Alexandria’s Genesis – 2; Elixir Bayne

Wilkinson didn’t have much to do except ramble on in some language. Romanian I think. Despite my inability to speak or remember any of it, Elixir was parlaying the words perfectly, sometimes even before they left the tutor’s mouth. Maybe I got his accent wrong? I’ve never met an English person. I’ve seen them on TV and everything but this is the real deal. And he was so handsome.

Like those Grecian statues you see, towering in neatly mowed lawns, every inch of them perfect. And I mean, every inch, which left little to my imagination. It was impossible not to steal a glance at his crotch, and I immediately regretted it as my attire for that day was a pair of very revealing black jeans littered with chain and buckles. The slight bulge beneath Elixir’s belt buckle sent my mind into madness, and the tiny voice of my conscience screamed at me not to fuck things up by being irrational.

As I had expected, Wilkinson was finally summoned from the room in that ‘duty calls’ fashion, and the whole room let out a sigh of relief.

Elixir seemed to want to make me as nervous as sin, by striking up a conversation immediately,
“So where are you from originally?” That accent was driving me crazy, and I had to take a long breath to relax. As calmly as possible, I replied, “Montana.” I didn’t want to say anymore than that out of awkwardness, but I soon kicked myself inside, shouting at my conscience to fuck off, that staying silent would get me nowhere.

“How about you? How do you speak Romanian so well when you’re English?”, I questioned. Idly, he leant back onto the chair, one elbow rested on the corner of mine. Avoiding contact would’ve been ideal for me, however, I didn’t want him to think me as a freak or something.

“Tricks of the trade, my friend.”, he soothed, the voice derived of enthusiasm, but strangely enthralling, “Most of my family are from Romania.”

“Where the vampires come from?”, I asked, trying to continue a casual conversation, but the comment made Elixir’s lips crack into a wide smile, and he chuckled quietly through his nose. He rather reminded me of the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland; different, peculiar, but aristocratically charming with the all but faux smile.

I hated smiling; my braces made me look about six, but the cute dimples in my cheeks evened them out. Still, if no braces meant no dimples, I wouldn’t care as long as I didn’t have two fucking rail roads in my mouth…

“What’s your story?”, he suddenly asked, attempting to delve deeper inside me, theoretically that is. Not that I wouldn’t like him inside me or vice versa, but had no idea of his orientation or preference. Fingers crossed the odds would be forever in my favour. Sorry, I’m obsessed with The Hunger Games.

The chatter in the room was substantial, so I assumed it safe to talk openly with him without inquisitive ears joining our banter.

“My mom died when I was five, in a car accident. I was in the car, but I only broke rib. I have these horrible scars on my back where the glass shattered onto me. Apparently they’ll never go away. My dad turned to drink, started abusing me a lot.”, I didn’t mention it still happened now, I couldn’t trust him yet, “I’ve had to fend for myself for a while, but I’ve pulled through. We move states a lot because the police are after him. I would turn him in for my safety, but I’d have nowhere to go.”

Emotion didn’t break into my voice once, and I was silently proud of myself. The whole explanation had really been my way of crying out to him that I needed someone to love me. Little did I know, he got the jest well.

The toll of the bell, pitchy as it is, was the most wondrous noise to hear, and everyone practically leapt from their seats for lunchtime. Only two more periods of this melodrama then home time… then another one and half semesters… and more years… It dragged me down, but at least I had one friend.

This friend’s voice, low and seductive it was, suggested, “Mind if I tag along?”
“Um… ‘course not.”, I replied, holding back my trepidation and my need to shout ‘score’ at the idea of us hanging out. Passing some people in the corridors, looking like he did, stares were attracted, but some of the other Goth guys, as there seemed more than a few here, fist-bumped him or gave him a friendly nod, to which he always returned.

The prospect of lunch also quickened my pace, as the smells of the canteen wafted to my nose. For the past few days I had survived solely on non alcoholic drinks and scraps here and there, so I was desperate for something to fill my growling stomach.

And for something to distract my mind from the five-nine spectre of beauty striding alongside me.

My shoulders sagged in disappointment when I saw the cluster of assholes propped up against a wall in the corridor leading to the canteen. It was almost as though they were waiting for me.

“Look, fellas. It’s our little friend flower eyes!”, chorused the dick of a leader, lurching off the wall and stomping towards me, tailed by his entourage of fuckwhits. Opening my mouth to defend myself, all I could manage was a small squeak of shock as Elixir grabbed my arm and forced me behind him.

Placing his muscled form between scrawny little me and the strapping jock, his jaw set harshly, tensing as he glared through narrow eyes at the threat. He… defended… me… My mind was a blur… Why was he sticking up for me? He barely knew me? What the fuck is going on?!

“Oh, ain’t that sweet. You defending his little ass? You got some balls kid.”, spat Trent, the jock Alpha Male, squaring up his brawny chest with Elixir. He attempted to grab round to me, but my guardian angel pulled us both aside quickly, hissing,

“I’d keep your hands off him if I were you, Trent.” He didn’t even raise his tone.

“Pfft. Don’t tell me what to do you twisted faggot. And who are you anyway?”, Trent growled back.

“I’m his boyfriend.” Fuck… fuck… fuc… fu… f… …

“Break it up, boys!”, yelled Mr Arthur, the rugby teacher. No one messed with that hunk of junk, so the jocks backed off in an instant, nodding to their coach.

As for Elixir, he turned, took me by the hand and literally frog marched me away from campus to the outback. A field of baron scrub with one tree in the middle, which we plopped down beneath. This place had once been a fief for the gangs and emos, when ‘battle’ commenced between the two separate offspring of society. It wasn’t anymore. No one went there. Apart from us two.

Elixir glanced over to me, and upon seeing the flabbergasted look I held, laughed again. The Cheshire Cat he was. Mouth spreading into that familiar grin. Brow furrowing, I cursed,
“Stop fucking laughing! It isn’t funny!”

He stopped on my command. Speechless. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?!”, I echoed, “You… they… I’m not… you said…”

“I said I was your boyfriend? It made them lay off didn’t it?”, he finished, arms raised and hands behind his hair. I was astounded by my misconception of the situation, and at his ‘harmless’ use of the title ‘boyfriend’.

“That’s it?!”, I cried, jumping to my feet, enraged, “That’s fucking it?!” With confused, puppy-like eyes, Elixir watched me flame and rant and boil with anger.

“You didn’t take it seriously did you?” There was no laughter in his deadly serious voice, and the sudden assumption made me pause, mid-seethe, standing right in front of him.

“Well?”, he pressed, expression still doleful. Eyes filling with tears, I collapsed hard into the dirt, heels apart and butt banging against the ground, stinging.

“Why do I fall in love so easily?”, I whimpered, attempting to sniff back tears, but not succeeding. Elixir sat forward, confused and intrigued by my confessions and questions. “Why? We don’t know each other… But when you called me that… I almost broke down.”

“Alice…”, his magnetising voice purred gently, but I gave him no chance to answer,
“No! How could you use that expression so carelessly and not consider how I felt?!”

“You said it yourself. We don’t know each other.”, he breathed, hands laying upon my shoulders. Through muffled sobs I managed to pant, “I know… but why can’t… we get to know… each other…”

“Are you asking me out?”, Elixir chuckled. His cold finger tips and coarse gloves clutched my cheeks, the slight pressure he applied lifting my head, and with it my eyes. He made it impossible to avoid his captivating gaze, and my voice caught in my throat. Lustfully, I nodded, the desire growing in his eyes.

I suppose the circumstances of my first, passionate gay kiss could have been better, and not occurred after a one sided argument, but it couldn’t be helped.

And neither could it be helped that, as his firm lips met mine, I released the thirst for him within me. It coursed through my veins in a myriad of pleasure and pain. Pleasure as his tongue parted my hungry lips and endeavoured to explore my mouth.

Pleasure as his roaming hands landed on my thighs, and he pulled my body onto his lap.

Pleasure as our bodies and breaths mingles, and his thigh pressing into my crotch got me horny beyond belief.

Then the pain. The pain of knowing I was letting it happen again. The pain of knowing it would all turn around and bite me in the arse.

Erasing the pleasure, and partly pain, Elixir pulled back. Our breaths came heavy and shallow, as though the animals within us were only now receding back into their hovels, awaiting our next acquaintance.

“So I guess I really am your boyfriend then?”, I panted, cheeks flushing.

“Congratulations, Holmes. Your first successful deduction.”, Elixir murmured back. Muttering a small curse to his sarcasm, I let his arms surround my body, and his lips close over mine again…

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