Frustrations of a Fly Half
It was the morning after dinner with the Ardens. Dean had headed out early for a rugby friendly with another team over in the London Amateur League at Hammersmith and Fulham RFC.
Jamie knew little of rugby but he routinely gazed at Dean and humoured him to carry on, discussing his passion. Jamie felt compelled, Dean accommodated so much of him and his ways, always willingly. The least he could do is nod enthusiastically at Dean’s excited summaries of matches.
Jamie would subtly grip the chair when sat listening to him, bite his lip at Dean’s recounting of his battles on the pitch. Dean was always lost in explanation, oblivious to what he was doing to Jamie.
“So yeah, I took him out.” Sigh. “He didn’t stand a chance, I’m pretty quick you know.” Grip. “I just fucking went for it, smashed him out the way. He couldn’t do anything.” Bite.
Fuck, he’s describing my ideal bed dynamics. Maybe I should go see this for myself. Jamie thought while struggling to keep his trousers on as Dean waxed lyrical.
A week after Paris, Jamie was pretty much moved in. The proceeding days were slow and painstaking to watch. Dean scooped him up when he was gingerly arranging books next to the bookcase. He had to say something. His patience ran dry.
“Jamie? What are you doing?” Dean felt his voice wobble. It was heartbreaking watching him being so ridiculously delicate about the space he was claiming. Please just come here and be yourself. I beg of you. I love you.
“Yeah? Huh? What? Is that ok?” Jamie crept toward him and rubbed his hands together like a nervous little insect.
“No, no it really isn’t.” Dean shook his head. Jamie’s face twitched delicately. For so long Dean had softly eased Jamie into situations and made sure he was comfortable. Now was not the time. He wanted Jamie settled and happy. Right now. One rare occasion where Dean’s understanding gave way to impatience, albeit delivered in a way Jamie would understand in some way. He hoped.
Dean went to the book case and grabbed a load of his own books and snatched them out, and put Jamie’s in their place. “De, Dean. You don’t have to do that. I can sell them if you’d like? I don’t want to make your place untidy with me. I’m not a very tidy person but I like my books, I like going places in them. I’m sorry. It’s how I’ve always been. Shall I go through the ones I absolutely want to keep or….” Jamie was now bunching his fists and his neck was tightening. Unravelling. Dean, tell me I’m doing things right for you.
Dean felt a wave of devastation almost drown him. He had to swallow hard. How does he feel so lost in the world, even here with me? I can’t get frustrated at you, you haven’t been given this chance before. I fucking love you.
Dean snapped round and grabbed Jamie by the shoulders and held his chin again. “Hey excuse me? Can you look at me?”
“Yeah?” Jamie assumed his safest position. Hands resting delicately on Dean’s thumbs. Eyes darting. Can we go through life like this please, he thought.
“This is your home now. I want you here. Every morning, every evening. Every bag. Every book. This is our space, not mine, not yours, ours. Spread yourself around. Don’t ever think you are some sort of inconvenience to me. Please be yourself here. Your books belong there, on that shelf, wherever you want. If they are part of how you soothe yourself, they’re the most important thing you’ve brought. And, thank you for sharing that with me, I feel like I learn about you everyday. You’re amazing. It’s wonderful the fact books make you feel that way. I’m not going to let you down, remember? Move in. Be messy. Be you. Be all of it, here in Notting Hill, with me.” He kissed Jamie’s forehead.
The strength of the kiss startled Jamie. He shivered. Like the kiss had physically changed him from then on. He’d take time, he’d explore, push himself, but he’d always be looking to Dean, can I? To which Dean would nod. Yeah, I’m here. Don’t worry.
These moments were alien but fast becoming Jamie’s favourite little intricate and perfectly complicated stitches in the tapestry they were weaving together. Their life was forming. He noticed he was finally enjoying the quiet parts of his head, slamming the door on the noise like a party he couldn’t stand to be at a moment longer. The peace was consuming, addictive, something actively sort. Finally.
That Saturday. Another dark one in late October, called for flannel pyjama trousers, a vest, huge blanket and another book. He’d finally mastered the barista machine and made a successful cappuccino. He smiled to himself as he carried the mug to the sofa and the milky foam wobbled brilliantly. “Well done Arden. We start with coffees, we’ll be at Moroccan Chicken in no time.” He raised his mug to the room in cheer and settled in.
Rain was patting the window. Britain slouched, dark and moody into Autumn and Winter from this point onward until Spring. Thankfully Christmas provides some literal light at the end of the tunnel. Jamie paused to think about Christmas. Where does he put his tree? Scrub that. Where should we put our tree? I’d love to put it in the balcony doorway. Our own little twinkling Eiffel Tower. He sank into the sofa at the thought.
Dean trudged from the tube station still in his kit. Irritated by the team’s performance. They lost. Dean walked toward the apartment, looking down at the pavement. Following the lines of cement to steady his thoughts. He’d trained all summer, the other players seemed to have filled up on beer and barbecues, caring less and less about what would be demanded of their bodies when the season came around. Then he smiled. I bet Jamie has a beautiful way of interpreting the loss. He has such a way with words. All of a sudden he sped up.
His frustration bubbled up again as he scaled the stone steps. He was Fly Half, responsible for pushing the team forward, thinking quickly, taking control when required. That was his role in other parts of his life too wasn’t it? He’d realised, he was actually exhausted. He’d fallen in love, the love who was waiting for him upstairs, work was going relentlessly well, family was healthy, as most millennials feel, it’s too much happy for one person. Surely?
Turning his key in the door he pushed it open. The comforting patter of Jamie’s feet coming toward him.
“Hello big boy. Oh gosh what’s happened? Dirty old man feel you up on the tube escalator again?” Jamie teased.
Dean laughed half heartedly. “Not this time. No we lost. I train hard all summer for this, it’s only amateur league but I love the game. The rest of the guys take advantage of the fact it’s not the real thing and spent the summer filling up on beer and burgers so their bodies gave out. Can’t people focus. Fuck’s sake.” He dropped his kit bag to the floor. Jamie went to hug him. “Babe, stay away, I’m soaking and stinking.”
“Well you’re my soaking and stinking so shut up and let me support you. Listen, you always tell me to stop apologising for being an optimist.” Here it is, Dean thought. Smiling out of Jamie’s view. “Well, ok they’ve let you down this morning, but isn’t it lovely that it’s possible that they did because they spent the summer with their families making memories? We did? Well fell in love. So they can have experiences too? They’re focussed Dean, they just have to focus on other things too. Don’t be mad at them. I find focus hard sometimes remember, people have weaknesses. We can’t all be strong like you. That’s why everyone looks to you, trusts you, loves you.” Jamie kissed his damp waves. God, that’s the best feeling. He sighed as the waves of hair tickled his lips.
“I know. I know. You always know what to say. I knew you would. I’m sorry for being a grouch. I just care.” Dean pulled Jamie to him, waist on waist.
Jamie slapped his damp chest. “Hey! Don’t apologise for caring. Just look for the positive a little more that’s all. You’re so muddy and warm.” Jamie lowered himself slowly. Faced with Dean’s mountainous thighs. He stroked them. Swollen from their work. Magnificent. “Your muscles are trembling, babe.”
“You need help getting out of this to go get clean. Don’t you think? Huh?” Jamie gazed up, as his tongue broke a crust of dirt on Dean’s knee. Dean grinned and nodded. Jamie pulled the shorts to Dean’s thighs. The wet, rough fabric scraping his thighs. Dean hissed and cupped Jamie’s head to his crotch.
“Oh Dean, you’re so hard already. You got worked up getting home to me didn’t you? I need to take care of you.” Jamie nuzzled the hot, smooth, black mound. His hunger piqued. Pulling Dean into his mouth greedily. Struggling with Dean’s thickness.
Dean’s frustrations turned to lust and desperation. Pulling hands through blonde hair. Smearing mud across Jamie’s angelic features. Jamie didn’t resist. He took it. Gladly.
Dean filled Jamie’s mouth. Holding him there. Letting every drop of angst out of him. Jamie would take care of it. Make him happy.
He let Jamie go. Jamie looked up. Proud, puffy and tears in his eyes. A problem solved. “Yeah get to the shower big boy. You stink.” Dean laughed and walked down the hall. Swaggering. Cocky.
It was a lazy Saturday. Napping in between pathetic attempts at staying awake for yet another murder documentary.
“Hey, isn’t it slightly disturbing that we can watch these all day and fall asleep as yet another body turns up? But tell us an animal is in danger and we sit with our eyes glued to the screen and blubbing like babies? Are we psychopaths?” Jamie tapped Dean’s cheek. Little pillow.
Dean snorted awake. “Huh, what? What’s happened? Are you ok?” Dean hugged his hands round Jamie’s waist, tight. Jamie sighed. The strength of him this close was almost overwhelming.
“Yes I’m ok. I was just asking if you think we’re psychopaths?” Jamie plunged his hand into Dean’s waves again. His favourite fidget toy.
Dean’s eyelash scraped against Jamie’s arm. He shuddered. “No baby, I’m not. You definitely are though.” Dean giggled. His body shook, Jamie eyes glided down his back to his behind. Mountains in grey fabric. Smooth, firm, with the most ridiculous wobble from the muscle shifting.
SLAP. Can’t resist. “Hey Archer. I know I’m unhinged, I don’t need you to tell me. Watch your back around here arsehole.” Jamie giggled to himself. Dean stopped laughing and gazed up.
“Fuck. Do that again. I’m serious.” Dean whispered, his behind contracting. Jamie had hit a nerve.
“Oh yeah? You liked that big boy?” Jamie palmed and kneaded Dean’s firm cheek. Fuck. Thank god for him and his cheeks.
“Uh hmm.”
SLAP.
“Fuck baby. You’re getting me going again. Since I’m already down here.” Dean pushed Jamie flat and pulled his pyjama shorts aside and delved into Jamie’s cheeks with his tongue. Jamie gripped the sofa, stubble and the dance of the tongue catching him completely off guard.
“Dean, oh my god. Keep doing that.” Jamie grabbed a handful of Dean’s hair roughly. Dean murmured at the affirmation. Good boy.
Dean’s lion like back arched and he slipped his fingers inside Jamie. Rough but precise. Clean strokes, get the job done. Dean couldn’t get enough, devouring Jamie. Tongue and digits fighting for dominance.
“Dean, babe, I’m gonna cum.” A hand slapped Jamie’s mouth closed. He snaffled a scream as Dean’s quick work forced a pool on his vest.
“There you are. Slap my arse again and I’ll shut you the fuck up. I can take on any psychopath. Maybe it’s you who needs to be careful of not being worn out by me.” Dean stood, tenting like a teenager, he grabbed Jamie’a chin and kissed him hard. Stubble rubbing lips. The sting. Possession. Playful. He reached and slapped Jamie’s behind and the same time. “I’m gonna go out and get some drinks for Harry’s tonight. Love you. Want anything?” He grinned, knowing he’d rendered Jamie unresponsive.
Jamie was speechless. Shaking his head, doe eyed. Very happily put in his place. He looked on as Dean grabbed his keys, shoved on his trainers and left the apartment, face covered in him. Fucking dirty boy. I love you. Yes. Yes Dean. Wear me out. Over and over.
Note: Apologies for the slight infrequency. I’ll be posting one to two chapters a week. Your patience is not taken for granted. Life is just busy!
I love writing this story. It’s a complex piece and I’m researching future chapters properly, but I’m enjoying exploring Dean and Jamie’s world. Especially Jamie’s. We all need to protect him. Let’s take our time before things get complicated.
I want to be respectful of Jamie’s mind and how he approaches the world. He’s not a problem and shouldn’t be underestimated. His diagnosis lets him see everything differently. Those with ADHD, I hope I’m doing a good job of not making him out to be a nuisance to everyone around him. From experience, it’s the most damaging thing for these people to feel.
Anyway, thank you for the comments, feedback and encouragement. We’re all in this one for the long haul hopefully. Stay with me!
