Junction X by Erastes (best autobiographies to read .TXT) 📕

an exaggerated sigh and threw the paper down onto the settee, as if my evening was being spoiled instead of suddenly turning wonderful. I’m no actor and I probably overdid it.

“Oh, darling, you can’t leave him in the dark.”

“All right. I know.”

She kissed my cheek. “You are a wonderful neighbour. Treat yourself. Stay and play with his trains.”

“Valerie. They aren’t toys.”

“No, of course not, darling,” she said in a tone which clearly meant she thought they were. She gave me a smirk and turned on the television. I escaped. I rummaged in the cupboard under the stairs and found my toolbox. I think that I’ve portrayed myself well enough here for anyone to tell that I’m not a handyman, but I can put a picture on a wall and I can change a fuse. All right, the gardener thinks I’m barely able to tie my laces, but he’s a smug bully. I was pleased to be able to be called out to Alex. It made me feel like a knight in shining armour.

The house next door was completely in darkness, as Valerie had said. I wondered for a moment as I knocked why on earth Alex didn’t have a candle burning, at least. Perhaps the Charleses were unprepared for a power problem. Some people don’t plan ahead. I turned on my torch as the door opened.

“Turn it off!” Alex’s voice hissed from the seemingly empty hall. I didn’t obey him immediately as I had to check the position of the step before entering the house but as soon as I stepped in, I clicked the torch off, puzzled.

The door was pushed shut, and I had a glimpse of pale skin as Alex launched himself from where he had been hiding. He was in my arms and kissing me before I could put my tools down and I had to bend awkwardly to dispose of them before wrapping my arms around an over-eager Alex.

He was completely naked and the discovery was enough to make my cock respond so fast that my head spun. He was clinging to my shoulders in the same way as he had before, leaving me free to do what I wanted to him. I kissed him; in the dark. It was incredible, warmer and closer than ever before. I longed to be naked with him. He chewed on my bottom lip as my hands sought his backside.

“You idiot,” I said, between urgent kisses to every part of his invisible face, “what if it hadn’t been me?”

“My bedroom’s at the front. I was watching your house. I saw you leave.”

I went warm with pleasure. I loved his exuberance, his passion for life. Nothing, for Alex, was impossible. He made me feel invulnerable, and far more special than I am.

“Come upstairs,” he whispered. He was on tiptoes, his mouth against my ear.

 I was swept away by him. He burned my thought processes. It was hard to remember my own name when he was like that: naked, squirming, rubbing his body against mine.

Somehow I summoned enough strength to pull my mouth from his skin and ask: “This is some sort of set up then? No broken fuse?”

He chuckled, pulling himself closer, his cheek against my chest. “No broken fuse. Mum and Dad are out. They always used to go to Bingo on Fridays, but since moving here,” his hands moved to my trousers, undoing the belt, “they didn’t think it was the sort of thing they should still do. I’ve been trying to convince them for ages.”

My clever, clever boy. He’d been making plans even longer than we’d been together. I wonder now if he ever considered that he might fail?

“Come upstairs,” he said again. “You want to. This wants to.”

“I need to fix the not-broken lights. Valerie might look over.”

“Oh. Yes.” He let go. “If you are going to turn the hall lights on, I’d better get out of sight.” He kissed me again, but didn’t disappear as he’d promised. I couldn’t keep my hands off him. I pulled him back against me and murmured his name.

“And how long have we got?” I said after a while.

“They always ring when they leave. So I can heat some plates up. For fish and chips.”

“You should be running the country,” I said, laughing. I smacked his backside hard. “Now go. I don’t want the street to see you like this.”

“I’ll wait in my room.” He kissed me again and I reached down and found the torch. I could hear him pounding up the stairs. When he went quiet, I flipped the torch on, waved it around for a minute or two, then switched on the hall lights. I spotted the phone on a hall table and phoned Valerie. “All fixed,” I said.

“Thank goodness you were around,” she said. “Trains now?”

“Trains now,” I said with a twinge of guilt, “I should check out the track, if that’s what’s causing the problems. Probably a loose connection somewhere.”

She laughed. “Enjoy yourself, darling, and ask him if he wants to come over and help the twins with the Guy tomorrow night. He’s welcome to stay for supper too, of course.”

I hung up, then followed the stairs up to the landing. The upstairs hall was unlit—and only one bedroom door was open. I pushed the door and stood utterly speechless. Alex was lying face down on the bed, sprawled in the position he’d no doubt been in when he raced up here. His bed was nearly too small for him and his feet reached the end. I think this one instant is the first moment that I stopped and took a mental picture. I knew—for all that every nerve and instinct was telling me to throw myself on top of him—that this time, this ‘before’ would never happen again. It was important to stop and catalogue it. A postcard of Alexander.

Have you ever hesitated from beginning an experience because to do it would almost be to spoil it? Did you never gaze at the perfection of