Darren Celebrates His Birthday

Stan pushed Darren back to the double bunk under Connor's, and then shucked off his shorts.

Caught up in his lust, Darren pulled off his own wet shorts, and let out a moan as Stan's hand closed around him.

"Suck me," said Stan, a harsh whisper, and Darren was more than happy to do as he asked.

Stan lay back on the bed while Darren got between his legs, Stan's moans long and horny, he was so close. But before Darren could bring on his explosion, Stan pulled his head away with a fist wrapped in his hair.

"Wait. Wait."

Darren waited, panting, and Stan pulled him up to lie beside him on the bed.

He wrapped his hand around Darren's own erection, and kissed him, pushing him down into the bed, his weight on top of the other boy. Darren tried to squeeze a hand between them to reciprocate, but Stan pulled his hips back.

"No, I'm too close. I want to fuck you."

"Then fuck me!" panted Darren, close himself.

Stan hauled him over on his back and pushed his legs back. He realised he needed lube, and a moment later, Darren jerked his head sideways as a hand, holding a small bottle of lube, draped over the edge of the upper bunk.

Stan laughed and took it, slathering himself liberally, then grinned at Darren. "You ready?"

Darren nodded, desperate now, and Stan entered him.

They were both so horned up, rutting like animals, filled with the careless randiness of their youth and hormones, the heat making them slippery with sweat, that it didn't take long before Stan groaned and emptied himself into his lover. He slid out and took Darren in his mouth, finishing him with a few swift strokes of his hand and a wet tongue.

"Fuck, I love you!" Darren groaned, as he spurted his thick load into Stan's mouth.

He fell back against the mattress, his eyes closed, while Stan sat back on his heels, stunned.

A face appeared over the side of the bed, Connor's dark hair falling down in waves.

He said nothing, but he and Stan exchanged a long glance. Connor's eyes slid sideways, and then his face disappeared as he pulled himself back up.

Darren slowly came back to himself and noticed the silence. He realised what he'd said, and paled.

Stan pushed the boy's legs together and moved them to one side, so he could lie beside him.

"I didn't mean—"

"Yes you did," came a bored voice from above them both.

Darren lay petrified, unsure what to say. He stared at Stan, wide-eyed, and mouthed, 'Should I tell him too?"

From above them came the tinny sound of a movie cranked up through headphones.

"Tell him tomorrow," Stan said quietly, and gave Darren a soft, lingering kiss.

*

Evening found them sitting around the plastic table. They'd been playing strip poker, and Darren was back in his Speedo, Connor was shirtless, and Stan was in a singlet and briefs.

Connor's phone beeped, and he silenced it. "Right. It's six. Darren, your night of fun's about to begin."

"Okay," said Darren. He clasped his hands between his knees, excited.

"Since this is your last night as an eighteen year old, Stan and I are taking you out to a big-boy dinner the next cove over. There's an open-air restaurant, 'Chiringuito El Lios'. It might look a bit basic, but I've booked us a special table. As special as they've got."

"The view's pretty nice," said Stan.

"Have you been here before?" Darren asked.

"Yeah," said Stan. "This is our place. Now it's yours too."

"You'll like it," said Connor. "You don't have to dress up." He got up and grabbed up his pack. "But I do want you shaved."

He tossed a toiletries bag to Darren, who opened it. In it was a high quality razor, trimming scissors, shaving foam, and a small bottle of aftershave.

Darren looked up at Connor, who gave him a long-canined grin.

"All of you."

Darren was about to complain, but Stan shook his head. "You like how it feels when you're shaved, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I'll use the bathroom after you."

Darren, still in nothing but his Speedo, locked himself in the tiny cubby that was the RV's bathroom, and went to work.

He emerged some time later, hairless and smelling fresh.

Stan entered the bathroom to shower, leaving Darren to dress, and Darren found his shorts had been returned, and his one, dark blue shirt, was hanging on a coat hanger from Connor's bunk.

Connor sat slouched in front of the table and watched him dress, and Darren flushed hot under the intensity of his gaze. He looked pleased with himself, something that always made Darren nervous; although he suspected at this point, Connor gave him that look just to keep him on edge.

When Darren was dressed, Connor got to his feet and moved in close to him. They kissed, slow, soft lips, open mouths, the moment only broken when Stan came out of the bathroom.

"Right. Connor, it's all yours."

Darren waited for Stan to pull on a white shirt and black shorts, and then they both sat and waited for Connor to finish up. When he emerged, his face was clean shaven, and his dark, wavy hair was fixed back with product.

"Right," he said, as he pulled on dark shorts and a dark purple shirt. "Put on some trainers, and let's go."

They headed out on the dirt road, then cut across the scrubby, dusty ground, to where the lights of the chiringuito glowed in the darkness.

The chiringuito consisted of a massive open-air structure, like a band rotunda, but with no floor but crushed rock. Darren guessed it was approximately thirty metres across. The ceiling was made from concentric rings roofed with what looked like bamboo, supported at the outside by metal struts.

The table Connor had booked for them was right at the edge of the structure, and overlooked the water.

Their table was dressed with a white linen tablecloth, and had a candle burning in the centre. It was better dressed than the other tables around it, and Darren cast nervous glances around him, afraid they were drawing attention.

But while they got some curious looks from other patrons, mostly English tourists visiting Murcia, they looked enough like any other group of English lads travelling abroad, that no one had the energy to give them trouble, too doped and sedated by the heat.

The ocean sighed against the shore, and Darren felt at peace. The other boys assured him they were paying for everything, and the stress of Darren's classes and recent exams fell away.

The food was stunning, as promised, delivered as heaps of colourful seafood, charred fish and shrimp paella, with fresh produce grown locally in the sea of dug-in greenhouses that whited out the local landscape, filling the air with a distinct smell of heated plastic during the day.

But here, on the shore, the last of the sunlight leaving the sky, and a cool breeze blowing up off the waves, all Darren could smell was the scent of sea and cooking food.

With cold beers in their hands, and the soft glow of candlelight between them, the three boys laughed and joked and teased each other with stories from their barely-exited teenage years.

After their meal, they sat back with full bellies to watch the waves roll in, while a musician played Spanish music, and they moved from beer to Agua de Valencia at Connor's insistence, a potent mix of orange juice, cava, vodka and gin. While they were far from the city of Valencia itself, Connor stated no trip to Spain was complete without it, and the bar was happy to feed it to them in two litre jugs.

Finally, when Connor decided they'd had enough, he headed up to the bar and paid, then chivvied the others to their feet.

"Come on lads, we're going for a walk."

A little unsteady on their feet, the other two followed Connor down onto the beach.

They were here because it was a long way from home, and quiet too, compared to more popular resorts, and once they were away from the lights of the small settlement, it was just the moon reflecting off the ocean and the three of them.

They found a place to sit, and Connor pushed Darren's shirt up and off over his head, his mouth lowered to his lover's nipples as he pushed him down on the sand.

It was a near-replication of the first time the three of them had fucked, with Darren's headed resting in Stan's lap, and Connor taking him deep.

Connor used their shirts to keep the sand out of their love-making, and he came inside Darren with a sob of contentment, only seconds before Stan did the same in Darren's mouth.

Afterwards, both boys lay beside their younger lover, Stan kissing Darren, his hands running over the other boy's body, while Connor licked and sucked and brought Darren, arching and crying out, to completion.

As horned up as they were, they could suck and fuck for hours if it pleased them, and it pleased them. It was warm enough to not need their shirts, and they built a small fire from driftwood on the beach, and left their clothes beside it while they played in the ocean.

Wet and laughing, they returned to the fire and laid out their shirts again. This time, Stan fucked Darren, sitting the boy on his lap as he faced him, while Connor teased his hands over the younger man's body.

They gave Darren as many orgasms as the boy could manage, then collapsed spent and happy beside each other on the beach, their small fire flickering, the moon wide and full overhead, the ocean sighing against the shore.

*

Morning found them back in the RV.

Stan woke and groaned. He'd only had a few hours' sleep, but the sun was too high, and the light pressing too brightly against the curtains, for him to fall asleep again.

"Don't get up." Darren put a hand against Stan's back.

"I need a piss," said Stan. He started to move, but Darren pulled him back.

"Let me suck you first."

Stan rolled onto his back, and moaned as Darren moved down to put his mouth around his lover. He rested a hand on the younger man's head, and it wasn't long before he filled the other boy's mouth with a moan.

"I have to take a piss," he said, and this time rolled off the bed. When he came back, Darren was slowly stroking his morning wood.

Without hesitation, Stan fell to his knees beside the bed, but Darren jumped off and sped past him to use the bathroom.

"Happy birthday," said Stan, as Darren climbed back onto the bed and flopped down beside him. "How does it feel to be nineteen?"

Darren chuckled. "Exhausting."

There was noise from above and then Connor dropped down off the top bunk. His hair was a mess pointing in every direction, spiked stiff with salt. He used the bathroom, then pulled open a storage seat and came back with a box wrapped in shiny blue paper, dressed with a gold bow.

He handed it to Darren, and crowded into the lower bunk with the other two.

Darren tore the paper open, and found an unmarked cardboard box inside. He opened the box, and found packaging.

Digging down, he found two things. A silver cuff bracelet, and a titanium ring.

On the inside of the bracelet was written, 'Amigos y amantes'. 'Friends and lovers'. It was written in Spanish to remind him of this trip. This time spent with his lovers.

On the inside of the ring, was written, 'Todo por ti'. All for you.

Darren spoke this much Spanish, and was overcome. He sat silently with a lump in his throat, unable to speak, for a very long time.

*

The day was spent exploring, with lunch at the chiringuito, beers to cool the hot afternoon, movies on their bunks, and sprawling, lazy sex.

As the sun sank low in the sky, and the heat of the day burnt off, Stan nudged Darren as another movie finished and nodded towards Connor.

"Hey, Connor?" said Darren. "You asked who I wanted to spend tonight with. Could... it be you?"

Connor turned towards him and searched Darren's face. He glanced past him at Stanton, but said nothing to him. He looked back at Darren.

"Are you sure?" he said finally.

"Yeah." Darren's voice was soft.

"Alright." Connor rolled off the bed. "Stanton, you going to be okay?"

"I'll keep myself occupied," said Stan. They had a couple of solar chargers with them, which had kept their devices charged, and Stan fancied a leisurely night to himself, drinking scotch, watching movies. He thought he might even wander across to the township and see what was what.

Connor threw some things into a backpack, including some cold beer.

"Trainers," he said to Darren. "It's a bit of a walk."

Once they had their shoes on, Darren kissed Stan once as a goodbye, and brimming with excitement, followed Connor out of the RV.

*

This moon was still fat, and cast the world in silver as they made their way along the rocks. At times, when the rocks were too slippery and dangerous to navigate, Connor led them back to the dirt road. But where he could, he took them along the beach, consulting the map on his phone from time to time to make sure they were going the right way.

Finally, they climbed up a stack of rocks to a sheltered ledge that overlooked the ocean and spread his arms.

"We're here."

He dumped his pack on the ground, and pulled out a couple of LED lanterns.

"You want to light the fire?" he said to Darren, and Darren realised there was already a stack of wood built into a circle of stones. He set a lighter to it, and it came to life as if the wood was soaked in lighter fluid.

Connor pulled out a couple of bed rolls and laid them out, throwing a blanket over them.

They wouldn't need sleeping bags. It was too warm.

Connor pulled a couple of beers from their cooler bag, and levered the caps off with a small aluminium bottle opener. He handed one, dripping with condensation, to Darren.

They clinked their drinks.

"Happy birthday, mate," said Connor.

"Cheers."

Darren gave Connor a coy smile as he took a swallow of beer.

Connor stretched out on the blanket, and Darren joined him. For a long time they stared up at the stars, listening to the crackle of the fire and the hiss of the surf against the rocks.

Connor broke the silence. "I know you think I wanted you away from Stan so I could fuck with you."

Darren stifled nervous laughter.

"But I brought you out here, because I wanted to share something with you. Something I thought you'd like."

That sounded serious. Darren rolled onto his side, but Connor put a hand on his chest, and pushed him back onto his back.

"There's something I need to tell you first, and I don't want you to look at me while I do."

Darren put his arms behind his head, and looked up at the stars.

"When I met Stan, my plan was to make him my bitch. Just fuck him. Make him want me. Fuck with his head. All that good stuff."

Darren didn't agree that this sounded like 'good stuff', but he kept silent.

"But it isn't every day you meet someone like Stan."

Darren didn't disagree.

"I think I love Stan," said Connor. He said it the way he might have said, 'I think I might have a beer'. "And what's worrying me, is that I think I love you too."

"I love you too," said Darren in a rush, and Connor casually flopped the back of his hand over the other boy's mouth, his eyes still on the stars.

"Shut up, please."

Darren pushed his hand away, and Connor laughed, mostly at himself.

"Fuck, this is awkward."

He dropped his hand back on his chest, and there was silence for a moment. Just the waves and the moon and the crackling fire; moths beating in circles around their lanterns.

"I wouldn't have said anything to you, but Stan and I finish up at the end of this year. Stanton will still be around Bristol, I think, but I won't be. I've been accepted into Juilliard. I'm going to do my master's there."

"Juilliard?" said Darren, a quiver in his voice. "Is that in London?"

"New York," said Connor.

"Oh."

"Yeah," said Connor. "I haven't told Stan yet."

"Oh."

"So, given I only have a few months left with the two of you, I want to make anything significant, whether it's birthdays or anything else major in your lives, a big deal."

Now he rolled onto his side, and propped his head on his hand.

"I never planned to get involved with either of you."

Connor's face was blurred beyond the tears that glazed Darren's eyes.

"But I guess we're here, now." He considered Darren. "Is there anything you want to ask?"

Darren swallowed hard. It was impossible to think, even given an opportunity to look into the recesses of Connor's mind, when his stomach was a fluttering knot of misery.

"Will you be gone long?"

Connor put out a hand and teased a lock of Darren's unruly brown hair between his fingers.

"I'm not coming back to Bristol. Maybe to visit, but there isn't anything there to stay for."

Darren sniffed, a tear escaping his control, trickling down his face.

"So, what then? You'll just forget us?"

Connor closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were as glossed as Darren's. "No, I won't forget you. But I have to go. Out there." He waved a hand towards the universe. "You get that, don't you?"

Darren nodded, his misery growing.

"Fuck, Darren, I didn't mean to make you unhappy on your birthday." Connor held his arms out and Darren rolled away from him and shuffled back into him.

Connor closed his arms around the other boy, and brushed Darren's hair flat so that it didn't tickle his nose.

"But you love us?" said Darren.

"Yes," growled Connor against the back of Darren's skull, his lips pressed to the other boy's head in a kiss. "Unfortunately, yes."

Darren didn't know what else to ask.

Connor squeezed him tightly. "You'll still have each other."

"You don't know that," said Darren miserably.

"I do," said Connor softly. He kissed the back of Darren's head again. "And fuck only knows where life will take the two of you."

Darren let out a shaky breath.

"Now, is there anything you want to know, before I show you why I brought you here?"

Darren shook his head. He was too miserable to think of anything.

"Okay then."

Connor moved away from him and sat up on his knees. Darren wondered what the heck he had planned, and rolled over to watch him.

Connor rummaged through his pack again and took out a small metal box. He held it out and Darren took it from him. Connor pulled out his phone and held it up, showing Darren a map, with a location marker in red.

"This is a geocache. We're going to bury that box you're holding here, at this spot, and then, at a date we all decide on, we're going to come back and dig it up."

"What's in it?" asked Darren, intrigued enough to forget his misery.

"Mostly sentimental crap, if I'm honest. Things that mean something to us, and only us."

He went back into his pack, and pulled out three pads of paper and some pens.

"I want each of us to write a message to the others, and we won't look at them until we dig this back up."

"What about Stan?" asked Darren.

"He's going to join us in about an hour," said Connor. "I wanted to do this part with just you. Now, open the box."

Darren picked up one of the lanterns and examined the contents. Sitting on top were three small, blue envelopes, only two inches across. Each one had a name scrawled on it; Darren recognised Connor's handwriting.

"We'll put our notes in there," Connor explained.

Darren took the three tiny envelopes out, and laid them on the blanket so he could look under them.

There were pictures—photos—properly printed ones, like Darren's parents still had in dusty albums in their lounge at home. He laughed as he recognised one of his own, cringe-worthy selfies, then smiled fondly at the other pictures he found of him with one or both of his lovers.

He set these aside, and kept unpacking Connor's treasure chest.

There were tickets from Connor's first show, which Darren and Stan had attended. There was a receipt for a bottle of Champagne that Stan had bought to celebrate Connor's opening night.

"Cheap fuck," said Connor, flicking the laminated receipt with a thumb and forefinger. "Wasn't even the good stuff."