I Gave My Love A Cherry
Marcus and Oliver aren't friends, but they spend more time together than with anyone else.
Oliver doesn't even like Marcus, but he's obsessed with him. In love with him, maybe, but isn't love supposed to be a good thing? This feeling is gut-wrenching, heart-squeezing, sick-making. It tethers Oliver to Marcus with a cord he can't cut and keeps him hoping hopelessly that one day things will change.
Marcus doesn't seem to like Oliver either, but Marcus doesn't like anyone, much. Oliver will do what he asks, despite the things Marcus says and does, and Marcus seems to know just why. He doles out favours -- touches, frightening smiles -- from time to time and they keep the tether from becoming slack.
They go to the pub together most nights and lift a pint or two. Some days, Marcus makes Oliver drink more, a lot more, and then he's useless at practice the next day, white-faced and thick-headed. His teammates yell at him and the coach tells him if he doesn't stop it, he'll be off the team. Oliver promises to try harder, but he knows there's nothing he can do against Marcus.
One night, Marcus is talking about girlfriends he's had and what he did with him. This twists Oliver up inside and he supposes that's why Marcus is doing it. He doesn't want to hear any more. He gets up to leave but Marcus takes him by the wrist. It hurts, like all Marcus's touches, and sometimes Oliver wonders if that's why he likes them.
"Don't run off, Wood," Marcus says. "Let's hear some stories from you." His eyes glitter and his smile is wide and ugly. "Tell me about your girlfriends."
Oliver has no stories to tell, apart from some fumbling kisses back at school, and those weren't with any girl. "Never mind," he mutters, but he sits back down.
"Nothing?" Marcus says. "That will never do. We'll have to find you a woman, Wood. How about that one over there?"
"No thank you," Oliver says and drinks his beer. Only two pints tonight, at least so far.
"That might be asking a bit much from her," Marcus says. "But I think I know where we can fix things up." He stands and Oliver tries to stay seated, tries to hang onto his mug and let Marcus go. But the tether pulls and Oliver finds himself walking with Marcus along dark alleys.
They come to a pool of light where a few girls walk back and forth. There's no mistaking them, even if Oliver hadn't already known where they were going. His blood is slowly turning to ice, his heart beating faster to force it through his veins.
Marcus is talking to the girls. "Just one," he says and looks over at Oliver. "We'll share."
Oliver doesn't know what that means, coming from Marcus, and he wants to bolt and run home now, fast as a rabbit. But his legs won't move until Marcus moves and they go to a dingy room in a dingy hotel.
"This is Sheryl," Marcus says. Sheryl doesn't look at Oliver. She chews gum and shifts her weight from side to side as they ride up in the lift. Her hair is blonde but the roots are dark and her face is as hard as Marcus's.
"I'd best go first," Marcus says, "and show you how it's done." He shucks his overcoat, and drops his trousers. Sheryl takes Marcus's cock and it grows in her hand until it's thick and hard and glistening at the tip. "Let's see your tits," Marcus says and pulls them out of Sheryl's tube top. He squeezes them in his huge hands and Oliver can't look away. He stares at Sheryl's fingers around Marcus's cock. They are thin, nicotine stained, and her nail varnish is chipped.
This is not happening, Oliver tries to tell himself as Marcus pushes Sheryl back onto the bed and starts to fuck her. His trousers are around his ankles, his pale buttocks jerk up and down, he talks the whole time. "You like that, don't you?" he says. "Take it all, slag."
When Marcus comes, he sounds almost exactly as Oliver imagines it, every night in the darkness of his room. Marcus grunts and swears and collapses on top of Sheryl. He rolls off of her and yanks up his trousers.
"Nothing to it," Marcus says and looks at Oliver. Oliver's heart is trying to get free of his chest, to run away. "Go easy on him," Marcus says to Sheryl. "The boy is a virgin."
Sheryl doesn't seem to care. Marcus gives Oliver a shove and Sheryl unbuckles Oliver's belt and takes his cock into her mouth. Her mouth is hot and wet and it takes a minute, but Oliver's blood begins to flow and he manages to get it up.
"Come on," she says. "Do you know where to put it in?" Marcus laughs and Sheryl guides him and Oliver is on the bed with his cock inside a girl. He moves his hips and Sheryl's cunt is slippery with Marcus's come. Oliver closes his eyes and plunges away. It's no use, he thinks. His cock will wilt and fall out and he'll never come, not like this.
He thinks about being flat on his back on the sagging mattress, with Marcus above him, driving into him and telling him to take it all. It's hard to breath and maybe Marcus has one hand on Oliver's throat, stopping his breath. There are love bites on Oliver's shoulders and a bruise on one of his wrists.
"Hurry up," Marcus says. "Or I'll have to pay extra."
Oliver opens his eyes and looks at Marcus. Marcus grins and blows Oliver a kiss. And Oliver comes, not hard, but enough, and he doesn't look away.
Marcus pays Sheryl and they walk through the darkness because Marcus won't let Oliver apparate. "Aren't you going to thank me?" Marcus says and puts his arm around Oliver's shoulders.
"Thank you," Oliver says and he almost means it.