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The forest stretched out all around them, the trees as tall as four storey buildings, the canopy thick and bright green and whispering, the trunks grey and shining like birch. They’d been pushing their way through the long grass for some time, and he’d become increasingly hot and sticky, when they came upon the path.
It wasn’t much of a path. A simple dirt track through the grass, worn smooth by many feet and edged with white stones.
He came to a halt, caught his breath, and said, “There’s people here, then.”
Crouching to look at the stones, Steven said, “Looks that way.” Straightening up, he looked up and down the path. “Which way, do you think?”
Oliver shrugged. It really was quite warm and humid. Steven had sensibly opted for shorts and short sleeves and when he’d looked at Oliver and said will you be alright? It’s hot, Oliver had laughed him off and said of course, old boy – stop fussing.
And there he was. Flagging already. Trying to look casual as he loosened his tie, but Steven must have taken it as a hint, for he offered him the water bottle.
“Thanks,” he said, drinking gratefully. Not too much. They might be out there for a while.
He handed the water bottle back and watched as Steven drank. Three big gulps of water, his head thrown back to expose the line of his neck. His tongue touching the rim of the water bottle, where Steven’s own lips had been just a moment before.
“Maybe we ought to go back to the ship,” he said. “See what the Doctor –”
“Shh.” Steven held up a finger for quiet. In his other hand he held the open bottle, a fat droplet of water clinging to its rim. “Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Steven’s hearing was sharper than his, as a rule. He supposed impeccable senses were necessary to be a pilot. But as a matter of fact, he did hear something. A steady rushing distinct from the overhead rustling of the trees. “Is that a river?”
He couldn’t have placed which direction the sound was coming from, but Steven nodded confidently along the path to their left, said, “This way,” and set boldly off.
“Are you sure?” said Oliver, hanging back.
Over his shoulder Steven said, “Where there’s running water there’ll be people.”
He didn’t know if that followed, given that they were, potentially, on an alien world. But Steven was soldiering off ahead and so he began to trudge after him. The noise of the river grew louder; it sounded like a waterfall. He could make out another sound building alongside it, a steady, whoom, whoom, whoom of something mechanical.
The path wound on through the trees, and then the way opened out. He stepped blinking into brighter sunlight. Directly ahead was the river. There was the fall, wide, but not all that tall. On the far side, a big waterwheel was making the whooms. The path branched off in both directions along the river. A wooden railing ran along the bank; beyond, a sharp drop down to the water.
Voices carried up from beyond the railing. Steven stepped up to it and peered down; as he did so, a voice cried out in greeting. “Hi!”
“Oh, hello!” Steven called back.
That was a very upbeat hello, almost as if meeting an old friend. Oliver hastened to join him at the railing. He looked down, and – oh, lord.
The river was full of naked bodies. People splashing in the shadows and swimming in the deeper water. Men and women in all different sizes and colours, all of them beautiful and all of them glistening and nude.
His eyes tracked involuntarily over the scene, taking it all in. The people swimming in the plunge pool and standing under the fall. Nearby a group tossing a ball around. The party – if you could call it a party – extended some way down the river, beyond another, smaller fall. Downriver he saw more swimmers – another ball game – a group of naked children playing with nets.
Beneath them, upon a flat rock in the river, sat two young women who were beaming up at them. Girls weren’t his area but he could tell they were both absolute stunners. Both of them had absolutely everything on display and they looked positively delighted to have Steven staring down at them.
“What brings you out here?” called out one of the women.
“We’re just passing through,” Steven replied. “That’s alright, isn’t it? We’re not trespassing –”
“Oh, no, of course not,” said the woman.
“It’s everyone’s river!” added her companion, at which they both had a little laugh. “I’m Raya.”
“My name’s Claudine,” said the first woman. “Who are you?”
“Oh, I’m Steven,” he said, ducking his head at Oliver. “This is my friend Oliver. We’re – travellers.”
“Ohh,” said Claudine, intrigued. “Where are you travelling to?”
Steven shrugged. “We don’t know yet.”
“Ah, the best way to travel,” said Claudine, and then they all had another laugh, this time including Steven.
Oh, he didn’t know where to look. He couldn’t look at the girls, lest his gaze drift down to their swaying breasts. There seemed to be naked bodies in every direction. Over at the waterfall a tall man with an absolutely enormous penis was stepping out from beneath the spray, shaking water out of his long hair and ohh, god, looking at him was even worse.
At a loss, he ducked his head to the side and looked at Steven, hoping to catch his eye. But Steven was entirely occupied with the naked girls and consequently his gaze drifted, from Steven’s face to his forearms propped on the wooden rail, to his bare calves idly crossed.
He’d made a point all morning of not looking at Steven’s calves, though it was very tempting. It wouldn’t do to be eying up one’s friend’s calves, even if they happened to be some of the nicest calves one had ever seen. Well, it wasn’t as if he meant anything by it. He wasn’t ogling, he was just – appreciating. Much as one might go to a museum and look admiringly at the marble statues of naked Grecian men. There were Steven’s calves; weren’t they well formed?
They were very short shorts, too. You could see a decent stretch of his thighs. Eying Steven’s thighs, his throat thick, he swallowed.
Further across the river, more of the naked people had begun to notice them. The group with the ball interrupted their game to wave. “Hello!” one of them called.
“Hi!” Steven called, raising a hand in greeting.
He seemed remarkably at ease with this bizarre situation. Was this sort of thing normal where he came from? He’d always seemed like he had his head screwed on right but perhaps there just wasn’t a man alive who wouldn’t go completely gag-gad when you dangled a pair of beautiful busty naked women in front of him.
He didn’t like this. It reminded him of that story – from the Odyssey, or, or some such work of ancient literature – the beautiful women on the rocks, luring men to their deaths.
“Come on down,” said Raya. “Join us.”
“What, in the river?” said Steven.
“Why not?” said Raya.
“It is everyone’s river,” said Claudine. “The water’s lovely. Come down and tell us where you’ve been travelling.”
Steven ducked his head to the side and following his gaze Oliver saw the path sloping down, a little flight of stone steps leading right to the water. And good god, by the look on his face Steven was actually considering it. “Well –”
Alright, enough was enough. “Excuse me!” he said, raising his voice. “Excuse me, ladies – I just need to – talk to my friend for a moment –” He grabbed Steven’s arm and made an attempt to tug him away from the railing.
Unfortunately Steven was made of very sturdy stuff and clearly had no inclination to hurry away from his naked lady viewing point. “Hm?” he said.
“Steven – a word,” Oliver hissed, tugging him more forcefully until he stepped back towards the trees.
“One moment!” Steven called out cheerily to the girls as he was tugged. “I’ll –”
Lowering his voice, Oliver spoke over him. “Have you lost your mind?”
Steven didn’t look especially fazed. “I don’t think so.”
Oliver dropped his arm. “You’re not actually thinking of taking off your clothes and getting into the river with them, are you?”
“Well,” said Steven with a shrug, “they did invite us.”
“Absolutely not,” said Oliver. Steven held up his hands as if to say wow, what makes you think you’re in charge of me? “You have no idea where we are – or, or who those people are – or if it’s safe –”
“They seem nice,” said Steven.
“Oh, oh I see,” said Oliver, trying to get quite exasperated. “You’re going to risk your neck on they seem nice?”
“Are you suggesting, what,” Steven said, “that this is some kind of nefarious trap?”
Well. That was a little deflating. “Alright, so, when you put it like that it sounds a little silly,” he said. “But lots of silly things have happened to us lately! So, I think it could very well be a trap. I mean, let’s face it, most of the places we land someone starts trying to kill us pretty sharpish.”
“Okay,” said Steven, still not looking especially concerned. “Oliver.” Then, curse him, he set a hand upon his shoulder. “You’re still very new to this, but, every now and again we do land somewhere that’s just, you know. Genuinely nice.”
Oliver brushed off his patronising hand and folded his arms. “Oh, really,” he said. “And how often does that happen?”
“It’s been a while,” said Steven. “Which means we’re due one. So.”
God, he was about ready to start stamping his feet. “I’m not sure that’s how probability works, old boy,” he said. “You – you just want to get in the river with those pretty girls.”
Steven didn’t miss a beat. “So what if I do?” he said; then stepping a little closer and dropping his voice, he added, “You know, there’s pretty boys in the river too.”
At that, his face heated. “Excuse me? What are you implying?”
“I’m not implying anything,” said Steven. “I’m just saying, this is an equal opportunities situation.”
“It’s absurd, is what it is,” said Oliver. “What if you get in there and they start trying to, I don’t know, drown you or something?”
“Why would they do that?” Steven shrugged once again. “They seem perfectly nice and normal.”
“All sorts of dangerous people seem nice and normal,” said Oliver. “And, and anyway,” he stammered. “I’m not sure they do seem nice and normal. I think they seem –” He tried to think how to put it, and settled for, “A bit funny.”
Steven actually raised an eyebrow at him. “A bit funny?” he echoed.
“Yes,” said Oliver. “You know. All this gallivanting around naked – and this it’s everyone’s river malarky. It’s a bit funny.”
With every word out of his mouth, the look upon Steven’s face had grown increasingly disdainful. “Oliver, no offense,” he said. “But you can be really boring sometimes.”
Then without another word, he turned and jogged towards the river, tugging off his shirt as he went. “What?” Oliver called after him. “How is that not offensive to me? Steven?”
Steven was already out of view. He heard the sound of feet pattering down those stone steps. A splash. He’d actually gone and taken off his clothes and jumped in the river.
He hung back a moment longer, not daring to look. But he supposed he ought to make sure Steven was alright. Bracing himself he stepped up to the railing; down below, Steven was in the act of swimming out to the rocks. The vantage point provided a lovely view of his bare bottom.
Oliver leaned, heavily, on the railings. Steven had reached the rocks where Claudine and Raya sat and had his elbows propped up upon the slick stone. They were already deep in conversation, their voices no longer loud enough to carry over the rushing of the water. After half a minute or so Steven nodded up at Oliver as if saying something about him; then all three of them laughed.
A sick feeling curled in his stomach. His shirt was clinging to his sweaty back and the river was full of frolicking beautiful naked bodies. The tall man with the tremendous knob had noticed him and was waving hello. Trying to keep his eyes lowered, he waved back.
He stood by everything he’d said. He did. Yes, the river did look inviting and the pretty girls did seem friendly, but this absolutely could be some kind of awful trap. And, even if it wasn’t, what kind of people behaved like this? Naked in the middle of the woods? It wasn’t decent.
Steven hadn’t spared so much of a glance in his direction for a little while now, clearly wrapped up in the naked girls. That was just typical, wasn’t it. He gazed down at Steven, his bare shoulders and the smooth expanse of his back. Of course he couldn’t hope to compete for his attention with not one but two pretty girls with their knockers out. Naturally they were more interesting than him. He was, after all, boring.
He hadn’t cut ties with his old life and run away in a time machine with two virtual strangers just to go on being boring, but this was pushing it a bit, wasn’t it? Just – stripping off his clothes and jumping into a river with a group of people he’d known not even five minutes.
The water really did look nice. The air was hot and he was so sticky, damp under the arms and his underwear beginning to bunch up. Steven had said he was boring and the sting hadn’t faded and standing there, dithering, he couldn’t shake the nasty hollow feeling in his chest. The same sort of feeling he used to get back in his schooldays – when they were picking teams for games and the group of boys left would dwindle, and dwindle, and he’d feel more and more empty.
But he wasn’t going to go down there. Of course he wasn’t. As he’d said – it was absurd.
He drummed his fingers on the railing. “Oh, for pity’s sake,” he said to himself; and then, unbuttoning his shirt, he headed for the steps to the river.
*
In the deep water of the river, kicking his legs idly to stay afloat, he drifted. Above him the canopy of the forest was thick and green, interspersed with flashes of golden light as the sun passed through the leaves. The water rushed and the trees rushed and he was suspended between them.
It was one of those moments, he reflected, that he could feel himself missing even as it was happening. He could feel himself committing it all to memory – the feel of the cool clear water against his bare skin and the precise way the gold sunshine fell through the canopy, the deep greenness of the world all around him. Sometime in the future he’d no doubt find himself in dire straits, being pursued by some kind of bug-eyed space monster, and he would look back on this day and struggle to believe things had ever been so peaceful.
The people had been very welcoming. They’d all had a good talk and more names had been thrown at him than he could commit to memory, and they had all been quite fascinated by him and Steven. In need of some space he’d left them to it and found a quiet bit of river to call his own.
They had gleaned some useful information, anyway. This wasn’t earth, though he’d guessed that from the look of the forest. They were on a faraway planet, orbiting a different star, some thousands of years into the future. These people called their planet simply Home.
There was a city nearby, they said, a floating city up in the sky. The forest stretched for thousands of miles and it belonged, they said, to everyone. He had got the impression that this day spent in the river wasn’t some party or holiday but rather their everyday existence.
When he’d met Steven he’d wondered aloud at what the future must be like – he’d imagined all of humanity’s problems solved – Steven had set him straight and over the last however many weeks it’d been since he’d come aboard the TARDIS he’d realised how stupidly optimistic he’d been. He’d begun to think no such point in the future existed. Such a thing simply wasn’t possible.
But now, he thought, was there a chance they’d found it? A still place, far, far in the future – a kind of harmonious end of history. Everyone just – getting along and living in peace and playing in the river, forever.
Once he’d got used to being naked in the river, it had struck him as odd that he’d never been naked in a river before. Human beings had been swimming naked in rivers for thousands of years before he was born and now here they were, naked in a river thousands of years after his lifetime; and now here he was, no separation between his body and the water. Skin to skin.
There was a splashing nearby and startled out of his reverie, he was surprised to see Steven swimming over to him.
“There you are,” said Steven, drawing level with him.
“Here I am,” echoed Oliver. He truthfully hadn’t expected Steven to follow him. He’d left Steven still in deep conversation with the two busty girls and had assumed he’d be occupied for the rest of the day.
Steven had begun to tread water alongside him. “Well?”
“Well?”
“Still think they’re up to no good?”
“Oh,” said Oliver. “Well. You never know, do you?”
“You’d better make up your mind,” said Steven. “We’re invited back to their village for dinner.”
“Their village?” he said. “Whereabouts?”
Steven dipped his head at the riverbank. “A few kilometres that way, I think.”
Steven was always measuring things in metres and kilometres and things like that. Oliver had been startled to learn he had no idea how many feet were in a yard or yards in a mile. He’d said, “Didn’t you learn it in school?” and Steven had looked at him like he was an idiot and said, “No, they didn’t teach us any obsolete measuring systems at school.”
By the way Steven said it he guessed that a few kilometres wasn’t very far. “What about the Doctor?”
“What about him?” said Steven.
When they’d landed that morning the TARDIS had produced some unpleasant grinding noises and done some mild smoking. The Doctor had assured them it was nothing to worry about but would take him at least a day to repair and then flapped his hands at them and told them he didn’t need any help and to go and have a scout outside the ship and generally leave him to it. Probably he hadn’t imagined they’d be spending the day swimming naked.
“He won’t know where we are,” said Oliver.
“Oh, he’ll work it out,” said Steven carelessly. It was easy, Oliver supposed, to be careless when you had just stripped off your clothes and jumped into an alien river. “He’s a clever boy.”
Oliver made an uncertain noise.
“C’mon,” said Steven. “They said we can come to dinner and then stay the night if we want.”
“Now, we can’t stay the night,” said Oliver. “The Doctor’ll worry –”
“Well, I’m not going all the way down to their village and then back up in the dark,” said Steven.
He could insist, of course. He could put his foot down and say absolutely not – I’m going back to the TARDIS – it’s safe there – the Doctor’s waiting for us. But there was every chance Steven would shrug and say suit yourself and then swim off to join the girls and go back to their village for dinner and then spend the night, and.
And, well. It wasn’t his business. Steven could spend the night with as many pretty girls as he wanted. That was his prerogative. But there was a slight chance that Oliver’s presence might deter him and he did rather want to take it.
It wasn’t as if he’d be doing anything wrong. Steven wanted him to go the village for dinner.
In the river, beneath the forest canopy, the bare skin of Steven’s shoulders was dappled with greenish light. The water was very clear. If he was to glance down he’d probably have a full view. He was studiously avoiding looking, though he’d caught a glimpse or two. He couldn’t be faulted for glimpsing some things.
“Alright,” he said, with a big sigh. “If you insist.”
“I’m not insisting anything,” said Steven. “We can go back to the TARDIS if you really want.”
He was a touch surprised by the we. “No, no,” he said. “You said you wanted to go to the village and I’m not letting you go –” He’d been going to say alone, but thought better of it. “Unchaperoned,” he plumped for.
Steven shot him a look at that. And then without a word of warning, he lunged forward and dunked him into the river.
Oliver came up sputtering for breath, Steven’s hands still on him. Steven was smiling and looking very pleased with himself, and actually making a move to do it again. “Oh, you –” said Oliver, and went for him.
Steven let out a yell of laugher as he was tackled and then they both went beneath the clear water, lights dancing below them and green weeds waving above. Steven’s skin was cool beneath his hands and as they came up he was smiling.
The sun went on shining golden through the leaves and the sounds of yelling and splashing as they played together carried up towards the canopy; and nearby the waterwheel went whoom, whoom and the cool waters of the river flowed onwards.
*
As the day wore on towards the evening the weather cooled and the people retreated a few at a time from the river up onto its banks to air dry. The mossy grass was soft against his bare skin. He lay upon his back, listening to the cries of birds up in the canopy and watching for their flapping white wings.
Nearby, there were voices and laugher; still closer, footsteps on the moss, and another body flopped down beside his. Steven propped himself up on one elbow. He’d brought with him a handful of pink berries and about half of them he let carelessly scatter on the moss between them. “Raya was telling me about the city,” he said by way of hello.
“Oh, yes?” said Oliver.
“Yes, she works at the museum,” said Steven. He ate a berry. “Well, she does something at the museum. I’m not sure if it’s really a job? It has to do with art. I didn’t really follow it, to be honest. It sounded interesting.”
“What are you driving at?”
Steven did a shrug against the grass. “Unless the Doctor’s keen to move on, we could go and see the city. Raya said she’d show us around.”
Oh, Raya said she’d show them around, did she? Pah. He changed the subject. “What have you got there?”
Steven looked at the berries in his palm. “I’m not sure,” he said. “One of the kids gave them to me. Want to try one? They’re good.” Then, casual as you like, he reached out and touched one of the berries to Oliver’s lips.
Without thinking of what he was doing, he let Steven feed him the berry. They looked like tiny pink strawberries – they didn’t taste like strawberries. Much tarter. Still sweet. “Oh, that is nice.”
“Mmm,” Steven hummed. “By the way, I should tell you, I’ve been honest with everyone about how we got here.”
“What?” said Oliver. “Why?”
“They’ve been so friendly – I didn’t feel right lying to them,” said Steven. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I really think we’ve found a nice one.”
“I hope you’re right, old boy,” Oliver sighed. “How many places are really this nice?”
“Hm.” Steven swallowed a mouthful of berries. “We once – this was ages ago, mind you – we once spent three weeks on a pleasure planet.”
“A pleasure planet?” Oliver echoed.
“Yes, it was called Thimia,” said Steven, rolling onto his stomach. “A bit like a resort – a whole planet, just for fun and recreation.”
“What kind of fun and recreation?” said Oliver.
Gazing down at him, the sun golden on the bare skin of his back and shoulders, Steven said, “Every kind.”
That had some implications. He shouldn’t dwell on what Steven may or may not have got up to on Thimia. “Whyever did you leave?”
Steven screwed up his face. “Oh, after three weeks of dessert for dinner every night you want something you can chew on,” he said. “Don’t you think?”
His hair was mostly dry from the river, but it had dried tousled; it gave him a very different look and Oliver was quite taken with it. There was a sprinkling of moles upon his shoulder that he hadn’t noticed before, chasing down towards the dip of his spine. “Yes – I suppose so.”
“Well, anyway, what do you think?” said Steven.
“Think?” Oliver echoed. He was losing the thread of the conversation.
“About the city.”
“Oh, the city.” He thought about it. “I don’t know. We ought to see if the Doctor –”
“He’ll want to go,” said Steven. “Anyway, who cares. I’m asking what you want to do?”
He offered Oliver another berry. Tentatively, he took it between his lips. The tip of Steven’s thumb brushed his face, lingering there was the sweet tart flavour burst across his tongue.
There they were, naked as the day they were born, lounging in the woods like a pair of – not nymphs. What was the boy version of a nymph? Satyrs, perhaps. A pair of handsome naked satyrs sunning themselves on the warm grass. It was so very like being inside a painting. He could just see it in the national gallery, pastoral scene with river and naked satyrs.
The afternoon seemed so fragile. He couldn’t shake the feeling that someday soon he’d turn to Steven and say do you remember that planet – with the forest – we played naked in the river like boys and then we lay on the grass and you fed me berries? and Steven would look at him like he was losing his mind and he’d realise the whole thing was nothing but a fantasy of his own concoction, fading away to nothing.
Steven’s thumb was still on his face, the tip of it just barely tracing the curve of his lip. He was gazing down at Oliver with such a fond look upon his face. It put him in mind of Georgie.
Those first few months – that summer they’d spent together, before it all fell apart. Lying in the bedroom of Georgie’s little flat with the window open and the curtains drawn, cool air against their bare skin as they talked right into the evening. He’d known the risk he was taking but he’d told himself it was worth it, because they were in love. It was all worth it if you were in love.
It had ended with his heart crushed underfoot, naturally. And then the net had started closing, crushing the air out of his lungs. It had got harder and harder to breathe and none of it had been worth anything, it had brought him nothing but heartbreak and misery – but lying naked on the grass of that alien world he wondered if perhaps it had all been worth it after all, to end up at this moment.
Steven could be warm – affectionate – a little flirtatious, sometimes. It was important to remember he meant nothing by it. For all Steven seemed like a very ordinary fellow he was, in fact, the product of an entirely different century. A different culture, five hundred years into the future. Sometimes it struck him that from Steven’s point of view he must be something like a medieval peasant. It was no wonder that Steven seemed to find everything about him so quaint.
As if being unbelievably handsome wasn’t enough, Steven was also without a doubt one of the kindest, bravest, most decent men he’d ever met It was probably a good thing that he was off limits. If Oliver wasn’t careful he could really fall head over heels and this particular heartbreak might just kill him.
“Oliver?” Steven prompted; and he realised just how long he’d been quiet. “What do you want?”
Goodness, he’d forgotten what they were talking about. Staring up into Steven’s blue eyes he said, “I haven’t the slightest idea.”
And Steven began to laugh.
*
The sun was setting by the time they made their way back to the village, the sky turning a glorious assortment of pinks. As they followed the river downhill deeper into the forest, the trees grew steadily taller till they were towering things with trunks as thick around as buildings.
What’d he’d expected from the building, he wasn’t sure. As it turned out, these people lived in the trees. A pair of especially vast and towering trees, bedecked with white oval-shaped pods like baubles. Bridges and ladders suspended between them, and here and there little electric platforms that whooshed you up into the high branches. There were only a handful of structures at ground level.
And after dinner – a communal affair served sitting on the grass beneath the village trees, entirely vegetarian but actually quite nice – he became aware of another oddity of these people, which was that they all slept in twos and threes.
Up in their pod – way, way up in the branches of the larger of the trees, a dizzying drop down to the ground just outside the door – Steven ranged around the room, exploring.
The pod was a good size, the interior made out of some kind of smooth pale wood. On one side, a small double bed. No sheets. A soft springy mattress and a single big pillow. At the other, one of the curved ends was sectioned off with a sliding door and behind it was what he took to be some kind of futuristic WC. At least, he hoped that was what it was. He didn’t fancy climbing all the way back down the tree holding it in.
Well. The bed was very comfortable. Above it a slice of the roof was transparent, a big half-circle of window looked up at the still higher branches of the tree and the dark blue sky.
There was a curving shelf along one wall and Steven had discovered that it and the walls had things built into them, if you touched the right places. He pressed an embossed square and a kind of keyboard rose out of the wood. Another poke and it went away. Touching a circle made the shelf dip into a bowl, a hole opening up at its base and a pipe extruding form the wall above it. Steven waved a hand underneath it and water began to flow.
He glanced at Oliver, suitably impressed. “All the mod cons, eh?” said Oliver.
That got him a look. “All the what?”
“Mod cons,” Oliver said again, adding weakly, “Modern conveniences.”
“Oh – oh, yes.” Steven nodded along, as he usually did when Oliver came out with something that must have sounded like nonsense to his ears, and continued his exploration of the shelf, discovering a little cupboard in the wall from which he produced two water glasses and a basket of little bottles. “How’s the bed?”
“Hm.” Oliver did an experimental bounce. “Splendid, actually.”
“Great.” Steven inspected one of the bottles.
Most everyone had got dressed again for dinner – excepting some of the very little children – so they had followed suit. In lieu of pyjamas Steven had stripped down to his shorts and undershirt so Oliver had down likewise. After spending most of the afternoon naked in each other’s company it was in turns a relief to be clothed – a teensy disappointment, to see Steven covered up – and on a certain level a strange new intimacy to be in their underthings together.
He was surprised that Steven intended to share a bed with him. Surprised, firstly, that he wasn’t spending the night with one of those girls – he’d assumed that was where things were going. Probably with Raya, given that the pair of them had spent most of dinner draped over each other.
And – more than that, he was surprised Steven, knowing what he did, wasn’t troubled by it. Knowing what Oliver had. Steven had been nothing but decent about it, but Oliver wouldn’t have blamed him for balking at bedsharing. Everyone’s comfort for the abnormal had a limit.
Reaching the end of the shelf, Steven touched another circle and produced a reading lamp. “Aha.”
“Very nice,” Oliver agreed.
Leaving the lamp on and the glasses and bottles out on the shelf, Steven pottered over to the WC nook and stuck his head in. It was mildly reassuring that he seemed to share Oliver’s confusion about that particular matter.
“Ye-es,” said Oliver. “How do you suppose one – works it?”
“Hm,” said Steven. “Let’s find out.” He stepped inside and slid the door shut behind himself.
Oliver settled back on the bed, gazed up at the sky – where the first stars were appearing – and politely didn’t listen to the various noises coming from behind the door. After a couple of minutes and a bit of muffled cursing, Steven came back out and gave him a thumbs up.
“Very intuitive,” he said. “Not a problem. You want –”
“I’m fine for now,” said Oliver.
After a bit of fussing with the overhead lights, Steven wandered back over to the bed and gestured for him to move over. The bed dipped beside him, as Steven settled himself. And then it was lights out, and the pod was quiet.
*
As the night fell the air in the pod grew cooler. He was glad of the warmth of Steven’s body, pressed all along his left flank.
He lay upon his back, hands folded on his chest, staring up at the curved window. It was a clear night and the sky was a deep blue, scattered with more stars than he’d ever seen from London. The moon had risen – and then beside it another, smaller, like a little pink marble. With their adventures going the way they usually did, it was rare to have the time to soak in the experience of being on another world.
He was on a different planet, a vast, untold distance away from earth, looking at different heavens. His eyes traced over the stars, lazily picking out imaginary constellations. He tried to make a satyr. No rush. He had all night.
Listening to the rushing of the leaves overhead and the gentle humming of power inside the pod and Steven’s slow, steady breathing beside him, he was in no hurry to go to sleep. The fact of the matter was, though it had got off to a bit of a rough start, it had been a lovely day. The nicest day he’d had since – he didn’t know when. If he went to sleep then it would be over and it would be the morning before he knew it, and then anything might happen.
It might turn out these people really were hiding some nefarious secret. Aliens might land and start trying to blow everyone up. There might be, oh, terrible monsters in the forest. It would be just their luck.
Anyway, one way or another, sooner or later they would have to leave. The Doctor might insist on going as soon as the TARDIS was repaired – which it probably would be, by now. He didn’t especially want to go. He liked it there. Steven seemed to like it. Oliver wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Steven in such a good mood. He always appeared to have some kind of terrible weight on his shoulders and that day for the first time it had seemed to ease.
He’d been apprehensive about the whole bed sharing business, but it was nice. It was nice to be in the same bed as someone, even if it was only in a chaste, brotherly sort of way. It was nice to feel Steven’s body against his. He’d missed this sort of thing. Not the – well, the – it was nice to be touched, he supposed.
Hopefully the planet really was as nice as it seemed and the Doctor would want to stay for a while and then maybe they could all go to this floating city together. He’d never seen a floating city before. It did sound quite lovely. They’d never stayed anywhere more than a day or two. It would be nice to linger a bit.
He breathed out, gazing up at the twin moons. His eyes were beginning to get heavy. Well, it had to end sometime.
Beside him, Steven made a sleepy noise, a soft mmm; then he seemed to stir, just a little, for he turned over – and to Oliver’s absolute mortification, rolled half on top of him.
Steven settled back down, one arm flung haphazardly over Oliver’s chest, head propped upon his shoulder. He went still. And Oliver lay frozen, arms held out of Steven’s way, heart leaping in his chest, and oh, god.
Oh, god. Oh god.
He’d handled it all very well, he thought. The nudity – and the wrestling – and sharing the bed – he’d done an excellent job all day of not lusting after Steven and now Steven had to go and do this.
Steven’s body was so warm and solid against his own – his bare arm, draped over his chest – his breath warm and slightly damp against the skin of his collar bone.
He tried to put his arms back down, but there seemed to be nowhere to put the left one that wasn’t on top of or around Steven and he could hardly do that. Maybe he ought to try and roll Steven back over – but he’d wake up and then he might think – god in heaven, what if he thought Oliver was trying it on?
Steven shifted against him, making another of those sleepy mumbles, and the noise sent a shiver through him, and it was unbearable. Images flashed unbidden in his mind – Steven’s thighs beneath his shorts – his gorgeous bottom in the water – his bare shoulders and chest – Steven’s skin against his as they wrestled and Steven’s thumb touching his lip –
God help him, he smelled wonderful, too. The green smell of the river was still clinging to his hair – beneath that, a hint of his usual aftershave – and the musky, masculine scent of his body. It was a delicious cocktail of scents and oh, he could just lie there and inhale lungfuls of Steven.
And oh, things were really starting to chub up. This was bad. This was very, very bad. If Steven were to wake up – it didn’t bear thinking about. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried very hard to will it away.
He just had to – think of something else – anything else. It was impossible to think of anything other than Steven with the man himself lying on top of him and breathing against his skin. It was getting worse and worse. His shorts were growing uncomfortably tight. A hysterical part of him wondered if he could get away with a cheeky wank. It wouldn’t take long –
No, he told himself. No no no. Steven had shown tremendous trust and grace, sleeping in the same bed as him. To betray that now would be a dreadful thing to do. He’d never forgive himself. The little WC maybe – but there was no way he could get there without waking Steven and Steven would be able to hear what he was doing –
It dawned on him that he could have woken Steven up straight away, just said, “You’re on my side, old boy,” and Steven no doubt would have apologised and moved over and that would have been the end of it. Too late now. He couldn’t risk Steven waking up and seeing the state he was in. No, the only thing to do was to try and wriggle out of Steven’s grip. There was a bit more space between the bed and the wall. He could move over and squish himself up against the wall until morning and then maybe he could find an excuse to stay up in the pod by himself and get it out of his system.
Yes, that was a plan. That was just what he would do. Steven would never have to know about any of this. He just had to – carefully – work his way out from under Steven’s arm. He shifted, inching his way along the mattress; but as his flank knocked up against Steven’s hand, he stirred – and on some bizarre reflex tightened his grip. His hand pressed up against the strip of bare skin where his undershirt had ridden up and Oliver froze, that point of skin on skin contact thrumming through him, and then Steven woke up.
“Mmph,” he said. It wasn’t so dark in the pod, the moons and stars bright, and Oliver could clearly see his face screwing up and eyes fluttering open. “Oliver?” he said, muzzily.
Oliver said, “Ah.”
Steven, he had to acknowledge, didn’t seem especially fazed at waking to find himself cuddled up to his good friend. “You okay?” he said, pushing himself up a little and not removing his arm.
“I’m fine, old boy,” said Oliver, trying to sound like he didn’t have an absolutely throbbing stiffy. Ohh, god, how did he usually talk when he didn’t have an absolutely throbbing stiffy? “Go back to sleep.”
“You’re tense,” said Steven – and then god help him, his hand moved to rub at the bare skin of Oliver’s arm, as if trying to warm him up. “Are you –”
Oh, this really was unbearable. He had to get out. He had to climb out of the bed and – and go into the WC and stay there until Steven went back to sleep – if he could only extricate himself without –
He made a move to push himself up, but Steven, seemingly not understanding what he was trying to do, maybe still thinking he might be cold, shifted closer, one leg coming up to hook over Oliver’s and then his knee bumped lightly up against his groin, and no – god, no –
He gasped aloud at the contact – that brief, searing nudge against his erection. Steven flinched, withdrawing his knee as quickly as he’d put it there, and Oliver blurted out, “Sorry,” just as Steven mumbled, “Sorry.”
“God, I’m sorry,” he said, trying desperately to wriggle away, unable to get any purchase on the mattress which seemed suddenly to be unbelievably slippery. “I’m sorry – it’s not – I, I –”
“It’s okay,” Steven said.
“It’s not,” said Oliver, still wriggling, and Steven at last withdrew his arm. “I’m sorry – I, I wasn’t – I didn’t –”
Oh, what was the point? There was nowhere to go except the WC and that was only a few paces from the bed. No good explanation for his behaviour. Absolutely no way out, at all.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he let his head thump back against the pillow, and lay still. He was acutely aware, as he tried to compose himself, of Steven beside him, his breathing now alert and awake. There was no way out of this awful moment. He’d have to ride it through to the end.
At least it was going down now.
Alright, he told himself. Maybe it could still be alright. Steven hadn’t leapt out of bed in horror – he didn’t seem angry. Maybe he could still play it off. Sorry, old boy – just one of those things, you know? Perfectly natural. He could pretend that the dreadful thing his body had done was nothing to do with Steven and Steven would nod and pretend to believe him, but his panic must have given it away. Steven would know. He might never say anything about it, but he’d know.
And Steven had been happy to strip naked in front of him and swim with him and lie in bed with him and all of it had been so nice, and now it would be gone. It would never happen again. A door would close between them. Slam. Locked and bolted.
He tried to take some deep breaths, not trusting himself to speak. He had to say something. If he said nothing then the window in which he could try and play it off would close.
Steven shifted alongside him. He set a hand on Oliver’s chest. “Oliver,” he said. “Are you okay?”
He tried to say I’m fine. What came out was, “I – um –”
“It’s okay,” said Steven. “You’re okay.”
And he was being so gentle. He was going to be nice about it. Oliver would almost have preferred if he’d got angry.
Then Steven said, “Oliver, open your eyes.”
Guts churning, steeling himself, Oliver opened his eyes.
He hadn’t noticed that Steven had laid his head upon the pillow. Their faces were so close together that they were practically nose to nose. And Steven – it was hard to tell in the dim moonlight, but he didn’t seem upset. He didn’t even seem particularly shocked. He was gazing at Oliver in a contemplative manner, an almost eerie calm about him. His eyes rolled down Oliver’s face, to his lips, and back up. Oliver truly couldn’t imagine what he might be thinking.
Incrementally, Steven shifted closer. The tips of their noses brushed. The moment seemed to stretch on and it was so tenuous, a single thread that might snap if he moved or spoke. He had the sense than literally anything could be about to happen.
Then, leaning in just a smidge closer, Steven kissed him.
His lips were soft. It made the tiniest sound in the quiet of the room. He didn’t dare close his eyes. Steven’s lidded closed, as he kissed him again.
And this had to be a dream. Didn’t it? He had fallen down a hole on some alien world and hit his head. They couldn’t possibly have landed in an honest to god paradise. They couldn’t have swum together in the river and laid naked on the grass. Steven could not, now, be kissing him.
His heart thudded in his chest and a funny stab of fear went through him. It was all too good to be true. The rug was bound to be pulled out from under him any moment. He was too afraid to do anything, lest he break the spell that had come over them – but he had to do something. If he just lay there motionless Steven would think he didn’t like it.
They were only little kisses. Soft pecks against his lips and shutting his eyes he did his best to kiss back the same way. Then Steven sucked lightly upon his lower lip, just a hint of teeth as he pulled away, and a shiver went through his whole body.
Steven made a noise, a groan of satisfaction low down in his throat, and his hand came up from Oliver’s chest to cup his jaw and rolling half atop him he began to kiss him properly.
Oliver moaned into his mouth, groin throbbing as he rocketed back to full hardness. It was a deep open mouthed kiss and Steven’s thumb was stroking along his cheek and Steven’s tongue was in his mouth, and oh, god, but it was real. It was really happening.
His arms were still limp upon the bed and he told himself to get it together. This was nothing he hadn’t done before. It was only that he didn’t know where to put his hands – the idea of touching Steven like this had his brain short circuiting – his shoulders seemed a safe choice.
Steven shifted against him, his crotch bumping up against Oliver’s thigh, and a delicious thrill went through him at the feeling that he was at half-mast – chased by a twinge of disappointment, that Steven was only at half-mast and evidently not as aroused by proceedings as he was. Well, he supposed he’d had a head start. Then Steven’s tongue dipped into his mouth again and feeling bolder he sucked on it.
That got him another groan and – oh, heavens above – Steven’s hips rocked back and forth, humping up against the meat of his thigh. His heart was galloping and Steven’s hand began to drift downwards, from his face to his chest – his flank – firmly squeezing his thigh.
He let his own hand wander, across the firm plane of Steven’s back, to his neck, stroking the soft hairs at his nape. Steven sighed against his mouth and a queasy jolt of lust went through him as the hand upon his thigh moved confidently to rest atop his erection.
There was a dizzying half-second of Steven touching him – he was only in his underpants – there was only the thinnest layer of cloth separating Steven’s hand from his heated skin – and then Steven squeezed him and no, no, another half a second of that and he was going to shoot off like a rocket before they’d even got started.
Jerking back from the kiss, he reached down to bat Steven’s hand away and said, “Don’t.”
The pod was quiet around them and overhead the branches of the tree waved against the field of stars. The bed creaked as Steven drew back, propping himself up on one hand. “No?” he said.
Fleetingly, he wished it hadn’t spoken. Whatever had come between them had been some wordless, silent agreement in the darkness and he’d broken it. He had spoken and in doing so had thrown the whole thing off track.
But then, he supposed, him spurting in his underpants before they’d done more than kiss a little would probably have been even more of a dampener on the mood.
Steven looked – not hurt exactly, but confused at the apparent snub. Wondering, perhaps, if he had done something wrong – if he had misread the situation – and Oliver felt the need to explain himself.
He said, “You’re going to make me come.”
At that, Steven’s eyebrows shot up. “Do you not want to?” he said, a smile in his voice. His hand returned to squeezing Oliver’s thigh.
“Well, not right away!” he blurted out; and regretted it at once, feeling his face heat in embarrassment. Steven, naturally, cottoned on at once to the admission of just what a short fuse Oliver was currently on, and began to laugh. “Stop laughing!” Oliver hissed. “Stop that, it’s not funny.”
“Alright,” said Steven, still laughing a bit. “Alright, I’m sorry. Do you want to keep going?”
“Yes, I want to keep going,” said Oliver. Honestly, what an absurd question.
“Alright,” said Steven again; then, heart-sinkingly, he made a move as if to get out of bed.
But he was only reaching for something on the shelf. He groped around for the little basket, dragged it closer, and began going through the bottles inside. “Lights on or off?”
Now, that was a big question, wasn’t it? He wanted to see – but whatever dreamlike state they had entered into seemed to depend on the semi-dark pod, the silvery moonlight. “Off.”
Steven, meanwhile, was still going through the basket. “Okay,” he said. “Take your underwear off?”
It had gone up at the end like a question but it was really more of an instruction and Oliver hastened to obey, his insides squirming as he did so, mildly embarrassed at the dirty thrill he always got from being ordered around in the bedroom. He’d let Steven boss him around as much as he wanted.
He wriggled out of his underwear and kicked it away, just as Steven found whatever he was looking for in the basket. He plonked one of the bottles down on the mattress beside them. Then sitting up, he swung a leg over Oliver and straddled him. He sat back on his haunches, his bottom pressing comfortably against Oliver’s thighs, and stripped off his shirt.
His eyes tracked down Oliver’s body. From his face to his still clothed chest – the little bit of belly on display where his undershirt had ridden up – his thighs and his achingly hard cock standing to attention.
He’d seen Steven naked, of course. They’d spent hours together naked that very day. But he’d made a conscious effort not to stare – not to let his eyes linger – but now he was being more merely invited, but, nay, encouraged to look. Semi-consciously he rested his hands on Steven’s hips, holding him, gaze raking over his bare chest and flat stomach. Without really meaning to he let his eyes drop to Steven’s groin and his stomach turned a forward roll at the realisation that Steven was now, definitely, at full mast.
Breathing hard, eyes still roaming over Oliver’s body, Steven laid a hand upon his clothed erection and began to rub himself.
Oliver’s mouth hung open, staring, transfixed by the sight of Steven, touching himself to the sight of him. He didn’t want it to stop. He could live in that moment forever and he felt a pang of loneliness, because it would have to end. In a very short amount of time this would be over and in a few hours it would be morning and morning could bring anything.
In the morning Steven might decide this was all a terrible mistake – he might tell Oliver that it had meant nothing – he might laugh it off and say that was fun, but no need to do it again. Or it might turn out that there was truly something in the water – some magic spell in this beautiful place that had made Steven think he wanted something contrary to his nature. Maybe none of the girls had wanted him after all and he just wanted to work it out with the nearest warm body. Or maybe –
He was smacked clean out of that particular line of thought, for Steven was taking his underwear off. He worked his shorts down his thighs, exposing himself, hot and heavy, and Oliver had seen it already – it had been impossible not to catch at least a few glimpses – but not like this and not hard, and oh, Oh.
“Ohh, you’re a big boy, aren’t you?” he sighed, his stomach fluttering deliciously at the possibilities.
Steven laughed at that, in truth seeming quite pleased with himself. Then he reached for the bottle.
“What’s that?” said Oliver as Steven opened it up.
“Lotion,” said Steven. He poured a generous collop into his palm; then taking his cock properly in hand, he began to work himself.
And it was real, in spite of the hazy and dreamlike atmosphere of the pod. He was lying half naked on that bed beneath an alien sky and Steven was going to make love to him. They were really going to make love.
Steven was making soft grunts of pleasure as he touched himself, his eyes trained on Oliver’s face. Pausing his ministrations, he walked himself forward a little on his knees and reached for Oliver’s cock, stopping short of actually touching it in a silent question.
Against his better judgement, he nodded vigorously. Steven gripped him by the base and stroked him, spreading the lotion about – the lotion had been an excellent idea, it felt positively luscious – then he rocked his hips forwards and their bodies slid together, and he was wrapping one big hand around both of their cocks and Christ, it was good. Wet with the lotion and with their own fluids and hot, the heat from Steven’s erection seeming to radiate through him, and he shuddered all over, head falling back to gaze dizzily at the stars –
He flinched. Jerking his hips back his cock slipped from Steven’s grip and he said, “Stop – no.”
“Sorry,” said Steven. “I didn’t mean to –”
“You didn’t,” said Oliver. “I just – not like that.”
Steven let out a sigh of exasperation, hand falling away. “Alright, then, what do you want?”
His throat went tight, his chest fluttering at the thought of what he wanted. If he hadn’t already know just what he wanted to do, he certainly had when Steven’s underwear had come off and he’d seen just what he was hiding under there. He knew what he wanted, he just – the thought of saying it aloud, to Steven, of all people – Steven had been happy enough to kiss him and touch him but he might draw the line at –
“I – don’t know,” he said.
“Oliver,” said Steven, in that familiar, impatient tone he used when he thought Oliver was being difficult on purpose, and as per usual he wasn’t doing this on purpose, it was just that –
Well, on this occasion, if he didn’t come out with it he’d never get it, and he wanted it so, so badly; and he blurted out, “Can you fuck me?”
Steven drew in a sharp breath; and for half a second Oliver was certain he was doing to refuse – perhaps even be disgusted – but instead he nodded and reached again for the lotion. There was a wet noise as he poured more into his hand and then leaning down he captured Oliver’s mouth in another messy kiss.
He grasped again at Steven’s shoulders, exploring the bare skin of his back that he’d spent the afternoon admiring. Steven’s slippery hand was touching him, fingers leaving a slick trail along his thigh, bypassing his cock this time to cup his balls instead.
He whimpered into Steven’s mouth and he could no longer contain himself. He pressed one hand to the back of Steven’s neck – touched his jaw with the other – god, but he wanted to eat him up, or else be eaten up himself. He wanted to climb inside Steven’s skin and live there. He wanted –
Steven rolled his balls in his hand and it felt absolutely delicious. He hadn’t – oh yes – he hadn’t been touched quite like this before – it was a new experience – in some detached corner of his mind a seed of nervousness began to blossom.
The trouble was, outside of a little hand play here and there, he’d only been with one man. Steven was – well, in truth, he had no idea if Steven had been with a man before or if this was some new flight of fancy for him, but he was certainly experienced. He hoped he didn’t embarrass himself. Oh, lord, let him not embarrass himself.
Those wet fingers ran down his perineum to rub lightly up against him. He groaned into Steven’s mouth and let his thighs fall open in what he hoped would be understood as an invitation; and it worked, for Steven flipped two fingers into him past the first knuckle.
He grunted, breaking the kiss as his head thudded back against the big pillow. “Ohh, god.”
“You okay?” said Steven.
“You have really big hands,” he gasped out.
“Sorry,” Steven said – though in truth, he didn’t sound particularly sorry.
“No, it’s nice,” he said, before Steven could get the wrong idea and do something silly like take them out. “Oh, that’s nice.”
Steven hummed in satisfaction and worked his fingers in past the second knuckle – still deeper – alright, he could do this. It’d been a while but he remembered how. Just take deep breaths and relax and the edge of discomfort would go away.
He opened his eyes and was startled to find Steven gazing down at him in that steady, intent way he had. Drawing his fingers out and pushed back in he said, “Tell me what feels good – alright?”
“Uh-huh,” Oliver breathed.
It all felt good, but he didn’t say so. Steven went on working his fingers in and out. He was staring him in the face as if making a study on him and it was really beginning to make him feel self-conscious and shutting his eyes he let his head loll back against the pillow.
Taking that as an invitation, Steven dropped his head and began to press little kisses along the line of his jaw, continuing his ministrations with his fingers as he did so. It was growing swiftly better and Steven was exploring him very thoroughly – and –
A hot, liquid feeling pooled through his insides and he gasped aloud, hips jerking up into Steven’s body. “There?” said Steven against his skin.
“Yes,” he said, and, “Oh,” and, “Right there, old boy.”
Steven drew back his fingers and then did it again and Oliver frantically choked down the embarrassing whimper that wanted to come out of his throat, managing to reduce it to a keening, “Mmm.” Steven seemed to like that, for he sighed, breath tickling Oliver’s skin, and then began to trail wet kisses along his neck.
Up, and up, from the soft part beneath his jaw to his pulse point. With his eyes closed every physical sensation was magnified. Steven’s tongue and lips. The slightest trace of teeth. The slippery feeling of fingers moving inside him and every so often nudging up against that sweet spot that forced panting breaths out of him.
Steven’s warm breath passed over his ear; and into it he said, absurdly, “Ears?”
Oliver half opened his eyes and said, “What?”
A kiss, pressed to the skin just below his lobe. “Do you like ear stuff?” Steven said with a patient air.
“Oh – yes.” Actually, he wasn’t sure quite was Steven meant by ear stuff but in his current state of body and mind he thought he’d agree to more or less anything; and then Steven’s lips closed around his ear lobe and ooh, that was making him all shivery. It would rather seem that he did like ear stuff.
Opening his eyes fully, he gazed up at the unfamiliar stars overhead. He was starting to feel a bit dizzy. He was, after all, in a space tree house on an alien planet, staring up at alien stars, with Steven fingering him and tracing the contours of his ear with his tongue. His eyes fixed on one star in particular, a shining bright point standing out from the rest, and he felt a little steadier.
Very gently, Steven slipped the tip of his tongue into his ear, and his eyes fell closed once again as he sucked in a heated breath. “Steven,” he managed.
Steven’s tongue withdrew and came back, warm and wet against a part of him he didn’t think anyone else had ever touched before, and almost simultaneously those big fingers curled inside him just right and his mouth hung open as liquid bliss flowed through him.
“Steven,” he choked out. “Steven – won’t you –”
“Hmm?” said Steven against his ear.
“Steven – hurry up,” he said. “Will you – ah.” Steven’s teeth bit down on the shell of his ear. “Steven, please – please, I want you in me,” he said in a rush. “Please –”
Steven’s breath passed over his ear. “Shhh.”
“Don’t shh me!” Getting a good grip on Steven’s hair he hauled him away from his ear and Steven took that as his cue to kiss him again. His tongue slipped into Oliver’s mouth and he lost his train of thought. “Mmmph,” he said, pulling back. “Steven –”
“Yes, I know,” said Steven, and kissed him. “Do you want to do it like this?”
“Oh, yes please,” said Oliver, at which Steven laughed. It stung a little being laughed at, but it didn’t seem to be an unkind laugh.
Kneeling back up Steven picked up the lotion bottle and poured out what sounded like another very generous quantity. Reaching down, he slid a hand under Oliver’s bottom and got a good grip, boosting him up. Then he shifted and Oliver’s face heated at the sensation of the thick head of his cock rubbing up against him.
He pushed his bottom up a bit higher in what he hoped would be understood as a signal to please, please just get on with it. Steven leaned forward, planting a hand on the pillow and pressing their bodies together – and he pushed his hips forward, and –
Oliver’s head fell back against the pillow, his breath leaving him at the feeling of Steven breaching him. There were no blankets on the bed – nothing to cling to – reaching up over his head he got a good grip on the pillow, as Steven went on working himself steadily in.
Steven wasn’t really making any noise – he was just breathing hard against Oliver’s neck – then as he hilted himself he let out a soft grunt of satisfaction, and raising his head to look Oliver once again in the eye he said, “Okay?”
In truth, he might have bitten off a bit more than he could chew here. Georgie had been a perfectly respectable size but Steven was bigger by a fairly significant margin. He’d never had anything this big in him and it was touching some brand new parts of his insides and he was very aware that his thighs were shaking and his erection had flagged a little and the way they were pushed together Steven could probably feel it.
“I’m fine,” he managed. “I just – need a moment.”
“Okay.” Steven adjusted his grip on Oliver’s bottom. “Say when?”
He couldn’t help giggling a bit at that. He shifted his hips, getting used to the sensation, relishing the little grunt it drew out of Steven. “How does it feel?”
“It’s good.” Steven sounded a little choked. “You’re warm,” he said; and then he rolled his hips firmly.
Oliver gasped aloud, taken off-guard, and then he said, “Yes.” Steven went on moving like that, slow, easy movements of his hips that drew more soft gasps and grunts out of him.
Steven was still staring down at him and he had the sense once again that he was being scrutinised, the noises he was making and the expression on his face being studied; trying to ascertain, he supposed, which specific angle and motion would get the best reaction. He’d been fucked enough times before but having the act done first and foremost for his own enjoyment was a new experience and it made his stomach flip pleasantly.
Not wanting to just lie there he pushed down the way Georgie used to like best and Steven grunted, hips stuttering and head dropping. He kissed again at Oliver’s neck and as he did so his cock thrust in just right and Oliver said, “Like that – just like that.”
Steven repeated that delicious motion, and again, and his mouth fell open as he gripped the pillow still harder. He was being so – gentle about it – but he was swiftly realising he didn’t want gentle.
Ever since he’d got his first taste of this act most of his more shameful fantasies had revolved around being fucked by large-cocked men – and it had been so long since he’d had any sex at all, and it was Steven – Steven, who he’d been lusting after with passionate intensity for longer than he’d care to admit even to himself – he didn’t want to be treated gently. In all honesty, he wanted to be pounded to kingdom come.
He gasped out, “Harder.” Mumbling in assent against his neck Steven picked up the pace, fucking him properly, and it was easily enough to get him back to full mast but – “Harder,” he said again. “Come on – you can do better than that –”
Steven huffed a sort of half-laugh against his neck and pushing himself up on his free hand began to put his back into it and Oliver gasped aloud.
Oh, it felt wonderful. It all felt wonderful, Steven’s hands on him and Steven fucking him and dropping kisses where and when he could on his mouth and jaw and neck. He got a better grip on the pillow behind him with both hands and as Steven leaned in for another, deeper kiss sucked hard on his tongue and bore down to get him to make that noise again, with excellent results.
Drawing back, Steven said, “Oliver.” They were entirely nose to nose, Steven’s eyes staring into him as his cock worked in and out of him and it was so hard not to get self-conscious. He threw his head back against the pillow, eyes squeezing shut.
Anyway, as wonderful as it was, it still wasn’t quite what he wanted. “Deeper,” he gasped out. Grunting, Steven hitched his bottom up still higher and tried to oblige him, but he still wasn’t really – hitting the spot – “Oh, please,” he said. “Deeper.”
At that, Steven groaned in frustration – and then pulled all the way out. He sat back on his haunches and Oliver’s guts lurched in anxiety at the thought that he might have somehow spoiled everything. Got too pushy – too demanding – he pushed himself up on his elbows, meaning to say something.
But Steven was looking down at him steadily, and taking his wet cock in hand he said, “Roll over?”
It took a split second for the request to register; and then, hastily, he complied. His puppyish scramble to get onto his hands and knees as swiftly as possible didn’t escape Steven’s notice, for he laughed a little; then his hand pressed down on the small of Oliver’s back and he said, “Good boy.”
If he was less outrageously turned on it would have been mortifying. As it was, he bit down a moan.
There was the wet noise of Steven lubing up his cock once again. Then he lined himself up, took ahold of Oliver’s hips, and pushed in at an angle that made his whole body light up like a Christmas tree.
“Ohh, god,” he moaned. He lasted two or three good thrusts before his arms started to buckle and a couple more before they gave out and he sank down into a comfortably undignified bottoms up position.
Steven was picking up the pace again and it felt even better, the new angle absolute perfection, and he muffled the embarrassing noises he wanted to make into his folded arms; then wondered why he was bothering. He didn’t think the sound was going to travel to the other pods. And even if it did, would anyone care? Based on some of the activities he’d seen over the course of the day the village was some kind of hippiesque free love set up.
An uneasy memory came wavering back into his mind. Georgie pulling a face at him mid coitus and saying, do you know you moan like a girl?
He didn’t want to think about Georgie anymore. He pulled his face up out of his arms and moaned aloud.
Steven’s hand ran down his back, rubbing between his shoulder blades. “You okay?”
“Uh-huh,” he groaned, not sure how to express in words just how okay he was with everything that was currently happening. Steven’s hand slid down still further to firmly grip his shoulder, a wonderfully steadying point of contact.
His own cock was achingly hard and neglected between his legs and he was aware of it bobbing and dripping in response to proceedings, but at that particular moment in time it was secondary to the far more pressing bliss that was Steven in him. The friction and the stretch and the wet clapping of their bodies coming together and the nigh-constant pressure against his prostate, and he might actually, truly be going to die.
He was aware that he was babbling, “Oh god,” and, “Yes,” and, “Oh, Steven –” and behind him Steven was still just breathing hard and not making much noise but he was past the point of caring about that. He began to work his hips back against Steven’s body, desperate for more of it, more friction.
“Please,” he managed. “Can you – harder –”
Steven squeezed his shoulder. “You sure?”
“Yes,” he said. “God, yes – please –”
Releasing his shoulder, Steven got a good grip on his hips instead – and then he was really going at it, and oh – ohh –
He clung to the pillow for dear life, aware that he had started to whimper and no longer caring, aware that his legs had started to tremble and that without Steven holding him up his knees would probably have buckled by how, and God, God, he’d never been fucked as hard before.
It was so much and it was almost too much and Steven had started making a noise like uhh, uhh, uhh when he thrust in; and then he said, sounding choked, “Oliver –” and, “Ah – fuck,” and then, “Oliver –” that last giving way to a series of inarticulate groans.
He thrust in once – twice more, before his hips stuttered to a halt and Oliver felt a pang of disappointment that it was almost over coupled with the delicious thrill of knowing Steven was coming inside him. Closing his eyes, he relished it for as long as he could.
And then behind him Steven was panting like a racehorse, clutching at his hips, his cock starting to go soft inside. That wasn’t Oliver’s favourite part of the experience. Screwing up his face he made a move to pull away and fortunately Steven took the hint and pulled out.
Taking a moment, he took stock of himself and found that he’d drooled a little. Grimacing he tried to subtly wipe his mouth before rolling onto his back.
Steven was sitting back on his heels, tousled and still breathing hard and looking slightly dazed. Oliver nudged at his leg with a foot. “Are you alright, old boy?”
“Yeah –” Steven sucked in a breath. “I’m just, um – I –” Another big breath. “Gimme – give me a moment.”
Lying there against the giant pillow, he felt a swell of pride at having rendered Steven speechless and politely gave him half a minute to catch his breath. He watched his chest rise and fall with interest, slowing down, levelling out.
At length, Steven looked down at him, more focused. “You okay?”
“Oh – yes,” he said.
“Right.” Steven’s eyes tracked down his body, from his face to his chest to his groin; and then reaching down he gripped the base of Oliver’s still-throbbing cock, drawing a gasp out of him. And he was about ready to come from a bit of handplay – really, any amount of handplay – but then Steven said, “You want my mouth?”
“Oh, yes please,” he said before he’d even fully processed the question; and the words were barely out of his mouth when Steven dove in.
He yelped aloud at the sudden wet bliss, head thumping back down against the pillow, and he said, “Steven,” and then, absurdly, “Careful –” And any questions he may have had about whether this sort of thing was something Steven was in the habit of doing or simply a passing fancy were answered, because he was, patently, an absolutely champion cocksucker.
Giving into an irresistible urge he got both hands in Steven’s thick tousled hair and clung on tight. And the stars were sparkling overhead and Steven made a happy mmm around his cock that he could feel right through his body and if it wasn’t glorious enough the fingers of Steven’s free hand stroked down his perineum to rub up against him.
He gasped out, “Yes,” and Steven’s big fingers pushed back into him, curling just-so and making his insides melt. For a weightless, breathless moment he was teetering on the precipice and it was just getting better and better, and –
He might have yelled. A fireworks show going on in his chest. A brass band reaching its crescendo. His hips working of their own accord, thrusting into Steven’s mouth, and the alien stars wheeling overhead in a brilliant arc and Lord, but he was still coming – he pulled on Steven’s hair, still thrusting, trying to eke out the last drops of bliss before – God, just a little more – he could just –
His grip on Steven’s hair slackened. His cock slipped out of Steven’s mouth. He gazed up at those stars as they stilled, catching his breath and feeling rather like he’d been run down by a car. He was aware that his thighs were shaking and of the undershirt he hadn’t bothered to take off rucked up around his chest; he was covered in sweat and other fluids and every joint in his body seemed to have turned to liquid.
Steven pressed a kiss to the inside of his shaky thigh. And then, to Oliver’s dismay, he climbed out of bed.
He did his best – he really was positively boneless – to push himself up on his elbows, the first cold sting of regret doing through him. A question was on his lips, but Steven hadn’t gone far. There was the sound in the darkness of the funny sink coming on. Water running. Spitting, and then a cup being filled.
He waited, breath bated, as Steven did his business at the sink, afraid to ask any of his burning questions. After a moment, Steven came over and sat upon the edge of the bed.
He was holding a cup of water. “Hm?” he said, proffering it; holding it up to Oliver’s mouth.
Tilting his head back, Oliver drank from the cup in Steven’s hand. He hadn’t even noticed he was thirsty. The water was cool and crisp and it went down beautifully. When the cup was empty, Steven set it aside and said, “You alright?”
“Of course,” said Oliver.
Steven nodded. Then, sighing, he lay down, stretching himself back out alongside Oliver’s body. He propped himself up on one elbow and gazed down at him.
For a few long moments they lay there, studying each other. Steven looked – if he was going to be honest – absolutely enchanted with him. Oliver didn’t dare say anything. Once again a spell seemed to have been cast upon them and if he spoke he might ruin it forever.
Reaching over his body, Steven took his hand, squeezing it contemplatively; and then he said, “Why did you tell me I wasn’t your type?”
“Oh my god.” He smacked his head back against the pillow in exasperation. “I don’t know. Why didn’t you tell me you liked men?”
“I suppose that’s fair.” Steven glanced briefly around the room, and then said, “It’s just you really went out of your way to say it –”
“Well, you know now, don’t you?” Oliver interrupted. “Next time –” At that, a cold feeling went through his guts at the possibility of next time. Steeling himself, he looked properly at Steven and said, “Listen. There is going to be a next time, isn’t there?”
“Oh, sure,” said Steven lightly, entirely unfazed by the question. “Just give me half an hour.”
In his muzzy, post-coital state it took Oliver a moment to cotton onto what he was implying. “I didn’t mean tonight!”
“Why not tonight?” Steven laughed.
“I’m tired,” he protested. “I want to go to sleep – stop laughing.” Steven did, to his credit, try to stop laughing, though he still seemed to find it rather funny. “I’m so sorry for being boring.”
“I’m sorry,” said Steven, actually sobering. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called you boring. That was mean.” He calmed down properly, rubbing his thumb along Oliver’s knuckles and giving him a contemplative look. “You’re cute.”
“Excuse me?” said Oliver. “I am not.”
“What, you don’t want to be cute?” said Steven.
“No, I don’t,” Oliver said. “Why? Do you think you’re cute?”
“I’d like to think I’m cute,” Steven offered.
Concluding that it did seem to have been meant nicely, he gave up on arguing and said, “You’re very handsome, you know.”
“Thank you,” said Steven gravely, then lifting Oliver’s hand, he kissed it.
Oliver watched, breath caught in his throat, as Steven pressed kisses to his knuckles. He really did look absolutely besotted, and the thought passed through his mind, that it was the way Georgie used to look at him back before everything went horribly wrong.
He squashed the thought down. He didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to think about any of it. He’d left it thousands of years ago on the other side of the galaxy. “We’re going to do this again, though,” he said. “Aren’t we?”
“Yes.” Steven sighed against his skin and kissed the interior of his wrist. “Stop worrying. We’re going to do this again.”
“Alright,” he said. “Well, then. Good.”
They could do it again in the morning, he reflected, make love in their little treehouse. And then maybe make love outdoors in the forest, if they could find a secluded spot for it. And then if the Doctor wasn’t averse to staying on they could go and visit this floating city and they could make love there too, ideally in all kinds of different ways and positions.
He’d never allowed himself to fantasise about Steven before – it had always felt like it would be crossing a line – a betrayal of the friendship they were building. He’d never set out to fantasise about Steven, though of course if sometimes when he was taking himself in hand Steven’s face and/or body were to happen to come into his mind that couldn’t be helped. He let himself think about it – about all the things he’d like to do – he’d like to go down on his knees for Steven and draw his tongue all the way up his perfect calf –
He really was too sleepy for that line of thinking.
Steven was still giving him that besotted look. At length, he said, “Today was nice.”
“Yes,” said Oliver. “Yes, it was.”
Emboldened, he shifted against the pillow; and raising his head, kissed Steven softly upon the mouth.
They drew apart, and Steven’s breath tickled across his lips; and opening his eyes, he found that they were once again nose to nose. What he wanted, he reflected, more than anything else, was just to be in Steven’s arms again. He wanted to cuddle.
He shuffled in closer and Steven rolled onto his back, opening his arms in invitation. Draping himself over Steven’s chest he made himself comfortable and those big arms wrapped around him and oh, yes. That was perfect. Steven’s body pressed up against his, skin to skin, and Steven’s hand stroked his back and Steven’s breath tickling his scalp.
Pressing his face into Steven’s neck, he closed his eyes and breathed in; and he let his mind drift.
*
In the morning, after waking up and spending an hour or so in bed exchanging long, wet kisses and lazy handjobs, they ventured out into the village to avail themselves first of the outdoor showers – very nice to share with a friend – and then breakfast.
Breakfast, as with dinner, was served outdoors beneath the trees and was an array of cold dishes. He gathered that they all took it in turns to do the cooking and cleaning up. He had to acknowledge, it was a good system.
He was at the end of the trestle table, looking over the dishes on offer and trying to work out what they were, when glancing up a dark-clad figure caught his eye.
It was the Doctor, looking quite out of place in his frock coat surrounded by a bunch of semi-nude hippies. He didn’t look as if he approved at all of the naked gaiety happening around him; and at the sight of Oliver waving at him from the breakfast table, his face darkened still further.
He came stomping over, cane in hand. “Oh, here you are,” he said stiffly.
“Here I am,” Oliver said, adding another vegetable fritter to his plate and sucking crumbs off his fingers. “Good morning. Have some breakfast.”
“What do you think you’re playing at?” said the Doctor. “Hm?”
Oliver looked pointedly at his breakfast plate. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Hm,” said the Doctor again. “Is this where you’ve been all night? Where’s Steven?”
“Yes,” said Oliver, adding in response to his second question, “Around – oh, here he comes.”
Steven was wondering over, hand raised in greeting. “Morning, Doc!” he said cheerily. “You found us.”
“Eventually,” said the Doctor darkly.
“It’s easy.” As Steven came to a halt, his hand pressed lightly to Oliver’s back, running across it to his hip. Warmth blossoming in his chest. “You just follow the river.”
The Doctor made an extended, grumbling sort of harrumph, though in truth it couldn’t have taken him long to find them at all, given that he had presumably set off some time that morning and it could only be around eleven. “What exactly have you been doing?”
“Nothing much,” said Steven with a shrug. “You told us to get out of the ship and leave to you to it for the day, so we left?”
“All night?” said the Doctor.
“Well, they invited us to stay and it’s a long walk back,” said Oliver, adding, “They’re very nice people. Do have some breakfast.” The Doctor did seem to be in a genuinely filthy mood, but he wasn’t about to let it spoil his perfectly lovely one.
The Doctor shot him a furious look and then turned to Steven, who he had evidently pegged as the responsible party. That wasn’t entirely reasonable, but as it happened he was right, so Oliver didn’t protest. “Who are all these people?” he demanded.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” said Steven. “I think they just live here.”
“I see,” said the Doctor. “And they invited you to spend the night, did they?”
“Strictly speaking, no,” put in Oliver. “They invited us to come swimming with them.” He bit into one of his fritters.
“Yes, and then dinner, and then to spend the night,” said Steven. “You know how it is.”
“Hm,” said the Doctor once again. “And neither of you thought to question whether or not they were trustworthy?”
Before Oliver could volunteer anything, Steven said, “Oh, Oliver did – quite heartily – I’m ashamed to say I bullied him into it.” At that, Oliver burst into giggles, almost choking on his fritter, and Steven rapidly joined him, the two of them chuckling away as if it at a private joke.
“Oh, you – you pair!” said the Doctor in consternation. He looked around himself, casting despairing eyes over the naked bodies of the locals. “You could have got into any kind of trouble.”
“Well, we didn’t,” said Steven; then stepping closer he said, “Listen – do you have an actual reason to think they’re anything other than a perfectly nice group of people, or are you just annoyed with us for staying out all night?”
The Doctor met his eyes; then looking away, he harrumphed once again.
“I thought so.” Gesturing between himself and Oliver, Steven said, “We are grown men!”
Oliver wasn’t aware that there was any confusion on that point, but based on Steven’s tone it may have been an old argument of some sort.
“You might act like it,” said the Doctor.
Steven threw up his hands and didn’t dignify that with a response. “Well, anyway,” he said. “We have an open invitation to go and see the floating city.”
“Ooh, a floating city!” said Oliver. “You love that sort of thing, Doctor.”
“You do love that sort of thing,” said Steven.
The Doctor did another extended noise, this one less angry and more contemplative. He really did like the idea of a floating city, Oliver guessed, and the matter was probably settled.
“Well, I suppose it mightn’t hurt,” he said. “As long as we’re careful.”
“Oh, we’ll be careful, Doctor,” said Steven, and Oliver chimed in, “So careful.”
“Hm.” The Doctor drew himself up this full height, and as if it was all his idea said, “Well, I suppose it couldn’t hurt to have a proper look around.”
“Couldn’t hurt at all,” said Oliver. “Do have some breakfast – it’s excellent.”
The Doctor’s eyes flicked to Oliver’s plate in apparent disapproval of his fritters. “Perhaps,” he said. “Hm. Perhaps.” Then he wandered off for a proper look at the village.
Steven watched his retreating back, and once he was a comfortable distance away stepped in closer to Oliver, resting a hand upon the table beside him.
They stood there, nose to nose beneath the trees, the hubbub of the village all around them. No-one was paying attention to them and it crossed his mind that Steven might kiss him and nobody would notice – or if they did, they wouldn’t care – and a little thrill went through him at being out in public. At the thought that no-one knew that they had made love, that what had passed between them in the night was a secret they shared, but not a dangerous one. Just their secret, a beautiful new thing in the air between them.
Steven’s eyes flicked to his mouth; and he said, “Do you want to go down to the river?”