Brad Balmain lost his best friend in Afghanistan 8 years ago and had been alone ever since. Happy playing the field and with no expectations of ever meeting that special person. Then on the eve of Christmas along comes Alex Mandon.
“Well at least it has stopped raining”. Brad said to the headstone.
It had rained all morning. Though it had stopped now. It always rained in Blackpool, a large seaside town on the northwest coast of England; The clouds were gray and heavy. Threatening more rain.
The bright white headstone made of Portland limestone, stood out against the other dull and aged headstones in the graveyard. It was the only one like it and as such was impossible to miss, the name on the headstone read Peter Thomas Smith. Private of the Duke of Lancaster's Regiment. Born 1996 deceased 2016. Rest in peace.
Peter Smith or Smithy had been Brad's best friend ever since they had met on the first day of School, they lived next door to each other, grew up together, had learnt together, played together, got into trouble together, went through puberty together, and went through girlfriends and boyfriends together.Then on Smithy’s 17th birthday. He told Brad he was going into the Army. He had asked Brad if he wanted to join as well. Brad refused and remembered the conversation as if it were yesterday.
“Happy birthday Smithy”. Brad said as he handed over a card and gift. They hugged momentarily.
“Cheers Bradders”.
“Well open them then.”
As Brad looked at Smithy he got the feeling there was something wrong, there was a look of apprehension in Smithy’s eyes. A tightness around the edges of his blue eyes that were usually so bright and sparkling.
The 2 boys sat down on Smithy’s bed. He opened the card first, it had a picture of a foaming pint of beer sitting on a table in a pub. Inside the message simply read Happy Birthday, underneath in Brad's untidy scrawl he had simply written to Smithy from Bradder’s.
“Thanks Bradder’s,” Smithy said, placing the card on his bedside cabinet.
Smithy then slowly unwrapped the silver paper, making sure not to rip it. He had always been meticulous in everything he did, his handwriting had always been neat, his clothes folded neatly in draws and hung just so in his wardrobe. Everything, neat and orderly. Just like his Dad Tom. His dad had once been in the army and been in Northern Ireland on more than one occasion. Neatness was his dad’s middle name and some of it Smithy must have inherited.
“Oh cool. Definitely Maybe by Oasis”. Smithy stood and put the cd into his cd player. The first track, Rock n Roll star blasted out of the speakers.
“I knew you never got your copy back from that party, so I bought you a new one”. Brad said loudly over the noise.
“Awesome”.
The 2 boys led back on Smithy’s double bed that filled his small bedroom and let the music wash over them as they listened. Hands resting behind their heads and legs crossed at the ankles.
“Bradder’s?”
“What?”
“I’ve something to tell you”.
“Got Kirsty up the duff?” Brad asked lightheartedly.
“Dickhead. No I haven’t got Kirsty up the Duff, as you so succinctly put it. Well, you know I'm due to go back to college in a couple of weeks?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“What would you say if I told you I wasn’t going back to college, that I’d decided to do something else instead?”
Brad unfolded his hands and sat up looking directly at Smithy.
“What will your dad think? You're not thinking of becoming a male escort are you?”
“No stupid, this is serious, let me finish before you go making glib remarks”.
“Sorry. Pray continue”. Brad replied, leaning back onto the headboard and closing his eyes.
Smithy sat up and looked at Brad. The movement made Brad open his eyes. He frowned as he looked back at his best friend.
“What’s troubling you buddy. You know you can tell me anything”.
Smithy got up and sat on the edge of the bed facing away from Brad.
“I’m going into the army”. Smithy said suddenly.
“Your what?” Exclaimed Brad in alarm. Suddenly sitting up.
“I’m joining the army. The Duke of Lancaster's regiment to be exact”.
For a short while the only sound was the loud music, Brad suddenly felt like it was too loud, he kept silent and was unsure of what to say. He wasn’t surprised by Smithy’s confession, after all his dad had been in the army. That’s where he had met his future wife, Smithy’s mum. He wasn’t even surprised, not really, but he was shocked.
“Speak to me Bradder’s. Say something”.
Brad got up and walked around the bed sitting next to his best friend and put his arm around him.
“I’m not angry with you Smithy, I could never be that. After all, you were the first person I told I was gay. You stood by my side while my parents came around, telling me they would come around eventually. Which they did. I’m happy for you. We tell each other everything. No secrets. I’m shocked, that's all. It’s just a bolt out of the blue”.
“No secrets”. Replied Smithy. “You’re the first person I’ve told. I haven’t even told my parents yet”.
“You think they will be happy with your decision?”
“Dad will be ok. Mum I’m not sure about. But at the end of the day I’m 17 I can do what I want”. Brad glanced at his friend.
“When did you decide?”
“I went to the recruiting office last week. My final decision was made yesterday. I’m going to sign the papers tomorrow”.
“Wow, so soon. When will you leave for initial training?”
“Not sure, a couple of weeks I suppose”.
Brad rested his head on his best friend's shoulder.
“I’m going to miss you. You know that don’t you?”
“I’ll miss you too, Bradders. We’ve been together all our lives, hardly a day goes by without us seeing each other. Why don’t you come with me tomorrow? You know, join up with me?”
Brad laughed out loud.
“Me? a gay 17 year old boy going into the army. I don’t think so. They’d make mincemeat out of me, it’s hard enough on the building sites I work on”.
Smithy looked hurt. “But we’ve always done everything together. Best buddies, no secrets. Won’t you at least consider it?”
Brad turned his head, looking away and pulled his arm from around his best friend.
“No, I could never join up. I’m a lover not a fighter. The army is in your family. Your grandad was in the war. Your father was in the army as well. Now you're joining the family trade, so to speak. My dad is a brickie and so am I. The army, no never. Sorry Smithy”.
“Your grandad was in the war wasn’t he”. Smithy asked suddenly.
“Yes he was in the Canadian army, came over for d-day, met grandma after the war in a UK hospital and never went home”. He never wanted dad to join up, so he didn’t. My parents would be shocked if I did”.
“You won’t consider it. I can’t convince you?”
“No. Don’t get me wrong, I will miss you. I will miss your fastidiousness. Your smile, your happy eyes. I will miss you so much. But everything has to come to an end sometime, right?”
“You make it sound like you fancy me”.
“Me, fancy an ugly bleeder like you, as if.” Brad replied, giving out a nervous laugh.
“I’m hurt.” Smithy put his hand on his heart and laughed as well. Brad looked at his best friend he would miss so much. They led back onto the bed and fell into companionable silence, apart from the loud music filling the room, not another thing was said.
Brad blinked, he looked at the Red Roses in his hand, he gently placed them on the floor, he touched the headstone in reverence and bowed his head. Closing his eyes momentarily. Twice a year he visited this place. Once on Smithy’s birthday, the 17th August to be precise, and once near Christmas. And he always placed a wreath on the local cenotaph around the 11th November each year with one word written on it, Smithy. Today was Monday the 23rd December. He wouldn’t come here again until next August. It wasn’t as if he didn’t enjoy coming here. Well he didn’t, not really, he came here to remember his best friend. Lost in a war, fighting to protect Democracy, so the government of the day had said. Whether that was true or not Brad didn’t know or care. All he knew was that war claimed the life of his best friend. Blown up by a landmine. It hurt like a wound that could never heal. Always there, always festering. The pain was a part of him, just like his heart or his hands; it was always a part of him.
Brad opened his eyes and blinked away the tear that was forming, he stood touching the headstone in reverence once again.
“I was wrong that day, you know”. Brad said to the headstone. “The day of your 17th birthday. I lied when I said I didn’t fancy you. I did you know, fancy you I mean. Though I couldn’t tell you that. You were going out with that Kirsty. I’ve always wondered what you would’ve done or said if I had been truthful with you. If I hadn't been a coward and had plucked up the courage to tell you I fancied you. I should have tried to persuade you not to join up. You wouldn’t have died so young in a pointless war in a faraway land. Kirsty by the way, married a guy from Milton Keynes. An estate agent I think, lives down that way somewhere now. She never missed you as much as I do. I just thought I’d tell you that. Anyway goodbye old friend, see you in August. No secrets”
Brad stood brushing the dirt off his knees, turned and walked away. Past the granite colored headstones, some blackened with age, the inscriptions faded and impossible to read. Others turned green with lichen. Some upright like soldiers, others at an angle and yet others flat on the ground. Walking down the gravel path that crunched beneath his feet, hands in his pockets, head bowed, ignoring the grass that hadn’t been cut since summer, making the place look untidy and unkempt. Past bare trees, damp because of the rain. Here and there litter fluttered about in the unseasonably warm breeze.Through the gates and onto the footpath of the dual carriageway, where he stopped and lit a roll up cigarette before walking onward towards his home.
He stopped outside the local shop and stood there momentarily, then entered. It was only small and even on the afternoon of the 23rd December was quiet, much quieter than the large Tescos on the edge of the estate. The small interior was gaudily decorated with Christmas decorations. Shelves full to bursting with provisions, carrying a small basket he picked up goods he thought he would, A loaf of bread, milk and a small bag of potatoes.
“Bugger it” he muttered and threw in a pack of mince pies, a small sweet pie filled with a mixture of fruit, suet and spices. Though originally in medieval times filled with mincemeat hence the name.
A neighbor of Brads worked in the shop 4 or 5 days a week, and was working behind the till. Wearing a flowery tabard over a blue uniform. Shirley Mandon was a pretty woman in her 40s, light brown hair, with green eyes and an upturned mouth, she always seemed to be smiling.
“Hello Brad, how are you today”. Said Shirley smiling.
“Oh you know, I’m ok I suppose. Just been to Smithy’s grave, it always upsets me you know”.
Shirley’s smile turned into a frown momentarily. She packed Brad’s goods into a bag as she spoke.
“It was a shame what happened to that lad. Of course Doug and I hadn’t been here long and Alex was just leaving school, so we didn’t know him that well, but we went to the funeral all the same. £6.20 please”.
Brad tapped his card on the card reader. “He was my best friend. I still miss him, I suppose I always will”. He looked solemnly at Shirley.
“I know love”. Shirley said sympathetically. “ It never leaves, though it will ease eventually”. She handed Brad the bag.
“Anyway, have a good Christmas if I don’t see you before won’t you. Are you going to your parents again”?
“No not this year, I’m on my own. Mum and Dad have gone to my sisters down in London. So I'm on my own”.
“Oh that is a shame. It’s never good being on your own, especially at Christmas”.
“I don’t mind really. I get to do what I want, when I want. No hassle”.
“Oh well you're always welcome to pop over if you feel like it”.
“Thankyou. Merry Christmas Shirley”. Tiring of the conversation Brad made for the door. He didn’t want to seem rude but sometimes he felt that Shirley could be a bit much, a touch full on, though she always meant well.
“Merry Christmas Brad.” Shirley shouted after him. The shop buzzer sounded as he closed the door behind him.
Brad wandered up the hill back towards his house. He didn't need to walk, he had a car and it was over a mile, to and from the cemetery, but he decided that the walk would do him good, so what if it started raining again. He would just get wet, wouldn’t be the first time and definitely won’t be the last.
As he walked he looked at the houses. Some festooned in different colored fairy lights and inflatable Santas climbing the wall. Nearly all had Christmas trees in their front window. The street was quiet with hardly any traffic on the road apart from the dual carriageway which was further to his left, which was always busy. Probably with shoppers driving to and from town, shopping for Gifts and food for the big day, which was only a couple of days away. Though it didn’t feel like Christmas, the weather was rainy and unseasonably warm, not cold and frosty with snow deep and crisp and even like in the songs or stories written about Christmas, thank fuck for that. mused Brad.
A figure walking towards him caught his eye, it was difficult to tell who it was, probably someone he didn’t know anyway. Brad stopped momentarily to light another roll up watching the figure walking towards him, hand in pockets and his hood up huddled against the non existent rain.
The figure wasn’t watching where he was going, his eyes seeming glued to the floor. It was obvious to Brad the unknown person was going to bump into him. As the figure approached Brad stepped aside to let them pass, even though Brad had stepped to one side the figure still brushed his shoulder.
“Oh sorry”. A voice said. The person stopped and lowered his hood. It was Shirley Mandon’s son Alex.
“That’s ok, no harm done”. Brad replied, smoking his roll up. “Where are you off to anyway?”
“Oh hi Brad, I’m off to the shop. I’m making tea tonight. Spaghetti bolognese and I’ve no spaghetti”.
He looked at the young man in front of him, in reality he was only 4 years younger than Brad. His dark brown hair was fashioned in the latest short fluffy style, his eyes were dark,and he had gorgeous high cheekbones, his mouth was full and very kissable. His body was perfect, he could tell that even in his baggy hoodie and snug fitting black jeans, with a pair of pristine white trainers. Alex caught him staring.
“You ok Brad? You look a bit flushed”.
“Wha.. oh yeah, sorry, I was miles away. It’s been a tough day. I’ve been to Smithy’s grave to lay some flowers. It takes it out of me, you know?”
“It must be hard to lose a best friend like that, I can’t begin to understand how you must feel”. Alex looked sympathetically at Brad.
Brad flushed again and looked down at his feet and the dirty old trainers he was wearing.
“It's hard, you know. I hope you never go through the same thing. And promise me one thing”. Brad looked back up at Alex.
“I’ll try”.
“Never join the army. You’re too beautiful to do that”. Brad suddenly realized what he had just said”. “Oh fuck, sorry Alex, I didn’t mean.. I mean you are. But.. but. Oh fuck I’m making a fool of myself aren’t I”. Brad ran his hands over his head and went red In embarrassment, smoking rapidly with smoke billowing all around him.
Alex blushed as well. “It's fine Brad, honestly. I take it as a compliment. And coming from someone as handsome as you, makes me feel”. Alex stopped talking,blushing even more.
“Now I’m even more embarrassed than you”. Alex gave an embarrassed laugh and shuffled his feet, looking down at his trainers. For a moment there was silence. Neither knew just what to say next. Alex spoke again.
“Well it’s been good to chat but I guess I should be going to the shop”. He said pointing in the general direction of the shops.
“Yeah and I’d better go too”… Brad pointed in the direction of home. “It's been good to chat”.
“ Yeah, bye Brad.”
“Bye Alex”.
Alex wandered off. Brad watched as Alex walked away. He looked down at his roll up. Which had literally burnt to a stub, he flicked it away and looked at Alex’s behind in his snug fitting jeans that fitted him, perfectly.
“Wow what I wouldn’t do to that”. Brad muttered to himself. Suddenly Brad knew what he needed to do to cheer himself up. He walked briskly back home.
As soon as Brad had got home he went onto Grindr to look for a hookup. After a short while he found what he was looking for. A young man in his early 20’s. They chatted for a bit and the young man agreed to come round at about 8pm. Brad smiled to himself. “Bring on the boogie”. He muttered rubbing his hands together, his mood lifting considerably.
Brad climbed out of the shower, and dried himself off. It was now dark and raindrops made a spattering sound on the window pane. He wiped the condensation from the bathroom mirror and looked at himself. Blue eyes looked back at him, set in a strong square jawline with very little in the way of wrinkles on his face, he moisturized regularly because he didn’t want to be like the rest of the brickies he knew that had weathered faces, aged before their time. He wanted to stave that off as long as possible.
“No I won’t shave”. Brad mused rubbing his stubble, he walked into his bedroom. He looked at the reflection in his full length mirror on his wardrobe. He was 6ft tall with blue eyes, his hair was light brown and cut short. His body was fit, through work and trips to the gym with only a light dusting of chest hair and a happy trail beneath his naval. His legs and thighs were strong.
“ Alex told me im handsome”.Brad said, smiling to himself. He turned round and looked at his firm bum and gave it a playful slap. He then looked around his bedroom to make sure it was perfect for tonight. He’d cleaned it before he’d showered. Clean sheets were on the bed, towel, condoms and lube handy and ready to go. The walls were gray and the ceiling painted white, with a cream carpet on the floor. A tv was mounted on the wall, a white wardrobe and 2 bedside cabinets with lamps.and a set of draws were the only other furniture in the room. He donned a dressing gown, switched off the light and walked downstairs to wait for his guest.
A knock at the door told Brad his hookup had arrived. He silently walked to the front door, the only sound was the hum of the gas boiler keeping his house snug and warm. Opening it he found that the rain had stopped again and a young man in his early twenties with short brown hair, gray green eyes, a cute round face and he stood about 5 ft 10in. Wearing gray sweatpants and a gray hoodie with dark trainers standing there.
Brad smiled. “Hello fun 04”.
The Young man smiled back.“Hi fit brickie”.
Brad momentarily glanced up to his neighbors window. Seeing the curtains twitch had caught his eye. He inwardly smiled, and ignored the young man opposite. That’s a problem for another day. He would love to hook up with his neighbor's son, but it wouldn’t be right would it?
“Come in. My name's Brad by the way”. Brad stepped aside and let his guest in.
“Oscar”.
“Well Oscar, shall we get on with it or get to know each other first?” This is what Brad lived for a quick hookup. No preamble, no Romance, just quick sex with no hassle.
“Let’s get on with the horizontal cha cha”. Oscar replied with a knowing wink and a glint in his eye.
“Right this way”. Brad walked upstairs and into his bedroom. With Oscar following quickly behind.
Brad's heart started to beat faster, adrenaline and testosterone pumping through his veins. His excitement mounting, he liked what he saw, a handsome and sexy young man ripe for a good sex session. He hoped Oscar liked what he was looking at as well.
Brad turned and dropped his dressing gown to the floor. Oscar had already taken off his hoodie, revealing a slim, hairless but fit upper body with light definition. They moved towards one another, lips meeting tongues entwining in an erotic kiss. Brad wrapped his arms around the younger man dominating the kiss, running his hands up Oscar’s body. And cupped hands on his cheeks. Oscar moaned.
Brad's naked hardness rubbed against Oscar’s clothed one. Brad maneuvered Oscar closer to the bed and pushed. Oscar bounced on the bed, blushing wantonly.
Brad pulled off Oscar’s trainers, socks and finally his sweatpants. Revealing Oscar in all his naked glory.
“I want you”, Brad breathed lustily. Looking down at the younger man.
“Youre hot, Fuck me Daddy.” Oscar replied, his voice heavy, “claim me”.
Oscar maneuvered himself on the bed, and Brad placed a pillow underneath Oscar’s hips. He kissed him again and lifted Oscar’s legs into the air. Revealing a cute rosebud. Brad groaned, and brushed a finger against it lightly, which made Oscar quiver.
“Hold your legs up baby. I want to rim you, if that’s ok”.
“Fuck yeah, I’m yours daddy”.
Brad went down on Oscar. Licking and lapping at his rosebud. Occasionally licking Oscar’s leaking head, lapping on his precum, or his hairless ball sac. Groans from Brad’s guest spurred him on, he went down on Oscar again driving the young man nuts. Brad was careful though, not to go too fast, taking his time. He wanted Oscar to enjoy himself and he didn’t want this to be a quick fuck, then go. He wanted this to last a while.
Brad rolled on a condom and reached for the lube that had been waiting on the bedside table. He flipped open the lid and squeezed an amount onto his finger and then onto Oscar’s waiting hole, letting the bottle drop. He rubbed his fingers together and looking at Oscar’s rosebud slowly but surely inserted a finger, moving it in and out slowly, almost too slowly, Oscar moaned and shivered. Another finger followed, more finger fucking and finally after a while a third finger, which made Oscar groan, Brad waited.
“Ready baby?” Brad asked.
“Fuck me. Fuck me till I cum”. Oscar replied.
“My pleasure”. Brad lubed himself up, aimed himself at Oscar’s waiting hole and pushed ever so slowly, inch by inch. Stopping and waiting when Oscar got uncomfortable. Then he pushed slowly home, till he was balls deep, inside his young guest.
He pulled slowly out halfway and pushed back in. Slowly ever so slowly building up a rhythm, slowly over time Brad made love to Oscar, making sure he was a consummate lover, reaching down to kiss him as he thrust slowly in and out. Adding more lube, all the time Oscar leaking precum like a tap. Brad increased his pace by a miniscule amount, adding lube to Oscar’s manhood, and slowly mastubated his Young lover in time with his thrusts.
Oscar was making cute little whimpers, his eyes lidded.
“Enjoying that baby?” Asked Brad.
“Oh yeah, harder, fuck me harder”.
Brad did so, upping his pace, thrusting into him, sweat beading on his brow, a look of concentration on his face, in the zone, making it as enjoyable as possible for both him and Oscar.
Oscar reached up and ran his finger nails up and down Brad's abs, making him shiver.
“So fit daddy.”
It was all Brad could do not to slam right into the young man. And then for some unexplainable reason for a split second a picture of Alex came to Brad’s mind as he plowed Oscar, Brad blinked and lost concentration momentarily, reached over and brushed the young man’s cheek. He mustn’t lose concentration, he had no idea where the picture of Alex in his head had come from, though it had disappeared just as quickly. ‘Get a grip Brad’. He mentally chastised himself.
“You’re incredible, Oscar, such a beauty”. Brad then reached down and kissed his younger lover. Oscar replied in kind, while Brad pushed himself and hopefully Oscar to new heights of ecstasy.
Both young men were reaching their climax. Brad took his hand off Oscar’s manhood, Oscar took over, and masturbated himself in time to Brad's thrusts.
“I’m so close, keep going”. Oscar breathed.
“So am I”. Brad replied, his voice was heavy. He spured himself on with a determined look on his face. Both men were groaning, perspiring. Oscar climaxed first with a loud long groan, spurting a large amount of semen onto his abs and chest, throwing his head from side to side.
“Fuuck” Oscar breathed. His chest heaved after the exertion. He opened his eyes and looked at Brad who was close to his own climax.
“Come on, cum for me Daddy”.
Brad thrust deeper into the man underneath him.
“I’m so close. Oh fuck here it comes”. Brad climaxed with an elongated shout.
“ALEEEX”. And came inside his condom.
Brad pulled out, pulled off the condom, tied it off and threw it in the bin with practiced ease, collapsed onto the bed beside Oscar. His chest heaving, covered in sweat. He mopped his brow with an arm and looked at Oscar, who was looking at him with a perplexed look on his face.
“Who’s Alex?”
“Alex?”
“Yeah Alex. You shouted his name as you came”.
“Did I”.
“Don’t give me that bullshit. You know exactly what I’m talking about”. Said Oscar as he glanced at Brad.
Brad gave a nervous laugh, he sat up and looked at Oscar. Who turned and looked right back at him.
“Why should it matter anyway? It’s not as if we’re in a relationship. It’s just a hookup, a one night stand. Does it actually matter if I shouted Someone else’s name?”
Oscar stood. “Matter? Of course it fucking matters. I was hoping we could see each other again. You're hot. But I get the feeling you’re already with someone. Someone called Alex and you’re cheating on him”.
“I’m single. I’ve no idea who this Alex is, I don’t know anyone called Alex”.Brad half lied.
“Bullshit. I was going to shower but I will wait till I get home, I’m not spending another minute with a lying cheat like you”. Oscar reached for the towel and wiped himself clean of semen and sweat, finally throwing the towel at Brad, hitting him in the face with it.
Brad said nothing, he just looked on as Oscar dressed holding the towel that had hit him in the face.
Oscar walked out of the bedroom and down the stairs Brad followed, reaching the door, Oscar turned.
“You lying, cheating bitch”. Oscar spat. He slapped Brad's Cheek with a loud clap. Brad held his cheek, not knowing what to say. Oscar left flouncing down the short drive to his waiting car, Brad watched in silence as he drove off, finally closing the door and walking back upstairs switching lights off as he went.
After he’d showered, he got into bed but couldn’t sleep. Brad sat up, the only light was the dull street light outside, leaving only a dullness in the room that left long shadows, his mind full of thoughts. He wasn’t worried about Oscar, he had simply overreacted, what worried him was why he couldn’t get Alex out of his mind. He’d known him for years since he was 16, ok he was a good looking young man and would love to hook up with him, but wouldn’t he’d too much respect for Alex’s parents, and wouldn’t be able to look them in the eyes if he did.
Where did that picture in his mind come from? Ok it went just as suddenly. And then to top it off, he’d shouted Alex’s name when he climaxed, his mind was foggy on that point though. He was going by what Oscar said. He wouldn’t lie about that would he? It must be true, but why did he shout Alex’s name in the height of passion like that? Oscar told him, he would have seen him again, that he was hot, no Oscar must be telling the truth. That explains why he got so angry, he thought he lived with Alex and that he was cheating on him. Did Oscar know Alex? One thing was for certain. If he lived with Alex he would never cheat.
That thought paused another problem. Where had that come from and why. He’d never thought about living with Alex before. Ok he’d thought, even had fantasies about hooking up with him. But he couldn’t do that. Alex had told him he was handsome, but only after Brad had, by mistake, told Alex he was beautiful, was it a mistake though? He was definitely beautiful, confident and intelligent. He wasn’t sure what he did for a living. All he knew was he went to university in Manchester for a couple of years, came back and started a job almost instantly. He still lived at home, he wasn’t even sure of his age 23 or 24, or so he thought.
“Why are you in my head Alex? What is this? Love at first sight? Or chat as the case maybe.” He sighed, turned and looked at the time. 2 minutes after midnight.
“It's Christmas Eve. Merry fucking Christmas. That hookup was meant to cheer me up. But I just feel empty. Get a fucking grip man. It’s just a hookup gone wrong, it happens”. Brad sighed again and slid down the bed.
“I know a way to get to sleep”. He closed his eyes and thought, thoughts about what he would do to Alex, as though he was in the room with him.
End of Chapter 1.
