For the next two weeks, Michael spent most of his time in the library or in his rooms writing, and only occasionally seeing Marcus or Stuart. He realized he felt the conflict in himself between his feelings for John and for Marcus. This is a story as old as time, he thought, except we're all men. He had read The Symposium trying to find clues about the kinds of feelings he had, but Plato was no help.
In mid-January, he received a note from John saying he would be coming to St Andrews in the motorcar at the weekend and asked if they could they spend the day together. He felt a rush of relief, which surprised him, quickly followed by guilt. He knew he would have to say something about the situation.
He stood outside the college, watching the motorcars go by, amazed at how quickly they seemed to be multiplying. John pulled up and Michael almost ran to the car, stopping just before he threw his arms around John when he emerged.
“I want to embrace you.”
John stood smiling at him, his face colouring and he said, “'That would be grand...but...”
“We must be careful.”
“Aye, we must, but first we will have a meal.”
They went to a different pub than the regular that he and college friends went to, not wanting to risk running into Marcus. He did not feel ready for that meeting.
John reported on the state of things at home, gossip from the village, equipment they might purchase. Michael listened, but his mind was steadily distracted by thoughts of how he would tell John about Marcus. When John stopped and looked at him a moment, he realized he needed to speak.
“John I...I know we have made no promises to each other, at least not in words, but...”
“But you have not been such a good boy?” His face was kind rather than angry, which was not what he expected.
Michael felt terrible and knew his face was red. “I suppose that is one way of expressing it. No, I haven't. And I feel guilty, which tells me something.”
John's eyebrows raised and he said, “What does it tell you?”
“I think it tells me that I care what you feel, and that I'm afraid you will think less of me.”
John was quiet for a moment, sipping his cider. “Tell me, who was the lucky lad.”
Michael squirmed in his seat, but managed to say, “With Marcus. I think I mentioned him.”
“The dour fellow, all sunshine and storms?”
“That's the one.”
John was silent again, looking around the room, then he turned back and said, “Well, there's nothing for it but to meet him then. But Michael, we have not made any promises to one another. I have not held you to anything. And in this world, we canna just stand up in church and announce our intention to wed, can we? So we must make our own way, and discover our own rules.” He stopped and took another drink from his glass. “I like you very much, Michael McLauren, but we are not at that stage yet...mind, I hope we might.”
He stared into John's face, almost surprised at how much he had just said and was aware of the deep feeling behind his words, and what to Michael was a kind of steadfastness that he could only admire.
He cleared his throat and said, “Thank you, John. I am grateful and I hope for the same thing as you, despite my feeling that perhaps we are at that stage.” With his foot, he stroked John's leg under the table.
John smiled broadly and said, “I should take care that I don't reach across and kiss you right here.”
They were silent for a moment, finishing their cider. Michael felt at ease for the first time that day. John finally said,
“I want to see your rooms. And I want to meet this Marcus. See what the fuss is about.”
“Really? Now?” Michael felt shocked.
“Oh, you need not be alarmed. I truly just want to meet the fellow who caught your attention besides myself!” And John laughed brightly, shaking his head as if amazed at the situation.
“Are you sure?”
“No, I'm not sure, but this is, Michael, where we are making our own way. Let us make our own way.”
They walked back to the his rooms without saying much. Michael brought him up the stairs to the dark corridor and said, “This is where we all live.”
He unlocked his door and they entered. John inspected everything: the bed, the tiny fireplace, the drawers full of socks. “You live a Spartan life here.”
Michael laughed. “Yes, it is rather.”
John sat on the bed and patted the space next to him, and when Michael sat down, John took his hand. They sat for a moment, not saying anything as Michael rubbed John's thumb with his. John leaned closer and kissed his neck, then below his ear. Michael squirmed and said, “Be careful...anyone could walk in.”
John laughed, then put his lips to Michael's ear, whispering, “Let them. They will be jealous.”
His voice caused a ripple in his body, and he felt his cock begin to harden and despite the fact that the door was open, wondered if he could pull John's clothes off. John seemed to be in the same state as Michael felt his hand grip him through his trousers. Michael pulled away and said, “We can't...not here.”
He heard a voice from the doorway and a mad thought crossed his mind that there were always people in the doorway watching what happened in his rooms. It was Marcus.
“Michael...?”
Whirling around he saw Marcus standing in the door. His face was unreadable. He knew there was nothing to do but be honest. He stood up, feeling foolish and said, “This is John...John, this is Marcus.”
John stood up, walked over to Marcus with his hand extended. Marcus took it as if he didn't know what else to do. He turned to Michael and said, “I'm sorry to interrupt.”
Michael sighed. “I'm sorry you had to see us, but there it is.”
John moved back to the bed and sat down. He looked at Marcus for a moment, his face curious and open. He looked down at Michael's hand in his then up to his face. They seemed to exchange an understanding as Michael shook his head almost imperceptibly. John looked back at Marcus and said, “Come over here, Marcus.”
It was clear to Michael that Marcus was in that moment torn. He stood with many emotions crossing his face. Finally John said, “Come here.”
Unlike Marcus, it did not sound like an order, but more of a invitation, and he seemed to accept it because he walked over to them and sat down beside John. He seemed nervous. John, still holding Michael's hand, leaned over and kissed him, then again, and again, each time more intensely. Michael watched this, rapt, and then quickly got up and walked to the door and shut and locked it. He returned to the other two and instead of sitting, he got to his knees in front of John and began to unfasten his trousers. He pulled them from the waist and John lifted his hips. Then he did the same to Marcus, but when his thick, glistening cock sprang out, he took it in his hand and stroked it, licking the head. Marcus moaned when he sucked him in, his hand on Michael's head pushing him down deeply onto his cock.
Michael shifted back to John, whose cock was standing up, rigid, and Michael leaned in and began to lick from bottom to top, sucking the end, and running his hand up the length of the shaft, enjoying the veiny surface.
John and Marcus still kissed, now more hungrily, their tongues busy, and John's hands moved to Marcus' cock, running his fingers up and down the surface. Marcus stood up and quickly kicked his trousers off, his engorged cock protruding and John pulled it toward him and it slid into his mouth. Marcus groaned and grabbed his head, immediately thrusting forward a few times.
Michael sat up and joined John on Marcus, licking the side of his penis as it slid out of John's mouth. Marcus began making sounds as the energy in him increased and he thrust harder and harder which John seemed to accept. Michael began to suckle his balls, licking around them and under them, trying to match the rhythm of Marcus' movements.
Faster and faster Marcus moved and John began to moan into his cock, liquid drizzling from his lips. Suddenly, Marcus almost yelled, and he froze while Michael was licking underneath his balls and he could feel Marcus' body pump into John's mouth. Michael sat back and watched when Marcus pulled out, his cock wet and streaked with his juices which Michael licked off.
Marcus looked down at them both and Michael was struck by his expression which was both sated and confused. He didn't say anything as he pulled on his trousers and fastened them. Michael got up beside John on the bed and leaned his head on John's shoulder.
Marcus straightened up watching them. John kissed his brow and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Marcus grimace. Michael turned and watched him tuck his shirt in, then Marcus said hoarsely,
“You two can have each other, if that is the kind of life you want. But I think you will be unhappy.”
With that he left the room, slamming the door. Michael raised his head, looking at the closed door, then turned to John and they kissed lightly, slowly. Then Michael said,
“He is very hurt. And I am the cause.”
John put his arm around his shoulder and pulled him close, saying “I believe he is love with you and has not said so, nor knows what to do. I feel for him, Michael, but he seems a prisoner of something.”
Michael turned and looked into John's clear eyes, not entirely sure what he meant, but feeling too sad to find out. Finally he asked, “Should we go to the hotel?”
John sighed and put his hand on Michael's neck. “Yes, I think that would be best.”
Michael stood up and began to collect a few articles of clothing and his shaving gear which he placed in his leather satchel. They left the room and after Michael locked the door, they made their way down, and outside to the motorcar. The day was grey now, and hinted at rain or even snow, and a cold wind blew down the street.
They arrived at the hotel and John went up first. Michael, after loitering casually in the lobby, went up a few minutes later. They knew instinctively that they needed to be careful. Michael wondered what it must be like to never think about these things, to be with whoever he loved and show it, to go up to a room in a hotel together with everyone knowing that they would sleep together, and they might kiss in the lobby, hold hands as they walked up the stairs, all to the approving eyes of people around them. That they were fulfilling their roles.
He walked into the room which was dark and comfortable. In the dim daylight, he saw John stretched out on the bed, naked. Michael stood at the end of the bed and began to remove his clothes: slowly, deliberately. He stepped out of his socks and he stood looking down at John. He leaned forward and got on the bed, crawling toward John and lay down beside him and John moved so they were facing each other. John said,
“Will Marcus be happy?”
Michael thought a moment, then said, before kissing John's shoulder, “I fear not. I fear his anger will get the best of him.”
John put his hands on the back of Michael's head as he was kissing his chin, licking the flesh of his neck and collarbones, sucking on his earlobe. John watched as his tongue traced a line from his jaw down to his right nipple which he took in his mouth and suckled, tasting the slight salt. John moaned very softy when he bit him gently, running the tip of his tongue around the head of the nipple.
John sat up and pulled Michal to him so they were sitting face to face, caressing each other. Michael brushed his hand down John's chest to his belly, running his fingers lightly over John's erection, then back up where he trailed his hand over his nipples.
Growling softly, John pushed Michael back on the bed, and leaned down and began to kiss the head of his cock, licking the little cleft at the end. Michael felt shivers of pleasure fun up his body and when John began to slide more of him into his mouth, he made a low sound, which caused him to put his hands on John's head and push so he went deeper into his mouth.
Michael began to breathe more heavily and the pressure of John's tongue on the underside of his length almost made him gasp. John sat up, licking his lips and said,
“I'm not finished with you yet.”
With a little grin, and leaned over to the side of the bed and then pulled up a little bottle.
Michael looked surprised and said, “What on earth?”
“It's oil...someone I knew in Edinburgh showed me...”
The end of the sentence hung in the air, and Michael found himself laughing. “Someone...I see. I'll have to ask you about him some day.”
John smiled, but didn't respond except to pour a little oil on his hand and rub it lightly on Michael's cock, who gasped and threw his head back. “Oh...that is something!”
John slid his hand on Michael for a moment, then drew his hand back and poured more oil on his fingers. He used his legs to force Michael's apart, then brought his slippery hand to the space under Michael's balls, then a little lower until his oiled finger slid into him, then two and as he explored him, he poured more oil right at the point where his flesh met Michael's and introduced a third.
John's fingers massaged him and stretched him, and he shut his eyes, concentrating on the sensation. Just when he could barely stand it, John pulled his fingers out and poured oil on his own cock, rubbing it in with a quick inhalation of breath. He pulled Michael's body to him resting the head of his cock just inside, just before being fully accepted.
He leaned forward and, supported on his hands, looked down at Michael and said, “I want to be inside you.”
Michael smiled and reached down, and grasped both of John's buttocks in his and pulled him in, past all resistance and any possibility of pain.
They were still for a moment, just gazing at each other. But Michael felt more insistent, and he pulled John's face to his just as John slowly thrust forward. He felt John enter him more fully, then he pulled back, then sliding in slowly again with excruciating patience.
Michael's legs were spread to the side as their lips met and John thrust forward again. With a series of slow movements of his hips, their mouths in contact, their tongues gently exploring each other, John kept his eyes on Michael and fucked him. Michael felt himself being explored – inside and out, feeling John's length go deeper and deeper, but still maintaining a slow repetition, a loving – he thought – repetition.
He felt John's hand move between them, then his cock was enveloped by John's hand and in tandem with his own thrusting into Michael, he slid Michael's cock through his fist, and the movements felt to Michael the same, that John inside him was the same as being held in John's hand. He felt John explore the end of his cock with his thumb, smearing the liquid that now poured out.
Michael closed his eyes to the sensations as he felt he couldn't take in any more, and allowed all the feelings in and on his body to flow. He felt something hypnotic, almost ritualistic and as he had this thought, he was aware that John's tempo had increased. He opened his eyes for a moment and John was still watching him and their lips met again but less accurately, as John's movement into him was causing his body to shift erratically.
John leaned back, his eyes still fixed on his, and said “Michael McLaren....I think I am in love with you.”
Michael's eyes filled, and he could find no words and the words he just heard in the midst of feeling himself almost impaled on John's cock he had not expected to hear in that moment, or even expected ever to hear at all. He reached up and took John's face in his hands and they resumed the kiss the seemed as if it had lasted for hours. And with John's words, his driving hips took on even more energy and Michael felt his body begin to smolder, then catch fire beginning at the place where John's hand clutched him, his hand gliding along the length of his aching cock.
He could hear John's breathing become shallow and rapid, and he knew that something in them both was about to become molten and aflame, and in that instant, John cried out, gasped with an almost animalistic sound and Michael felt John shudder, felt his whole body tremble into his most private self as his own cock burst, several streaks of his thick seed hitting his chin, and painting his chest. It all felt like some sort of consummation.
John continued to thrust forward, but slower and Michael felt wetness leaking from himself as much as he felt his entire chest coated.
John finally leaned back, still breathing heavily. He looked into Michael's eyes and smiled weakly. He slid backward, pulling himself gently out of Michael and laid on his back beside him. Michael felt stunned and yet wholly alive, every nerve in his body stimulated.
Michael finally found his voice, and said, “And I think the same thing about you. Falling, I mean. I suppose we are falling in love. Is that something we are entitled to? I think we must be...”
John was silent, still taking long shuddering breaths. He turned to Michael and kissed his neck and licked some of the salty liquid that lay in pools on his chest. “We are.”
They lay in silence for some time until Michael felt the liquid on him begin to dry and crust so he rose from the bed and found a cloth by the washstand and wiped himself off – backside and front. He gently wiped John's now soft penis then threw the cloth to the floor.
He heard John's voice say, “You had better lock the door. We don't want anyone any surprises.”
Michael rose unsteadily to his feet and pulled the bolt to and crawled back in the bed, where John pulled a soft blanket over them and they came together – John behind Michael, his front to Michael's back – and fell asleep almost instantly.
They spent the next day mostly in bed, dozing or exploring each other's bodies. They rose in the afternoon and bid farewell in front of the hotel. Michael felt sated, and happy, but at the same time concerned about Marcus and how he had seemed the night before. He walked slowly back to the residence hall, wondering how he would find him.
He was opening the door to his rooms when Marcus emerged from his. He looked tired to Michael, and clearly upset.
“Can we speak?” And without waiting for an answer he strode into Michael's rooms and sat on the bed.
Michael came in and sat at his desk, realizing he did not want to be too close to Marcus. He finally asked,“About what?”
Marcus seemed suddenly irritated. “I watched you two while we were doing what we did, and I wondered what kind of life you would have, the two of you.”
Confused, Michael didn't respond, wanting to hear more. When the silence continued, Marcus tried again. “I don't want to be like you. It is unnatural and hated by everyone”
Michael found his voice, saying “Not everyone, Marcus.”
“In any event,” he finally said, “I will not betray you. But I will not stoop any more to your level.”
There was a bitterness in Marcus' voice, an almost vicious righteousness. Underneath the words Michael could hear pain and he felt sadness wash over him and knew it was not his. It was the pain, he realized, of love that must rot where it lay with no one to receive it. He could see in Marcus' eyes that he, Michael, was the source of this pain. He wanted to reach out and take Marcus' hand, to soothe him.
He finally spoke, saying, “I'm sorry, Marcus.”
It was all he could say and Marcus' face almost broke apart, but took a ragged breath and with that, he stalked from the room. Michael sat for some time feeling the aching sadness for him, for all the men who felt they must relinquish hope in the face of a world that would only accept one sort of life.
Michale threw himself on his bed feeling exhausted. His whole body felt sad but at the same time it was the sadness of acceptance, that he had accepted what was true: for himself and for Marcus. And by doing so, could accept that he could think of no other life than with John. He dozed and did not dream.
When he awoke, he left his rooms in search of Stuart. He wanted to find different mood, a lighter touch.
Stuart was at his desk, reading, a half filled page of illegible writing in front of him. He looked up as Michael came in and a relieved smile came over his face. He stood and hugged him saying, “Oh thank God. I could bear this no longer. You are an angel.”
“I don't know about that, but I'm pleased I could be of service. Shall we find a pint?”
“Or perhaps more than one...” and with that he took his coat and muffler from the bed, wrapping himself up.
They walked along the quiet streets speaking of fellow students and of love - Stuart seemed to have a limitless appetite for the topic – sexual and otherwise. It was as if he had been waiting for someone to have these conversations with his whole life and, Michael realized, this was true. Of both of them.
