my waist, baby.'

He did like I'd asked and from there I positioned my cock to slide into his asshole. I was gentle for a moment, but even so he cried out slightly. Even in my haze, I thought for a minute that I'd damaged him. But then, through his gasp, I heard the word, 'Yes,' escape softly from his slips and I went for it.

I began bouncing Rory up and down on my dick. Slamming in and out of him like there was no tomorrow. I kept a steady stream of filth for him, too; asking him if he liked being pole fucked by a rugby player. If his asshole was gaping like he'd wanted. How badly he wanted to be my little cumslut. He responded in kind; urging me on, squealing and grunting; tightening his legs' hold around my waist and his arms' around my neck.

I slammed him into the wall and kept grinding into him. We then stumbled across the room and onto my bed. We hit the bed in unison and I heard him gasp slightly, under my weight. With his legs, he managed to push my jeans off and I spat on my hand to start jacking him off.

'I feel so full,' he groaned.

I planted three or four hickies on his chest and neck, before leaning back to hoist his legs up onto my neck, as I leant further back to slide and grind in and out of him. His hole felt so tight and so warm; everything a guy in my position could want. Beneath me, spread out beneath me like my gorgeous property, Rory was writhing and twisting, jacking his dick as we fucked.

I pulled out and flipped him over, to enter him from behind. He got up on his knees.

'Yeah, that's it,' I groaned, as I guided my cock back inside him. 'That it's -- my little bitch.' I slapped him, hard, on the ass for good measure and then held his sides in a vice-like grip, as I pounded in and out of him. I reached round and began jerking him. A few moments later, he screamed and came. I felt his whole body, including his asshole, contract as he did so; I felt his cum shoot through my hands and onto my sheets. I couldn't last much longer myself and I hurled myself onto his back, giving him one last hickey, before pumping a shed-load's worth of cum into his hole. Half way through, I pulled out to coat the outside of his ass with some of it, too.

I pulled out of him and he turned round. I turned and collapsed onto the bed, putting my arms exhaustedly behind my head. Rory straddled me and traced his hands over my pecks. I could feel my cum leaking out of him and onto my balls from where he was sitting. I let out a contented sigh.

'That was incredible,' he panted.

'You don't have to tell me, baby,' I smiled, as he slipped his thumb between my teeth.

'Fuck me again in the morning?' he said, wantonly.

'You betcha. At least twice. Come here.'

I pulled him down onto me and we kissed, deeply. Then he snuggled in; his head on my chest, his leg draped over mine. He was covered in hickies, and a bruise from where I'd slammed him into the wall, mid-fuck. Come the morning, I'd feel terrible about that, although he always assured me that it was one sporting injury he was happy to have.

'Happy new year, baby,' I slurred, as we drifted off to sleep. 'I love you.'