Nemesis: Because I Want You

Chapter Eleven: Second Sight

Yes, I know you're the jealous type, cause I'm cursed with second sight.

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Dave lay back on the bed with his head in Nick’s lap, listening to the music from the stereo. Nick combed through his hair with his fingers and stroked his cheek, and Dave sighed happily, closing his eyes. It was a Thursday afternoon in late January and they were in Dave’s room, on his bed. His parents wouldn’t be home until late. 

Nick shifted a bit under him, and then his lips came down to graze his forehead. Dave smiled and lifted his hand up to Nick’s neck, pulling his head down to kiss him. 

The kiss was deep and long and sweet, and Dave felt his pulse quicken as he breathed him in. 

Nick’s hand found the hem of his t-shirt and pulled upwards, until he could reach Dave’s chest. His lips moved from Dave’s mouth to his neck as he squeezed his nipple between two fingers. Dave gasped, his legs twitching involuntarily. When Nick found his earlobe and began to nibble and suck on it, Dave groaned, digging his fingers into Nick’s shoulder.

Nick broke contact for a moment, and suddenly he was on top of him, one hand in Dave’s hair, the other caressing his side, their pelvises grinding together momentarily. Nick pushed Dave’s t-shirt up further and brought his lips to his chest, kissing a trail between his nipples. His tongue flicked out to caress one of them, and Dave moaned again. Nick mimicked the sound in apparent empathy.

His hand moved along the waistband of Dave’s jeans, stopping at the fly and working the button. Dave gasped again, arching his back, and he felt his dick twitch in his pants. His whole body was telling him that he wanted this, wanted it desperately, but all of a sudden some part of his mind decided to panic. He took Nick’s hand in his own to stop him. Nick broke free of his grasp, and tried to return to his task.

‘No, wait,’ Dave panted. ‘Wait, wait, wait . . .’

Nick stopped and looked at Dave’s face, frowning. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

‘I . . . Nothing, I’m just . . .’ Dave scratched his thigh and looked away. ‘I’m not ready,’ he mumbled.

‘Not ready,’ Nick repeated. ‘You . . . I don’t believe this . . .’ He climbed off of Dave and sat next to him. Dave propped himself up on his elbows.

‘Look, I’m sorry, I just—’

‘You just what?’ Nick snapped. ‘Any time we get even close to that, you stop me. So what’s the matter? Is it all just fine as long as you can pretend that I’m a girl?’

‘No!’ Dave protested, sitting up fully. The hem of his t-shirt rolled down to cover his torso again. ‘No, it’s not like that, it’s just that, well, this is all so new, and—’

‘We’ve been together for two months!’ Nick interrupted him.

‘Well, I’ve never done this before!’

‘What are you talking about? You’ve been with loads of people!’

‘With girls!’ Dave stressed, feeling annoyed now. ‘I’ve never done anything like this with a boy before.’

‘Well, neither have I!’ Nick replied, his voice breaking. ‘Don’t you want me?’

‘No! I mean, yes, I do, but listen . . .’ Dave ran his hand through his own hair, sighing angrily. ‘Before this started happening, I had never even considered being with a boy before, all right? I’d never fantasised about it, or thought about it or dreamt about it. It’s different for you, you’re properly gay, you’ve known for ages that you were.’

‘And you’re not?’

‘Well . . . no,’ Dave admitted. ‘I mean, I don’t know what I am. I’ve been with girls . . . And then there’s you.’

Nick stood up, glaring at him. ‘Well, maybe you should figure it out,’ he said icily. ‘Come find me when you have.’

‘Nick, please. Wait!’ Dave called, but Nick had already stormed off down the stairs and moments later he heard the front door slam. Dave fell back into his pillows, sighing again. The exchange had evoked a strange feeling of déja vu. It felt oddly like he’d been here before.

* * *

‘Hey, Dave.’ Alan poked his shoulder. ‘What’s with the mopey face?’

‘What?’ said Dave, looking up from his chips. ‘It’s a face. It’s a mopey face. I’m Captain Mopey Face. Deal with it.’

‘Trouble with this girlfriend of yours?’ Chas asked. He and Alan had been trying to figure out who the mystery ‘girl’ was for weeks with no luck, but had nonetheless come to the conclusion that there must be one.

‘Sort of,’ said Dave, truthfully enough. 

‘What’s wrong, then?’ asked Alan. ‘Won’t she shag you?’

Dave snorted and shook his head. ‘Is that honestly all you think about?’

‘Yes,’ said Alan. ‘As a healthy teenage boy, what else is there?’ He grinned, wagging his eyebrows. ‘So, if you’re not going to be all busy with the missus all weekend, does that mean you’re coming to Matt’s birthday party tonight?’

Dave considered for a moment. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Guess I could do that.’

* * *

Matt’s house was one of the newer and more modern houses in Windfield Green. Which still meant that it was modern in the way houses were modern in the seventies. It was built from light grey brick, and had large windows. The inside was fashionably decorated, all glass and chrome and black leather sofas and chairs, and plenty of modern art on the walls. 

The party was exactly what you’d expect a sixteenth birthday party to be. There was beer, and wine, and vodka, all in copious amounts. There was also pizza and loud music and drinking games. At around ten in the evening, they started playing spin the bottle, and Dave, rather comfortably buzzed on red wine at that point, watched with amusement as the other drunk teenagers around him had to kiss one another, some taking to the task with greater enthusiasm than others.

Matt spun the bottle, and it landed on Alan. Alan stared at it, as the room erupted in laughter. Matt smirked at him. ‘So, how about it?’ he said.

‘What?’ said Alan. ‘No way, keep off me!’

Matt shrugged. ‘Suit yourself,’ he said, and spun the bottle again. This time, it landed on Dave. Dave blinked.

‘You as much of a coward as your friend, Dave?’ asked Matt.

Dave rolled his eyes. ‘What’s there to be scared of? You don’t have herpes, do you?’

‘Not that I know of,’ said Matt, grinning. He scooted into the centre of the circle, knocking the bottle aside with his knee, grabbed the collar of Dave’s t-shirt and pulled him towards him, their lips crashing together.

Dave had imagined that Matt might plant a chaste peck on his lips and then move on, but to his great surprise, Matt’s tongue found its way inside his mouth within seconds, his hand snaking up to his shoulder and around to the back of his neck. He was a good kisser, if somewhat forceful, and as he pulled him closer, Dave, to his own great surprise, felt his body responding. He was dimly aware that some of the boys in the room were making demonstrative retching noises, while a few of the girls had gone oddly quiet. When Matt broke contact with his lips and made for his neck, however, Dave stopped him.

‘Oi, that’s enough, mate! Get off!’

Matt pulled back, smirking. Dave wiped his lips on his sleeve. His face felt slightly warm. He turned to look at Alan. Predictably, Alan’s face was beetroot red and his eyes wide, and for the first time, Dave wondered if Nick might have been right about him.

‘You all right, Alan?’ Dave asked. 

Alan looked at him, his expression turning from shock to anger.

‘You guys are so gay!’ was all he said, before getting up and going off to sit in the sofa.

‘Your turn to spin, Dave,’ said Matt, licking his lips.

‘Sorry, just skip me, I need a piss.’ Dave got up, legs a bit wobbly, and made his way down the corridor in search of adequate facilities.

* * *

Nick sat at his computer, feeling utterly miserable. He and Dave hadn’t spoken since yesterday. So this was what fighting felt like . . . He sighed and sat back in his chair. There was a sick, churning feeling in the pit of his stomach, like fear or nervousness but not quite. He wanted it to stop.

His Messenger window lit up, and he clicked it. 

 

Mel: What’s up?

Nick: Everything sucks.

Mel: Something happen?

Nick: Dave’s a twat.

Mel: Yeah, well, I could have told you that. What’s he done now?

 

Nick hesitated. It had felt easy to share intimate details of his personal life with her back when he didn’t have one, and also didn’t know who she was. It was harder now. All the same he opted for cautious honesty.

 

Nick: He doesn’t want to do it with me. Says it’s different because I’m a boy, and I just keep thinking he doesn’t really want me. Maybe he’s regretting it all, thinks he’s made a mistake. Maybe he doesn’t really feel the same way about me as I do about him. 

 

He pressed enter, thought for a moment and then added: 

 

Nick: I’ve waited for this for years. I’ve never been more ready for it. And now I’m finally with someone and he doesn’t want to.

 

He waited for a reply. Mel seemed to be taking some time composing it, but then the window flashed again.

 

Mel: Dave can be a privileged, clueless arse sometimes, but he’s not a liar, and if there’s one thing I know absolutely for sure it’s that he’s crazy about you. I think he DOES want you and he’s just scared. He just needs more time to figure things out. It always takes him a while to adjust to new things. You need to give him time.

Nick: I just don’t understand how he can sleep with the female half of the school and not with me.

Mel: Did he tell you that?

Nick: No…

Mel: You shouldn’t listen to gossip. Dave’s had sex a grand total of three girls, and none of those were one night stands. I don’t know if they ever even went all the way.

 

Nick stared at the computer screen. 

 

Nick: Maybe he said that so you wouldn’t think he was a total manwhore? 

 

But then, realising how insulting that was, he pressed backspace and deleted it.

He and Dave hadn’t actually talked about Dave’s sex life pre-Nick, he realised. Nick had just assumed, because that was what people said. Because Dave was flirty and had had lots of girlfriends. Nick realised with some horror that he must have assumed Dave’s sexual debut to have been at about twelve.

Nick leaned back again, running a hand through his hair. He still felt angry, but he was suddenly less certain about whether his anger was justified.

* * *

Dave flushed the toilet and left the bathroom. Across the hall was a dark room with a window. The door was open. Not wanting to return to the livingroom and Alan’s angry face, Dave went inside.

It appeared to be a study. There were several bookcases against one wall, and a large mahogany desk in one corner. Dave went over to the window and looked outside at the darkness.

‘What are you doing in here, all by yourself?’

Dave turned around and found Matt in the doorway, a three quarters empty bottle of wine in his hand.

‘Just needed to get away for a minute,’ Dave replied. ‘Had too much to drink. Needed to think.’

‘Right . . . So, that was fun,’ said Matt, nodding towards the living room.

‘Yeah,’ said Dave derisively. ‘Fun.’

‘What, don’t you like me?’ Matt pouted, taking a few steps closer. ‘You know, we could pick up where we left off . . .’

Dave scoffed. ‘You’re drunk,’ he said.

‘That I am,’ Matt acknowledged. ‘Drunk and bored. So what do you say? A kiss for the birthday boy?’

‘I’m not gay,’ said Dave.

Matt shrugged and examined his fingernails nonchalantly. ‘Neither am I, but I’ve had all the girls here and I’m so fucking bored with them all. Why are small town boys so fucking repressed? Wish some of my friends from Brum could have made it . . .’ He glanced up at Dave through thick, dark lashes. ‘Besides, you liked it, I could tell . . . Not as straight as you look, are you?’ Matt took another few steps, closing the distance between them. He set the bottle down on the desk, trapping Dave between himself and the window. Then he leaned in and kissed him again.

He was gentler this time, but just as insistent. He pressed his body against Dave’s, pushing him up against the window. Dave felt one of Matt’s hands come to land on his hip. The other went up into his hair. Dave closed his eyes in spite of himself. It was a good kiss. Matt’s hard, angular body felt comfortable against his own. But when he opened his eyes again, the eyes staring back at him were brown, not grey, and any arousal he might have felt died down at once.

Matt must have noticed, because he broke the kiss and raised an eyebrow.

‘So, you really are straight after all?’ he said, sounding surprised.

‘Maybe,’ said Dave. ‘Or maybe I just don’t fancy you.’

‘Oh, come off it!’ said Matt. ‘How could you not fancy me?’ But he was smiling again. ‘Oh, well. Maybe I’ll give Alan a try.’

‘Only if you want a punch in the face,’ said Dave, grinning. 

‘Why are the hottest ones always such massive homophobes?’ Matt sighed. ‘Takes the fun out of life . . .’ 

Dave shook his head. ‘I have to go. There’s somewhere I should be.’

‘Right,’ said Matt. ‘Well, have a good night. I need to find someone to shag, or take a cold shower.’

Dave shook his head again, gave Matt a pat on the shoulder, and left the room.

‘Where are you going?’ asked Alan when he passed through the living room on his way to the front door. ‘And where were you?’

‘I was having a chat with Matt,’ Dave replied. ‘And I’m going home. Not feeling well. Too much alcohol,’ he lied. ‘See you Monday.’ Then he left. He did have somewhere he needed to be, after all.

* * *

It had just gone midnight, and Nick couldn’t sleep. He had played guitar, surfed the web, and listened to music. He was now reading a book, trying to make himself tired. Everything felt wrong, somehow. At this hour, he would normally be texting Dave good night. Additionally, his chat with Mel had left him with no small amount of guilt. Nick was about to put the book away and just turn out the lights and have a wank when his mobile buzzed on the night stand next to him.

A text from Dave. Nick frowned, even as his heart skipped a beat. For a moment, he wondered if he should just delete the text without reading it, but the moment he’d thought it he realised how petty and childish that was, so he read it.

 

Need to talk to you. Can you sneak out? Be outside your house in 5.

 

Nick hesitated, then typed: 

 

Yes.

 

He put his clothes on and opened the door out onto the landing. The house was dark and quiet. It seemed like Zoë and Craig had gone to bed. He snuck down the stairs as quietly as he could, put on his shoes and jacket, and opened the front door very carefully. Thankfully, it did not creak. 

When he stepped outside, he couldn’t see Dave, but a ‘psst’ alerted him to his presence. He was off to the side of the driveway, leaning up against the fence. He was dressed in a longish, black coat and a knitted hat hid his blonde hair from view.

‘Hi,’ he said, smiling. His breath misted in front of his face in the cold night air.

Nick inclined his head, not smiling. He walked closer and leaned against the fence next to Dave. He could smell wine on him. ‘You’re drunk,’ he said, not looking at him. Dave made no comment. Nick put his hands in his pockets, as much for warmth as for the nonchalant gesture. ‘So. What do you want?’

‘I know you’re angry,’ said Dave. ‘And there’s a chance that this is going to make you even angrier, but please, hear me out.’

Nick shrugged.

‘I just came from a party, at Matt’s place,’ Dave began. ‘We were playing drinking games and things . . . And spin the bottle.’

Nick’s pulse increased, and he snuck a glance at Dave, who looked uncomfortable. ‘What, did you kiss Linda or something?’

Dave shook his head. ‘No, Linda wasn’t there. I kissed Matt.’

Nick blinked. ‘You—At a party? In front of people?’

‘It was spin the bottle, it was no big deal, several of the girls had kissed each other already,’ said Dave. ‘But that’s not the point. Please, just listen.’ He had a pleading look in his eyes.

Nick nodded and looked away again.

‘Afterwards, I was feeling a little drunker than I should have been, so I went into another room—his parents’ study, I think—by myself, and Matt followed, and he kissed me again. But here’s the thing, I didn’t feel anything. He wasn’t you. It has to be you, Nick, you’re . . . Well, you’re you.’

Nick looked up again, and found Dave studying him, a pained expression upon his face. ‘You kissed Matt twice?’ was all he managed to say.

Dave scratched his head in a frustrated gesture and sighed. ‘Haven’t you been listening?’ he said. ‘It doesn’t matter who I kiss if it’s not you!’ He pulled Nick’s hand out of his pocket and held it in his. ‘No one has ever made me feel the way you do. No girls, no guys. So, am I gay? I don’t know. Does it matter? I’m in love with you!’ He kissed Nick’s knuckles, and Nick found himself having to blink away tears. 

‘Do you really mean that?’ he asked quietly.

‘Yes!’ said Dave. ‘I mean it. And that’s why I’m not ready to rush into sex, either. It’s nothing to do with us both being guys or whatever, it’s that I have never had sex and had it mean anything. I’ve had sex because that’s what I’m supposed to do. I’m meant to be like that, to be a playboy or whatever, it’s what they all expect of me. And so, I’ve shagged my girlfriends because that’s what you do, and I’ve taken the instant gratification and been happy with that, but it’s meant fuck-all.’

He let go of Nick’s hand and stood up properly, facing him. ‘And that’s what’s so great about you and me. Because even though I’ve had sex with girls before, in this I’m as much of a virgin as you are, and that makes everything wonderful and exciting, and fucking terrifying, and we get to feel the same things, together.’ He took Nick’s hand again and held it to his chest. Nick could feel the rhythm of Dave’s heart, going double time. ‘So, let’s just take it slow, okay?’

Nick nodded, unable to speak for fear that he would break down crying in earnest. He stood up straight and put his arms around Dave’s waist, pulling him close. He buried his face in his shoulder, and Dave caressed the back of his neck lightly with his fingers. 

‘I still want you so badly it hurts, you know,’ Nick mumbled after a few moments.

Dave drew a shaky breath. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘And the feeling’s totally mutual, believe me. But let’s just . . . take it slow, yeah?’

Nick sighed and then nodded into Dave’s shoulder. ‘Yeah . . . Okay.’ 

It wasn’t what he wanted. What he wanted was to tear all Dave’s clothes off and go down on him or something. It was what he dreamt of at night, and thought of for most of the day. But he knew, inside, that what was going on here, what he had with Dave, was much bigger and more important than sex. If Dave wanted to wait, they would wait. His left hand would do for now.

He pulled back a bit and looked up into Dave’s face. He looked concerned and perhaps a bit nervous. Nick smiled. Then he stood on tip-toe and placed his lips on Dave’s, trying to convey through the kiss everything he felt. It must have worked, because when he pulled away, Dave’s cheeks were visibly red even in the dim, yellow light of the street lamps, and he seemed breathless.

‘I—’ Dave’s voice broke slightly and he cleared his throat. ‘I should probably get home,’ he said. ‘Talk to you tomorrow?’

‘Yeah,’ said Nick with a grin, fantastically pleased with himself. ‘Good night!’ He kissed him again, and then turned to go back inside.

‘Sweet dreams,’ said Dave, softly.

Nick halted and looked over his shoulder at him. ‘Count on it.’

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Thanks for reading! Nick was a bit of a dick in this one, though it's hard to blame him for being impatient. I love feedback, both positive and constructive, so if you have any questions, comments, or critiques, feel free to e-mail me at thornwild177@gmail.com