Arron Melrose

The County Shield  was not some trophy over which Eastamptonshire’s two major, but struggling, professional football teams fought in compensation for their inability to advance beyond the middle reaches of the English First Division. It was in fact one of the differences that marked out Eastamptonshire from all other English Counties. The County Shield was sponsored by all 58 Housing Co-operatives which operated exclusively within the county. Each year the two teams played for the Shield, with the gate money being donated to some good cause or other nominated by the winning team.

It was to this the 2017 match, that Robert and Arron now went. As usual it was as much a family and community  outing for the 25000 who attended, as a football derby. For Arron, it was the next move in his plan to get his friend into bed.

“Over there, two of the pussies who backed out of gate crashing the end of school party for you lot.” Arron waved enthusiastically; “And two more,” he snorted seeing Lizzie Brogan and Vince Weaver in the crowd.

The sight of his parents, two siblings and aunt Daisy squeezing their way in Arron and Robert’s direction prompted him to drag a protesting Robert out of the throng. Just as Skelthorpe scored an equalising penalty loud cheers covered their retreat to the exit.

Fancy coming back to mine to play ‘Murder Mountain 2’ is what Arron was going to say, but he became aware that his friend was suddenly stock still, with Tom Harper hardly a metre in front of them. In mutual surprise Tom and Robert sort of scowled, looked decidedly abashed and mumbled in mutual incoherence. Each trying to step aside to let the other pass, only added to their discomfort, before a little more shuffling and Arron actually stepping slightly to one side, allowed Tom to hurry on his way.

“I take it that you and the pretty Mr. H. haven’t said much to each other since cubiclegate then?”

“Not a lot,” Robert shrugged. “Anyway, the A levels are done, my schooldays are over and there is no reason for me and Tom Harper to see each other again.”

Three weeks had passed since ‘pop’ Davies had found Robert and Tom only just dressed, after their tryst in a school library study cubicle. For those who cared, made it their business, or simply indulged in a prurient curiosity, opinion at Calderwood school was divided. More than enough considered that Tom had been taken advantage of. This was more or less the view Robert himself took and in his final days at Calderwood did not demur as his erstwhile champion, Arthur Davies, sought to give it wide currency. After all as he explained now to Arron,

“I have finished my schooling and it is Tom who will be returning to Calderwood in September.”

“As will I, Robert mate, but Tom knew what he was doing as much as you did.”
“Maybe. But I was unkind to him. I called him a slut, as I remember it and I have never called anyone a slut,- not male or female,-ever.

“I even,”- Robert lowered his voice and glanced along the busy street.- “I even thought about pissing all over him.”

Arron permitted himself a long low whistle, which  confused a handsome middle aged gentleman who rather thought it was directed towards himself.

“You dark horse,” said Arron, not quiet able to contain his surprise. “I never had you down as an aficionado of watersports. Now me, some think I’m into golden rain; but then,” he concluded sombrely,  “some call me a slut and they really mean it.”

“I don’t think I am,-an aficionado of waterspouts,- I mean,” continued Robert, a frown of concentration making him look even hotter than usual in Arron’s estimation. “It is just that lately Tom Harper has seemed so cute and something else as well. So…”

“Enticingly submissive,” offered the knowledgeable Arron, drawing on his recent adventures with Tim Dale for inspiration.

“Well..I..I..Yes I suppose so.”

“Look,” said Arron, as they drew level with the only Starbucks in Skelthorpe. “Lets get a coffee. I need to explain something I should have mentioned  after you and Tom had your little scene in the school library.”

“But I thought we were going back to your place for a fuck. That’s what you have been doing for the last few weeks isn’t it, trying to get me in your bed? You don’t really think I believed that you had anything else in mind, do you?”

Arron smiled his most winning smile; his deep brown eyes gleaming, his dark eyebrows, arching. He had not expected Robert to be this direct.

“Not just for the last few weeks, but for the past 12  months or so to be honest. But just now, my extensive designs on your body can wait.”

He enjoyed the fleeting look of surprise on Robert’s face before he went to order their coffees. Returning with their coffees, Arron was all seriousness. The slight note of mischief in his voice, banished.

“It’s like this, you see. Tom and me have fancied you for ages. We sort of bonded one day when we noticed each other looking you over. You were tearing a strip of that turd brain Jack Innes.”

Robert nodded. He remembered how Jack Innes had had been mouthing off at Janice Shaw. Just bullying her.

“You of course were always trying to pull guys at school. So was I. But although I reckon I was,- and still will be- as discrete as you ever were, it was always you who was credited with a certain finesse and me who got called a slut.”

Robert listened to this heartfelt recital from someone he had hardly known until a few days ago. He wondered where all this was going and at the same time wanted to grab Arron and snog him like mad. Right there and then. So much for the finesse Robert knew full well others attributed to his character. Where this was going soon became clear.

“A few weeks ago, Tom was in my bedroom. Me thinking I had a pleasant hour or two ahead, giving him one at last, when he burst in to tears. They were not tears of joy at what studly delights I might have for him, but tears of despair because he is madly in love with you and wanted me, to tell him, how to tell you.”

Robert who had drained his own cup, absently took the cup in Arron’s hand and began sipping  its contents.

“And you said,” came the cautious enquiry.

“Well, Tom looks so sweet when he cries, what else could I do but retrieve my only clean handkerchief from my sock draw and hand him that.”

“ I understand,” Robert responded almost to himself as Tom’s sobs from their interlude in the library cubicle came to mind.

“I need more coffee,” announced Arron. But I’m broke until tomorrow when the beloved Ps hand out what they quaintly still call ‘toffee money’ to their progeny. So you will have to pay.”

“You look a bit stunning yourself,” said Robert, rising to purchase the coffees. “Back in a minute.”

Ten minutes later Robert  returned bearing coffee and cakes.

“To cut to the chase,” urged Robert, gently.

Arron laughed, giving himself time to compose his thoughts. “The chase. Well, here was I advising the sweet Tom on how approach the man of his dreams, who just happened to be the very man, I had at the top of my current lust list. I thought what the hell. Choose a time and place; a quiet moment and just tell Robert, I said. Be brave. I said. Even if Robbie is daft enough to turn you down, he will be kind and considerate in the doing.”

“Wow!” that is some billing, Robert said noticing a stray tear in his friend’s eyes. He proffered a serviette, in lieu of something from Arron’s sock draw.

“Thanks.” Arron sniffled, then blew his noise with such force that for two seconds that stretched to an eternity, the coffee shop fell still and silent.

“I guess things didn’t quite work out as planned,” said the aspiring English Literature student, with an air of understatement.

“Nope. They didn’t, Arron. But maybe if Tom had followed your advice, things would have been different for him and me.”

Union Street became more noisy and even busier than usual as they left Starbucks. The County Shield match was over and the Cresswell Night Shelter in Grangeford was on a sounder financial footing,-for now.

“Things might still be different,” shouted Arron as a lightbulb moment took hold and he cheerily thumped the bigger and stronger Robert in the forearm.

“Find him! Find Tom! He wants a young stud to be his boyfriend and to be his dom. He wants you and you want him don’t you?”

Before Robert drew breath to reply his manhood stirred in rampant desire, stretching the denim of his jeans as it did so. “That’s it boy,” laughed Arron, “ looks very much like a definite YES to me.”

“Yes. I do want Mr Harper. What was it you called Tom? The enticingly submissive?”

“That’s what I called him,” agreed Arron and drew Robert into a very public kiss.

“You looked stunning in that purple suit by the way.”

“Thanks. If you and the sweet Tom do work something out together, have a party and I will come wearing it if you like.”

“Get a room,” they heard someone shout.

“Look, the match has only just finished.” Arron paused, just long enough to tap Tom’s phone number into Robert’s. “He will either be somewhere here in town, or on his way home.”
They kissed again. “Now fuck off and find him.”