A Ballad of Confetti, Cake and Catastrophes

by Helen Juliet

  “Oh my god,” he mumbled into Fynn’s mouth, his fingers digging into his back as he pulled him down closer. He finally got what his friends were going on about when they’d felt the need to share every gory detail after they’d snogged or groped a girl. This was incredible, it was like flying and getting high and being on fire all at once.

  He and Fynn were undulating against one another now. Fynn, of course, had steady rhythm, so Nicholas used all his concentration to try and keep in time with him. He just wanted more. He felt like climbing on top of him, or wriggling completely underneath so he was squished; whichever felt better. He was insatiable.

  But Fynn chose that moment though to reel in is efforts, leaning back and teasing Nicholas with little kisses, looking at him between each one with a lopsided smirk.

  Nicholas whimpered and pouted, which seemed to be what Fynn wanted, as he grinned even broader. “You like that?”

  “I like the proper kissing better,” he grumbled.

  “But you’re adorable, I can’t help it.” However, he did relent and reward Nicholas with a languorous kiss. Meanwhile, he trailed his right hand down Nicholas’s stomach, making his muscles contract at the ticklish sensation. But then he froze as Fynn’s hand dipped lower, dragging over the denim of his jeans, heading between his legs. Nicholas twitched involuntarily as his hand cupped his groin, breaking the kiss. “Is this okay?” Fynn asked, his voice a low rumble.

  Nicholas nodded. It was definitely okay. “Don’t stop,” he begged.

  Fynn was nothing if not obliging. He rubbed his hand firmly but slowly over Nicholas’s cock as he kissed him again. Nicholas wasn’t sure what to do with his hands – should he be doing the same? It was all he could do to cling onto his shirt, he couldn’t think about tackling Fynn’s hard-on yet. He’d not honestly thought about touching another guy like that. His tentative fantasises had revolved around him getting touched. He’d have to gear himself up if he was going to look someone else’s cock square in the eye.

  But he got the impression it was something he’d get into pretty quickly. Having Fynn palm him was crazy hot, and he pushed wantonly against his hand. Their kisses were messy and aggressive, tongues thrusting against one another and teeth bashing against lips. The only sounds were their ragged breaths, and the moans escaping from Nicholas’s throat.

  How could he have ever thought he didn’t want this? How could he have seen Fynn standing on that street, playing his guitar, and not yearned to feel his hands all over him, to taste him on his lips? He was completely lost in sensation, adrift in a sea of lust.

  So when Fynn’s fingers graced over his zip, he didn’t hesitate arching his pelvis up to encourage him. “Please.” Whatever Fynn had in mind, he wanted it.

  Fynn seamlessly moved his kisses to the edge of Nicholas’s jaw, just by his ear. “If you’re not sure, we can stop at any time.”

  “If you stop now,” Nicholas said, running his hand through his hair again. “I just might kill you.”

  He knew by now he liked making Fynn laugh, but feeling it rumble through his throat while his fingers deftly flicked open the button on his jeans was about a thousand times better. Nicholas turned his head into Fynn, rubbing his cheek against Fynn’s stubble before he buried his face into his neck. He couldn’t cope with anything else, other than the feel of Fynn’s warm palm as he fished Nicholas’s erection out from his boxers.

  Nicholas had first discovered wanking at the age of fourteen. He knew guys that had been into it before then, but Nicholas wasn’t all that fussed until he found his first porn. Having a computer in his bedroom meant he’d had the time and privacy to find some pretty decent stuff without having to pay for it. He was fussy, he knew, but now he appreciated it was because he’d more than likely been overly interested in what the guy looked like, rather than the girl. But he had certainly had his fair share of wanks since then.

  But there wasn’t really much to prepare him for the feeling of someone else’s hand stroking down his length. It was impossibly erotic, and he even in his far-gone state, he was exceedingly glad that Fynn’s aunt wasn’t home. He was making all sorts of ridiculous noises, and he wasn’t being quiet about it.

  Fynn was cradling him to his chest, his breath hot as it ghosted over Nicholas’s ear. He sped up his hand, tugging without lubrication against Nicholas’s skin, making him snag his breaths in.

  “Going to…” he uttered.

  “It’s okay,” Fynn urged him. “It’s okay.”

  It was an embarrassingly short time in which to come, but there was no way Nicholas could stop himself. He arched his body as his orgasm hit him like a train. Lights genuinely exploded behind his eyelids and he cried out, clutching at Fynn as the force of it swept over him. And then he flopped back on the bed, completely spent.

  He heard Fynn chuckle, and he smiled as he felt him gently kiss his cheek. “Do you want to get cleaned up?” he asked after a few moments.

  Begrudgingly, Nicholas peeled one eye open, then another. Fynn was still holding him, but he blinked as he realised he was lying there with goo all over his t-shirt and jeans, and his now soft cock was flopped on his belly like a dead fish. “Oh, yeah, sorry,” he muttered in embarrassment, trying to cover himself as he made to move.

  But Fynn grabbed his shoulder, and planted a firm kiss on his lips. “Nothing to apologise for,” he told him, a steely glint in his eye. Nicholas gave him a tentative smile, then nodded.

  “Okay,” he said.

  He slipped off the bed and hurried into the en-suite. He manoeuvred around his still drying umbrella, and, with the door pulled to, hastily mopped up his mess, wiped himself clean and did his jeans up again.

  He could feel the panic rising in his chest. What had he just done? Was Fynn going to be weird with him now? He’d acted like a total hussy, a selfish hussy. Weren’t both people supposed to come when you had sex? Was that sex? Did that count? Was his still a virgin, or did the fact that someone else had made him come dissolve that now?

  Oh fuck. How was he going to go back out there? Fynn was waiting. It was highly possible he was waiting because Nicholas needed to fulfil his half of the exchange. Was he ready for that, could he touch Fynn like he had him? He would almost definitely fuck that up. Fynn was so confident, Nicholas would probably take one look at his cock and choke, or faint, or start jabbering absolute nonsense.

  And what if—

  A soft knock came at the door. Nicholas hadn’t even realised he’d been holding the sides of the sink so hard his knuckles had turned white, and he struggled to lessen his grip as he glanced over his shoulder. Fynn was stood leaning against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets as he regarded Nicholas.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey,” Nicholas croaked back. His vision was a little blurry without his glasses, but at this distance, he could still make out the soft expression on Fynn’s face.

  He reached his hand out wordlessly, and curled his fingers a couple of times towards Nicholas. “Come here,” he requested. With a little bit of effort, Nicholas managed to release the sink. His heart was in his throat as he stepped around the umbrella, and let Fynn take him by the hand. He pulled him into an embrace, and rested his chin on top of Nicholas’s head. “Are you alright?”

  “Um…”

  Once again, Fynn walked them to the bed, but this time he did so with care, guiding Nicholas slowly until they were both lying down, facing each other. Nicholas’s head settled comfortably on Fynn’s shoulder, and he felt content with his hands wrapped loosely around his waist. Nicholas clasped his own hands together between their chests. “Do you, uh,” he began. He swallowed thickly, and tried again. “Are you, should I…?”

  “No,” Fynn said, cutting off his awkward stammering.

  “No?”

  “No.” Fynn tucked a lock of hair behind Nicholas’s ear. It was an extremely sweet gesture. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

  “But you didn’t—”

  Fynn chuckled. “I�
��m fine, I promise. I liked seeing you happy.”

  Nicholas was pretty sure he turned the colour of beetroot. “Was I really loud?” he whispered, not sure he really wanted to know the answer.

  But Fynn smirked. “Yes,” he confirmed, and Nicholas groaned and smacked his chest. “It was brilliant.”

  “Shut up,” Nicholas mumbled.

  “I’ll have to see if we can’t get louder next time.” Fynn wiggled his eyebrows. Nicholas just looked at him dumbly. Next time, as in, he wanted to do that again? His thoughts must have showed on his face, and Fynn gave him a small squeeze with his hands to get his attention. “If you want there to be a next time?” he asked.

  The question was perfectly neutral. There was nothing in his voice to suggest he wanted that as much as Nicholas did, but neither was there anything that indicated he was eager to get Nicholas out of his room as soon as possible. “If that’s what you want?” he whispered, almost too afraid to look at him.

  But Fynn responded with a slow kiss and a full smile. “I’m pretty sure this is what I’ve wanted since Sunday,” he said.

  Nicholas’s heart did a swan dive.

  “Sunday?” he squeaked. “But I didn’t even come over until Monday?”

  Fynn licked his lips. If it were possible, they looked even more bee stung from all the kissing they’d been doing. I did that, thought Nicholas.

  “Your texts were very sweet,” said Fynn. “Every one of them made me smile a bit more.”

  Nicholas snorted and poked his chest lightly. “You didn’t reply to hardly any of them.” His tone was playful however, and he was pleased with the bashful grin it earned him.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Fynn grumbled. “Lesson learned, mister. I’ll be better.”

  “You promise?” Nicholas said. How did he explain how much he wanted this? Whatever ‘this’ was. He wanted all of it, everything he could get. Fynn texting him and Fynn touching him and him being important and special to Fynn.

  Fynn nodded. “So,” he said slyly. “Are you telling me you didn’t want to snog me since Sunday?”

  Nicholas cringed, but it was an agreeable sort of sensation. “You made me realise I was gay,” he said, not quite able to meet Fynn’s eye. “Surely that counts for something?”

  “It sure does,” Fynn agreed.

  Nicholas wasn’t sure how long they lay there kissing. It wasn’t the same as before, there wasn’t that desperate urgency, although it was still invigorating in its own way. Surprisingly Nicholas didn’t get another stiffy. There was definitely interest down there, of course, but it stayed as an enjoyable hum rather than something explosive.

  He ran his hands all over Fynn’s front and back and arms and hair. He found a little trio of moles on his neck that he had fun sucking on. He suspected his hickey wasn’t going to be as good as the one Fynn had given him; he was lucky it was low down by his collarbone, or that might have caused some interesting questions at the wedding. But he still wanted to mark Fynn too, to show the world that he was now his. Even if no one else saw them, it thrilled him to know they were there, like a matching set.

  It was getting late, and Nicholas knew he really needed to check his phone to see if Clara or Danielle had messaged him. Some of the shops closed at five o’clock, and he didn’t want to miss being able to get any supplies just because he was getting lucky.

  Really lucky.

  But he was scared that if he moved, if he left this little bubble they’d created, the spell would break. Fynn had said about them doing this again, that he’d wanted to kiss Nicholas since Sunday. (Which was insane, by the way. Nicholas wasn’t getting his head around that any time soon.) But did he really mean it?

  Fynn touched his chin with his thumb. “Penny for them?”

  Nicholas blinked, until he realised he meant his thoughts. “Um,” he said, then changed his mind. “No, nothing,” he said. He didn’t want to come off clingy. That was a major turn off. Even as inexperienced as he was, he knew that. He tried to lean in for another kiss, but Fynn pulled away, keeping a few inches between them. “What?” Nicholas demanded.

  Fynn arched an eyebrow. “You tell me.”

  Nicholas scowled. “It’s nothing,” he insisted, but Fynn scowled right back. “I just,” he said. He didn’t want to come across needy, but he felt it couldn’t hurt to get a little reassurance. “Uh, well, I wasn’t sure, I mean…” He took a breath and made himself chill out. “What happens now?”

  “Between us?” Fynn asked, and Nicholas nodded. “Whatever you like.”

  That put the ball uncomfortably in Nicholas’s corner. He wanted Fynn to take charge. He tried not squirm or get embarrassed, but for some ungodly reason he could feel tears pricking at the back of his eyes. What the hell was that about?

  “Um, well, maybe…more?” he said gruffly. He blinked his eyes several times, and willed the moisture to go away.

  Fynn chuckled. “Sorry, I guess I assumed that much.”

  “I’ve not done this before,” Nicholas said in a rush. “Not dated anyone I mean – not that I’m saying—!” He clamped his mouth down, trapping the rest of the sentence. Once it was safely swallowed, he carried on. “I don’t know what you might want to…do. Erm…” Oh Christ he was cocking this up. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. “Have you ever dated anyone before?”

  Fynn stroked the side of his face, his expression pensive. “I had a boyfriend at collage,” he admitted. Nicholas’s heart sank, immediately picturing some dancer hunk, sweeping Fynn off his feet. “For about nine months. And I dated a few guys since, but no one stuck.” Was that what Nicholas was? Just ‘the next one’? His insides went cold. But Fynn rubbed his thumb against his cheek, urging him to pay attention. “I’m not seeing anyone else right now though, and I plan on keeping it that way,” he said.

  “Oh.” Nicholas didn’t trust himself to say much more than that. But he did allow himself a little hopeful smile.

  Fynn licked his lips and rubbed their noses together. “Other than you, I mean.”

  Nicholas’s heart sped up. Was Fynn really asking him…something? “Me?”

  “If you want?”

  That was a dumb question, but Nicholas loved that he asked it all the same. “Yeah, yes, I mean… I’d like that a lot.”

  “Me too,” Fynn said. He cuddled him close again, and gave his earlobe a quick tug with his teeth. He must see what that did to Nicholas’s senses, the bastard. “Are you free tomorrow?”

  Without looking at the itinerary, Nicholas wasn’t sure what wedding shenanigans might be planned for then, especially with the crises piling up. But if Fynn wanted to see him, he was determined to find a way. “I’d love that,” he admitted. “If I can.”

  “No pressure,” said Fynn. He gave him a little kiss on his tip of his nose. Nicholas was so used to his skin being a problem, to it being something repulsive, the simple action made him shiver. Fynn liked him. He even liked his pockmarked face. If that wasn’t remarkable, he didn’t know what was.

  ***

  Nicholas listened to ‘Walking on Sunshine’. On repeat. The whole way home.

  It was hard to concentrate on anything at all. He almost walked out in front of two different cars, stepped in several ankle-deep puddles, and if it hadn’t been for his umbrella he would have smacked straight into a lamppost. It didn’t matter, though, he just laughed every mishap off.

  He’d just been kissed. By Fynn. Fynn fancied him. Fynn wanted to carry on seeing each other, regardless of the wedding. Fynn wanted to kiss him more. Fynn wanted to do…other things too.

  That sent an apprehensive, but also sort of delicious shiver down his spine.

  Guys could obviously give blow jobs to one another. Nicholas had always watched those online with a mildly grossed-out fascination. Was it really as great as everyone made out? The idea of having someone’s – Fynn’s – mouth sucking on his cock seemed sort of disgusting. Maybe if you’d just had a shower it would be okay, but otherwise it had to taste kind of awful, rig
ht? But if the hand job was anything to go by, then maybe he could be convinced otherwise?

  And then sex. He sort of knew that gay guys took it up the arse, but that had always seemed so abstract – a punchline to a joke. His mates would wind each other up about giving one another a good bumming all the time. But, again, if people really did it, then maybe it was actually kind of enjoyable?

  Nicholas shook his head as he crossed the road, careful to avoid being splashed by the vehicles tearing through the puddles. That was definitely too advanced for him. He was still a newbie gay. For now, he turned his thoughts around to just how it would feel to see Fynn naked, let alone touch him.

  He’d gotten a fair enough impression of his manhood through his jeans earlier, enough at least to know it was a decent size. Would it be darker than the rest of his skin? Nicholas’s went pretty red when it was all excited. It looked kind of angry, if he was honest. Still, it seemed Fynn had been more than keen to get his hands on it. He had no reason to feel proud, but he did anyway. It was just the cock he’d always had, that he’d been born with, but it was one of the most intimate parts of his body, and Fynn had liked it.

  He amused himself mulling that over the rest of the way home. They’d left it that Nicholas would assess the situation once he got back and do his best to make time to see Fynn the next day at some point, even if they only met up in town for a coffee. Although, Nicholas knew he’d much rather meet at his flat again. In his room. With the door locked.

  He hadn’t received a text from his sister or cousin, but Nicholas was still feeling a twinge of guilt at being out for ages. But he was also more than a little relieved that he hadn’t had to put himself in the middle of another crisis either, especially an arts and crafts one. The idea of having to sit and glue fiddly bit of lace together or do anything with glitter made him want to bang his head against the wall.

  But now he was back, he’d do it if they asked. He’d had one of the best afternoons of his entire life. The least he could do was spend the evening folding name cards.