Eternally North

by Tillie Cole

  “Raquel happened during that time and capitalised on the fling, she practically prostitutes herself out to other actors to increase her own profile, and I, the drunken sucker that I was, fell straight into her malicious trap. I actually have no memory of that night. I just woke up the next morning in her bed, both of us naked. It makes me sick even thinking about it.

  “I'm no longer that lost guy, Tash. But I do have certain troubles following me, but I’m working on them. Some I can control, others I can’t. But you will never be harmed, not if I can help it."

  I leaned in and kissed him passionately, reassuring him. "Thank you for telling me that."

  He shrugged. "Anything to keep you. I feel like you're always one revelation from slipping away, that one day I'll wake up and you'll be done with me, with us, that you will get sick of this life and sick of what being with me entails, and I'm not only talking about the fame shit, at the moment that’s the easy part.

  “When we were just friends, the thought of not seeing you again gave me chills, but now that you’re finally mine…" he turned his head away from my view.

  I nudged his arm playfully and pulled him in for a hug. "You're stuck with me, babes, just deal with it! Plus, my va-jay-jay was pissed at me for my self-imposed celibacy over the past ten months and I’ll tell you now, she ain’t gonna be too happy if I withdraw the extremely-bankable Tudor-deposits she’s received of late. I think she might actually shut down if I do, so you’re good for a little while longer while my foof gets her fill.”

  His mouth dropped open, for a few seconds before barking out in hysterics, causing a deep rumbling echo around the ridge.

  “Now, let’s go. I’ll race you back down the hill, emo-boy,” and I took off, running to the footpath, squealing as I heard Tudor chasing behind me.

  He caught me at the bottom and spun me around, making me dizzy. He was laughing so hard. When I shouted “Mercy”, he placed me down in front of him and kissed me slowly, his hands braced on my head.

  He broke the kiss and walked in front of me, then bent down slightly and looked back. “Hop on.”

  Well, he didn’t have to ask me twice! I took a run, and jumped onto his back and he hoisted me up into a piggy-back. I wrapped my arms around his neck and laid a loud smack of a kiss on his cheek.

  I loved this playful side of Tudor. He began running, making me bounce around and nearly caused me to fall off his back. We were laughing so much that we didn’t notice the group of teenage girls just in front of us, eyes glued to our little game. Tudor held on to my legs firmly and edged around the girls, heading in the direction of the Jeep. We heard some gasps and giggling, but Tudor kept his stride fast and never looked back. I did sneak a glance however, and noticed several iPhones being played with, but none pointing were in our direction, so I assumed we’d got by unrecognised.

  We made it back to the car as the sun began to set over the hazy mountains, and Tudor opened the door for me to slip inside. He jumped in the driver’s seat and leaned over to peck my cheek, seeming somewhat lighter than a few hours before. The engine roared to life, and we pulled away from the parking lot at lightning speed.

  As we were driving out of the exit I saw him smirking. “What are you so smiley about?”

  He cast a smarmy look my way. “The day is almost done. I gave you the day to recover.”

  I felt the butterflies in my stomach and squirmed on the heated seat. Seeing this, he placed a hand on my upper thigh, teasing me further. I sighed in frustration. “Tudor?”

  “Mmm-hmm?” He pretended to be unaffected.

  “Drive faster!”

  “Yes, Ma'am!”

  The elevator ride was a blur, and I have no recollection of actually parking the jeep or opening the condo door. I do, however, remember Tudor shredding my outerwear at a ridiculously fast pace, pushing me against the wall and yanking down my jeans and underwear.

  “Tudor, what–?”

  “Here, now. The bedroom can wait,” he demanded.

  His jeans and boxers joined my discarded clothing on the floor, and I pictured in my head what we must look like: our top halves partially clothed, bottom halves naked, Tudor’s bare arse on display and my thighs wrapped tightly around his waist, guiding him straight towards me.

  Before I could argue, Tudor took me against the hard wall, my shoulder blades burning from the friction. He showed his strength by lifting me over and over while kissing me roughly, causing me to moan loudly.

  I zoned out, lost in the crazy wall-sex, and didn’t notice the front door opposite fling open. “Honey I’m hom-! Arghhhhh!!! What the hell!!!”

  I opened my eyes and looked straight at a shell-shocked Tink.

  Shit!

  I frantically tapped Tudor’s shoulder. “Tudor, stop, stop!”

  He hadn’t heard the squealing fairy and carried on regardless, his jerky hip movements tilting with perfect aim, making me groan and roll my eyes back in pleasure, determined to make me scream.

  “My eyes, my eyes! I can’t see! I’m blind, blind, I tell you, blind!” wailed Tink as he ran past us and into the living area.

  Tudor heard that one and stilled, meeting my horrified eyes. “Tash? Shit! Is that Tink?”

  I nodded quickly. I wriggled loose from Tudor’s hold and bent to grab my jeans, throwing them on as quickly as I could, trying to ignore the persistent howling coming from the sofa. Tudor did the same, blushing profusely in embarrassment at being caught.

  In the living room, I stood before the dramatic Geordie queen thrashing about on a mound of pink silk cushions.

  “Oh, my Gods of glitter! My eyes are ruined by that hetero-horror scene! How will I ever remove the images? I’m going to have nightmares for months. I need therapy! Get me a doctor!” He raised his head from the throw cushion and saw me standing there, arms folded, tapping my foot. “And he’s paying for it.” Tink continued, pointing exaggeratedly towards Tudor.

  “My delicate eyes can’t handle what I’ve just seen. Get the eye drops; I need to wash away the straight! Arghhh! How can I go on…?" He sat up abruptly, looking around the room at a frantic pace, and started retching. "Quick somebody show me a picture of Channing Tatum, check I’m still gay!”

  “Okay, enough!” I shouted.

  Tink stood and stomped past me to the kitchen, knocking my shoulder with his as he passed. He withdrew the industrial-sized bottle of anti-bacterial spray from the cupboard and practically sprinted towards the recently abused wall, spraying frantically at the paintwork.

  Tudor stealthily moved to stand next to me, pulling my back to his chest and laid his chin on my shoulder, watching the show. Tink turned, one hand on his hip, and marched toward us.

  Staring me straight in the face, he stopped, raised his perfectly-waxed HD eyebrow and proceeded to spray my crotch with Dettol, until I knocked the bottle out of his hands.

  “What are you doing?!!!” I screeched, trying to shake off the excess liquid from my nether regions.

  His arms flailed in the air. “Me??? I’m trying to sanitise this rancid sex pit! Now get to the shower, missy. I have a bumper pack of douches waiting on you!”

  He began pulling at my arm to get me out of Tudor’s grip.

  “Hey!” Tudor reached back out and tugged me back towards him.

  Tink jerked at my other arm more vigorously. “Back off you big anabolic steroid, she needs fumigating due to the salty invasion of your Herman Von Long-schlong!”

  Tudor snatched me back, putting himself in front of my chest. “Are you being serious?” He swerved back to me. “Is he being serious?”

  I sighed. “Unfortunately, yes.”

  I walked around to Tudor's side, just in time to see Tink reach behind him for the remote control and fall back into a fencing position, challenging my new lover: remote arm out, left arm in the air. “Come on, you bulky bull, I’ll take you. En garde!”

  Tink began shuffling his feet forward and Tudor just stood lock still, absolutely dumbfounded at Tink’s standar
d over-the-top-antics.

  The fencing fairy lunged forward and began stabbing relentlessly at Tudor’s hard stomach with the end of the remote, his only accomplishment being to turn the TV on and off at an alarming speed.

  Tudor was watching Tink in amazement as he made ‘Hi-yah!' sounds and twisted his wrists to vary his shots and angles. I walked behind the prancing idiot, picked him up by the waist and spun with him in my arms, dumping him on the couch.

  “Wil, you bitch!” Tink shrilled, jumping up and storming off to his room, but not before stabbing me in the thigh with the remote.

  “Owww, witch! What the hell?” I seethed.

  He put on a cocky smile from his doorway. “Not sorry, porky!" he yelled, and flipped me his middle finger, before slamming the door shut with gusto.

  I groaned and dropped down onto the couch, joined seconds later by Tudor. “What the hell just happened?” he asked in disbelief.

  I looked straight ahead and shrugged. “Tink's pissed; he finds straight sex offensive to his delicate disposition.”

  “Wow,” whispered Tudor.

  I nodded silently. We sat there for about five minutes before either of us spoke.

  “What do we do now?” Tudor asked, stroking my cheek.

  I patted his thigh. “Oh, just sit tight, His Majesty will be making a second appearance soon enough. This is far from over. He likes to keep us waiting to make his finale all the more dramatic.”

  He moved closer and laid his head on my lap. “Well, I’m settling in for the night then.”

  I stroked his head, staring at the fireplace.

  After an hour of waiting for His Royal Highness to come out of his grand chamber, Tinkerbell finally breezed into the living area, chin tilted high, coming to a stop directly in front of us. Tudor had fallen into a light sleep, and I was still caressing his head on my lap.

  "Babes, wake up, Tink is ready to read us the riot act," I whispered quietly whilst shaking his shoulder lightly.

  Tink waved his hand around dismissively in response to me calling Tudor 'Babes'. As if he could talk – Pookie and Tater-Tot, really?

  Tudor got up slowly, all sorts of gorgeous as he wiped the sleep from his eyes with both hands. Once he had pulled himself around, he took my hand and quickly pecked a kiss to my mouth, then sat back, awaiting the expected rant. Tink watched the little display of affection, his mouth gaping in outrage.

  I shuffled forward. "Before you start harping on at us, I just want to say that, in our defense, you were not due back until tomorrow, and that you just happened to come back at a bit of an awkward moment."

  "Too bloody right I did! I came back early to check you were over your illness. Seems you were over that alright and jumped straight under him!"

  He moved to sit on the edge of the coffee table only three feet away from the couch and crossed his legs and arms. "So, when did this little development happen, huh?" he barked, waving his hand around camply.

  I looked down at our entwined hands and started to speak, but Tudor beat me to it. "Officially yesterday, but you could say it has been building for several weeks."

  My bestie started waggling one finger like he would if he were on Ricki Lake. "Weeks? All I have seen is her upset or pining after you. You’ve been leading her on then fucking her off most of the time. You made her like you – a lot, I might add – and then you would drop her like a sack of last week’s potatoes! Is that what you call ‘building’? Fuck knows what foreplay would be to you then!" he shrieked.

  Tudor tensed up, bowing his head. I had to intervene. "Tink, Tudor’s apologised and I’ve forgiven him, he's explained what happened and you have to let it go. Please, I want my best friend to support me in this," I reached forward and took his hand. He snatched it back, wiping it on his shirt as though it were infected. Mature as ever.

  "Just because he apologised doesn't mean he won't screw you over. For God’s sake, Wil, he says he’s sorry and you open your Wendy-wide legs and let him shag you – hell, not shag, bloody roast you! He had you pinned between the wall and his red-hot poker like you were impaled on a frigging spit; you’re only missing the butter and seasoning and you’d legitimately be barbeque! And you did it against my walnut-whip designer paint of all things! $500 a pot, Wil, $500 – it’s fucking imported!"

  I lowered my head in defeat, and Tudor leaned in to comfort me. I couldn't help it, I began to cry. As much as my over-the-top queen and I squabble, it’s always just friendly banter. This was him really telling me what for. He was really angry – granted, it was mostly because of the paint, but it still felt like shit. How could I start a relationship with someone when my best friend, my soul mate, didn't approve?

  I tucked my head into the comfort of Tudor's large chest and let the floodgates open. I pressed my head against his shirt, knowing that if I had to choose, at this point it would have to be Tink, but the pain it would cause me, knowing what could have been with Tudor, caused me to feel nauseous. I could fall in love with this man, hell, who was I kidding? I was falling in love with him, it had been building for weeks. It had been growing steadily every day since the morning of my concussion, and now that we were officially together, it was intensifying ten-fold. I couldn't help my feelings.

  I heard Tudor draw a ragged breath, and looked up to see his sad eyes and him shaking his head, resigned. He kissed a falling tear on each side of my face and pressed his forehead to mine. "I won't come between you and Tink, Sunshine. I'll give you some time and see you again when it's all calmed down, okay? Look at me."

  I met his gaze and shook my head; I didn't want him to leave.

  "Hey, I'm not giving you up, but I'm not going to wreck a life-long friendship either. You made me yours, remember? I told you you're stuck with me."

  I nodded silently, soaking my cheeks with salty droplets. Tudor moved in to give me a slow, deep kiss, and got up from the couch.

  I watched him walk away, before he stopped and faced Tink. "I know you don't like me much, and I am the first to admit that my past behaviour with Tash has been horrendous and unforgivable and therefore I understand, but just know that I would do anything for her. I can't give her up, not now.

  “It is my deepest wish that you and I, at some point, can move past this and be friends too. You’re the boyfriend of my best friend, and I'm now the boyfriend of yours. I know you would like me if you just gave me a chance, and I hope you realise that I will never do anything to hurt Tash ever again, and us fighting is hurting her more than anything. So I'll go and let you work this out."

  Tudor gave me a final strained, lopsided smirk and made his way to the door. I turned to Tink, whose bottom lip was shaking. I smiled at my bloody daft best friend. "Tink."

  His face crumpled and he started to cry hysterically, like only Tink can.

  He dived to the couch and began to wail. "I'm sorry, piglet. I thought I was protecting you but I'm hurting you, aren't I?"

  I gripped him tightly in a hug. "You are protecting me, but Tudor won't hurt me, you have to trust that too. I really like him, chuck, like, Elton John and David Furnish-style like him; I’m even going so far as to say that I’d pick him over your treasured Mother Monster Gaga at this point."

  Tink swooned, complete with hand on head, and fell off the couch at my confession, fanning his face with the Madonna Sex Book we keep on the table for visiting guests to peruse.

  After receiving some much-needed air, he staggered to his feet, casually licking Madonna’s protruding nipple on an open page, and put his hand on my knee. “Wil, I didn’t realise it was that serious, not so much that you’d renounce your Little Monster status to keep him! By all the glitter in Hobbycraft, I’ve been blind! Blinded by my prejudice towards the big, tattooed Canuck, but now I see you were born to be together!”

  Over the top as always!

  Tink released a blood-curdling shriek and ran to the doorway where Tudor was just leaving. "Tudor, come here, you big brute!" and he wrapped his arms around Tudor’s neck, crying (or singi
ng – the jury’s still out) loudly, dangling off him like a necklace.

  Tudor, looking very deer-in-the-headlights, glanced towards me, seeking some help. I started to laugh and gave him a thumbs-up that made him smile, and he awkwardly patted Tink on the back.

  The dedicated Little Monster pulled back, all smiles. "We’re now friends, big boy, but hurt my little tenderloin over there and we’re gonna throw-down! Capisce?"

  Tudor slapped his back and winked. "Capisce!"

  Tink tilted his head to me, "Wilbur, get involved... group hug!" he sang.

  I ran over and wrapped an arm around each of my guys. Tink kissed us both on the cheek and drew back. "Just so you know, I don't wanna see any more wall-fucking in the condo hallway, but feel free to spit-roast Wilbur’s hungry beaver in the comfort of her bedroom."

  We hid the laughter.

  "You have my word," assured Tudor awkwardly.

  Tink pursed his lips, accepting his promise. Just as we were breaking away from the hug, Tudor jumped, his face horrified. "He just nipped my ass!"

  Tink held up his hand, "Guilty! And it certainly is a fine one. Thank the God’s for squats! I may not want to see you porking my bestie in a live sex show, but feel free to walk round with that spank-bank-worthy tush-tush out on display... just don't bend over, 'cos then you're fair game!"

  CHAPTER 23

  Calling Sherlock Holmes…

  If someone had told me at the beginning of the year that by November I would have a new boyfriend, live in another country and, oh yeah, that the new boyfriend would be a-hunk-a-hunk-o’-burning-superstar, well, I'd have told them to bugger off and back away from whatever substance they had been sniffing!

  But here we were, in that exact situation. Tudor and I were officially a couple, and we had spent the last few weeks in a blissful and lust-filled state. Tink too was flying around on a very legal high and becoming more than a little in love with Tater-Tot. We had even developed our own little clique, the 'Four-Ts'.