Tarjei

Ben did come by.

I woke to a body sliding into bed with me, pressing up close to my back. He was naked—I was only in my boxers—and his hard dick poked my arse.

I groaned as I turned over onto my back.

Ben rolled atop me, spreading my legs as he put his entire weight on me. He might be tall, but he was thin and lanky, so he weighed less than I did. His hands ghosted over my chest, tweaked my nipples, and ran down to my underwear.

He didn’t speak as he tugged my boxers off. Once they were gone, he lay back down on top of me, our cocks now aligned together.

I hooked my legs over his hips as he thrust against me, and pulled his neck down so I could get to his lips. He tasted of alcohol, which meant he must’ve been drinking either at work or as he headed over here.

It didn’t matter.

All that mattered now was his skin against mine, his dick sliding against my own. Pre-come as lubricant, easing the friction the tiniest bit.

I want you to fuck me.

But I was too tired, and my mouth too full of his tongue, to say it out loud.

So instead we rutted against each other, our dicks rubbing. I held onto his neck as we continued to kiss, while he braced his arms on either side of my shoulders. Neither of us touched our cocks. Our bodies were doing a fine job on their own.

I felt the orgasm build in my balls and I moved even more desperately against him as I chased it. I came first, with a cry that was drowned out in his mouth. Sticky, creamy, white semen spurted from my slit and landed on my stomach.

Then he came too, so he wasn’t too drunk.

He collapsed at my side, so close our shoulders pressed together. I hooked a leg over his, loving the feel of hairy leg on hairy leg. Especially knowing it was Ben’s leg tangled with mine.

‘Nik’s ignoring me.’

Now that ruined my good afterglow. Ruined the whole mood.

I pulled my leg away from his and instead slipped back under my duvet.

‘He’s ignoring me and he hasn’t got the balls to admit it.’

I sighed and turned my back on him.

‘Can we go to sleep, please?’ What I really meant was: ‘Can we not talk about my brother?’

He didn’t reply but stayed silent.

I didn’t know which one of us fell asleep first—all I knew was it took me a while, but I did fall asleep eventually.

And I woke up again by the sun shining in the window—and with a massive hard-on. I lay pressed up against Ben, both of us still naked and sticky from our frottage hours before.

He blinked at me, blue eyes bright in the daylight filtering in through the window. He was hard too, his dick resting at a bit of an angle against his hip.

I took it in hand, and his hips bucked upwards. The head was red and swollen as I pulled the foreskin down. When I stroked back up, a couple drops of pre-come dripped from the slit to soak the foreskin.

‘Fuck me, Tarjei.’ He gripped my arm in an iron grip. ‘Fuck me hard.’

I didn’t need asking twice. I rolled over to my bedside table to get the lube and condoms always at the ready in there.

Ben turned over on his stomach, presenting his arse on a silver platter.

I squeezed lube onto my fingers—a good deal of it—and ran said finger down his crack, circling the puckered hole. When he made a noise of impatience, I slipped a finger in. Ben’s body resisted me for a moment, but then sucked me in to my knuckle.

Four years in, we had this part down to a T. I added another finger, fucking him hard with them, and it made him come apart.

He squirmed under me, panting into the pillow.

A third finger joined the first two, stretching him open. But not too much. Ben liked the burn of a hard cock stretching him to the fullest.

I ripped the condom-packet open and suited up, applied more lube—because we could never have enough lube—then positioned myself against him.

He pulled one knee up slightly, giving me more room.

I thrust inside.

‘Fuck!’ He moaned into my pillow, clutching at the sheets as I ruthlessly sank into him.

I grabbed a hold of his hips, steadying him—and myself—and set up a quick rhythm of thrusts that made him practically melt under me.

No more coherent words left him, only pants, moans, grunts, and groans.

I leant forward, let go of his hips, and instead braced my hands against his shoulder blades. I set up an even faster rhythm, undoing him completely.

He came so hard he must have seen stars—and it didn’t take me long to orgasm either. Not like this, not with him.

Never with him.

I craved him so much I could probably come from simply touching him. But with Ben, there wasn’t any touching without sex.

It was sex or nothing.

And I want everything.

I collapsed on top of him and circled my arms around him. I felt his arms, the rough, scarred skin hiding under his sleeve tattoos. Except when I was as close as this, the tattoos couldn’t hide the scars at all.

At a distance it might be harder to tell there were scars there, but not once I got closer to him. Especially not lying atop him, all naked, with the black and grey design of the tattoos close to my face.

His breathing slowed slowly and he went completely limp under me.

‘You asleep?’ I asked, brushing my lips over his shoulders.

‘No.’ It came out mumbled because he had his face pressed into the pillow.

It was weird he hadn’t thrown me off yet. But as he hadn’t, I stayed where I was, spread out on top of him. It was good this, just lying there in post-orgasmic bliss, enjoying the feel of his naked body underneath mine.

I wished it could be like this every morning. That we went to bed together every night, and always woke up like this. Always had morning sex, always relaxing a little like this before we had to get up and face the day. That we could have breakfast together, that we could share our lives. That he lived here, instead of coming and going as he pleased.

‘Get off,’ he grunted eventually. ‘You’re heavy.’

I rolled over to lie next to him instead, staring up at the ceiling.

I didn’t know what to say. What I wanted to say would ruin this fine moment, and right now I didn’t want that. Didn’t want to mess up what we’d just shared.

So I settled for pulling off the condom, tying it, and dropping it over the side of the bed. I’d take it to the bathroom and put it in the rubbish later. When I felt like getting up.

‘Do you have the entire Easter off from work?’

‘Well, yeah.’ Thursday and Friday were bank holidays, and though Saturday was technically a normal day, I didn’t work on weekends. Not most weekends, anyway. And Monday was a bank holiday too, so I had lots of free time on my hands. ‘You’re working?’

‘Yeah.’ He didn’t sound excited about it. In fact, he sounded flat-out miserable. ‘Everyone’s gone. Andreas was supposed to be home this Easter, but he and Alex buggered off with their friends. Thomas went to spend time with Leo, time on their own. And Maria’s got her boyfriend.’

He didn’t say ‘I’m all alone’, but I was pretty sure it hung there in the air unsaid anyway.

‘I haven’t got any plans for Easter,’ I offered tentatively.

Ben never wanted to spend time with me outside of sex. Then again, maybe he thought I was offering a sex marathon or some shit. Sex was the only thing we did well, after all.

‘No plans with Nik?’ He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

‘No.’ Nik and I hung out when he was home, but only sporadically. Nik had his life, and I had mine. Though now I’d stopped partying and drinking every weekend, I didn’t have much of one.

‘Me neither.’

I wasn’t sure if it was an answer to his own question—no plans with Nik—or if he answered my tentative offering of no plans.

It was probably about Nik, I decided, decidedly not with my own bitterness, since everything was about Nik.

Ben

I didn’t stay with Tarjei. Instead, I went home. To a dark, empty house. Not even Maria was home now, as the window in her room was dark as well.

I fucking hate my life.

I trudged down to the basement and fell onto my bed. Then I sat up again to wrench out of my jacket because all I’d bothered with upstairs was to leave my shoes in the hall.

When the jacket was off and thrown away, I grabbed my iPod, thrust my headphones on my head, and lay back down.

Time to wallow in the misery.

Sometimes I could get in a better mood if I listened to music that gave me a happy feeling. Today was not such a day. Nothing could make me feel better about myself, so my choice in music reflected that.

I’m a complete and utter failure.

Everyone had moved on, continued their education after upper secondary school. Everyone had moved away. Yet I was left, working in a bar.

I’d liked it… but now I didn’t. I hated my entire life.

I couldn’t see anything positive about my situation at all.

Sure, I had a job, I earned money. But not enough to live on my own. It wasn’t a full-time position. Yes, I didn’t have to pay Thomas rent, he let us all live here rent-free… but so what? I wanted to be on my own, have my own flat, only myself to worry about.

I wanted a job I liked. Preferably something to do with music.

But that was impossible. My dyslexia kept me from continuing school. And my fucking stage fright—which I hadn’t had before, but now reared its ugly head whenever I so much as thought about music—kept me from trying anything on my own.

What would I try anyway? Not many people managed to live off of music alone in this country. Not many people were discovered every year unless they went on Idol or Norway’s Got Talent or some other shit.

With my current stage fright—the damn anxiety music itself left me with nowadays—I could forget all about those things. It wasn’t like I wanted to be famous, even. I just wanted to make a living.

What’s the point? a treacherous voice spoke in my head. What’s the point of going through this? You’re an utter failure. Better to accept that now and be done with it.

I pulled up the sleeves of my jumper and turned my arms over. I had lots of scars. Most of my skin was covered in scars. Some were shallow ones, some were deep. On the inside of my wrists were the deepest ones. I’d tried to kill myself when I’d done that, tried to bleed to death.

That was before I found out it was much better to cut from wrist to elbow because that’s where the main artery went. By the time I’d figured that out, though, Thomas had found out about my cutting and had me thrown in therapy.

God, I hated therapy.

Having to talk about deeply personal things with a stranger—that wasn’t me. I was open about a lot of things—especially my music and sexuality, but my feelings… not so much.

Speaking of feelings…

The bass of the music drummed in my ears.

I closed my eyes, trying to focus myself, but the image of Nik kept appearing.

Nik likes this song. That’s the only reason I’ve even got it on my iPod.

Nik, who I’d been in love with since I was thirteen and figured out what my dick was for. Nik was a ray of sunshine in an otherwise bleak existence. Nik was always happy and in a good mood, always had a smile ready. He loved colours, he loved lewd T-shirts, he loved being out and proud. Nasty comments didn’t get to him. Nothing at all got to Nik.

Not even me. I’d been in love with him for seven years now…

For four of them, I’d been shagging his older brother.

I’d lost my virginity to Tarjei because I’d been dying to have sex and he’d been willing. But before that, when I found out he was willing, I’d only pulled him because he looked like Nik.

Tarjei was right. He was my substitute for Nik.

Nik, who couldn’t even be bothered to text me he was back in town for the holidays. Nik, who I hadn’t heard a single word from in weeks.

And he’s supposed to be your best friend.

Your only friend, really.

If I didn’t have Nik, I didn’t have anyone.

Alex had buggered off somewhere with Andreas and his circle of friends. Alex was the only other one, besides Nik, I felt truly comfortable with. Neither one of them had time for me.

Alex, I could understand, as Andreas was gone for a year in the army and didn’t get that many days off to go home.

But Nik… what did he have going for him? Why couldn’t he answer my texts? Or ring me? Why didn’t he want to see me?

‘Fuck this.’ Tears pressed against my eyelids and I jerked my headphones off.

No more music Nik likes.

I headed into the bathroom to relieve myself. When I washed my hands after, my gaze fell on my razor. It sat there, on my shelf, all innocent looking. But it hid something very dangerous.

I took the top off and sank to the floor as I plucked on the plastic keeping the three small, thin blades in place. Once I got the plastic casing off, the blades fell free and tumbled down to the floor. I grabbed one of them.

Don’t do this. You’ve got past this.

Except you haven’t. Do it.

I hated the warring voices in my head. It was like having an angel on one shoulder, and the devil himself on the other.

Why not do it? You’re good for nothing anyway.

I hadn’t cut in years. Not since my tattoos were finished when I was seventeen. I would never fuck up the art on my arms. But I had so much other skin that wasn’t tattooed.

Mutilate that a little.

Except…

No. I can’t. I stopped this.

But I hadn’t felt this miserable since I was seventeen either. I didn’t know why I felt so miserable even. I just was. A constant feeling of misery that refused to leave me alone.

Do it, do it, do it.

Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it.

I threw the tiny blade away and instead went upstairs to raid Thomas’s liqueur.

Work sucked.

I arrived tipsy, though hopefully, no one noticed. Jo kept giving me looks though, so maybe I wasn’t as smooth as I thought I was.

I needed to be tipsy to deal with this place. It was the fanciest restaurant in town, and thus also the fanciest bar once the kitchen closed. There were no dance-floor here, it wasn’t a club, only the tables used for the restaurant during the day and evening. People milled about inside or took it outside where there were yet more tables.

The popular people spent their nights here, the ones who had lots of money, who were so bloody fine about it. I hated the stuffiness, the posh arseholes who’d always made fun of me in school. I didn’t know if any of them even recognised me now we were out of school, but I had a feeling most of them went to Jo’s side of the bar.

Then Nik was there.

He was clearly drunk, hanging on the arm of some tall guy I didn’t recognise. He didn’t even look at me, too busy making eyes and chuckling with the guy he was with.

Nik, who I’d wanted to be more than friends with for so many years. Nik, who had no idea. Nik, who didn’t give a shit. Nik, who didn’t even want to see me the short time he was back home.

Now there’s a best friend for you.

I needed a break, so I switched with someone in the kitchen, then headed out back for some fresh air. It wasn’t quiet though, I could hear the ruckus from the other side of the building, where the tables outside were as filled with people as the inside was.

‘I fucking hate this!’ I kicked at a plastic chair standing there, meant for staff who needed a break or a smoke.

It went skidding.

I didn’t feel any better.

‘Ben?’

I tensed, afraid for a minute it was Nik, but of course it wasn’t. He hadn’t so much as looked at me.

It was Jo.

‘What?’

‘You’re not all right.’ He closed the door after himself and leant back against it, crossing his muscular arms over his chest. ‘You’ve been drinking.’

‘Fuck you.’ I didn’t need for him to point that out. He might be my cousin, but we’d never had much to do with each other. I didn’t know him. He didn’t know me for shit. He and his brother hadn’t had much to do with us when we grew up.

Only now Jo dated Kristina, my other cousin—his cousin too. It was bloody weird.

‘Don’t give me that shit.’ Jo glowered at me. ‘You can’t drink while you’re working. If you don’t get your shit together, I’m going to have to tell our bosses.’

‘Then do that. Please.’ At least if I got fired, I’d get welfare.

Except you won’t if you give them cause for getting fired.

Oh, shut up!

‘Are you messing up your life on purpose?’

‘Yeah, because I do all this on purpose.’ The sarcasm dripped from my voice. If I’d been well enough to do this on purpose, then yeah, he could look down on me. But I didn’t! I drank because I had no choice because it was either that or hurt myself. I wasn’t well.

Jo grabbed my shoulders and turned me around to face him. I avoided his gaze.

‘I recognise myself in you right now,’ he said in a low voice.

‘Oh, fuck you, since when have you had trouble with anything?’ It was the wrong thing to say because he’d had it a lot worse than I had in life, but the words tumbled out anyway.

No one’s got it worse than you right now.

Jo’s eyes narrowed.

‘Oh, I don’t know, Ben. Having a crazy, abusive mother doesn’t count, does it? I guess having an uncle who sexually abused my brother doesn’t count either? How about when I was so far down I considered suicide because everything hurt so much? Except I couldn’t do it, because Jørgen had it so much worse than me, and I had to help him. How about when I soared so high, and everything was so great, and nothing that happened at home mattered because it didn’t happen to me? Because I was happy, ecstatic, and nothing could pull me down because I was at the top of the world.’

A bad feeling spread through my gut.

‘How about when I was hospitalised and put in belts because I’d fly into a rage? Because I was so manic I saw and heard hallucinations? Because I was liable to hurt people? No, Ben, I can’t possibly have had trouble with anything.’

The fight went out of me and I sagged against him.

His arms pulled me in tight against a hard, flat, muscular chest.

‘No matter how bad the mania got, the depression was always the worst,’ he said against the top of my head. ‘I longed for the manic phase because I was invincible then. When I was depressed all I wanted was to die.’

‘I wish I was dead,’ I whispered, muffled against his shirt. ‘Everything wouldn’t hurt then. The anxiety wouldn’t knot me up. Wouldn’t leave me drenched in sweat, or waking from nightmares.’

Jo’s big hands ran over my back.

‘Come back in, let’s finish this shift, and tomorrow I’ll help you.’

‘Help me with what?’ My voice turned hard, because how could he help? He couldn’t get me in somewhere to see someone, or get me meds because it was fucking Easter.

‘Whatever you need.’ He pushed me out from him, held me at arm’s length. ‘Let’s go in before they come looking for us. It’s only a couple hours left of serving drinks, then clean-up before we can go home.’

I nodded stiffly. I didn’t want to go back in, but I had to. It was my work, and our coworkers would get pissy if they had to do all the work. They shouldn’t have to anyway.

Pull yourself together. Finish the night. Then you can fall apart when you get home.

After a deep breath, an attempt to centre myself, I followed Jo back in to chaos.