Tease

Problem was, I could never tell whether Joss was kidding or not.

He used to tease me about it back in school. That I would never get the joke until everyone else had laughed already. That I was the easiest wind up in the world. But that's the way I am. Cautious. None too sure of myself. Exactly the opposite of Joss.

We'd grown up together, shared everything, so that sweltering summer afternoon should have held no mysteries, no secrets, nothing but sun and swimming and horsing around in Joss' back yard.

It started out that way, sure enough. We wrestled in the water, splashing about, blowing off steam. Joss is stronger than me but slower underwater, which made him easy to catch; I'd disappear from view and circle him like a shark until he wasn't quite sure what direction I'd be coming from. Then I'd swim up towards his long legs, dangling temptingly as he trod water, grab him and yank him down. He'd wriggle and yell, but he turned the tables on me sure enough in the end.

After a while we hauled ourselves out of the pool and lay on the grass, letting the sun burn off the water from our backs and add another degree of tan to our skin. I lay on my front, head propped up on one elbow, plucking at stubby grass stems and watching Joss. His hair dripped over his shoulders, sleek and black, and his eyes twinkled at me. He has the most amazing eyes: a real piercing blue, all the brighter for the thick, dark lashes that frame them. My sister says no boy has the right to eyelashes that beautiful. Wasted on them, she says.

Which goes to show how little she knows.

"Let's play the best girl game," said Joss.

"Sure." I hadn't yet got around to telling Joss that I didn't see girls the same way he did. I was only just getting used to the idea myself. I'd always known, on one level, that I was more interested in the boys' shower room than the girls'. But I was a late developer in lots of ways and it was only the previous term that I'd finally had to admit, one late, hungover morning when I woke in Dan Clarke's bed, that I was gay.

I'd promised myself that I wouldn't spend my last year at University in the closet. But I had to tell my parents first, and before I told them, for some reason I wanted to tell Joss. But the words weren't easy to find.

So I played the best girl game with him, and fell into the easy pretence of interest. Limb by limb we constructed the ideal female, discussing every detail along the way: the perfect ass, perfect legs, perfect breasts.

As if I knew. Or cared.

But it was only a game.

"Damn, I'm horny now," he complained, and I had to snatch my eyes away before I caught him plunging a hand down his speedos to adjust himself. "Aren't you?"

I grinned and shrugged. "A bit."

"I'm stiff as a fucking iron rod. My balls are about ready to explode."

"Yeah, me too." At least, they were now. The thought of Joss...

There was a pause; a breeze ruffled Joss' hair and raised goosebumps on my skin.

"You want to go inside and do something about it?" he said.

Just like that. My heart raced with possibilities and fear and panic, because chances were he was kidding around, and if he wasn't, what did it mean?

His face gave nothing away. He shielded his squinting eyes from the sun with one hand and quirked an eyebrow. Waiting for me to fall into his trap, probably, so he could tease me and call me a pervert, and I'd never live it down.

He looked so beautiful. I wanted him so much my heart hurt, never mind my balls.

"Maybe," I forced myself to say. "What were you thinking of? Like we could whack off or...?"

There was a silence that dragged on forever; he was just looking at me, and looking, and I was convinced I'd made a big mistake. Of course he wasn't coming on to me. Why would he? He wasn't gay. He didn't know. I felt sick.

And then I noticed his hand was shaking as he ran it through his hair. The sun disappeared behind a cloud for a moment and I could see him properly, register the fear and confusion in his eyes.

"Joss?"

"For a minute I... nah." He barked a brief lie of a laugh, and looked away. "Forget it. Sorry, man. I don't know what-"

He wanted it.

For once in my life I stopped thinking. I reached out and grabbed a handful of hair and tugged his head around, caught his gaze for a moment before I plunged right in and kissed him. There was a startled grunt at first, an instant of resistance, and then his mouth softened and his lips parted a little; his arm wound around my neck and his fingers stroked my ear. He rolled on his back and pulled me on top of him, making this little growling noise deep in his chest somewhere. He was shaking all over, and his eyes were wet with tears. His cock dug into my belly, twitched when I reached my hand down to touch it.

He jumped at the first feel of my fingers on his stiff flesh; his eyes went wide and his teeth clamped down on his lower lip. He looked scared.

"We'd better go inside," I said, gently, taking my hand away for now, using it to stroke his face instead, fingertips brushing tenderly across his cheekbones. "If you're sure about this."

He blinked at me, and ventured a smile.

"No kidding," he promised, and his hand slowly folded itself round mine