The Caged Bird Longs To Be Free

Chapter 5

David leads you, by the hand no less, a few streets up. You leap between overhanging tree branches and bus shelters, anything to keep out of the rain.

You eventually stand outside a large house. The lights are all off inside.

"Don't worry, my family is away visiting my grandma down south," he says as he produces a key from his pocket. "Nobody's in."

You stop for a second. Is that an indication of his reticence to be seen with another boy?

But you catch his smile, he's reassuring you that nobody would accidentally walk in while you're tangled up with him.

David heads to the kitchen as you look around the gloomy hallway. Shoes litter the floor, discarded from the rack by the door.

Family portraits hang upon the wall. You can just make out a holiday snap of David on a sailing boat.

He isn't wearing a life jacket, just an open-button linen shirt and board shorts while hanging off the side by a sail rope, the picture-perfect image of danger and fun.

David returns with two glasses of water and hands one to you. You both take a small sip, the silence once again digging at you.

"Do you...want to come upstairs?" he says. You nod, trying not to be too eager, but not reluctant either. You slowly follow him up the stairs and into his bedroom.

David clicks the light on and for a second you are blinded.

"Ah shit," you say, covering your eyes.

"Whoops, sorry," David said, dimming them to their faintest setting.

As your eyes readjust you get the first glimpse of a life beyond the rugby persona.

The double bed is neatly made with the corners tucked in. His desk is littered with textbooks and notepads, all colour coded.

His walls are adorned with rock band posters and a giant map of the world.

You set your water glass down on his desk and look a little closer at the map. David has stuck pins through the map, listing cities and countries you had no idea even existed.

You trace your fingers down across state lines and seas until you feel his presence behind you.

You take one last breath before turning round.

That...moment.

Where you are close enough to touch and your stomach feels like you are trying to wring water out of it.

Your breathing becomes heavy and haggard, as your nerves threaten to overtake you and turn you into a shivering wreck.

But then you look into his eyes and slowly breathe out, your shoulders lowering, a smile creeping onto your lips.

Your teeth clash as you restart kissing. David's hands start to roam, circling your waist.

He pulls you into him as you start to grind together in some weird imitation of what you have seen in a thousand movies and television shows.

He is hard. You can feel it through your jeans. Your hands, previously running through his wet hair, slide down and make their way to his belt.

You want to take your time, to savour every moment, every movement, but your nerves make it a frenetic action.

David steps out of his shorts, all the while still kissing you. You remove your own trousers and take a sharp intake of breath as you feel David's cold hands streak across your back.

You step away and pull your shirt over your head. David does the same.

Now you go on the attack. You push him backwards onto his bed, before slowly swaying towards him.

You sink down onto your knees and slowly pull David's briefs down. They get tangled around his ankles, and he kicks them across the room.

Again, you want to savour the moment. You want to stand back, backlit by the moon and the streetlamp outside, and stare.

It is the first time you've been this close to someone of the same gender. You want to inspect him, hold him, compare sizes. You lightly take hold of him and it springs into life.

You are here now, might as well keep going. You've watched enough porn. You think you know how to do it.

You take him in your mouth and hear him groan in appreciation. You start to bob your head back and forth, the faint hairs below his belly button tickling your nose.

You close your eyes and try to respond to David's vocalisations and movements, replicating your technique when his grunts have a positive vibe.

You feel his hand on the back of your head, slowly caressing your hair, before pushing you further down.

You suppress a cough as he tightens his grip and holds you in place. Part of you wants to push him away, but the other side wants to give him as much pleasure as possible. To take all of him.

After a few minutes, David eventually pulls you back up by your biceps to his face, and you sink into a long kiss.

He doesn't return the service, but his hands gravitate to your boxers and enacts a motion similar to guessing a birthday present from feeling the wrapping paper.

He finally ventures inside and wraps his hand around you, sending a shiver up your whole body.

In between kisses a whisper escapes you lips. It is a brazen request, fuelled by alcohol and a desire to keep going.

You are the quiet and unassuming one in class, but now you have only one thing on your mind.

"Do you have a condom?"

David is dumbstruck for a second before he nods, motioning to his bedside drawer. You stand as he scoots over.

You get rid of your boxers as David sits down again on the bed, tearing the foil packet open. You watch as he rolls it down his length.

It is odd to see one "in the wild". Rubbers were limited to the one sex-ed class you had at age 16, they still held a mythical quality.

You clamber back on top of him, give David a quick peck, before guiding him in.

You try to relax, but you can't.

The cool breeze against your skin, David's hands resting on your hip bones, the act that is about to commence, you can't help but tighten every tendon in your body and hold your breath.