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Early Access - Darren's Birthday

January 3, 2018




* * * Connor, Stan and Darren are a threesome. Over time, their relationship's become less about dominance, and more about each other. This story details what happens when Stan and Connor decide to treat Darren for his birthday. * * * 


category: gay male

Tags: #gay male romance


This story is currently awaiting publication on LIterotica (as of 4/1/2018)


Darren stood in the bathroom. He could hear low voices from the room beyond, and the sound of mouths meeting, as Connor and Stan kissed and touched in their post-orgasm glow.


It’d been months now, and while the three would often cuddle together in a sweaty mass after sex, of late, Connor had demanded this time alone with Stan.


Darren sat on the edge of the bath and wondered if he was real to them, or still just a toy. Although he thought of Stan as his boyfriend, and Connor as Stan’s boyfriend who fucked him, he couldn’t help feeling lonely when they chose each other instead of including him.


“Darren!” Stan called. “You in there?”


Darren got to his feet and ran a hand through his mop of brown hair. He checked himself out in the mirror and was happy with what he saw. Nothing exceptional—but nothing to be ashamed of. Now that he was no longer a virgin, and with Stan’s guidance at the gym, he had more confidence in himself, in his body.


He got looks from the guys on campus now. They saw the way he walked, the way he held himself, and he knew they were interested. But they also knew Connor. He was a notorious prick, and no one wanted to fuck with his ‘pet’. But despite this, Darren knew there was a world out there of people who’d love to fuck him, maybe even date him, if these two didn’t want him.


“Darren!” Connor’s use of his name snapped Darren into action. He headed back into the bedroom, where Stan was sitting against the wall, while Connor lay against the pillow, idly stroking Stan’s leg.


“We’re planning on going away this weekend,” Connor told him, and Darren’s heart sank.


It was Friday, and his birthday was on Sunday. Clearly they’d forgotten.


“Come here,” said Connor, and patted the bed.


Darren climbed onto the bed, finding space as best he could.


Connor held his phone out. “Doesn’t this look nice?”


Darren was confused. It was a beach. It was labelled in Spanish, ‘Playa Del Baño De Las Mujeres.’ He knew enough Spanish from High School to translate this as something like: ‘Beach of the bathroom of the women’.




“We’re flying out tomorrow morning,” said Stan. “Sorry, probably should have told you sooner, but it was last minute. The flights were cheap, and I wanted to book them before we lost them.”


Darren nodded quietly. He had other friends. He’d find a way to celebrate his nineteenth birthday without these two. It’d be good for him. He didn’t spend enough time with his friends anyway.


“So, you’ll need a Speedo,” Connor said. At first, Darren thought he was speaking to Stan, but then realised the words were intended for him.


“Am I… am I coming?”


Stan caught his fingers. ‘Course you are! And you don’t have to bring a Speedo either.” He gave Connor a long look.


“Yes you do,” said Connor, lazily stretching like a cat, his hands against the headboard. “If there are too many women ‘bathing’ there, I want something decent to look at.”


Darren grinned. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but even if they’d forgotten his birthday, at least they’d be together.


Stan pulled at his hand gently, and Connor moved his legs out of the way as Darren shuffled closer to Stan on his knees. Stan kissed him, and Darren put his hands on Stan’s shoulders, closing his eyes into the kiss.


“Given it’s nearly one a.m., and we have to get to the airport by seven, how about you both fuck off so I can get some sleep?” said Connor.


Stan placed his forehead against Darren’s and grinned at him. “Do you want to stay here tonight?”


Darren nodded. He didn’t care if he had to get up in three hours, he just wanted Stan pressed up against him.


Stan jumped off Connor’s bed, and Darren followed him across the room.


“One of these days we should get a flat,” said Stan, and Darren’s heart jumped. The three of them, flat together. Living together. He didn’t dare allow himself to think it was anything more than a joke.


Stan climbed into bed, and Darren got in facing him. They resumed their kissing and fondling, while across the room, Connor smiled up at the ceiling.




On the plane, Connor snored softly, while Darren loosely held Stan’s hand. The three were seated next to each other, Stan against the window, Darren in the centre seat, Connor on the aisle.


“Look at that,” Stan pointed out the window, and Darren leaned across him to look at the clouds. A sunrise layer of orange and blue filled the sky above a sea of cloud so dense, Darren felt as if he could step out onto it. Grab fistfuls of it in his hands and prise it apart like candy floss. He could imagine the taste of it in his mouth. Damp. Clean.


Stan’s hand was sweaty in his, and Darren realised his lover was a nervous flyer. He said nothing, just held Stan’s hand, their skin warm and slippery, their fingers cramped.


But the view was too stunning to waste. Darren pulled his hand away to take his phone out and took a photo.


“I’ve never seen anything like it,” said Stan, touching a finger to the window, leaving a smeared fingerprint against the Plexiglas.


The plane dropped and shuddered, and Stan’s body went rigid. He gripped the armrest, and Darren took his lover’s hand back into his lap and leaned his head against the older boy’s shoulder, ignoring the curious looks he got from the passengers across the aisle.


Most people these days just smiled when they saw two guys expressing affection, but things hadn’t yet reached the point where no one noticed. It was okay. He wasn’t embarrassed. Shy, yes. But who could be embarrassed if the world knew someone like Stan was his boyfriend?


Connor stifled a yawn as they made their way through customs and headed for the car rental to pick up an RV.


“You drive,” he said to Stan. “I need at least another six hours’ sleep.”


Stan snorted and took the keys.


It was a good hour and a half drive from Alicante to the beach of the women’s bathroom, and Connor slept it all away.


Darren took the passenger seat and watched the countryside streak by; miles of olive trees in neat rows, grey motorway and sun-burnt grass. The Autovia del Mediterraneo wasn’t terribly scenic, but Darren didn’t care. He couldn’t help glancing across at Stan, a ball of warmth glowing inside him. It didn’t matter where they were going, or what they were doing, he’d never been so happy.


They reached a turnoff, with a sign that said ‘Salida de Camiones’, and Darren asked, “What does that mean?”


“Truck exit,” said Stan. “A shortcut. It’s all dirt roads from here.”


They travelled along the unsealed road, red-brown hills rising up around them, the only vegetation scrubby, dusty clumps of grass. Every so often they passed square culverts that looked as if they might carry water. If water ever came to this place.


They rumbled past a short, round tower with some piece of equipment pointing from it up at the sky, and even Stan couldn’t explain that one.


Past short palm trees, and irrigation ponds that look like algae-filled swimming pools. Past white plastic cities of greenhouses, that filled the air with the smell of melting plastic. Past stucco houses painted white and tan and orange, with terracotta tiled rooves. Past a red sign that, when Darren glanced back, said ‘crossing is prohibited in case of heavy rain’, in Spanish. He couldn’t imagine rain falling here.


And then he saw the ocean, a blue line to his left, under a white and blue sky. He opened his window and let in the heat, and the scent of dust and salt.


They parked up and found no one else around. Stan stretched. “Welcome to the beach where women bathe,” he said, and Darren sniggered.


“I bet you hope women really do bathe here.”


Stan grinned at him. “Not gonna lie.”


They jumped out of the cab and the heat pushed against them.


“I need to be wearing less,” said Stan, a sweat already breaking out between his shoulder blades as he shielded his eyes from the sun.


The beach itself was narrow, roughly a hundred metres of shoreline, with tall rock stacks either side. The ocean was a deep topaz, stretching out into the distance.


Insects fluttered past on spinning, iridescent wings, and Darren took in the scent of the sea and let out a deep breath. He couldn’t believe they had this tiny haven all to themselves.


Connor roused himself and joined them outside. He’d changed into board shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt that fluttered against his thin chest in the breeze.


“Anyone fancy a swim before it gets too hot?”


They all did.


Back in the RV, Stan pulled open his bag and took out a pair of salmon-coloured beach shorts. If he stayed bare-chested, he’d be well tanned by the end of the weekend.


Darren searched his own bag for his beach shorts and found… a bright red Speedo. His face flushed with heat. He couldn’t find his shorts anywhere.


Darren knew Connor was responsible, but what choice did he have? The shorts he’d packed were gone. It was jeans or beach undies. He pulled on the Speedo, shaking his head. Whatever. He’d better get his dick sucked if he was going to go out there in the equivalent of a bikini bottom.


“Oh my days,” said Connor as Darren appeared, a black tank top covering his chest. He stalked up to Darren and put his hands on the younger boy’s waist.


“Aren’t you a pretty little thing?”


Darren glanced at Stan, but Stan had his arms folded, a smirk on his face.


“Shall we go for a swim?” Stan asked.


“Last one in sucks my dick!” said Connor, and kicked off his flip-flops as he jogged towards the water, whooping in delight.


Already barefoot, Darren followed him, aware his arse was bouncing in his tiny Spandex togs, and that Stan had a clear view of his behind.


Stan, who just strolled after them, enjoying said view.


Connor reached the water and leapt over the breakers, then took a full dive into deeper water.


Darren stopped in water up to his knees and glanced back at Stan.


Stan picked up his pace and jogged towards him, tackling Darren into the surf.


With sea water up his nose and in his mouth, Darren wrestled with Stan, then grew aware there were two pairs of hands dragging him deeper into the water. He took a deep breath as hands fondled his arse underwater, then moved around him to cup his junk through his trunks.


Stan stripped off the younger boy’s tank top and swam away with it, dropping it above the tide line. He waded back in, and came back to the other two, where Darren was being mauled by Connor from behind in waist-deep water.


Stan’s chest was covered in drops of seawater, and Darren wanted nothing more than to lick them away. He got his wish as Stan stepped in close to make out with Connor over Darren’s shoulder.


Connor’s hands roved across Darren’s body, stroking his firming erection through the red Speedo, pinching his tight nipples, hardened by the cool of the water.


Then Stan’s mouth was on Darren’s, while two pairs of hands roaming across the younger boy’s body.


He was in heaven, every sensitive part of him touched and teased, as the ocean lapped around his waist and the sun beat down.


Suddenly Connor broke away. “I’m swimming out to that rock. Last one there—”


“Yeah, we all know I’m gonna suck your dick!” Stan called after him, as Connor dove back into the waves and headed for a rocky island a short distance away.


Water sluiced around Darren as he dove after Connor, the pressure of the ocean a roar against his ears until his head broke the surface again.


They clambered out onto the rocks, and climbed up to the flat top, where spindly grass scratched out a living in the salt-dried dirt.


Stan leaned back on one hand and shielded his eyes with the other, staring into the distance. The ocean was calm and turquoise-blue, the sky curving down to the horizon.


Connor lay back, his arms across his face, and Darren sat between the two boys, his arms draped over his knees.


The ocean sighed and lapped against the rocks, and a quiet fell across them all.


Darren felt at peace. He was where he wanted to be, salt drying on his skin, his hair spiked with sea spray, the sun warming away the cool of the ocean.


After a time, Stan lay back, mirroring Connor, and soon Darren did the same.


They lay there under the Spanish sun, gulls wheeling and calling in the distance, the waves lapping, surf hissing against the shore behind them.


“So,” Connor’s voice broke the silence. He rolled his headed towards Darren. “You’re nineteen tomorrow.”


His words gave Darren a jolt of happiness, and then filled him with embarrassment that he thought they’d forgotten.


“You’ve got two options to celebrate your birthday,” Stan said. “Tomorrow night, you can choose one of us to spend the night with. Or you can spend the night with both of us.”


“All three of us together,” said Darren, glad he’d been given the option.


“Before you decide,” said Connor, “know that we’ll be having our own private party together tonight anyway. You’ll be—” he paused “—well entertained, by both of us.” He put a hand on Darren’s leg. “And if you prefer to be with just one of us tomorrow, that’s fine. But whoever you choose, will choose how you’re entertained for the night.”


Darren glanced at him nervously. “You didn’t mind if I spend it with just Stan?”


Connor’s eyes widened. Darren could see that, to his surprise, Connor’s feelings were hurt.


“No, of course not. It’s your birthday.”


Connor gave Darren a stiff smile and got to his feet. “I’m getting too hot. See you both back at the RV.”


Darren wanted to call to him, as the other boy made his way down off the rock and dove into the water, but he lacked the courage.


He knew nothing good could come of upsetting Connor, but was more concerned the other boy was hurt.


Stan gave him a long look. “You didn’t know he cared, did you?”


Darren shook his head.


“He’ll never let you know that he wants you to care for him.” Stan sat up, and picked at the gritted rock that stuck to his legs. “I came back to my room once, and he didn’t realise I’d let myself in. He was in bed, and he was having some kind of panic attack.”


Stan took in a breath, and let it out again as a sigh through his nose.


“I heard him repeating, over and over, ‘I don’t care. I don’t care if he leaves me. I don’t care.’.”


Darren’s eyes went wide. “Who… was he talking about?”


Stan shrugged, and drew a circle in the dust with one finger. “Me, I think.” He looked up at Darren. “He has no idea how to show affection. But I know he’s fond of you.”


Darren looked down at his feet, coated with sand. “How can you tell?”


“It’s been months now. He hasn’t fucked anyone else. And he hasn’t tried to separate us.”


Darren pondered this, his thoughts against the salt and the sun and the surf, filling his senses with a strange peace.


“So, what should I do?”


“How d’you feel about him?”


Darren dropped his head. “I like him.”


“It’s more than that though, isn’t it?” Stan asked.


Darren nodded. Just thinking about it made his stomach clench. “But, I trust you. I don’t trust him.”


“You want my advice?”


Darren nodded again.


“You’ve got us both. But he won’t offer himself to you like this again if you turn him down. If you want to see inside him, choose him. I’ll still be here.”


He put a hand on Darren’s shoulder and squeezed gently.


Darren was still, lost in his thoughts.


“Stay here a while longer,” said Stan. “Then meet us back at the RV.”


He climbed down off the rock and dove into the waves.


Back at the RV, Stan found Connor sitting on a towel at the table. He had a line of coke in front of him.


Stan reached over and brushed the coke onto the floor with the palm of his hand.


“What the fuck!” Connor got to his feet, facing Stan down. But while they were nearly eye to eye in height, Stan’s shoulders were broader, his body well muscled against Connor’s finer build.


“No drugs. We agreed. Not while we’re out here with him.”


Connor snarled, rage in his eyes. But he knew as well as Stan did that they were a long way from anything, and he had no way to threaten Stan if Stan didn’t want to submit.


He dropped back onto the wet towel and stared at the coke-dust still left on the table.


Stan took a seat opposite him. “If he picks you, what will you do with him?”


The petulance stayed on Connor’s face. “He’ll pick you. You’re soft.” It was meant to be an insult, but Stan just smiled.


“Maybe he doesn’t want soft all the time.”


Connor ran a finger across the table, collecting up the coke, and rubbed his fingers together.


“That was at least thirty pounds you wasted.”


“I’ll pay you back.”


Connor looked up, his blue eyes the darkest blue Stan had seen. “Yes, you will.”


“What will you do with him?” Stan prompted again.


Connor’s eyes stayed on Stan’s face, but their focus went elsewhere. Instead, he got to his feet and dropped his shorts. The second he did, Stan was alert and hungry. It was like Pavlov’s bell, ringing in the back of his skull.


Connor shifted so the table wasn’t in the way, and dropped back down onto the bench seat. He opened his legs wide and leaned back, sprawled out to own the space. There was a cruel look on his face, a look of arrogance and contempt, his thin arms resting against the backs of the seat cushions, his cock already a solid shaft.


Stan knew Connor had coke in him, knew he hadn’t gotten there soon enough. But his body didn’t care. As Connor hit him with that gaze, a gaze that sent a shudder through him, made his own dick twitch, he dropped to his knees and shuffled the short distance from his seat, to rest back on his heels between Connor’s legs.


Connor put a hand against the back of his lover’s headed and pulled him forward, and Stan’s lips parted just in time for his mouth to be speared, and that soft-skinned, solid hardness was jammed against the entrance to his throat.


Soon he was bobbing on Connor’s cock, obeying the hand against the back of his head, his tongue massaging Connor’s thickness, his lips a tight seal.


“Yeah, bitch, know your place.”


There was an extra hardness in Connor’s voice, an edge of iron to his grip. But all it did was excite Stan. If he didn’t want this, he could overpower Connor any time. But this cold use of his mouth, his mind, his body, turned him into a slave to Connor’s desire, and he couldn’t imagine his life without this brutal energy in it.


“Fuck!” Both of Connor’s hands gripped Stan’s head, guiding him down, jamming his nose into Connor’s dark nest of hair, a ruthless, brutal assault on Stan’s mouth and throat.


“Fuck!” It was a teeth-gritted groan of triumph, of ownership, like an axe swinging into the skull of an enemy.


And into the skull of his lover he pumped his cum, gush after gush that Stan swallowed and savoured, letting Connor use him as he saw fit.


When Connor finally pushed him back onto his heels, Stan was so close to coming, that his shorts were stained with sticky fluid.


The last few drops of cum drooled from Connor’s cock, and Connor collected them on his fingers and held his hand out to Stan to clean.


Stan did as Connor wanted, keeping his hands free of the erection tenting his shorts, waiting to saw what Connor would have him do next.


“Have Darren take care of that,” said Connor, nodding towards Stan’s excitement. He stood and pulled his shorts back up, then climbed up to the top bunk. A moment later, Stan heard the other boy’s tablet sing to life and Netflix start.


He put a hand to his hardness, feeling the thick rod pulsing in his shorts. He closed his hand around it through the hard fabric, and started when the RV door opened and Darren pulled himself up the steps.



Stan got to his feet, and Darren’s eyes went wide as Stan covered his mouth with his, invading the smaller boy’s mouth with his tongue.


Stan pushed Darren back to the double bunk under Connor’s, and then shucked off his shorts.


Caught up in his lust, Darren pulled off his own wet shorts, and let out a moan as Stan’s hand closed around him.


“Suck me,” said Stan, a harsh whisper, and Darren was more than happy to do as he asked.


Stan lay back on the bed while Darren got between his legs, Stan’s moans long and horny, he was so close. But before Darren could bring on his explosion, Stan pulled his head away with a fist wrapped in his hair.


“Wait. Wait.”


Darren waited, panting, and Stan pulled him up to lie beside him on the bed.


He wrapped his hand around Darren’s own erection, and kissed him, pushing him down into the bed, his weight on top of the other boy. Darren tried to squeeze a hand between them to reciprocate, but Stan pulled his hips back.


“No, I’m too close. I want to fuck you.”


“Then fuck me!” panted Darren, close himself.


Stan hauled him over on his back and pushed his legs back. He realised he needed lube, and a moment later, Darren jerked his head sideways as a hand, holding a small bottle of lube, draped over the edge of the upper bunk.


Stan laughed and took it, slathering himself liberally, then grinned at Darren. “You ready?”


Darren nodded, desperate now, and Stan entered him.


They were both so horned up, rutting like animals, filled with the careless randiness of their youth and hormones, the heat making them slippery with sweat, that it didn’t take long before Stan groaned and emptied himself into his lover. He slid out and took Darren in his mouth, finishing him with a few swift strokes of his hand and a wet tongue.


“Fuck, I love you!” Darren groaned, as he spurted his thick load into Stan’s mouth.


He fell back against the mattress, his eyes closed, while Stan sat back on his heels, stunned.


A face appeared over the side of the bed, Connor’s dark hair falling down in waves.


He said nothing, but he and Stan exchanged a long glance. Connor’s eyes slid sideways, and then his face disappeared as he pulled himself back up.


Darren slowly came back to himself and noticed the silence. He realised what he’d said, and paled.


Stan pushed the boy’s legs together and moved them to one side, so he could lie beside him.


“I didn’t mean—”


“Yes you did,” came a bored voice from above them both.


Darren lay petrified, unsure what to say. He stared at Stan, wide-eyed, and mouthed, ‘Should I tell him too?”


From above them came the tinny sound of a movie cranked up through headphones.


“Tell him tomorrow,” Stan said quietly, and gave Darren a soft, lingering kiss.




Evening found them sitting around the plastic table. They’d been playing strip poker, and Darren was back in his Speedo, Connor was shirtless, and Stan was in a singlet and briefs.


Connor’s phone beeped, and he silenced it. “Right. It’s six. Darren, your night of fun’s about to begin.”


“Okay,” said Darren. He clasped his hands between his knees, excited.


“Since this is your last night as an eighteen year old, Stan and I are taking you out to a big-boy dinner the next cove over. There’s an open-air restaurant, ‘Chiringuito El Lios’. It might look a bit basic, but I’ve booked us a special table. As special as they’ve got.”


“The view’s pretty nice,” said Stan.


“Have you been here before?” Darren asked.


“Yeah,” said Stan. “This is our place. Now it’s yours too.”


“You’ll like it,” said Connor. “You don’t have to dress up.” He got up and grabbed up his pack. “But I do want you shaved.”


He tossed a toiletries bag to Darren, who opened it. In it was a high quality razor, trimming scissors, shaving foam, and a small bottle of aftershave.


Darren looked up at Connor, who gave him a long-canined grin.


“All of you.”


Darren was about to complain, but Stan shook his head. “You like how it feels when you’re shaved, yeah?”




“I’ll use the bathroom after you.”


Darren, still in nothing but his Speedo, locked himself in the tiny cubby that was the RV’s bathroom, and went to work.


He emerged some time later, hairless and smelling fresh.


Stan entered the bathroom to shower, leaving Darren to dress, and Darren found his shorts had been returned, and his one, dark blue shirt, was hanging on a coat hanger from Connor’s bunk.


Connor sat slouched in front of the table and watched him dress, and Darren flushed hot under the intensity of his gaze. He looked pleased with himself, something that always made Darren nervous; although he suspected at this point, Connor gave him that look just to keep him on edge.


When Darren was dressed, Connor got to his feet and moved in close to him. They kissed, slow, soft lips, open mouths, the moment only broken when Stan came out of the bathroom.


“Right. Connor, it’s all yours.”


Darren waited for Stan to pull on a white shirt and black shorts, and then they both sat and waited for Connor to finish up. When he emerged, his face was clean shaven, and his dark, wavy hair was fixed back with product.


“Right,” he said, as he pulled on dark shorts and a dark purple shirt. “Put on some trainers, and let’s go.”


They headed out on the dirt road, then cut across the scrubby, dusty ground, to where the lights of the chiringuito glowed in the darkness.


The chiringuito consisted of a massive open-air structure, like a band rotunda, but with no floor but crushed rock. Darren guessed it was approximately thirty metres across. The ceiling was made from concentric rings roofed with what looked like bamboo, supported at the outside by metal struts.


The table Connor had booked for them was right at the edge of the structure, and overlooked the water.


Their table was dressed with a white linen tablecloth, and had a candle burning in the centre. It was better dressed than the other tables around it, and Darren cast nervous glances around him, afraid they were drawing attention.


But while they got some curious looks from other patrons, mostly English tourists visiting Murcia, they looked enough like any other group of English lads travelling abroad, that no one had the energy to give them trouble, too doped and sedated by the heat.


The ocean sighed against the shore, and Darren felt at peace. The other boys assured him they were paying for everything, and the stress of Darren’s classes and recent exams fell away.


The food was stunning, as promised, delivered as heaps of colourful seafood, charred fish and shrimp paella, with fresh produce grown locally in the sea of dug-in greenhouses that whited out the local landscape, filling the air with a distinct smell of heated plastic during the day.


But here, on the shore, the last of the sunlight leaving the sky, and a cool breeze blowing up off the waves, all Darren could smell was the scent of sea and cooking food.


With cold beers in their hands, and the soft glow of candlelight between them, the three boys laughed and joked and teased each other with stories from their barely-exited teenage years.


After their meal, they sat back with full bellies to watch the waves roll in, while a musician played Spanish music, and they moved from beer to Agua de Valencia at Connor’s insistence, a potent mix of orange juice, cava, vodka and gin. While they were far from the city of Valencia itself, Connor stated no trip to Spain was complete without it, and the bar was happy to feed it to them in two litre jugs.


Finally, when Connor decided they’d had enough, he headed up to the bar and paid, then chivvied the others to their feet.


“Come on lads, we’re going for a walk.”


A little unsteady on their feet, the other two followed Connor down onto the beach.


They were here because it was a long way from home, and quiet too, compared to more popular resorts, and once they were away from the lights of the small settlement, it was just the moon reflecting off the ocean and the three of them.


They found a place to sit, and Connor pushed Darren’s shirt up and off over his head, his mouth lowered to his lover’s nipples as he pushed him down on the sand.


It was a near-replication of the first time the three of them had fucked, with Darren’s headed resting in Stan’s lap, and Connor taking him deep.


Connor used their shirts to keep the sand out of their love-making, and he came inside Darren with a sob of contentment, only seconds before Stan did the same in Darren’s mouth.


Afterwards, both boys lay beside their younger lover, Stan kissing Darren, his hands running over the other boy’s body, while Connor licked and sucked and brought Darren, arching and crying out, to completion.


As horned up as they were, they could suck and fuck for hours if it pleased them, and it pleased them. It was warm enough to not need their shirts, and they built a small fire from driftwood on the beach, and left their clothes beside it while they played in the ocean.


Wet and laughing, they returned to the fire and laid out their shirts again. This time, Stan fucked Darren, sitting the boy on his lap as he faced him, while Connor teased his hands over the younger man’s body.


They gave Darren as many orgasms as the boy could manage, then collapsed spent and happy beside each other on the beach, their small fire flickering, the moon wide and full overhead, the ocean sighing against the shore.




Morning found them back in the RV.


Stan woke and groaned. He’d only had a few hours’ sleep, but the sun was too high, and the light pressing too brightly against the curtains, for him to fall asleep again.


“Don’t get up.” Darren put a hand against Stan’s back.


“I need a piss,” said Stan. He started to move, but Darren pulled him back.


“Let me suck you first.”


Stan rolled onto his back, and moaned as Darren moved down to put his mouth around his lover. He rested a hand on the younger man’s head, and it wasn’t long before he filled the other boy’s mouth with a moan.


“I have to take a piss,” he said, and this time rolled off the bed. When he came back, Darren was slowly stroking his morning wood.


Without hesitation, Stan fell to his knees beside the bed, but Darren jumped off and sped past him to use the bathroom.


“Happy birthday,” said Stan, as Darren climbed back onto the bed and flopped down beside him. “How does it feel to be nineteen?”


Darren chuckled. “Exhausting.”


There was noise from above and then Connor dropped down off the top bunk. His hair was a mess pointing in every direction, spiked stiff with salt. He used the bathroom, then pulled open a storage seat and came back with a box wrapped in shiny blue paper, dressed with a gold bow.


He handed it to Darren, and crowded into the lower bunk with the other two.


Darren tore the paper open, and found an unmarked cardboard box inside. He opened the box, and found packaging.


Digging down, he found two things. A silver cuff bracelet, and a titanium ring.


On the inside of the bracelet was written, ‘Amigos y amantes’. ‘Friends and lovers’. It was written in Spanish to remind him of this trip. This time spent with his lovers.


On the inside of the ring, was written, ‘Todo por ti’. All for you.


Darren spoke this much Spanish, and was overcome. He sat silently with a lump in his throat, unable to speak, for a very long time.




The day was spent exploring, with lunch at the chiringuito, beers to cool the hot afternoon, movies on their bunks, and sprawling, lazy sex.


As the sun sank low in the sky, and the heat of the day burnt off, Stan nudged Darren as another movie finished and nodded towards Connor.


“Hey, Connor?” said Darren. “You asked who I wanted to spend tonight with. Could… it be you?”


Connor turned towards him and searched Darren’s face. He glanced past him at Stanton, but said nothing to him. He looked back at Darren.


“Are you sure?” he said finally.


“Yeah.” Darren’s voice was soft.


“Alright.” Connor rolled off the bed. “Stanton, you going to be okay?”


“I’ll keep myself occupied,” said Stan. They had a couple of solar chargers with them, which had kept their devices charged, and Stan fancied a leisurely night to himself, drinking scotch, watching movies. He thought he might even wander across to the township and see what was what.


Connor threw some things into a backpack, including some cold beer.


“Trainers,” he said to Darren. “It’s a bit of a walk.”


Once they had their shoes on, Darren kissed Stan once as a goodbye, and brimming with excitement, followed Connor out of the RV.




This moon was still fat, and cast the world in silver as they made their way along the rocks. At times, when the rocks were too slippery and dangerous to navigate, Connor led them back to the dirt road. But where he could, he took them along the beach, consulting the map on his phone from time to time to make sure they were going the right way.


Finally, they climbed up a stack of rocks to a sheltered ledge that overlooked the ocean and spread his arms.


“We’re here.”


He dumped his pack on the ground, and pulled out a couple of LED lanterns.


“You want to light the fire?” he said to Darren, and Darren realised there was already a stack of wood built into a circle of stones. He set a lighter to it, and it came to life as if the wood was soaked in lighter fluid.


Connor pulled out a couple of bed rolls and laid them out, throwing a blanket over them.


They wouldn’t need sleeping bags. It was too warm.


Connor pulled a couple of beers from their cooler bag, and levered the caps off with a small aluminium bottle opener. He handed one, dripping with condensation, to Darren.


They clinked their drinks.


“Happy birthday, mate,” said Connor.




Darren gave Connor a coy smile as he took a swallow of beer.


Connor stretched out on the blanket, and Darren joined him. For a long time they stared up at the stars, listening to the crackle of the fire and the hiss of the surf against the rocks.


Connor broke the silence. “I know you think I wanted you away from Stan so I could fuck with you.”


Darren stifled nervous laughter.


“But I brought you out here, because I wanted to share something with you. Something I thought you’d like.”


That sounded serious. Darren rolled onto his side, but Connor put a hand on his chest, and pushed him back onto his back.


“There’s something I need to tell you first, and I don’t want you to look at me while I do.”


Darren put his arms behind his head, and looked up at the stars.


“When I met Stan, my plan was to make him my bitch. Just fuck him. Make him want me. Fuck with his head. All that good stuff.”


Darren didn’t agree that this sounded like ‘good stuff’, but he kept silent.


“But it isn’t every day you meet someone like Stan.”


Darren didn’t disagree.


“I think I love Stan,” said Connor. He said it the way he might have said, ‘I think I might have a beer’. “And what’s worrying me, is that I think I love you too.”


“I love you too,” said Darren in a rush, and Connor casually flopped the back of his hand over the other boy’s mouth, his eyes still on the stars.


“Shut up, please.”

Darren pushed his hand away, and Connor laughed, mostly at himself.


“Fuck, this is awkward.”


He dropped his hand back on his chest, and there was silence for a moment. Just the waves and the moon and the crackling fire; moths beating in circles around their lanterns.


“I wouldn’t have said anything to you, but Stan and I finish up at the end of this year. Stanton will still be around Bristol, I think, but I won’t be. I’ve been accepted into Juilliard. I’m going to do my master’s there.”


“Juilliard?” said Darren, a quiver in his voice. “Is that in London?”


“New York,” said Connor.




“Yeah,” said Connor. “I haven’t told Stan yet.”




“So, given I only have a few months left with the two of you, I want to make anything significant, whether it’s birthdays or anything else major in your lives, a big deal.”


Now he rolled onto his side, and propped his head on his hand.


“I never planned to get involved with either of you.”


Connor’s face was blurred beyond the tears that glazed Darren’s eyes.


“But I guess we’re here, now.” He considered Darren. “Is there anything you want to ask?”


Darren swallowed hard. It was impossible to think, even given an opportunity to look into the recesses of Connor’s mind, when his stomach was a fluttering knot of misery.


“Will you be gone long?”


Connor put out a hand and teased a lock of Darren’s unruly brown hair between his fingers.


“I’m not coming back to Bristol. Maybe to visit, but there isn’t anything there to stay for.”


Darren sniffed, a tear escaping his control, trickling down his face.


“So, what then? You’ll just forget us?”


Connor closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were as glossed as Darren’s. “No, I won’t forget you. But I have to go. Out there.” He waved a hand towards the universe. “You get that, don’t you?”


Darren nodded, his misery growing.


“Fuck, Darren, I didn’t mean to make you unhappy on your birthday.” Connor held his arms out and Darren rolled away from him and shuffled back into him.


Connor closed his arms around the other boy, and brushed Darren’s hair flat so that it didn’t tickle his nose.


“But you love us?” said Darren.


“Yes,” growled Connor against the back of Darren’s skull, his lips pressed to the other boy’s head in a kiss. “Unfortunately, yes.”


Darren didn’t know what else to ask.


Connor squeezed him tightly. “You’ll still have each other.”


“You don’t know that,” said Darren miserably.


“I do,” said Connor softly. He kissed the back of Darren’s head again. “And fuck only knows where life will take the two of you.”


Darren let out a shaky breath.


“Now, is there anything you want to know, before I show you why I brought you here?”


Darren shook his head. He was too miserable to think of anything.


“Okay then.”


Connor moved away from him and sat up on his knees. Darren wondered what the heck he had planned, and rolled over to watch him.


Connor rummaged through his pack again and took out a small metal box. He held it out and Darren took it from him. Connor pulled out his phone and held it up, showing Darren a map, with a location marker in red.


“This is a geocache. We’re going to bury that box you’re holding here, at this spot, and then, at a date we all decide on, we’re going to come back and dig it up.”


“What’s in it?” asked Darren, intrigued enough to forget his misery.


“Mostly sentimental crap, if I’m honest. Things that mean something to us, and only us.”


He went back into his pack, and pulled out three pads of paper and some pens.


“I want each of us to write a message to the others, and we won’t look at them until we dig this back up.”


“What about Stan?” asked Darren.


“He’s going to join us in about an hour,” said Connor. “I wanted to do this part with just you. Now, open the box.”


Darren picked up one of the lanterns and examined the contents. Sitting on top were three small, blue envelopes, only two inches across. Each one had a name scrawled on it; Darren recognised Connor’s handwriting.


“We’ll put our notes in there,” Connor explained.


Darren took the three tiny envelopes out, and laid them on the blanket so he could look under them.


There were pictures—photos—properly printed ones, like Darren’s parents still had in dusty albums in their lounge at home. He laughed as he recognised one of his own, cringe-worthy selfies, then smiled fondly at the other pictures he found of him with one or both of his lovers.


He set these aside, and kept unpacking Connor’s treasure chest.


There were tickets from Connor’s first show, which Darren and Stan had attended. There was a receipt for a bottle of Champagne that Stan had bought to celebrate Connor’s opening night.


“Cheap fuck,” said Connor, flicking the laminated receipt with a thumb and forefinger. “Wasn’t even the good stuff.”


There was a small pencil sketch of Darren and Stan sharing a pillow as they slept.


“A bit creepy,” joked Darren.


“Oi!” said Connor. “I drew you two sleeping a couple of times. That was my best effort.”


Darren kept unpacking the mementoes Connor had collected.


There was a woven friendship bracelet Stan had given Darren, which he’d thought he’d lost. There was a silver key. Darren held it up.


“What’s this for?”


“The chastity cage I won’t be using again,” said Connor. “Christ, could you imagine if I forgot this was where I’d left the key?”


He laughed, and Darren shook his head and rolled his eyes. He could see Connor doing that on purpose, but not by mistake.


There was a note Darren had written to Connor and left taped to his door, saying he’d be back.


“Why is this here?” he asked.


Connor took the note from him. “This was a bad week,” he said. “Stan was away, and…” He paused the thought. “And it was good to know that, even though I didn’t answer the door, you were coming back.”


Darren took it gently from his fingers and laid it on the blanket, weighing it down with a small stone to stop the weak breeze lifting it and tossing it away.


There were tickets to a couple of concerts Stan had bought for Connor and himself, and tickets to a movie all three had seen together.


There was a memory stick; “More photos,” said Connor, “And music, movies. In case we forget, and our tastes change. We can look back and laugh at ourselves.”


Lastly, pushed into the bottom of the box, was a square of fabric. It was scented, and Darren held it to his nose, recognising his own aftershave.


“You were wearing that cologne the second time I met you,” said Connor. “And it drove me fucking wild. I was so hungry for you.”


Darren vaguely remembered Connor saying he smelled like a slut, and smiled softly, realising most of the dross that came out of Connor’s mouth was designed to disguise how deeply he felt about everything.


He looked at this collection of modern relics, and then one by one, packed them back into the metal box.


Connor put it back in his pack, but left out the paper and pens. He put them to one side on the blanket by a lantern, then turned back to Darren.


“Before he comes up, I want to please you. I’ll do anything you ask me to. Anything.”


He placed his hands either side of Darren’s face, and his dark eyes looked almost black in the cold light of the lantern and the moonlight. “Anything.”


“Could you fuck me from behind?” asked Darren. “While you hold me? You did once, and it felt really good.”


Once, and only once. Connor remembered. It had been the first night he’d had real ‘feelings’ for Darren, and he hadn’t done it since.


“I can do that, if that’s what you want. You want me to get you hard first?”


Darren nodded, and Connor slid the other boy’s t-shirt off over his head, then tugged off his shorts.


He took his time, teasing and enjoying Darren’s stiff flesh, licking and tasting, using his hands and mouth, soft lips and a wet tongue, his eyes always on Darren’s.


Darren moaned under his lover’s languid touch, brought near the brink multiple times, only to have his desire subside like a wave of surf back to a taut joy that kept his hips gently lifting, the muscles in his thighs contracting and releasing, his hot centre clutching and needy.


When he was ready, Connor slicked himself and entered him, holding the smaller boy against him, his mouth against Darren’s shoulder, this man now, nineteen, and old enough to vote and fuck and drink, old enough to be in love, old enough to enjoy a night he knew would never come again.


Their fuck was sweet and deep, and when Connor’s hand wrapped around Darren’s length, he came, rewarded by Connor stiffening inside him, before the heated jerking of his climax filled Darren completely.


Afterwards, they stayed conjoined, and somehow Connor stiffened again. They fucked this way a second time, Darren’s cries of pleasure and his noises of contentment echoing along the empty shoreline.


Darren heard Stan clambering up the rocks before he saw him, and called out to him.


“We’re here.”


Stan reached them and dropped down beside them on the sleeping mats.


“Hello lads.”


Darren stayed in Connor’s arms, as Stan dumped a bag off his shoulder and started pulling things out. More beer, a flask of whiskey, marshmallows and toasting forks.


“I told Darren about the geocache,” Connor said to Stan. “Do you have anything you want to add?”


Stan pushed a hand into his pocket and pulled out a spiral sea shell necklace he’d bought from one of the local stalls. The shell was painted in bright colours, and threaded onto a single strand of leather.


“What’s that?” Connor asked.


“I bought it as a memento. But it makes sense to leave it here, if we’re doing this.”


He handed it to Connor, then loaded up a toasting fork with marshmallows and handed it to Darren.


They toasted marshmallows and drank beer, then each took up a pad of paper and a pen to write their contributions to the time capsule.


Connor collected their envelopes, and secured everything into the metal box.


“Nothing else?” he asked.


The other two shook their heads.


“We’ll bury it at first light,” said Connor, and the three of them lay back to watch the stars fade into dawn.


As they made their way back to the airport a day later, the RV bouncing along the rutted dirt roads, all of them weary and bronzed by the sun, Darren rested on his bunk next to Connor, and on the edge of sleep heard his lover whisper, happy birthday.


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