Cheers for the reviews
Mordie was having a crap day. It was one of those days where everyone pissed him off and everything he did he fucked up. He even managed to spill coffee on himself, and thus spent half the day, and the journey home, looking more like a homeless person than a semi-professional office clerk.
It started raining as he walked home from the train station. Not a pitter-patter rain, but the sort of onslaught that physically pained him as sharp bullets of rainwater relentlessly assaulted his unprotected body. Mordie did, however, notice that the rain failed to wash away the coffee stain on his shirt. The irony.
He was shivering when he arrived home. After standing outside in the rain for five minutes, hunting around in his bag for his keys, he finally pushed his way inside and kicked the door shut. Dumping his bag on his floor, he unbuttoned his wet shirt and peeled off his shirt and singlet. He was covered in goosebumps. His nipples were hard, his genitals had shrunk back from the cold, wet material of his boxers and water dripped annoyingly from his hair onto his nose.
'Are you home mate?' A voice inquired from outside the front door.
'Yeah,' Mordie yelled back, so that he could be heard over the cacophony of the storm.
He opened the door and was dumbstruck to find himself face to face with his new-ish neighbour. The man that had fucked Simon just four days earlier. The man who was now looking clean, dry and warm, and was holding a washing basket full of what appeared to be Mordie's clean clothes.
'I thought I'd pull your stuff in off the line before it started pissing down,' the man explained with half a grin.
'Uh, thanks,' Mordie replied.
Mordie accepted the basket, embarrassed that the man had obviously checked out some of his four year old, holey, underwear and went to shut the door. 'Well, uh, thanks. You should come around for coffee sometime.'
'Sure, sounds great.'
Mordie was taken aback at his neighbour's acceptance of the offer. He was even more taken aback by the fact that his neighbour was making no move to head back to his own unit.
'Um, come in if you want,' Mordie added eventually. 'We can have it now.'
'Thanks, that would be sweet.'
With his back to Max, Mordie grimaced as he dumped the basket of washing on the couch. He wasn't accustomed to visitors. The only person who normally came to check up on him was his older sister, Caitlin, and he wasn't exactly up to date on what to say, how to act, and how long he could expect Max to stay. Not to mention that he was embarrassed beyond belief standing around in his soggy work slacks, with his puny chest on display.
'So, uh, take a seat,' Mordie muttered, gesturing to his kitchen table.
'Thanks. I'm Max, by the way.'
'Mordie. Mordecai. Well, Mordecai, but everyone calls me Mordie,' Mordie stammered, his face burning hotly.
'Are you Jewish?' Max inquired, slightly amused at his neighbour's embarrassment. The kid was fucking adorable when he blushed.
'No. My parents just liked the name.'
'Ah, so you got to keep your foreskin?'
'Um, no. They had that chopped off anyway.'
It struck them both at exactly the same point in time that the topic of circumcision was not one that most neighbours discussed during their first conversation together. It was Max that laughed first, but Mordie joined in almost immediately, and their mutual amusement made them both feel somewhat more comfortable with one another. Not a lot, but a little.
'So where do you keep your mugs?' Max asked when their brief laughter had died down.
'Oh, I'll do it,' Mordie replied hurriedly. 'It'll only take a sec. It's only instant.'
Max nodded and returned to his seat. It wasn't a particularly posh kitchen table; more the basic, metal and glass type that's sold as a 'starter kit', and bills and papers were dumped in the middle. Not overly interested in the amount of money his neighbour owed the gas company, his gaze flickered over to Mordie.
The guy wasn't too bad looking, if you appreciated the artsy, shy-boy, look. Mordie had a nice face, Max noted, with dark brown eyes and an aquiline nose, and his mouth – the lower lip of which was currently being chewed – was absolutely perfect. His brown hair was shaggily cut, and slightly too long and water dripped from the ends, onto his smooth, white neck. His body was slim and surprisingly toned, his torso tapering down to a slim waist and high, firm, buttocks, but it was his hands that caught Max's attention; they were almost artfully created, with long, slim, fingers and perfectly clean fingernails.
Mordie, as though realizing he was being appraised, hurriedly finished making the coffee and dumped the two mugs on the table. He awkwardly sat down across from Max, and wondered what the hell he was supposed to say.
Max drew the mug to his lips, peering over the rim of the mug to gauge Mordie's comfort level. The poor kid looked petrified, not to mention cold and wet.
'Sorry mate,' Max apologized sincerely. 'I was bored beyond measure. I'm used to living in boarding houses and on boats, so being by myself…. After a while I'm not sure what to do with myself,' he laughed. 'You've gotta be freezing. Go and have a shower or something. I can let myself out.'
'I'll be fine. I can have a shower later,' Mordie muttered. 'So, uh, what were you doing before you came here?'
'Oh, a bit of this, a bit of that,' Max replied easily.
'That sounds…interesting.' Mordie replied, taking in his neighbour's cool, calm demeanour. Max looked totally at ease – not to mention warm – in clean, faded blue jeans and a grey jumper. Mordie only wished he could be so friendly and mate-y. Maybe if he could, then his life wouldn't be as desperately lonely as it currently was.
'It isn't.' Max replied with a lop-sided grin.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, Max calmly taking in Mordie's anxiety and wondering what he could do to settle the kid down. Max was used to making friends wherever he went, and it seemed almost an anathema that he would live beside this guy and yet never hop the fence for a beer, or shoot a few rounds of pool with him down at the local.
Mordie tried not to shiver. He wished Max would go. He was cold, he was wet, and he was uncomfortable, both physically and mentally. Max was terribly good-looking, and admittedly that now that he'd seen him 'in action' Mordie desired him all the more. The unnerving certainty that he wasn't Max's 'type' made his lust seem patently ridiculous, more so now that Max was sitting in front of him.
'Well I'll leave you to it mate,' Max offered, holding up his empty coffee cup as though it were a trophy. 'I'll see you round. And have a shower, you're dripping…' he reached over, brushing his hand against Mordie's hair to prove his point. 'All over the floor.'
'Uh, yeah,' Mordie agreed, reaching up and absently touching his wet hair. 'I'm…wet.'
Max nodded. 'Yeah.'
Mordie, mortified at his incompetence, awkwardly scraped his chair back from the table and picked up the two mugs off the table. God, he was a jackass. Simon could convince Max to have public sex with him, and yet he couldn't even hold down a conversation with the guy. No wonder he was single. He was doomed. He was going to end up a forty year old man with a tube of lubricant and an outstanding knowledge of gay porn stars.
During the past four days, Max had given some thoughts to Simon's remark about Mordie having watched them fuck. He'd begun to doubt the truth of the statement, believing more and more each day that it was nothing more than a joke. Besides, how likely was it that two gay men would find themselves residing next to each other? The chances were minimal.
His mind was abruptly changed when he was about to walk out of Mordie's unit. There, on the couch, face down, lay a book. A book Max recognized as gay fiction. He hesitated a second before turning around and staring at Mordie's back, as the kid rinsed out their coffee mugs.
'Mordie mate,' he started. 'You're not gay by any chance are you?'
Mordie's posture stiffened at the question. 'Yes,' he replied stiltedly. 'Do you have a problem with that?'
'Not at all. I'm a fellow fag.'
Mordie turned around. 'I know.'
It was then Max realised that Simon's comments on Saturday night had not been made in jest. Mordie had seen them. He'd probably watched too, because put in Mordie's situation, Max would have been sitting along the window, watching his neighbours go for it. It was the way the male mind worked.
He walked back to the kitchen and leant against Mordie's fridge. 'So you saw Simon the exhibitionist sampling gay sex?' he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Mordie flushed. 'Only a second or two. I won't look out the window again,' he lied.
Max recognized the mistruth immediately. He suddenly understood why Mordie was so uncomfortable with him. The kid was obviously under-experienced in the game of lust.
'I'm making you uncomfortable, aren't I?' Max confirmed gently. 'Out of curiosity mate, what sort of men do you usually date?'
'I don't. I mean, I'm not seeing anyone at the moment. I, uh…I'm kind of looking, but not really.'
Max nodded and leant over, pushing Mordie's dripping hair off his forehead. Mordie flushed redder and bowed his head under Max's touch, his eyes half shut and the stiffness of his posture dissipating.
Max smiled as he traced the sharp angles of Mordie's cheekbones, his fingers caressing the cool, wet skin. His hand slipped down over the younger man's neck, and across his chest and stomach, before settling at the waist of his slacks.
'I should probably have a shower,' Mordie mumbled, making no move to escape his neighbour's caresses.
'I'll come with you.'
Mordie hesitated. He glanced up at Max's face and saw a smile there. Oddly enough, he found his own lips twisting into the smile's sister, and a warm feeling spread throughout his body. He knew what Max was offering, and he knew that he was going to accept. He wanted this, wanted to be taken, wanted to experience the whole kit and kaboodle that was homosexual sex.
Max's smile grew into a soft laugh and he pulled Mordie close. He gently bit the boy's neck, and traced his finger's down his spine, enjoying the way the kid stood motionlessly at his touch, as though entranced. Max's hands worked Mordie's pants undone and carefully slid the wet fabric over the hard curves of his butt.
What the fuck had he done? Fuck, he'd allowed Max to fuck him stupid before the guy ran back to his own unit, obviously eager to get away from someone so inexperienced as himself.
Ow. His bum hurt, but his heart hurt more. He wanted a boyfriend. He wanted someone to snuggle with him, under the doona, as the rain beat down on the corrugated iron roof. He wanted to share soup, and kisses, and love. He wanted someone to talk to, to watch television with, to share his life with.
He had nothing, and no one. He was doomed.
He was Australia's biggest gay jackass.