Bruno Comes Back to Life
Yeah, so, I feel really bad about pushing James away, and trying to push Stan away. It's not that I didn't trust them, but the problem with being in the whole bipolar swing is everything makes sense when you're in it, even if from the outside, it looks completely bonkers. I had this idea that no one could help me, and that no one needed to help me, that there wasn't anything wrong with me that a good night's sleep wouldn't cure. Wrong. Just like me deciding it would be fun to have sex in the back room of a sketchy bar with my boyfriend and a tweaked-out stranger. I remember thinking it would be fun, that everyone should be doing it. Right. That was the manic party in my head talking.
It's not like the pills I take have that many side effects, and more to the point, they work. I know some other people with bipolar don't do so well on any medication and the side effects make them want to get off them. I'm lucky, I guess. And what makes it harder is the highs are so awesome that we miss them when they're gone so we think it's worth going through the lows. But you know why I wanted to get off them? Because I thought it made me weak or dependent or some idiotic idea like that.
When Stan threw things at my window, and then barged into my flat and saw me like that? It was awful, but it also started to wake me up. The look on his face was hard to see. So I reluctantly let him take me to A & E and then I let everyone take care of me and I took my pills and after a week or so, I started to feel like myself again.
And James...what can I say? He was a prince. He also looks like a prince. He was there every day, at least once. He brought me chocolate and sweaters and books and a lot of care. He didn't judge me, he wasn't angry that I pushed him away. When he took me back to Manchester and took care of me, I think it broke through the last bit of 'I can do this on my own' rubbish I had been deluding myself about. He showed me love and I realized I could return it. We had never said the words, but that's what it was.
Stan was also my saviour. If it wasn't for him, I probably would have stayed in my flat for...I don't want to think about what might have happened. When I finally got home, I called him and we talked it out. He is also a prince.
When I was finally discharged from the hospital, James was there. He put me in his car and we drove to Manchester. He didn't give me a choice. I was to stay with him and that was that. When we got to his flat, we sat on his sofa holding hands. I poured out my heart to the boy and he cried and I cried and that was that. I promised him never to stop taking my meds again. I told him how stupid it was to think I could tough it out on my own.
Once we had finally settled down, he said, “And Stan...he's the sweetest man!”
“Yes, well, I know you have a crush on him, James. He's taken, remember? You're also taken, if I'm not mistaken.”
He grinned and kissed me. “I know...it's not like I really have a crush on him, but...I guess since we...well...had sex with him and Sergio, I'm his biggest fan. And after he came to your rescue...I'm so grateful to him.” He stopped and I could tell there was a bit more. “I...uh...slept in his bed when I went to Shrewley...”
I sighed theatrically and said, “Oh my God!” But then I smiled a little evilly and said, “You know that I hooked up with those two a whole bunch over the last year or so?” I realized I hadn't told him.
“You have? So that time at Stan's birthday wasn't the first time? I'm jealous!”
I slid my hand under his shirt and stroked the smoothness of his back. He squirmed, but was clearly enjoying it. He leaned in and started to kiss me and I was reminded both of how wonderfully soft his mouth was and how tall he was, because he had to lean down to kiss me. He said, “Do you remember Stan sucking my cock while you fucked me...?”
I groaned when he unzipped my trousers and pulled my cock out, running his thumb over the head. “How could I forget? Those two are so hot...”
While I spoke, I pulled his shirt off, then unfastened his trousers. He grinned at me and pulled himself over so he was sitting in my lap. His cock was rigid and sticking up, the pale hair around it was peeking out of his briefs. I grabbed it and stroked. “Can I fuck you, James?”
He laughed and kissed me, whispering in my ear, “I'll be pissed if you don't...”
I reached underneath him and tugged my trousers down further so my cock was tucked in between his balls and the base of his cock. I jammed my hips up and our cocks slid against each other while our tongues battled it out. I moved my mouth over to his ear and sucked on it, then said, “Do you know how much I love you?”
He froze for a second because neither one of us had said it before. But in that moment, after all that drama that I had created, I wanted to express what I felt. Kind of in recompense for the anxiety I caused, but more importantly because it was true. I love him. Then I took his face in my hands and said, “Let's find a way to live together. I don't care where. I want you with me all the time.”
He leaned closer and kissed me. He was crying again, and I realized how much I liked how open he was about how he felt. Then kissing me once more, he stood up and extended his hand for me to take. He led me to the bedroom and lay down, kicking his trousers away. His pale body was so beautiful, almost unearthly. I pulled off my clothes and climbed on top of him, sucking on one of his nipples, giving it some little bites while I stroked his very hard dick.
I knew I wanted to fuck him, but first I wanted more of that cock, so I turned around so mine was pointing down over his face and slipped his into my mouth. We both moaned and whined as I pushed into his throat and he into mine. It felt almost like we were the same person, as if some weird combination of Bruno and James had become Brunojames and was sucking his own cock. It was mad, I know, but that's how it felt.
Getting really excited, I felt my balls tensing up and I almost filled his mouth with cum, but stopped myself. I slid around and pushed his legs apart. James produced some lube from somewhere, so I poured a bunch all over his hole and ran my cock through it, jacking myself at the same time as I slid into him, his hole relaxing and the warmth of him enveloping me in all that James warmth. I ran my hand over his chest, feeling his hard nipples. I gave one a squeeze and he gasped as I took a very slow, deep thrust. I stopped and caressed his stomach, amazed at how smooth his skin was.
But I needed to fuck, so I gripped his thighs and started to go, shutting my eyes and letting the sensation wipe away all my memories of the hospital and the last few weeks of misery. It felt like fucking him was liberating me from myself and my history. I felt like I could go for days, and the feeling of my dick reaming his ass was almost hypnotizing. The end of my cock felt like it was glowing.
And it continued to glow like an ember that someone was blowing on and in a huge rush, I was there. I filled his ass with cum, then I leaned down and awkwardly kissed him and he nibbled on my bottom lip before saying, all breathy and warm, “Bruno...if I didn't love you before, then I certainly do now, and not just because I'm full of your cum, but for all of it...”
He was crying a little. I pulled my cock out and slid down, engulfing his with my mouth. He gripped my head and cried out rather loud and then I felt his cock swell, then explode, a huge gush of cum rather than streaks of it, filled my mouth and I swallowed hungrily, making all kinds of animal sounds.
When he was done, I pulled myself up and lay beside him. He kissed my shoulder and I said, “So...where should we live?”
He didn't say anything for a moment. Then: “I've never lived with anyone before.”
I laughed. “Yeah, because you're what, fourteen?”
Slapping my thigh, he said, “No, idiot. I just haven't. But I don't know. It doesn't matter to me. I can live anywhere...as long as it's with you....”
I could hear a sentence underneath that one. It was something like, 'And I'll keep an eye on you'. I said, “You don't have to worry about me, James. But you can make sure I keep going to therapy and taking my pills and we can live normal lives together. And we can fuck whenever we want!”
Throwing his head back, he laughed, then he lay there for a moment, just breathing. “Whenever? Like even when Stan and Sergio come to visit?”
“You're a dirty boy. But yes. Including when they come over.”
He turned and put his head on my chest which, given his height, made him slide down in the bed. He ran his hand over my stomach in idle circles. “When should we move?”
I kissed the top of his head. “Whenever we find a place, I suppose. But first we need to decide where.”
We lay there for a while, just breathing and then I realized he was asleep. I felt so grateful that he was still there beside me, that he hadn't decided I was too complicated or just too fucked up to stay with. It meant he saw the person I was behind my moods, my anxieties, even behind the person I was when I had stopped taking my meds. I was very happy the universe had sent him my way. Or maybe very grateful the universe sent me to that hotel in Manchester.
--
I stayed in Manchester for three weeks, gradually feeling more and more ready to resume my life. The meds took a while to really settle in and stabilize me but in late April I felt ready. James and I had had many talks about what the future might look like. Unlike Stan and Sergio, or Sandor and Aravind, we didn't yet have careers. We both had worked in restaurants and because of that we could go anywhere.
My secret desire that I hadn't told anyone was I wanted to be like Stan. I wanted to teach. When I had finished Uni, I had felt lost and confused and was still getting used to taking meds and wondering if they would stop working, as they did for many people with bipolar. But they kept working so I had no excuse.
James and I traded train trips between Manchester and Bristol, but we were getting tired of it. We wanted to wake up every morning with the other beside us. So on a Sunday morning when I was in Manchester, I woke up in James' bed. He was snoring, his arm thrown over my head, one of his legs tucked between mine. I pulled myself away and stretched.
“Good morning.” His voice was muffled by my arm.
I looked at him and took hold of his cock, giving it a little stroke but almost absently. I wasn't quite ready to fuck, but I liked the feel of it swelling in my hand. He whimpered and arched his back. His light chest hair glinted in the sunlight coming in the window. I asked, “What about Birmingham?”
He looked at me, clearly not quite awake. “Huh?”
“To live. We could live in Birmingham.”
He turned and rubbed his eyes. “Why there?”
I thought for a moment. “Well...your gran lives there...and it's between Manchester and Warwick...”
He was clearly trying to work it out, but I knew that my hand gripping his very hard cock was making it difficult for him to think. I ran my fingers through the little forest of blonde hair around it. He moaned and squirmed then reached for mine which was not surprisingly as hard as his. He began to stroke it very slowly. I turned so he had better access. We looked at each other, grinning.
Finally he said, “And Warwick because we want to be closer to Stan and Sergio, I guess?”
“Exactly. Those two are like my family. And we still would be close to Manchester and your family. My parents are in The Azores, so...”
I looked at his cock then mine, which he still had a nice soft grip on. The contrast between his pale skin and mine, his blonde hair and the thicket of dark brown hair around my cock was striking. I leaned down and licked the head of his. Just once. I wanted to make him a little crazy.
He reached out and took one of my nipples between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed. I gave a yelp. “James Dalton!”
He grinned. “Bruno Salazar!”
It felt like another declaration of love, which I suppose it was. He reached around and rummaged in the drawer beside the bed. I knew what he was doing. He pulled out a bottle and handed it to me.
I didn't say anything, but I opened it and squeezed out a stream of clear liquid onto my cock. Then onto my fingers. James pulled his legs up and shifted so I could massage may way into his ass. He slowly stroked his cock, his eyes never leaving mine. He said, “Bruno...” and gasped when I pulled myself on top of him and began to slip my cock in, feeling the soft hair around his hole tickling the shaft of my dick, “...my gran gave me some money last year...kind of like a pre-inheritance or something...we could buy a house, you know.”
My cock slowly slid into his warm body. I gripped his legs and leaned down and kissed his knee. He ran his hands down my back and gave my ass a little slap. I said, “How much?”
He slid a hand in between my ass cheeks, trailing his fingers between them. Then his finger found my hole, which he pushed in, exploring. “Enough for a house.”
I stopped moving, looking at him, feeling startled. “Is she rich or something?”
He didn't say anything for a moment, so I slowly pulled my cock back, then, gripping his thighs a bit more firmly, nudged my cock back in until our bodies met. I looked down and I could just see the base of my cock at his stretched hole, the light hair under his balls meeting my dark pubes around my dick. He ran his forefinger over my face and said, “I suppose. I'm the only grandchild, so...”
With a little more energy, I gave him another length, pushing him into the bed with more force. He gasped and closed his eyes. I was going slow. I wanted to make it last. I wanted this to be almost ceremonial as if it was a fuck before we had some sort of marriage, rather than after. I did it again, watching the sticky length of my prick slide out, then push back in. My balls tensed and I could feel pre-cum gush out of me, making his hole that much more slippery.
He opened his eyes and I said, “You would be willing to do that? To buy us a house even though we've only been together less than a year? With a mad pillock like me?”
I felt his hands grip my ass and pull me even deeper into him. We both gasped, then he said, “Yes. Especially with a mad pillock like you.”
The bursts of pleasure running from my cock through my body distracted me for a moment and I concentrated on fucking, on stretching him, still not going very fast, but going as deep as I could. We just started at each other. He had a blonde beard just starting to be visible and his eyes were wide and intense. I leaned down awkwardly and kissed him, our lips barely touching. I said, “I love you, James...”
His smile was like sun after a terrible winter, which, in many ways, this past winter had been. “Bruno, I can't tell you how much...”
But he didn't finish because I thrust really deep, really hard and my hips began to flex faster, as if my words had added fuel to the fire of my desire for him. I got into a rhythm, faster and deeper and he exhaled loudly every time my cock found the depths of him, our bodies beginning to smack together. I shut my eyes and let my body go, my slowness being taken over by the simple need to fuck, to take, and, with a choking cry, to cum. He held my ass as I froze and I could feel my cock pulsing in him, jets of cum leaving my body into his.
When the fire in my balls died down, I collapsed on him, letting my streaming cock slip out. I reached down and ran my fingers over his hole, then brought them to his mouth. He sucked on my fingers with a moan. I took his dick in my hand and said, “I want you to fuck me, James.”
Normally he preferred only to be fucked, but today I could tell he wanted to, I could tell he felt like taking me. I pulled myself onto him, positioned my ass over his cock. He collected some of my cum from his hole and smeared it on his hard prick and then, gripping himself, aimed his dick up so I could push myself down on him. His cock was slim and I had no trouble taking him. I looked down and raised my eyebrows. With a determined expression, he started to arc his hips up with a surprising amount of energy. I shut my eyes and let him pummel me. My cock slowly started to get hard again, so I stroked myself along with him.
When he came, he almost yelled and I could feel his cum drooling out of me. I somehow managed to pump another load out of my cock, even though the sparks were much less than they were, but I spurted a little out that ran down onto my fingers. I sighed and licked my hand off. We looked at each other again, and our smiles could have lit up a city.
--
I went back to Bristol and begged for my old job, telling them the whole story. I didn't think the restaurant would go for it, but the manager, who was a lovely woman, actually agreed. She told me she had a friend who struggled with bipolar disorder and she sympathized with me and said she was impressed by my determination. I was very glad, because in the world of restaurant jobs, this one paid very well.
I told Stan and Sergio of our plan to move to Birmingham. They were thrilled and invited us down for a weekend in June. I won't go into the details. We mostly ate nice food and drank too much wine, but one night the four of us had a wild night in their bed. I was new to foursomes, but I was starting to understand all the ways two couples could interact. Everyone fucked everyone and there was a lot of cum on everything by the end of it.
James seemed serenely happy, which made me happy. He told Stan that he had a little crush on him, and Sergio and I watched Stan fuck him very slowly while Sergio and I jacked each other while we watched.
I told the other three of my desire to be a teacher and I thought Stan would burst into tears he was so happy. We spent a few hours on the Sunday strategizing where I could get my teacher training. He knew someone at Birmingham City University which he said has a good teacher training program. That was exciting.
We drove back to Bristol feeling like things were settling down. James seemed happy and excited and he said we would start to look for a place to live in Birmingham.
He left me at my flat and as I watched his car drive away, I felt a wave of gratitude to him, and to our friends. Gratitude that they saw through my illness to the person I knew I was and gave me their loyalty even when I was out my head. It was the kind of loyalty I had never felt. I love my parents, but they were all about business and making a living. It might be a Portuguese thing from people who historically didn't have much and survival was the most important thing. Satisfaction, much less happiness was almost irrelevant. But with James and with Sergio and Stan, I could see that something else was possible, something warm and open and, to someone like me, miraculous.
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