Oskar Blows a Gasket

by Claire Davis

  I set up a new bank account in the town centre—a student’s one, with a shiny card and promotional pen! Woohoo! Hah-hah. He says I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without him. I guess I’m lucky he is my friend. We’re going to stay here until the end of picking season, then I’ll go to Bangor by train and he’ll fly abroad. The college say I didn’t get a place in the halls of residence, but as I’m coming from miles away, they’ll find me some alternative accommodation.

  I don’t like to think about saying goodbye to John. I try not to think about college, or life at all because when I do, I get so worried and stressed—I am sure I will fuck up big time like always and there will be no-one at all to ask for help. A lot of the time I wish I’d stayed at school. Some of the time I wish I was dead.

  I don’t know if I’ll bother writing anymore. I just keep addressing my letters to our house in the hope you set up a forwarding thing with the post office, because where else should I send them?

  See you around,

  Gareth.

  P.S. I still love you.

  P.P.S. Here is the address.

  ****

  Oskar

  He ran hell-for-leather back to the hostel, only stopping twice for emergency supplies of strawberry milk and Snickers.

  I’m coming,” he shouted down the phone. “We need an emerg meeting. Get the others together in the living room.”

  It was exciting, like there was a war on. Once, at home, the electricity had gone off, due to a flood, and all the people had poured out onto the streets to congregate and moan. Not that he liked drama—hated it—but community spirit was good for raising the spirits.

  “It’s code red!” he said frantically.

  “Get away from the house, you hear me?” Bear shouted back. It was nice, having someone care like that. Warm prickles went up and down Oskar’s arms. “Run!” He didn’t like being ordered about, not usually anyway. “Get right away! Shall I call the cops?” He stopped to sip the drink, and realised he had the beginnings of a boner. “Do not talk to that man! You hear me? If he hurts you, I’ll rip his head off.”

  “You’ll what?” he asked with interest. “I can’t hear you very well? Must be the shock of it all.”

  “Rip his head off and bust his ass!” Bear’s accent had slipped completely into American. “No-one touches my boyfriend!”

  Oskar looked around quickly, and adjusted his trousers. ”I was so scared,” he said in what he hoped was a feeble yet brave voice. There was an unexpected vision of himself naked, being carried by Bear.

  “Are you OK?” Bear screamed. “Oskar? Please talk to me?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I—I think so anyway.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Well, a little shaken up,” he said ruefully, sniffing. Bear would be all over him. There would be hugs and cuddles, everyone looking at him like he was the shit. He hurried, though his ankle was starting to rub. “Very shaken up, actually,” he said weakly. “I can see the hostel. My vision has gone blurry.” Bear appeared from the hospital entrance, running fast. He jumped over the bollards and sprinted towards Oskar. “Christ, that’s hot,” Oskar whispered.

  Like a scene from a film, Oskar’s trousers went into overdrive. He was pulled into a hug and lifted up by strong arms. It was altogether the best moment of his adult life, and one he would be replaying later on in his bed. He wrapped himself—arms and legs—around Bear, and held on.

  “Oh my god! I thought you were in trouble.” Bear’s words went straight into Oskar’s neck, down his top and into his underwear. He kissed Oskar repeatedly, broken up by pauses when he stared into his eyes as if to check for life. “Talk to me?”

  Suddenly, Oskar had no words, not even the crappy ones. He stuttered for a few seconds, trying to find something cheesy—some lie—which would assure he kept this guy and the pushing and sizzling in his veins for a very long time, if not forever. But nothing lasted—not family, home, friends—nothing. They found out about you, and then joined the throng in shouting insults and waiting after school with baseball bats. Even Aunty Kath had slapped him. All the years of carrying her scissors and foils had counted for nothing, not in the end. He whimpered. Once people saw you—the real you—their adoring faces melted into sneers. Bear would be no different.

  “Oskar?” Bear said urgently. “Did he hurt you?”

  He melted into the strapping body pressing against his own. “Hmgh,” he managed, which could mean either take me to bed or stick your tongue down my throat. Or both. Or something else. The clever plans and games vanished. It was all crap compared to no-one touches my boyfriend. “I’m OK.” He kissed Bear’s neck. “I’m OK.” Take my clothes off slowly, one thing at a time. He couldn’t understand it, the need to reveal himself. To be naked and vulnerable. To be seen. But he couldn’t be seen. It was like being drunk, listening to the best songs and getting his exam results. One minute he was sad and thinking of Mum, the next, propelled into frenzies of lust of an unprecedented nature. He was fucked up, and horny. Like nothing he’d ever experienced. Terrifying, but compulsory.

  “Jesus, don’t do that to me ever again,” Bear said fervently. One hand held Oskar up by the arse, the other stroked his back. It was mesmerising. They were both hard. He emerged from Bear’s neck to find his mouth. Bear kissed him back forcefully, his tongue pushing Oskar’s away.

  “Oskar? You all right?”

  “What happened?”

  From inside the kiss of his life, Oskar recognised the voices of Pink and Carol HS, but still he held on a little longer until Bear gently placed him back on the ground.

  “All this fuss,” he said brightly. “Everything’s fine. He didn’t even see me following. I’ve got the address.” He sounded weird. He blinked a few times then checked his hair. Weirdly, his eyes were wet.

  “You look a bit odd,” Pink announced.

  He felt more than a bit odd, but it was nothing to do with the stalker.

  “Thank god you’re fine!” Bear held his hand—and the bottom of his back—firmly. “I should never have agreed to any of this. What was I thinking?” He drew Oskar back into his arms, and still the spell lingered. He nuzzled Bear’s shoulder, not caring that the girls were ogling. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

  “Are you American, Gareth?” Pink said. “Your accent seems really strong today.”

  “Yeah,” Bear said after a pause. “But I’ve lived all over.” He led Oskar back to the hostel carefully, like he was fragile and might fall into pieces, which was not that far from the truth.

  ****

  Oskar sipped the hot chocolate. “We need an emergency meeting. Gather everyone,” he said, and shook his hair to emphasise the importance of the task. Bear watched his every movement and kept touching—his knee—shoulder—ankle—as if to ensure he didn’t vanish. For the moment, Oskar decided to push away the confusing mess inside his head and enjoy the attention, which inevitably led to his jeans. His heart flipped a lid when Bear leaned forward and tweaked his hair.

  “I wish you’d tell me what happened. Why was it code red?”

  Sometimes, Oskar chose not to answer people. If he couldn’t be sure of his position or temper, he simply ignored them. But there was no ignoring the chaos whenever Bear got anywhere near, not anymore. Not ever, really. He sipped. Code red because he’d lost his heart was not something he could explain.

  “And why aren’t you looking at me? You’re embarrassed the girls saw us kissing?”

  Bear’s hand carried on stroking and playing with a strand of his hair. Partly Oskar wanted to throw him off. It was the denying of this urge that got him so horny. Inside, a battle raged between the head of reason and experience and something much more crucial. He sipped thoughtfully.

  “Contrary,” Bear murmured, and tugged his hair.

  Over the last few weeks, there could be no denying Oskar had simply lost it. The plot, all sense, propriety, fashion audacity and possibly his ability to strut.

  “Rude.” B
ear tickled under his chin.

  The hot chocolate pooled into a thick and delicious lump at the bottom of the cup. Oskar stared in and shook the mug vigorously until it all swirled around. Then he threw his head back with a flourish and gulped it back.

  “Sexy.” Bear stroked his neck as he swallowed, and it was the final proof that Oskar was lost. He choked slightly and finally turned to look. Gone was the shy boy waiting at the train station, eager to carry Oskar’s bags and obviously terrified. Gone his puppy-dog eyes and needy desperation. Gone his reluctance to come into the lounge and talk with the others. Only yesterday, Oskar witnessed Bear moving along the corridor, popping into rooms willy-nilly to offer lifestyle advice! The world had changed. “Who are you?” he said, raising and lowering his eyebrows for effect. “What did you do with Bear?”

  “What do you mean?” Bear grinned.

  The worst—or possibly the best—change was Bear’s increasing ability to glide over Oskar’s hissy fits like he was ice-skating. It was outrageous and demeaning to have one’s feelings trifled with; yet again, this dichotomy manifested itself in Oskar’s masculine parts.

  “You are an enigma,” Oskar declared. “I don’t like you.” Bear tugged the hair harder so Oskar had no choice at all except to move closer than was acceptable by Victorian standards.

  “Mm,” Bear said intelligently. “Kiss me.” And expecting him to follow orders was absolutely the final straw! He fully intended to deal with all of it—to have the talk and send Bear packing so he could get back to the business of being bitter and miserable alone. As soon as he could extricate himself from Bear’s arms and tongue.

  “Let’s go to bed,” he said urgently. “I have to…talk to you. Alone.”

  “What about the others?” Bear stood up eagerly, pulling Oskar into the corridor then his room.

  “They can wait.” Oskar stuck his head back into the corridor. “Half an hour,” he shouted.

  “That’s ambitious.” Bear laughed.

  “Two hours,” Oskar shouted.

  “That’s more likely.”

  “I want you to take all my clothes off and look at me. It’s all I think about.”

  Bear choked. “Oskar, listen to me. Are you sure this is what you want? Last time we got close, you backed away, remember? You looked so upset and lost, and…mad. I don’t wanna do this if it’s not the right time. And…you just had a very traumatic experience! You haven’t really explained what even happened. I don’t think it’s the right time for sex.”

  “I’m sure. I wanted to do it last time. I’ve wanted to do it for weeks and weeks.” He pushed Bear back onto the bed. “Since the first time I saw you, actually. And nothing happened, OK? I was being dramatic. I followed him home then I came back and saw you—running towards me.”

  “And?”

  “I don’t know,” he whispered. “It took away my powers of thought. It was the same the time we—you know.”

  “Why the upset afterwards, then?” Bear held him still. “I want to understand.”

  “Understand! Hah! No-one understands me, not even me.”

  “Is it being gay?”

  “No.” Oskar laughed. “It’s being human. I can’t stand it sometimes.”

  “But you do like me? You like it when I touch you?”

  “Better than anything.” The honesty flooded Oskar’s face.

  “Oh,” Bear said slowly. “You mean you like it—and that pisses you off? Because you’ve always been able to control everything before?”

  “Will you shut up!” Oskar pouted. “But, yeah. Kind of. Not everything. There’s a lot of stuff I couldn’t control, or do anything about.”

  “But you could control you.”

  They lay facing each other. “It all changed. One minute you were running after me like a dog—not that I didn’t fancy you then, ’cause I did—then suddenly I’m running after you.”

  “You never run. Not in those heels.”

  “Do you still want to?” Oskar felt breathy and weird. His heart pounded right through his head, but his body was still ready. He kicked off his boots and socks.

  “Yeah. But not if it’s going to upset you.”

  They sat up at the same time and began grabbing at clothes. “Wait, wait. Let me undress you. I want to see you properly.” Bear peeled off Oskar’s top and gazed at his stomach. “You’re so hot.” He leaned forward to kiss Oskar’s neck. He stopped at the zipper. “Can I?”

  “Yeah. Hurry up.”

  Slowly, Bear unzipped then pushed down Oskar’s jeans to his knees, and off. “Christ, I wanna kiss everything.” He gently peeled off Oskar’s underwear then knelt over his legs. “You’re perfect. I swear I dreamed about you all my life. Are you still OK? You look like you want to.” He stroked Oskar’s erect dick, up and down.

  Oddly, now he was naked, things seemed less complicated. Nothing mattered except Bear stroking his body and staring at his dick. He opened his legs slightly to allow Bear to touch him there, spreading further and making little noises.

  “Take yours off too,” he said, his voice gone weird. Bear stripped quickly. He was toned and fit, muscles just under the golden skin. “What do we do? I don’t have much experience.”

  “Me either. I haven’t got any experience.” Bear sat on Oskar’s legs the way he had last time, naked with erection jutting up. Cautiously, Oskar stroked his muscular legs and up.

  “How do I do it?”

  Bear sat back on his hands and groaned. “Just like that. Like you do your own, I guess.” He pushed into Oskar’s hands, his dick hot and rock hard.

  “I never wank.” Oskar giggled.

  “Me either. Especially not since I met you. Never twice a day or even three or four. In bed—in the shower—then I get to college and I’m so horny I could cry.” Bear leaned forward with his hands on Oskar’s shoulders and began kissing and rocking, gently at first and then harder. He groaned loudly. “I want you so bad.” Oskar reared up against him, holding on to his back and waist. “I want you all the time. You’re the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen. I love it when you’re sassy and rude, even when you shout. I just love it all.” Bear rocked and swayed with each word. He gazed at Oskar’s body. “You’re perfect. Contrary and perfect.”

  Oskar gripped back, and heard himself shout. His hard dick pushed against Gareth’s faster and faster, as if fighting. He felt the hot liquid hit his stomach and Bear’s tongue slipping inside his mouth, kissing as the orgasm went through in spurts and waves. Bear’s sweat mingled with his own. Finally, he closed his eyes, afraid to open them in case it all turned horrible.

  “You’re so hot,” Bear breathed into his mouth and neck. “I could have sex with you all day. I want to do everything with you, and then I want to do it all again. After we fight, first thing in the morning, last thing at night. But that’s not all I want, just so you know. I want us to date and have fun, and get to know everything about each other. I wanna be your best friend. That’s mostly what I want, but wanting all that goes straight to my dick.”

  Oskar opened his eyes. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

  “Was that OK?” Bear grinned and kept kissing. “Are you gonna thump me?”

  “No. You can keep calling me that. If you want. You can keep saying all of it.” There was nothing left of Oskar’s brains. He was a mess.

  “Beautiful?”

  Oskar nodded.

  “It makes you feel good?” Bear gently rolled off and pulled Oskar onto his chest. “I want you to feel good. I’m going to keep touching everything until I know what feels best. I want you to fly so high you see stars when we make love.”

  “Ngg,” Oskar managed. His cheeks were ablaze. Where had Bear got all that stuff from? It was worse than anything Stella-Artois’s Josh had said, so bad it made him tear up and get hard all over again. The kids from Brinsted Gardens only ever called it fucking. “Make love? Is that what we just did?”

  “Yeah. I want you to feel special, because you are.”

 
Oskar tried again. “Yeah. It was OK.” He tentatively stroked Bear’s chest and thigh. Better than OK. Much, much, better. He wanted to say more.

  “It was awesome. Right?”

  “Yeah. Has my make-up come off?” He made to get up but Bear tugged him back.

  “Fuck the make-up. You’re sexy as hell and going nowhere. Call me Lollipop?”

  “No.”

  “Contrary.”

  “I’m going on top this time.”

  Bear licked around his mouth. “Cool.”

  “Lollipop. It was fantastic, Gareth. You’re fantastic. You’re so bloody fantastic. Just fantastic.”

  “All this stuff about the stalker? I think you should forget it. You know?” Bear said. Then his eyes grew wide and shiny. “Did you just call me Gareth?”

  “No. I said fantastic, but not Gareth.”

  “You did!”

  “Might’ve.” Oskar pulled the quilt over their bodies, though he wanted to keep looking. “I can’t think of you as Bear Grylls now we’re shagging, can I, Lollipop?” He slyly peeled the covers back down and ogled.

  “You wanna look?” Gareth pushed the covers right off again and lay back with his arms behind his head. “Go ahead. I’m all yours.” His body stretched out, golden and athletic.

  “Jesus,” Oskar breathed. “Look at you.”

  “Touch me too. Go ahead.”

  “Not shy, are you? And here I was thinking you were a mouse.” Oskar cautiously brought his hand out from the covers and over Gareth’s stomach. Now the screaming need was over—for the minute—he was overcome by curiosity. “You’re much hotter than any of the boys I watched on porn.” He rested his palm above the belly button. It felt smooth, with dark hairs. He sat up to get a better perspective. “I feel like a perv.”

  “Go on. It’s OK,” Gareth urged softly. “I want you to.” He took one of Oskar’s hands and guided it up and down over the ribcage and chest. “You know I’ve dreamed about this?” He made breathy noises and closed his eyes. “Something about you makes me act all different.”